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Along Came Merrie

Page 12

by Beth D. Carter


  Braden pulled her clit into his mouth at the same time he found her pussy opening with his finger. He teased inside as he rubbed his thumb to her sensitive clit, causing her to moan around the hard dick in her mouth. Leo shivered at the vibration and picked up the pace, fucking her mouth with quick jabs.

  There was no way she was going to last. Her orgasm rose, breaking over her like a tidal wave hitting the shoreline. Pleasure burst, flushing through her body, and she convulsed around Braden’s mouth and finger. Before she drifted down from her high, Braden withdrew. He tore open a condom packet then he rose against her ass, holding her hips as he held his cock to the entrance of her pussy. She was so wet that his cock, so large and heavy, filled her immediately.

  As he pressed into her from behind, he pushed her head forward more firmly on Leo’s cock. Leo leaked heavily in her mouth and she hungrily slurped him up, loving his taste.

  “Oh, yes,” Leo moaned. “Suck me down deep, Merrie. Take it all.”

  She welcomed the dirty talk. It brought another orgasm to the surface. Tingles began to flow through her as she climbed higher and higher. She let out a squeal and arched her back, her cream running.

  “Merrie,” Braden gasped. “Oh, God, you’re so tight.”

  “Fuck her, Braden,” Leo ordered. “Fuck her, hard.”

  “Oh yes,” Braden exclaimed.

  He pumped big cock quickly now. His balls slapped her ass with each stroke.

  Leo exploded first. He pushed deep into her mouth, holding her head still. He tensed just before his hot cum shot down her throat. After the second load, she thought she might choke, but swallowed as much of the sticky fluid as she could, although some of it dribbled out the side of her mouth.

  When Leo was done, he let go of her head and fell back to watch Braden pound into her. His brother’s release must have sent Braden over the top. He began grunting as his sweat trickled down his body to drip onto her. She loved feeling him come undone—this man who seemed so strict and unyielding. A wet, slurping noise accompanied the heavy slaps of him thrusting into her.

  Leo ran his hand down her hip and over her pelvis to slip inside her curls and find her clit. It only took two light rubs to make the world explode a third time for her. She cried out and convulsed around Braden’s shaft as he pushed it into her. His cock swelled as he exploded with a deep, hoarse cry. Spurt after spurt shot into the latex barrier, and he shuddered as he collapsed across her back, breathing heavily.

  As Braden left her body, Leo wrapped her in his arms and lay back. Braden crawled into the bed and curled behind her, slipping his arm around her waist and burying his face against the back of her neck.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Merrie had to do something while they waited for Sheriff Halloran to arrive, so she decided to cook. Even though they’d already had breakfast and lunch was still two hours away, her stomach needed something besides nervous acid to churn on. So she made pancakes. Things were always better with lots of butter and maple syrup. She had a momentary vision of Leo and Braden covered in the gooey, delicious mess.

  When Braden stepped into the kitchen to check on her, she shook her head to clear it. She knew both men were keeping an eye on her and she appreciated their thoughtfulness. They hadn’t talked about last night yet, and although it had been the second time they’d all shared a bed, the emotions were completely different this time around. Leo had asked if she was theirs and yes, she was. But if a psycho was hunting her… She couldn’t really commit when he was hunting her.

  Finally, after she’d produced a stack of golden brown goodness, she heard a truck in the driveway. She put the batter down and turned off the stove then carried the plate of pancakes to the coffee table and set them down before retreating to the opposite wall. She trusted Braden and Leo’s judgment that they could trust Sheriff Halloran, but she was still jumpy after last night’s visitor.

  She barely remembered him from before. She’d forgotten how powerfully his light green eyes contrasted with his cropped black hair. Instead of the standard brown uniform, he wore a white button-down shirt tucked into very tight jeans, revealing a nice physique. The gold badge pinned on his chest twinkled at her and he gave her a respectful nod as he entered the house.

  “Ms. Walden,” he greeted in a deep voice. “It’s nice to see you again.”

  Merrie nodded. “Hello, Sheriff. I made pancakes.”

  She gestured to the coffee table. He glanced at them, a little perplexed, and nodded his thanks. Belatedly, she realized most people would’ve offered coffee.

  “We had an intruder,” Braden said, getting right down to business. “They broke in through the back door, but the rain washed away any tracks.”

  Sheriff Halloran frowned. “May I see?”

  For the few minutes that Braden had taken him to the back door, Merrie let her shoulders slump. She hated feeling this tense. It was beginning to give her a headache.

  “It’s okay,” Leo murmured.

  She flashed him a grateful smile. Leo was her sympathizer while Braden was her brawny defender.

  When Braden and the sheriff came back, she sensed the lawman staring at her. She met his gaze steadily.

  “I think this is partially my fault,” Givon muttered. “Someone rifled through my desk and went through the notes I made about my visit here. I didn’t want to believe someone could be a mole in my office but this can’t be a coincidence.”

  “Shit,” Braden muttered. “Do you know who?”

  The brackets around the sheriff’s mouth deepened with his irritation. “I think it might be one of my deputies, as much as it pains me to say it. He had this story of a man being in the office when he went to the restroom that sounded like total bullshit. Now, hearing about what happened last night, I can’t get it out of my head.”

  He ran an agitated hand over his hair.

  “Then I suppose he really does have the cops in his pocket,” she murmured.

  “He doesn’t have this cop in his pocket,” Sheriff Halloran stressed.

  Warmth settled in her face. “Of course. I’m sorry.”

  The man sighed. “No, I’m sorry. I just can’t believe this. Can you tell me from the beginning, Miss Walden, what’s going on? It’s been very difficult to talk to Detective Christianson.”

  “Same with us,” Braden muttered.

  “Let’s sit,” Leo said. “This is a long story. Pancake?”

  “Er, no,” the sheriff replied as he sat on the couch. Merrie decided to keep standing, since it helped to her focus. A sense of detachment formed from what had happened, as if it was some other girl’s nightmare.

  She told the story, keeping out the minor details, painting a stark black-and-white picture. She watched Givon Halloran’s face change from concern and anger then eventually fading into the detached look that most cops adopt as they analyzed the information in their heads.

  Leo brought the camera over to him and the sheriff scrolled through the pictures, his face grim looking.

  “And I have a picture of one of the men,” she said. “I’ll be right back.”

  She ran upstairs then searched for her jeans from yesterday, pulling out the photo she’d printed from the website. When she returned to the men, she handed it to the sheriff. He unfolded it and turned around to look at everyone.

  Merrie pointed to the man in the back. “This is one of the men.”

  “That’s Gray Dog,” Givon said. “I questioned him yesterday but got nowhere, of course. MC’s are notorious for sticking together.”

  “You think I should leave Destiny?” Merrie asked softly.

  “No,” Braden instantly refused.

  “Absolutely not,” Leo stated. “One of us will always be with you from now on.”

  “You can’t be everywhere with me and now that Axe might know where I am, I don’t want to put you and Braden in danger.”

  “Wait a minute,” Givon interjected. “Did you say Axe?”

  “Yes.” She nodded. “The man who hi
t me was named Axe.”

  “I thought you said the Demon Devils hurt you.”

  “They did. At their bar on Route 18.”

  “Axe isn’t with the Demon Devils. He’s a Red Wolf.”

  “I don’t know what that means.”

  “Oh, shit,” Givon muttered. He pulled out his cell phone and held up a finger as he called someone. “Hey, it’s me. I’m at the McClintock ranch and I need you to come immediately but don’t tell anyone where you’re going. No, come right now. It’s about the Wolves. Oh, and I know I don’t have to say this, but bring your cut.”

  He ended the call and slid his phone back into its clip holder.

  “Who was that?” Braden asked.

  “North. He’s on his way.” Givon looked at Merrie. “I think I know why Axe is after you, Merrie, but let’s wait for my friend, North, before we talk any further.”

  “Okay. But why?”

  “North Tabion is president of the Red Wolves Motorcycle Club,” he told her. “It’s a different club, built right across the county line to avoid pesky cop interference. North’s a good man, so don’t be frightened when he pulls up. Okay?”

  She nodded.

  Once again, she had the need to do something while she waited so she made coffee. When it was done, she poured each man a cup and handed them out, not even bothering to ask them if they wanted any. She rolled her head around her neck in an effort to ease of the tension.

  The rumble of a motorcycle took her down memory lane, into the back of her car as she stared at the snake tattoo, fearing for her life. She wanted to run and hide but she caught the sheriff’s eye and he gave her an encouraging smile, so she tamped down the flashback and waited.

  The motorcycle’s engine died. Boots thudded against the porch. Leo opened the door before North Tabion could knock. Merrie’s first glimpse of the biker surprised her. She was expecting someone…dirty. Bearded. Someone like Gray Dog or Axe. Instead, she got a hottie with blond hair and sky-blue eyes. He wore an American Flag bandana around his head, a pair of black jeans, a black T-shirt with a leather vest that had various patches on it and a red stripe that ran around the bottom.

  Braden gave him a welcoming nod and North acknowledged back. The manly gestures drove her up a wall.

  “What’s going on?” the biker asked, looking directly at the sheriff.

  Givon Halloran looked at Merrie. “Tell him the story but this time, use all the names.”

  It slightly annoyed her had to go through that night one more time. Leo walked over to her and took her hand, squeezing it. Again, she recounted the events that had led up to her stopping at the Demon Devil’s bar.

  “I got out of my car and when I looked over, I saw two men shaking hands. I didn’t think anything of it until I went to make my call and one of the men came up and slapped me. He asked if I was…let’s see, he asked if I was an old woman or an old lady—or something like that—then he asked if I was a spy. I said no, that I was lost and just wanted to call the police to help me when the other man—the one with the beard you named Gray Dog—told Axe he had to take care of me—”

  “Wait,” North stated. “Did you say Axe?”

  “Yes.”

  “What’d he look like?”

  The image rose quickly and sharply in her mind. She’d never forget him as long as she lived. “He had a goatee, mean eyes.”

  “And what was he wearing?”

  The biker asked his question with a menacing tone. She looked at the sheriff and he gave her another encouraging smile.

  “I…I don’t understand. He had a vest like yours—”

  “Red band around the bottom?”

  “Yes.”

  “Son-of-a-bitch!” North exploded, as he began pace the living room.

  Merrie jumped and scooted a little behind Leo.

  “This is why he’s after her,” Givon told North. “To stop her from telling you exactly what she just told you.”

  Thoroughly confused, Merrie wished someone would explain what the hell it all meant, why she was attacked and why Axe felt like he had to hurt her. When it looked like she wouldn’t get her wish, she boldly took a step closer to both Givon and North. North raised an eyebrow as he looked her up and down.

  “What was it that I saw?” she demanded. “Make me understand why this Gray Dog told Axe to make sure my body was never found.”

  “Motorcycle clubs use their colors to make their affiliation public to both fellow gang members and to our rivals,” North told her. “In this case, that would be the Demon Devils. They moved into our territory twenty years ago and there’s been a feud ever since. The Red Wolves’ vest—or cut—are like mine. If Axe was wearing his and he was on the property of the Demon Devils shaking hands with their president… Well, that’s treason. Wearing your colors in rival territory is either a threat or a declaration of war, so he should’ve removed them or they should’ve fucked him up. Colors and patches are sacred. That’s why you need to be absolutely sure who you saw was Axe.”

  “Do you have a photo of him?”

  North reached for his phone in his back pocket and scrolled through until he found what he was looking for. He held the camera out.

  Merrie only had to take one quick look to know it was him—her tormentor.

  “Yes,” she whispered. “That’s him. That’s the man who wore that vest and who was shaking hands with this man.”

  She held up the picture of Gray Dog that she’d printed out. “I don’t know anything about motorcycle gangs,” she continued. “I didn’t even know what I’d seen. This man of yours—this Axe—was going to kill me over something I wouldn’t even have known how to put two and two together?”

  “I’ll take care of him for you,” North vowed. “I promise you that. You’re under my protection now.”

  She stared at him, studied his eyes. He may have been in a motorcycle gang, but the difference between what she saw in his eyes and what she’d seen in Axe’s eyes was like night and day. Either this North Tabion was a magnificent actor or he really meant what he said.

  Something eased in her chest. It wasn’t much, just a tiny crack of hope that she could finally put the ordeal behind her. As she opened her mouth to comment, however, the sound of another vehicle pulling into the driveway distracted her.

  “It’s Detective Christianson,” Braden announced.

  “Who?” North asked.

  “That Cheyenne detective I mentioned,” Givon explained. “You’ve missed out on a lot. Apparently, so have I.”

  As soon as the detective entered the living room, his gaze landed on North. He did not look happy.

  Givon stepped forward. “I’m Sheriff Halloran. Thanks for finally stopping by so I can meet you face-to-face.”

  “I’ve been busy, Sheriff,” Detective Christianson said with a hint of sarcasm. “Who’s this?”

  He jerked his thumb in North’s direction.

  “North Tabion, President of the Red Wolves,” Givon said. “We’ve discovered who Axe is.”

  The detective looked at Merrie. “You’ve been talking? I thought we agreed to keep this between us.”

  “That was before someone broke into our house last night,” Braden stated. “Givon’s not the only one who’s been trying to reach you.”

  “So who’s this Axe?” Christianson asked, ignoring him.

  “He’s my sergeant at arms,” North answered. “As such, I’m asking you to leave this to me.”

  “Leave it to you?” Christianson snorted. “What? Biker justice? We all know what that means, Mr. Tabion—an unmarked grave somewhere in these mountains.”

  North stiffened. “Don’t believe everything Hollywood spits out, Detective. I’m perfectly willing to bring Axe to you once my crew and I have stripped him of his MC privileges.”

  “I’ve been working organized and gang crimes for a long time,” Christianson said, “which means I’ve heard a lot of bullshit in my life so forgive me if I don’t fucking believe you.”

 
; North took a forceful step in his direction. Givon jumped in front of him and held his shoulders.

  “Not now,” Givon whispered.

  “This is a club matter,” North insisted in a low voice. “Axe is a traitor to the Pack.”

  “I know. And I understand, North. You hear me?” Givon insisted. “I respect that.”

  North stared at him then slowly eased back, nodding.

  “Wait a minute,” Detective Christianson said. “Are you saying this Axe has defected to another club? This is just a dispute over colors?”

  “This is a dispute over loyalty,” North corrected. “The Demon Devils moved into our territory.”

  The detective scratched his chin. “You’re clubhouse is over the county line, though, isn’t it? So technically, there isn’t a jurisdiction boundary, is there?”

  At the taunt, North curled his hands into fists. For an instant, Merrie thought the biker was going to deck the cop. But Givon placed a hand on North’s shoulder, which seemed to diffuse some of North’s tension.

  “Regardless,” the sheriff said. “Axe has to be brought in for questioning, and it’s up to Merrie to press charges.”

  Suddenly, all eyes turned in her direction. What had she missed?

  “Merrie,” Braden said. “You need to press charges. That man has to pay for what he did to you.”

  She looked at each of them, helpless to make a decision. All she had wanted was to forget.

  “What…what does that mean?” she asked, trying to stall.

  “By pressing charges, you would be signing a complaint alleging Axe of violating the law,” Givon explained. “And by agreeing to press charges, you are also agreeing to testify against him in court.”

  Testify? “You mean I would have to confront him. See him again.”

  Givon nodded. “Unless he confesses.”

  “He won’t confess,” North said. Givon glared at him.

 

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