Chief

by Debra Kayn

  "Chief?" She trembled, needing him to—she gulped and gasped. "Oh, my God."

  He thrust again, harder. "I'm going to take you there."

  "Yes." She muffled her scream.

  His finger steadied, up and down on the side of her clit. His cock stroked back and forth in her pussy.

  "Want this." He rocked inside of her. "Always wanted this with you."

  "Yes." She pulled him down by the beard, searching for his mouth.

  Then, his lips were on her, his tongue in her, and he gave her what she wanted.

  Explosive.

  Her body bowed on the bed, breaking away from the kiss, and convulsed underneath him in pleasure. His groan vibrated through her as he pinned her to the bed, his cock pulsating its release.

  In the back of her subconscious, she heard yelling. Chief rolled to her side. Her hands still clutching his beard, she moved with him.

  She smiled, dreamily looking at him. "I love you so—"

  "Fuck." He pushed her away, jumping over her and out of bed. "Get dressed."

  Confused and unaware of the abrupt change of mood, she sat up in bed. "What's wrong?"

  Banging on the door startled her. She grabbed the blanket, covering her naked body.

  Chief shoved his legs into his jeans, looking at her. "Listen, bug. Whatever happens, when I open that door, you stay with Brikken."

  Blind panic succumbed her. The noise from outside added to her confusion. All the yelling, Chief's jerky movements, banging.

  "I don't understand." She threw off the blanket and picked up her jeans, frantically thrusting her feet into the legs. "What's going on?"

  The force of the pounding vibrated the room. "Raid, Chief!"

  "Chief?" She froze reaching for her shirt. "I don't—"

  "Listen to me. I don't have much time. Whoever ends up in charge will make sure you're taken care of." He shoved his arm into his vest. "Take the house. Take your place as my woman. Do me proud, bug."

  Her throat burned. She'd never seen Chief lose control or talk like that. He couldn't leave her now, not after having sex with her. He said he was staying. Club business was over.

  "Thorn and Olin..." He grabbed his pistol off the dresser, looked down at his hand, and emptied the gun of bullets, then tossed the weapon behind the dresser and dropped the ammo in the drawer. "They'll be here. Lean on them, Johanna. Don't stray away from the club. Remember who you belong to."

  "What's happening? Why are you talking like you're leaving me?" She pulled on her shirt and grabbed his arm. "You can't leave me."

  "The Feds caught up with us. This place is going to get busy any minute, and they'll take me. I need to go down there with my men and make sure Brikken survives." He cupped her face. "Stay in the room until someone comes and gets you. If the Feds question you, stay strong. You've got nothing you can't say. Just take care of yourself."

  "The Feds? Why would —"

  "Can't talk, bug. Trust me. Let me protect you."

  Her fingers ached from holding him tightly. "They aren't going to arrest you, right?"

  He kissed her hard, and when he came up, he exhaled loudly. His frustration rubbed off on her, and she recognized the reality in his eyes. Law enforcement was here to arrest him for something she had no clue about, and he accepted the consequences.

  He was going to leave her.

  He knew he was leaving.

  She sobbed, terror rushing through her. "Chief?"

  "I need to go out." He walked across the room. She dragged her feet, refusing to let go of him. The noise outside the room louder after he opened the door, she could no longer hear her racing heartbeat. The thud of running boots vibrated the second floor of the clubhouse.

  Chief stopped and faced her. "Love you, bug. Remember that."

  He tore her hands off his vest and pushed her back into the room, closing the door. She rushed after him, stepping out into the hallway and almost got knocked over by Mill, one of the Brikken members, running for the stairs.

  She gazed down the hallway. Chief was already out of sight.

  A mumbled voice came over a loudspeaker barking out orders. She couldn't understand what they were saying. Stumbling back into the room, she shut the door and lowered herself to the floor.

  Buzzing started in her head like a thousand bees circling her in a fury. She couldn't breathe and rocked, calling for Chief.

  He wasn't leaving.

  He'd come back.

  He always came back.

  He'd promised never to leave her.

  That's where she stayed until two men in uniform busted through the door and ordered her to put her hands in the air.

  Part 2

  Chapter Fourteen

  AFTER FOUR MONTHS OF waiting for Chief to go to trial for being in possession of stolen motorcycle parts, the jury's decision came as no surprise. Johanna sprayed the inside of the window with cleaner and proceeded to scrub the glass until it was spotless.

  Chief received a four-year sentence.

  As it stood, he could've received up to fifteen years if the Feds found rebuilt motorcycles containing stolen parts, but the only bikes on the property belonged to members, and each one had a legal title.

  Along with Chief, fifteen other Brikken members stepped forward and claimed responsibility for the stolen parts and were arrested, including Jett. Their sentences ranged from eighteen months to four years.

  Keeffe told her in confidence that Chief and the others took the hit to protect the others and keep Brikken property from being seized.

  Johanna stood back from the window and peered out through the glass, checking for streaks. That was the last of the cleaning.

  She carried the supplies into the kitchen and put everything away. Chief forbid her from going to the trial, and since yesterday after Keeffe rode over and gave her the verdict, she'd used her excess adrenaline to clean the house from top to bottom to keep from falling apart.

  Not only had Keeffe gave her the verdict, but he also finished breaking her heart when he told her Chief wouldn't allow her anywhere near the Seattle State Penitentiary where he would remain for the next four years.

  The doorbell rang. She walked through the house, peeked out the window, and opened the door to Lindsay.

  "Hey...are you busy?" Lindsay stepped inside, shutting the door.

  Running her hand through her hair, tucking in the stray strands sticking out of her ponytail, she said, "No. I was just cleaning up around here. What's up?"

  "I want to take you out and buy you dinner. Ashley said she'd meet us over at that new steak and seafood restaurant that opened on Nineteenth and Broadway." Lindsay sat on the couch.

  Johanna sat down on the other end of the sofa and turned sideways, leaning against the back. "Oh, you don't have to do that. Thanks for the offer, though."

  "Come on, Johanna. You need to get out and take your mind off everything that's happening in your life." Lindsay reached over and squeezed her hand. "You can't shut yourself in the house for four years waiting for Chief to return. You're nineteen years old. These are supposed to be the best years of your life."

  "That's not what I'm doing. I just don't feel like going out. There's so much to do around here. I really let everything go since the arrest. The grass is practically up to my knees out there. I'm not even sure if the riding lawnmower will get through the backyard."

  "Let one of the Brikken members do it. We really want you to go out with us. It's just going to be us three. No other plans, but to eat. I'm sure Chief would want you to be with your friends."

  She curled her legs underneath her. "I'm still working at the coffee house and going on with my life."

  "You're shutting down."

  Her head pounded. She'd gone over her lack of desire to go have fun with Lindsay and Ashley before. "You don't understand."

  "I'm trying to," whispered Lindsay.

  Chief had forbidden her to work. He'd made that clear the last night she'd seen him that she was to become his property, live
in a house he owned, and quit work. His position was reinforced when Keeffe sent the order through the club for her to quit, and not only Keeffe but Olin and Thorn tried telling her to quit, too.

  She couldn't do it. Working at a job, earning her own money, was the one thing she could hang on to and get her mind off of what was happening.

  "Will you please talk to me." Lindsay scooted closer. "I'm worried about you. You're losing weight. You haven't gone out of the house, except to work and—"

  "I've gone to the store," she said.

  "To buy tampons and those pudding packages that have zero nutritional value." Lindsay sighed. "It's Friday. Maybe you want to go to the clubhouse."

  "It's off limits to everyone but Brikken members until..." She swallowed, realizing the trial was over. The lockdown was lifted. Chief wasn't coming back for four years. "It's not like I could take you and Ashley with me, and I don't feel like going over there by myself and listening to everyone else talk about what happened."

  "I read this morning's paper online." Lindsay leaned back on the couch. "The reporter said Chief could get out earlier for good behavior."

  "I don't want to talk about it." She stood and walked into the kitchen. "Do you want a drink? I have some orange juice and water. I guess that's all I got."

  "I’m good." Lindsay stayed in the other room. "Ashley's texting me and wants to know if you're coming to dinner."

  She rolled her eyes. How many ways could she say no?

  Even if she went, which she wasn't going to, a member of Brikken would follow her. New orders, apparently from Chief, that she wasn't to leave the house without an escort. Before Chief went to prison, she wouldn't have thought a second about having one of the bikers hanging around.

  Since the raid, she'd become paranoid. If it wasn't the bikers watching, she'd spotted enough unmarked government vehicles to last a lifetime.

  The constant reminder of what she'd lost was more than she could handle. At least at work, she had eight hours to distract her, even though she'd noticed a lot of Brikken members drank coffee nowadays compared to four months ago, and they seemed to only buy it during her shift.

  She walked back to the living room. Lindsay put her phone on her lap. "I promised Ashley I'd ask you one more time."

  "No, go on, and have fun. Hopefully, you'll both see two hot guys and be rocked off your feet." She mustered a smile. "If it happens, I expect to hear all about them."

  "Well, if that happens, I hope they also buy us dinner. The place is pretty swanky." Lindsay laughed softly. "Please go with us."

  She shook her head. Done arguing, she wanted to be alone.

  "Next time, we're kidnapping you. No more excuses. You hear me?" Lindsay smiled sadly at her and stood. "Call us if you change your mind or you want us to bring you something more fortifying than packaged pudding or whatever."

  "I will." She followed Lindsay to the door, gave her a hug, and then she closed the door.

  Alone again, she walked through the house to the sliding door coming off the dining room and stepped outside onto the deck. She'd always loved living here. The backyard, almost an acre of land, fully fenced, was peaceful and quiet.

  She'd spent many warm summer days of her youth with only the chirp of the birds keeping her company, dreaming about spending time with Chief.

  In the evenings, she often joined Karla and the boys around the campfire or crept outside after everyone was asleep and sat in the hot tub, gazing at the stars—wishing to spend more time with Chief.

  Nothing had changed over the years. She still stood on the deck thinking about Chief. When she's thirty years old or eighty years old, Chief would still be the only man possessing her thoughts.

  She sat down on the picnic table and zipped up her sweatshirt. Fall days were showing up more often and casting clouds over the area. Soon, the rains would start, slowing time once again.

  The leaves on the maple tree in the yard were turning red. The old swing nearby sat unused for many years now. She blinked the moisture from her eyes. The first time she'd smiled and felt truly happy without a care in the world, she'd been sitting right here watching Jett, Olin, and Thorn rake leaves.

  It wasn't Chief's sons who made her happy. They were boys, and they used every opportunity to tease her—and she couldn't blame them. She'd suddenly shown up in their lives with no explanation, only acceptance. No, she'd been happy because when the boys struggled to get the leaves in their piles and win the competition to see who would finish first, Chief went behind their backs and used his boot to scatter the leaves. Then, he'd look at her and wink.

  He'd pulled her into his secret, his fun, and that special bond he'd created with her was in everything they'd done together. It mattered not if he was with his sons or Karla or Nene or his MC brothers, he always, always shared a side of him with her that she suspected he gave to no one else.

  Oh, how he made her feel special.

  She rubbed her face. God, she missed him.

  There had been nothing he could do wrong in her eyes. She shook her head, dispatching the sadness at the memories flooding her. That special feeling of being connected to Chief disappeared the moment she found out what kind of charges were being pressed on him by the Feds.

  She'd always known Brikken Motorcycle Club lived by their own rules.

  They partied too hard. They fought too long. They used their strengths and stubbornness against the outsiders to alienate themselves behind the fence. The majority of the people living in Tacoma were scared to cross a Brikken member.

  But, she had no idea the money that kept Brikken up and running came from illegal sources, and she wasn't naive to believe selling motorcycles was the only thing Chief had his hands in.

  The blatant truth over her lack of knowledge about Chief's life knocked her on her ass. She'd walked around lost for days after seeing him carted away in handcuffs. He hadn't told her what was happening. He hadn't shared that part of his life with her. He hadn't welcomed her help but pushed her away.

  How could she go four years without him?

  Unable to sit still, she walked off the deck and into the grass. At the Maple tree, she picked up two leaves and sat down on the old child's swing, testing her weight against the rusted chains. Twirling the stems, she rocked back and forth without picking her feet off the ground. Lost and lonely, she'd feel better if there was a way for Chief to talk to her and help her remove the dark cloud settled over her.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The prison guard walked Chief to the table in the all-white visiting room. He shuffled his chained feet and took the plastic chair pulled out for him. Holding his handcuffed arms in front of him, he waited until the guard locked him into the metal table and stepped away before raising his gaze to his visitor.

  "Keeffe, it's good to see you," he said, keeping his voice low.

  "You called. I came." Keeffe braced his forearms on the edge of the table to keep from leaning forward, crossing the halfway barrier that would get a guard's attention. "How are the others?"

  "Surviving. Jett's staying strong from what I hear. They've separated us onto different blocks, but I do see Leetch and Graham when I'm allowed to go out in the yard. Make sure you tell their women, they're doing fine. " Chief fisted his hands, needing the information he wanted. "How is she?"

  Keeffe looked away. Chief pulled against the chain holding him in place. The last six months, away from Johanna, threatened to sink him into a depression. It wasn't living behind bars that tested his strength. He could still run Brikken from a prison cell.

  The reports he received about Johanna worried him. She'd cut herself off from her friends, stayed away from the clubhouse, and rebelled against him by keeping her job.

  "She's pissed, Chief. None of us can ask her a damn thing without her getting upset and storming into another room. We've all tried to get her to come to the clubhouse. Olin and Thorn even threatened to haul her ass over, but she caused a scene at work when they confronted her." Keeffe looked at him. "Sh
e's still working at the coffee house."

  "Keep after her." His head pounded. "She's staying at the house though?"

  Keeffe nodded. "We rotate two men to ride security through the night. The days she's working, we all take turns stopping in and getting coffee. She knows what we're doing."

  "Good." He cleared his throat. "Good."

  "Look, Chief, she wants to see you. Practically knocked my motorcycle over in her anger to make me take her every time she hears I'm coming in on visitation day." Keeffe ran his hand over his jaw. "She's forty minutes away from the prison. It's killing her."

  If he allowed her to come, she'd rely on him, and his absence in her life would be harder to accept. By herself, she'd continue hurting for a while, but eventually, she'd come to accept the situation. The same way his mother had accepted Rollo's life and came out stronger.

  "I don't want her in here." His throat spasmed. "Does she still have weekends off work?"

  "Yeah."

  "Tell her I'll call on Saturdays and to accept the charges. You'll need to explain to her about the time limit they put on outgoing calls and what not to say over the phone." He exhaled loudly. "I'll try and get back in line for the phones afterward, but they put a thirty-minute wait between calls—it's almost impossible. That means my chance at communicating with you could be compromised. If you don't hear from me, expect a call on Thursdays, and I'll get your update on club business then. If I miss my fucking chance, I'll see if Leetch and Graham can make the call, so at least one of us is communicating with everyone each week."

  "That'll work." Keeffe paused. "She'll be happy to hear that, Chief."

  Saturday couldn't get here fast enough. If he thought it would help her to come see him during visitations, she'd be sitting across from him now. But, it wasn't going to do anything for her except make the time apart harder. He had to keep his cool in here.

  His lawyer pressured him to toe the line while he worked on getting an early release. Instead of serving forty-eight months, he could get forty and probation. It sounded like a shit deal at the moment, but in three and a half years it would mean a big fucking deal.