by Debra Kayn
Chapter Eight
"What the hell...?" Chief threw his playing cards down on the table and stared at Johanna entering the clubhouse. "What the fuck is she wearing?"
Johanna strutted across the main room heading toward the women clustered around the two couches in a skimpy pair of shorts with half her ass showing. His gaze traveled over her flat stomach to the two pieces of material covering her nipples and leaving her breasts bulging on all sides of the cloth.
"I'll escort her home." Keeffe scooted back his chair.
Chief swung out and caught the sleeve of Keeffe's shirt. "Let her be."
His cock pulsed in his jeans. She must've come from work.
He'd stayed away from her new job at the coffee house because he knew what the female employees were required to wear. One look at her in that outfit and he would've busted her ass and dragged her back to Karla's.
Now, she lived with Lindsay and Ashley. Because of him. It wasn't Karla who helped get her the job so the girls could move out together. He'd had a come to Jesus moment with the owner in hopes that Johanna gaining some independence would move their relationship along.
The more freedom she had, the faster she'd come to him on her own free will. He was only making it possible for her to make that choice.
But, if she believed he couldn't put a stop to her stupidity of prancing around dressed like that out of the confines of work, she'd soon find out how much he could do.
He stood from the table.
"Are you out, Chief?" Freddy, a dedicated member for the last ten years, held up his cards.
"Yeah." He grabbed one of the whiskey bottles off the table and walked away from the game.
His men knew better than to look at her twice, much less touch her. He wouldn't sit in the clubhouse and condone her behavior. If she thought one of the guys would notice her or she could drive away from the clubhouse to some fucker's house for sex later, she'd learn real fast the only man allowed to see her body that way was him.
He couldn't sit there and let temptation walk away from him. His balls ached the more distance he put between them. He pushed out the door, needing to calm down.
Chano, on guard for the night, lifted his chin. He nodded and brought the whiskey to his lips. When he'd received the call that Johanna had left her apartment after work, he'd assumed she'd be going out with her friends or to a club.
Now was not the time for her to hang out at the clubhouse. He set the bottle next to the building, knowing he had to stay sober. After the crackdown from the Feds down south on the last supply of motorcycles Brikken sent, they all waited for the trail to lead to Tacoma, to Brikken Motorcycle Club.
They'd had close calls before when the law sniffed too close. Brikken would get past the latest threat if he kept a close watch on everyone affiliated on the chain.
Trust wasn't earned. Hell, he couldn't even trust his men. He needed to get out of here and headed toward his motorcycle. The game of the trade meant everyone saved their own ass. Chano or Freddy or one of the other two hundred and eighty members of Brikken could be feeding information over to the blue side to keep their ass out of prison, and he wouldn't know until his hands and feet were chained.
Karla, the boys, Nene, and Johanna, would be safe from any fallout. He went to great lengths to make sure they were not touched and could survive if he spent serious time in the penitentiary.
Halfway to his motorcycle, he slowed his step. He had nowhere to go.
Karla was inside with the other women. Going to Nene's house would only key him up more. Lately, he'd put off sending her away. He owed her, or maybe she owed him. Over the last year or so, sex with Nene had turned mechanical. A failed attempt to get off and relax.
He hadn't relaxed since Johanna shyly put her lips on his and her small surprised moan landed on his tongue.
At his Harley, he leaned against the seat and looked over the property. He'd stepped into the role of responsibility for the monarchy his father had spilled his blood for. From the time he was old enough to piss outside, Rollo had groomed him to take over Brikken.
A powerful gift handed to him, and one he recognized the importance of his place within Brikken every day of his life, he protected what was his. Carefree and stupid were for other people. He'd dealt out demands, consequences, and got the results needed to survive one more day.
He treated women the same way. To show weakness toward a woman gave his enemies a target.
Security remained high because the unknown would be what killed him.
The clubhouse sat on over forty acres of land outside the city limits of Tacoma. Ten of those acres hidden in the trees and surrounded by a six-foot sheet-metal fence to keep the gawkers out, and patrolled twenty-four/seven.
And yet, with every possible barrier between him and the outside world, he could feel eyes on him. Every word he spoke carried further than he'd like. Rumors came back and the club's relationship with Komoon Motorcycle Club, down in Northern California, felt the strain.
Someday, Jett would be president and take his place within the club, and the responsibility would be handed down from father to son, again. Whether, at that time, Brikken still supplied the unmarked bikes and extorted money from within the penal system, he couldn't predict. He could only teach Jett by example and urge him not to make the same mistakes that he made and would make in the future.
No man was invincible.
The men who let themselves get comfortable always ended up dead.
A soft voice broke through his thoughts. He turned his head and peered through the darkness. Without seeing the details, he recognized Johanna's sexy figure talking to Chano. His mind took him to the heels with the red soles that boiled his blood.
Shoes that should only be worn in the bedroom or if he was at her side. She asked for trouble flaunting herself around, announcing her freedom.
His man at the gate must've pointed her in his direction because she headed straight toward him. Her approach came as no surprise. From the moment he lifted her out of the closet, weighing no more than a good set of leather, she'd always sought him out. He nurtured their relationship until he'd let it go for her own good.
Whether he'd done the right thing or not, she'd experienced life on the fringe of the club with minimum invasion, believing she lived life on her own. She'd played around with other guys. She'd made mistakes and thrived.
And, he'd watched every second without her being aware that he would never let her get hurt.
Johanna's steps slowed as she came into view. Her precarious gait as she navigated the uneven ground in spikey heels the sexiest thing he'd seen in a long time. He waited for her to reach him, enjoying the way she moved and taking ownership knowing he was the one she walked to, and not away from.
She only stopped when she could reach out and touch him. His chest tightened. That was his bug. Always pushing the boundaries and believing in him more than society's norm. Society would rip them both apart for their feelings.
He'd raised her. He wanted her.
She'd loved him. She wanted him.
Her being here, approaching him in the dark, alone, where a normal man would take advantage of her, showed him that all the freedom he'd given her, she still ignored the dangers and she still ignored what society had shown her about loving an older man.
"What are you doing here?" he asked.
"Karla thinks I came to hang out with Ashley and Olin." She gazed at his beard. "But, I guess their plans changed, because I couldn't find them inside."
He inhaled deeply. "Thinks? What's the real reason you're here, looking like that?"
"Looking like...?" Her hands flapped at her sides. "Are you kidding me? What is it with you and Keeffe having a problem with my clothes. I worked today and haven't changed. It's an extra warm night, and half the girls inside the clubhouse are dressed like this."
"You giving it away?" He lowered his gaze to her breasts, to the indention of her waist, to the flare of her hips above her shorts. "You'd
do that, bug?"
She planted her hand on the same hip he admired. "Are you asking for you or for your men?"
His gaze snapped to her face. "Don't go there."
"No, you don't go there." She exhaled loudly. "You're always pretending you...ugh, you frustrate me. I'm not the little girl you can send away when you don't want to talk anymore. What's it going to take to have our relationship back the way it used to be? When you cared about how I was feeling?"
"All grown up and thinking you can use that tongue on me, to whip me in shape." He remained sitting on his bike, eye level with her. "You're asking for trouble."
Her gaze softened. "I knew how you felt a long time ago when I got a reaction out of you when we kissed. It's why you stayed away, and don't deny it. I know. Damnit, Chief. I know how you feel because I feel the same way. It's why I'm here tonight."
He licked his bottom lip, enjoying the show.
He was ten seconds away from showing her how she should be scared, he looked away. She should run. She should look forward and never look back.
A soft, warmth pressed against his beard. His balls constricted.
"You're shutting me out," she whispered. "Look at me."
"Go home." He placed his hand on her bare hip.
It took all his power to push her away when his fingers fought to curl around the slim curved bone and pull her closer.
"Stop it." She lunged forward.
He caught her at the hips again, keeping space between their bodies. "You don't know what—"
"Hey, Johanna," shouted a feminine voice behind her.
A flash of disappointment washed over Johanna's face. He pushed her away and removed his hands from her body. She opened her mouth when someone called her name again, stopping her from saying more to him.
Slowly she turned away from him. He inhaled deeply, getting control of himself.
"I didn't know you were coming to the clubhouse tonight." Ashley left Olin's side and hurried the last remaining steps to hug Johanna. "We just saw Lindsay at the gas station. She's going out with Tyler."
"She told me this morning she'd be gone tonight." Johanna reached her hand out to Olin. "Can I have a drink?"
Olin held his disposable 7-11 cup out of her reach. "I don't think so."
"I'm thirsty." She stepped toward Olin. "Just a sip."
Olin's gaze went to his dad. Chief gave one shake of his head. He had his boys watching out for Johanna and that included keeping her from drinking alcohol, which he suspected was in Olin's Coke. At nineteen, she didn't need alcohol in her system, making mistakes he couldn't prevent if he weren't around.
Johanna half turned and gawked at him. He refused to give in.
"You're unbelievable," she whispered.
"So, I've heard," he whispered back.
She scoffed and gave him her back. He grinned. Seldom did she ever lose her temper and when she had, it was mainly with his sons. Childhood squabbles and teasing would only push her so far before she fought back.
"I'm going in." Olin walked backward. "Comin', Ash?"
Olin had a quiet confidence that kept his temper in check. He'd make a good president someday if Jett's ass went down.
"Yeah, give me a sec." Ashley turned to Johanna. "Come in with us. I want to tell you about Tyler."
"Lindsay's Tyler?" she asked.
Ashley raised her brows. "He lied about where he was the other night, and she found out."
"No..." Johanna shook her head. "Is she okay?"
"She says she's fine." Ashley shrugged. "She's still going to be gone tonight."
"Maybe they'll work it out."
"Maybe." Ashley squeezed Johanna's arm. "Come with me. Olin will be talking with all the guys. I want to hang with you."
"Maybe in a few minutes." Johanna crossed her arms and clasped her elbows.
Ashley glanced at Chief and leaned in toward Johanna. "Are you in trouble?"
"No."
"Are you sure?"
I haven't done anything wrong." Johanna waved her friend away and watched Ashley and Olin until they'd reached the door of the clubhouse before turning around.
Before he could tell Johanna to go be with her friend, Chano ran up. Chief walked away from his motorcycle, far enough away Johanna couldn't overhear.
"Keeffe needs to talk to you." Chano lowered his voice. "The Komoon clubhouse got raided an hour ago. Thirty percent of their members were taken into custody."
"Fuck," he muttered. "The cargo?"
"Left the location at five o'clock." Chano hooked his long hair behind his ears.
"Tell Keeffe to meet me in the office." Irritated Chano wasn't already halfway to the clubhouse, he said, "Go."
"Right, Chief." Chano ran off.
If the Feds intercepted the shipment on the way to the next destination, he'd roll out and go through the remaining Komoon members who were walking free. Someone in the Komoon club talked to the authorities. He didn't care who, he'd fuck them all over.
He looked over at Johanna. She paced in those damn high heels. He walked over and stopped in front of her.
"I've got business to take care of." He lifted her chin with his fist, unable to touch her with a single finger in the chance he hurt her in his anger. "You need to go home."
"Can't we talk first?"
Pulled in two different directions, he nodded, making his choice. Updating Keeffe could wait five minutes. That was five minutes more he had with Johanna that he fucking needed to calm down.
She asked, "Can't we go back to how it used to be? When you made time for me?"
"I told you, the club takes up my time." He stroked her cheek with his thumb, unable to deny himself the pleasure. "Everyone is taking a hit. Karla and the boys don't see me as often anymore. Nene...I haven't seen her for a couple of months besides her stopping at the clubhouse and being with the women."
"Did you break your agreement with Nene?" She raised her brows. "You're not going to see her anymore?"
The hopeful expression lightened her eyes. His chest warmed. He'd give her what she wanted.
"I haven't had time to talk with her yet. Until I do, keep that to yourself."
She swallowed. "I won't say anything. I rarely see Nene, anyway."
Her agitation eased, and she stood in front of him without moving. He studied her closely. Her breathing grew faster, and her gaze went to his beard.
"What are you thinking, bug?" he asked.
"I don't want you with other women." She moistened her lips. "That...that news makes me happy."
She'd never had a problem speaking her mind with him. Though Nene and Karla had both told him Johanna put up walls and kept her feelings to herself. She stayed true to herself with him, and he needed to protect that quality in her.
"When we're apart, it's like you don't even know me," she whispered.
"I know you," he whispered. "I've memorized everything about you. The way one corner of your mouth lifts before you break out in a smile. The way your pupils dilate when you first see me. The way the base of your neck..." He touched the spot. "Turns a pretty shade of pale pink when you're turned on."
"If you need to have sex, I'm here," she whispered again.
He chuckled.
She frowned. "What?"
"I've been having sex since I was thirteen years old. There's always a woman around the clubhouse willing to spread her legs." He grabbed her hand when she tried to step away from him. "Go home. You have no idea what I could do to you or how fast I'd take up your offer."
She reached out and grabbed his vest. "I’m not afraid."
His eyebrow arched.
To prove her point, she rose to her toes in those sexier than hell heels, grabbed his beard, and pulled his head down, planting her closed lips on his mouth. He forced her mouth open, making her take his tongue.
She tugged on his beard to get closer to him and met him stroke for stroke. Wrapping his arm around her waist, he arched her as he demanded more. Her leg came up and brushed the outsi
de of his thigh. His cock pulsed in response and he lifted her, grinding against the heat between her legs.
He needed to show her what she'd get from him, and palmed her ass, letting her feel the hard ridge of his cock waiting for her. There was nothing gentlemanly about the way he wanted her. He wanted to fuck her three ways to Sunday, show her the raw, dirty side of him. The need to possess her pulsed through his blood and he wanted to ruin her for every other man, to make sure she remained his.
A soft moan escaped her. He dry-fucked her. Something he hadn't done since he went through puberty.
And, like he remembered, it wasn't enough. He slipped his hand between them. Sliding his fingers between the front of her shorts and her skin, he plunged down until he cupped her mound and found her clit.
She convulsed in his arms at the sensitivity. He held on to her.
"You bare for me?" He circled his finger, rubbing her. "Did you shave your pussy, planning to see me tonight?" He supported her weight. "Don't give that to nobody else. You hear me?"
She moaned unable to speak, her fingers still tangled in his beard.
He captured her mouth with his lips again and circled his finger between her legs. Invading her, he explored her mouth addicted to the sweetness and submissiveness she gave him.
She gasped, her head falling away from him. His cock bulged in his jeans because he held everything he wanted and yet he wasn't cock deep inside of her.
She melted for him. There was not one thing she clung to, except him.
She gave it all up. To him.
"Chief!"
Johanna, caught in the pleasure he gave her, remained unaware of the others milling around outside in the dark, unaware of what he was doing and where he had his hand. Without removing his fingers, he yelled, "What?"
"Phone call."
He gazed down into Johanna's face. She stared up at him dazed when his hand stilled on her. His gut tightened, and he pulled his hand from her, set her on her feet, and rearranged his cock in his jeans.
His throat raw, he forced out a command. "Go home, bug."
"But—"
He stepped away from her. "Mac?" he yelled at the second guard at the gate.