Foolish Riot (Riot MC Book 5)

by Karen Renee

  “Shit. I’m keepin’ you from Daytona, brother.”

  Cal shot him a quick sideways glance. “Nope. Getting retribution for Trixie takes precedence.”

  “Well, I should’ve driven myself over here, rather than make you drive back to—”

  “Shut your mouth. Mallory’s at the clubhouse with the other old ladies. Hopefully Vamp and Roman are back from their errand. I’m lookin’ forward to hearing how it went.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Trixie

  Roll left the compound just before nine in the evening. It was probably a good thing, because by then Rainey, Neil, Abby, and I were half-way to tipsy. I still had no real idea what was going down, but I was dealing with that as best I could. I knew how bikers liked things to be, I mean after ten years of hanging with them, how could I not? Roll told me he didn’t want me to know, so I wasn’t going to press. My only problem would be if there was something going down with me and my MC sisters and Roll insisted on being let into the loop. That type of double standard would not fly for me. Of course, such a thing was probably not going to happen, but the man better not serve me up any hypocrisy.

  I looked around the room. Blood was alone at a pool table, but he was the only biker in the room. I thought I had heard Mallory in the hallway before I came out of Roll’s room, but she was nowhere in sight.

  “Where’s Mallory?”

  “Yeah. She came in earlier with Cal. Where’d she go?” Abby asked.

  “I’m right here,” Mallory called from the entryway to the common room. She settled on a stool next to me. “Cal’s been so uptight the past couple weeks, and insistent I work from home. I had to get some reports done that take twice as long from home than they would if I were at my work computer directly on their network.”

  Rainey slid a huge bottle of sangria down the bar toward me and Mallory. When Mallory pulled it toward her, I leaned forward to pull a wine glass hanging from the rack over the bar and put it in front of her. “There you go, woman,” I needled her.

  “Whatever, Patti,” she needled me right back. I had to say, life had a way of being a twisted and fucked-up bitch sometimes. When I first met Mallory, if someone would’ve told me we’d be hanging together and needling one another, I would’ve told them I had a bridge to sell them. Now, close to a year later, I thought of her as a damn close friend. She was not the yuppie I originally thought she was, and it just went to show, I shouldn’t have judged her by her cover.

  The back door opened and I could hear the chatter of a few men, and having spent seven hours in a car with him, I knew at least one of them was Har. Razor prowled over to Neil and part of me wanted to gag. He was such a damn pretty boy, but they both made each other happy, so I was able to forget about gagging. I had known Tennille since high school, and frankly, I had her to thank for keeping me sane through the years before Uncle Derrick was killed. If anyone deserved happiness, it was Tennille Lyons.

  Yak stalked behind the bar just far enough to grab a bottle of liquor and then he left the room without speaking to anyone. I would’ve been offended, but even though he was normally light-hearted and easy-going, I knew he could be just as broody, and I wasn’t in the mood to piss him off. I was watching Razor and Tennille down the bar when I heard a familiar feminine giggle. I knew it was Laura, a devoted sweet-butt to the Riot brothers, but I couldn’t imagine who could make her giggle at this point.

  I probably shouldn’t have looked toward the couches, but it was like trying not to rubberneck on the highway. There was no way I wasn’t going to look, and there was Laura with Brute. He had an arm wrapped around her shoulders and the other one slung low over her hip. I didn’t have feelings for Brute, but it never failed to amaze me how quickly a biker could move on to the next physical conquest. I wasn’t a prude or anything, but I still would have thought he needed a week or so before he moved on to his next lay.

  “You can’t have it both ways,” Har said, very close to my ear.

  I jolted and looked over my shoulder to see Har had snuck up behind me. “I don’t,” I said softly.

  He arched an eyebrow. “That’s not what the look on your face says, Trixie.”

  I sighed. "Well, that's not it, at all. I was just wondering how bikers can move on so quickly. Like, no waiting period whatsoever."

  Har grunted. "We're men, not guns. There is no waiting period, babe. Pretty damn sure you know that."

  I did, but it didn't change the double standard of it all.

  "While I got you, I'm being serious, you gonna be happy with Roll? We may have only had one night, but I know what I want. So, if he's not the end-all for you, I'd be happy to get you outta here."

  Dammit to hell. Could I clone myself and live two lives simultaneously? I mean why did Har have to be such a damn good guy?

  I smiled what I hoped was a bittersweet smile. "He's named our daughters who don't even exist yet. I'm gonna be so happy with him, Har. Crazy or fucked-up as this will sound, part of me wishes it were you." It was the nineteen-year-old in me speaking, but I knew my blessings when I saw them…and meeting a man like Har was a huge fucking blessing.

  The look on his face may have mirrored my own, but I only knew that when he spoke.

  "Wish it were me, too, Cereal-girl. Feel a connection with you I haven't felt with anyone else, but you damn well deserve to be happy. So, you do that, hear?"

  Oh my God...who knew an MC president could be so soft on the inside?

  "Ain’t nothin soft about me, woman," he said, and I realized I must've said that last out loud.

  "Believe me, I know. The woman who lands your ass is a helluva lucky girl. Just hope you know that.”

  Roll’s gruff voice prevented Har from responding. “President of another chapter or not, you need to get the fuck away from my woman, Harm.”

  Right or wrong, I couldn’t stop myself from glaring at Roll. “Listen, mister—”

  “No,” Har said in the firmest voice I had ever heard from him. “He’s right. We’re done. Trixie, Roll, I wish you both well.”

  I was sitting sideways to the bar, so I saw Har saunter out the front door. Not long after, I heard the roar of a bike and knew he’d driven away from the compound. I had no idea where the hell he was headed, but like he said, he and I were done, so it wasn’t my concern.

  Crossing my arms on my chest, I narrowed my eyes at Roll. “He was talking to me. No need to get all possessive and shit, Roll.”

  Roll’s chin dipped toward his chest, but the sound of a male snort from the far side of the room got my attention. I glanced that way to see Brute watching us as Laura felt him up and appeared to be sucking on his neck.

  “Tough shit, Trixie. I’m gonna be possessive of you whether you like it or not. Told you shit was gonna change when you took my property cut. This is part of that change. Get over it.”

  My eyes bulged. Did he seriously tell me to ‘get over it?’

  Abby was seated next to me at the bar and she patted my shoulder. “Hate to tell you this, but he’s right, hon,” she said under her breath.

  I responded to her in a low tone. “That may be so, but it doesn’t mean I’m just gonna roll over and ‘get over’ anything.”

  Sadly, Roll heard me. “Yeah, it does, babe. Get your sweet ass over here.”

  Roll

  Roll stood firm waiting for Trixie to acquiesce to his demand. Much as he loved her, he did not like her being around Har. He heard what Abby said to her, and for once was pleased that Trixie and Abby had the relationship they did. God knew, with Trixie’s stubborn nature, he needed all the help he could get. Just as his patience was running out, she finally made her way to him. He slung his arm around her waist and pulled her to him for a long, wet kiss.

  He broke the kiss when Trixie hiked a leg up along his thigh. She could be an exhibitionist, but he wasn’t in the mood for her to put on a show for anyone but him. The front door opened and multiple pairs of boots clomped into the clubhouse.

  Vamp slapped him on
his back as he passed by them. “Damn Floridians need to learn how to deal with a cold snap, brother.”

  “That so?”

  Rage chuckled as he ambled to the bar. “Sure is, Roll. Space heaters are a real nuisance.” He looked around, then back to Roll. “The fuckin’ prospects aren’t back yet?”

  “Cal and I just got back ten minutes ago. I think they had to drop a few things off on their way back.”

  Rage nodded and pulled a bottle of tequila from the well behind the bar. Roll tipped his head at Rage. “Later, brother.”

  “What do you mean, ‘later?’ Where’re we goin’? I still got beer sittin’ over there,” Trixie complained as he guided her toward the hall.

  “Tough. Think you noticed I’ve got one helluva hard-on and you’re gonna take care of it.”

  Closing the door to his room, Trixie immediately unbuttoned his jeans, and when he sprang free she started to sink to her knees, but he grabbed her pits. “Nope. In the bed, babe.”

  He was sprawled on his back with his knees cocked wide, watching Trixie trace his cock with her talented tongue. She was a fucking master at blowjobs. Her lips sank to his balls and she sucked one into her hot mouth.

  “Fuck, woman. You are killing me,” he groaned.

  “Mmm,” she said around his nut, and he felt the pressure building in his spine.

  “Get on my face,” he ordered.

  He felt her smile before she let his nut go from her mouth. “Don’t have to ask me twice, baby.”

  When they were both coming down from spectacular orgasms, Trixie moved to snuggle with him. She was tracing idle patterns through his chest hair. After a while he felt her tracing the words “Forever Free,” and it reminded him that he wanted her to be forever free too.

  “Want you to do something for me, and I don’t want any lip,” he said.

  “Roll—”

  “I’m serious, Patricka.”

  She swatted his chest. “There’s no need for that shit.”

  He clutched her hand to his pec. “Will you go to see a counselor about your Uncle?”

  She stiffened and tried to wrench her hand from his hold, but he held firm. Her eyes glittered at him. “He’s dead. What’s a shrink gonna do for me?”

  “Help you unload.”

  She sighed. “Pretty sure I’ve dealt with it pretty well so far. Don’t need anyone nosin’ into my sex life.”

  “I want you to be all you can be, baby, and that means not carrying around his bullshit.”

  She leaned up, but he held her hand a little tighter. “I don’t carry any bullshit.”

  With his other hand, he tucked her hair behind her ear. “Talk to someone. One time. Even the strongest people have to put down their weights to keep their strength. Please. For me and Mary Beth and Jasmine.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him, but he knew there wasn’t any venom behind it. “Well, you are the second person to say something about that.”

  That surprised him, and he hoped his hunch was wrong. “Who else mentioned it?”

  “Andrea. She’s like that, though.”

  Roll exhaled trying to hide his relief that it wasn’t Har who suggested it. Trixie was wrong. Andrea wasn’t ‘like that’; it was that she cared about people unconditionally. It was also that what happened to Trixie was fucked-up and most people would need to unload that shit.

  “You mean she’s smart like that. Think you’ll feel better after.”

  Her eyebrow arched with skepticism. “We’ll see.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Trixie

  It was the Saturday after Roll went out on club business. Things were heating up with the Devil Lancers, but Roll still wouldn’t give me any of the details. I knew this was by design, but it didn’t mean I had to like it. Whatever was going on, it seemed to be going slowly‒ or they were leaving Roll out of it for some reason. Then again, having spent time in lock-up a week ago, that wasn’t exactly something he would want to repeat.

  I was brushing my hair in the bathroom and having second thoughts about my outfit. Normally, I wasn’t prone to that sort of thing, like Mallory or Rainey, but Roll and I were meeting his niece Leah for coffee. Not much could rattle me most of the time, but hell if I wasn’t nervous about this. I was in cut-offs and a tight black tee with slashes on the cap sleeves. There were two large white crosses on the breasts that turned into wings. It was edgy, but not in-your-face edgy.

  Roll peeked in the bathroom. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong,” I snapped as I put the brush down.

  “You’re snapping at me.”

  I hadn’t meant to snap, but I couldn’t help it.

  “She’s a fifteen-year-old, babe. What you’re wearing is fine.”

  How did he know? “Fine.”

  He chuckled, and I nearly lost it. “There isn’t anything funny here, Homer Rolland.”

  “You know better than to court a spanking when we need to be leaving.”

  My pussy quivered at the mention of a spanking, but he was right. We needed to get a move on.

  Twenty minutes later, the three of us were sitting around a patio table outside Starbuck’s. Roll was smoking. If he wanted me to go to a therapist for him, then I’d be asking him to quit striving for lung cancer for me. Leah had just explained that her uncle took her to school almost every day until she hit high school.

  My eyebrows furrowed at this news and I turned to Roll. “You’re always on your bike, though,” I blurted.

  Roll nodded slowly. “Yeah. Until recently, only Cal and Volt knew I have a biological brother. They knew I’ve been doin’ shit to help him and Dana so they wouldn’t have to pay daycare for two kids, which would otherwise negate what little pay Dana was bringing to the table. Bonus, I got to spend extra time with Lee-Lee. Anyway, those are the only two brothers who know I’ve got a cage. Don’t ask me why I wanted to keep that shit on the hush-hush, but seein’ as the Lancers went after you, I gotta figure they’d be low enough to go after Ray’s family. So, I guess keepin’ my shit tight worked out. Just wish it would’ve worked out better where you’re concerned.”

  There was a new weight on my chest, mainly guilt. I never really asked why he wasn’t around in the morning, at least not until I was too pissed about it. Then I felt warmth in my chest because this thoughtful aspect to Roll hammered it home for me that he was my kind of man…a family man at his core. I knew it so deep in my soul that it made me angry at him again, for not telling me why he wanted me to find someone else. For God’s sake, we could’ve had a baby by now, if not three of ‘em!

  On that thought, I shoved his shoulder with all my might. “You jackass!”

  Even though I used all my might, he barely moved. “What the hell, Trixie?”

  I crossed my arms. “We could have, I don’t know, a five-year-old by now, at least, if you woulda told me you were—”

  His beefy hand clamped over my mouth. My eyes bulged but my thoughts were derailed by Leah’s giggles.

  “You weren’t kidding, Uncle Roll. She really does know how to give someone the what-for. Maybe you can teach me that, Aunt Trixie.”

  I gasped so hard I was amazed Roll’s hand wasn’t sucked into my mouth or up my nose. I’d dreamed of babies, but I’d never dreamed of actually being someone’s aunt. How fucking great was that? My heart was a pile of goo.

  Roll let go of my face and turned to Leah. “No. She is not gonna teach you how to be any sassier. You’ve got that down pat, from what your parents tell me.”

  I looked from Roll to her.

  “Just don’t put up with anybody’s shit,” I told her in a conspiratorial tone. “But at your age, you’ll have to be nice about it. Within reason, that is.”

  Roll’s eyes bulged at me, but Leah nodded and smiled. “Yeah. I can see that.”

  ***

  We left Leah at Starbuck’s with a friend and the friend’s mother, who was taking them to the mall. We were riding through the parking lot of the strip mall when a
plain white Ford pick-up truck came barreling toward our left side.

  “What the fuck, asshole?” I yelled as the truck came closer to us.

  Roll yelled over his shoulder at me. “Hang on tighter.”

  As soon as I did, he sped through the parking lot and swerved between open spaces trying to lose the truck. Just before Roll zipped through a space between two vehicles that was too narrow for the truck, I caught a glimpse of the driver. His eyes blazed with hatred.

  “Motherfucker. That’s Iggy.” I shouted, but I couldn’t imagine Roll heard me.

  Neither of us were wearing a helmet because in Florida it was not mandatory. If the asshole hit us at high speed we would both be dead. The backside of the parking lot connected to Blanding Boulevard, and Roll rode the shoulder of the thoroughfare until he was able to cut off a honking sedan. The light ahead turned yellow, and while the car in front of us put on their brakes, Roll revved the engine and blew past the car on the driver’s side, splitting the lane.

  Roll hadn’t pulled his hair back for such a short ride, and neither had I. My hair was flying behind me, but his hair was tickling my face as we zoomed up the road. Over Roll’s shoulder, I was able to catch a glimpse of the side mirror and a white pick-up truck was weaving in and out of lanes. This crazy-ass ride would’ve been almost fun, if I hadn’t seen the look of sheer malice in Iggy’s eyes.

  There was a bottleneck ahead and we barely made it through the intersection without getting clipped by a SUV making a left-hand turn. Luckily, the next traffic light was not only green, but it was also the intersection for Townsend Road, which led to the clubhouse. I heard the screeching of tires behind us, and I tried to peek over Roll’s shoulder to see the side mirror again, but Roll shook his head and I knew that was his signal for me to stop shifting behind him.