by Lilly Atlas
Lila choked back a laugh as she looked down at her outfit. Sure her black leather skirt would need a map to find her knees, and her red halter showed some cleavage and molded to her body like a second skin. But as far as MC parties went, her outfit was tame. “Jester, you’re exaggerating. Besides, every woman I see you with is pretty much wearing little more than underwear. Why are you acting all papa bear?”
“I have a lot of money riding on Striker’s match tonight. Once he sees you in that, he won’t be able to concentrate for shit. The only thing he’ll care about is knocking the teeth out of the men who are staring at you. And, doll? That will be all of them.”
“Then I guess you better make sure Striker sees his opponent take a good look at me.” Inside, she was almost giddy. This outfit had been chosen with the express purpose of driving Striker crazy. Good to know it would have the desired effect.
Jester opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. “Hmm, that may not be a bad idea, Stitch.”
Lila couldn’t help it, she doubled over laughing at the serious look on Jester’s face. He just rolled his eyes at her. “Get in the car, wench. You’re the one who didn’t want to be late.”
“Okay, okay. I’m going.” Lila held her hands up in surrender after she swiped at the tears brought on by her laughter.
“Know this though, babe. I lose money tonight because of you, there’s gonna be hell to pay.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Jester entered the gym with a cardboard box perched on his shoulder. Striker assumed Lila was behind him, but couldn’t see her small frame around Jester’s massive one. With two fingers in his mouth, Striker blew out a shrill whistle, and raised a hand to wave Jester over.
“You want this on the table, Stitch?” Jester called over his shoulder as they navigated their way around the octagonal ring in the center of the room. Last month, she’d worked with the injured fighters, serving as a medic of sorts. She patched up their bloodied noses and split lips, and determined if anyone required more intensive medical care or a trip to the ER. Lila enjoyed it, so the owner of the gym agreed to make it a regular thing. The box Jester carried was full of bandages, gauze, and whatever additional supplies Lila needed to keep them from falling to pieces.
He spotted Lila before she noticed him, and, holy shit, his woman looked hot. A black leather mini skirt stretched across a firm ass that just begged to be squeezed. On top, a red shirt that might as well have been painted on cupped her breasts, and showed off just a hint of cleavage, enough to remind him what awaited his attention under the fabric, but not enough to be indecent. On her legs were sheer black stockings.
While she was still unaware of his presence, Striker crept over, and pressed her against the nearest padded wall. She let out a startled yelp then smiled when she realized who had her pinned.
“Hey, baby,” Striker said as his mouth descended on hers in a searing kiss usually reserved for times when they could get naked as fast as possible.
Lila melted against him, and his brain tuned out everything but the feel of her tongue stroking in his mouth, the way her breasts pressed against his hard chest, and her hands as they glided up his back. He kissed her deeply, and groaned when she tilted her pelvis against him as though seeking to be connected. Another few seconds, and he’d forget they were in public, and rip her clothes off.
“Thank you,” Striker whispered against her lips when he ended the kiss.
Her eyes were clouded with desire. “What for?”
Striker nipped at a spot on her neck, right below her ear then smiled against her skin when she shivered in response. She was always so responsive to him.
“Jester called me while he was waiting for you to pull out of the parking lot at the school. He told me what you said to your not so secret admirer. How we were your family, and you wouldn’t tolerate him speaking poorly of us.”
Red bloomed across her cheeks, and she fisted the soft material at the front of his T-shirt in her small hands. “I wasn’t aware he overheard me.”
“I know, baby.” He continued to whisper words that were only for her ears. Friday night fights were something he loved, but tonight he wished he could be alone with Lila instead. “What you said? I’m not sure how to tell you what it means to know you feel that way.”
Cheeks still pink, she smiled at him, and pressed a soft hand over his lips, stilling his words. “I meant it. And I love you. Kiss me again,” she whispered before she pulled her hand back.
“Love you too, babe.” He leaned in, and recaptured her mouth in a kiss rife with emotion and passion. This woman had come to mean everything to him, and he wasn’t always the best at expressing it with words, but he could show her in a thousand ways.
Striker couldn’t stop himself from inching his hands up the silken length of her thighs, until they were under her short skirt. When his hands encountered the edge of stockings, what little blood that remained circulating his body shot to his groin.
“Holy fuck, Lila,” he rasped out as he tore his mouth from hers. “Are you wearing garters?”
One corner of her mouth lifted into a very seductive grin. “I am. With a matching bra and panties set. I bought them online. Can’t very well go lingerie shopping with a guard dog following me everywhere.”
“Christ.” He ran a hand through his hair as he willed his dick to stand down. “Describe them to me.”
“Black. Lace. Tiny. Sinful.” She winked at him.
Striker groaned, and banged his forehead against the wall, next to her head. “If I let this guy take me out in the first round we can be going at it in your car in twenty minutes.”
Lila giggled next to his ear. The sound made him smile. He loved to hear her laugh. “As romantic as that sounds, Jester would literally kill me if you threw your match.”
“Oh, hell no! Are you shittin’ me girl?” At Jester’s loud exclamation Striker dropped his hands from under her skirt, and whipped his head around.
“Look at him, panting after you already. And garters? Jesus. I warned you, Doc. You lose me money, and we’re gonna have a problem.” He lowered his voice and continued to mumble to himself. “I knew he’d be panting after her like a damn bitch in heat once he got a glimpse of that outfit. And now, garters? Jesus.”
“By the way,” Striker said, his voice dropping even lower. “That outfit is smoking hot. One glance around the room, and I counted five assholes begging for a bloody nose. They need to keep their eyes looking elsewhere.”
Lila giggled again, and playfully swatted him away. She was pleased he appreciated her efforts. Happiness shone from the wide grin on her face. She lifted her gaze, and their eyes met. A wealth of unspoken emotion passed between them in that moment.
“Oh, baby, I’m sorry. Not much blood running to my brain at the moment. I didn’t even ask how the game went.”
“It was great! The coach of the opposing team asked if I’d come and educate their athletic staff about my concussion program. Can you believe it? I’m so excited!” Her voice rose with proof of her elation.
Pride swelled deep within Striker. There were so many things he admired about his woman. Her passion for and dedication to the work she did was high on the list. “Of course I can believe it, Lila. You’ve worked your ass off for this. I won’t be surprised if it spreads throughout the entire state.”
He loved the bright smile that lit her face. She was proud of herself too, as she should be.
“Don’t you have a match to prepare for? Jester’s already on my ass about my outfit, if you lose this fight because you were out here instead of warming up, he may ban me from all future fights.”
Striker nipped at her bottom lip, swollen from their earlier lip lock. “Jester needs to find his own woman to stare at, though it is hard to look away from you in this getup.”
“You better get moving.” She placed her hands on his chest and gave a little shove, but he wasn’t ready to release her just yet.
“I need a kiss for good luck, bab
e. I gotta make this a quick match. The faster I pound this guy, the faster I can see what’s under this skirt,” he said as he bobbed his eyebrows up and down.
With a grin, Lila leaned forward and pressed her mouth to his. He loved the feel of her lips on him, anywhere on him. He swept his tongue into her mouth to deepen the kiss, but pulled back before he was ready to end it.
“Okay, maybe that was a bad idea. You’re too fucking sexy babe.” He gave her a quick smack on the ass, which drew a sharp laugh. “Walk me to the locker room.”
Jester waited just outside the locker room door, a deep frown on his face. He didn’t say anything as Striker pushed through the door, but he growled at Lila when she paused in front of him. Striker heard her laugh, followed by, “Jester, stuff it. I’m not scared of you. Relax! Maybe you need to get laid or something.”
Striker sunk his teeth into his bottom lip to keep from cracking up at Jester’s scoff. Life was pretty good right now. The threat from the Grimms had been eliminated, which meant he could breathe easier about the club’s future, and Lila’s future. True they’d lost a full-patched member, but he was glad to take care of that problem before it escalated and damaged his family. Now, he had a gorgeous, sexy, smart woman who was as hooked on him as he was her. Shit, all he had to do was beat some ass tonight and life would be damn near perfect.
The night couldn’t have gone better. Striker won his match in the second round when he sent his opponent crashing to the mat with a killer jab that knocked him out cold. Thankfully, the number of injuries had been minimal through the evening, so Lila was able to view the fights.
It surprised her how much she enjoyed watching the men fight, Striker especially. She’d never voice this to any of the guys, but it seemed like a well-choreographed dance. The way each boxer moved was fascinating, almost beautiful, as they harnessed the power of their bodies. Most fighters wore only shorts when in the ring, giving her an unobstructed view of their toned physiques at work as they fought. These men were amazing physical specimens, and watching their muscles ripple under their skin as they battled their opponent was no hardship.
Striker had a few new bruises, but that was the extent of the damage he sustained. After he won, he’d hopped down from the raised ring, and kissed her silly. Lila loved that he had no reservations about showing affection and claiming her in public, and had gone from being embarrassed to reveling in it. Coming from a background where you had to think about how every action would be perceived by society, she wanted to soak up each spontaneous touch and caress he gave her regardless of who was around to witness it.
The final match had ended about ten minutes ago, and Lila was just finishing up with the winner of that fight. He’d taken a nasty punch to the face that split the skin of his left cheek. Luckily for him it didn’t require more than a few butterfly bandages to keep it together. Unfortunately for him, his cheek had swelled to twice its normal size, and turned a dark shade of purple that would stick around for a while.
“Okay, Rex, I’m done. It should heal up nicely, but you’ll be a little scary looking for a week or two,” she said with a sympathetic smile for the fighter from a No Prisoners chapter a few hours away in Nevada.
“Thanks, darlin’. Didn’t hurt a bit. You got some gentle hands. I can think of a few other uses for them if you’re game.” He gave her a molten look that probably worked on most women.
Lila laughed, and rolled her eyes at him, noticing Striker approach from the corner of her eye. He was freshly showered, and dressed in jeans and a T-shirt with his No Prisoners cut. He smelled like the masculine scented soap he preferred, and she took a second to enjoy it before she chuckled at the unamused look on his face. He must have overheard Rex’s flirting.
Rex raised his hands in surrender as he encountered Striker’s murderous glare. “Hey man, I ain’t trying to poach your woman. Just paying the Doc a compliment is all.”
“All right, you two. Fights are officially over. Behave.” Lila said with a smile, confident it was all in good fun.
Striker slung an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close in a possessive manner. “You ready to head out back? I’m starved, and dying for a beer.”
“I want to bring all this stuff out to my car first. It’s parked out front,” she replied indicating the box of excess medical supplies.
“I’ll carry it for you if you walk out with me.”
“No problem guys,” Rex interjected with a wink. “I’ll tell everyone to avoid your car for the next…what? Should three minutes be enough?”
Lila snorted out a laugh while Striker flipped Rex off. “Get the fuck out of here before I bust up the rest of your ugly mug.”
Lila started for the door with Striker as Rex’s laughter followed them. She loved the banter between all the men. Most people would probably find it crass and vulgar, but it created a dynamic between the MC brothers that she found entertaining.
When she stepped outside, the chill in the air startled Lila. Even after almost a year of living in the desert, the drastic temperature changes from day to night still took her by surprise.
She hadn’t tired of the wonder of the night sky. Constant activity in Washington DC was a distraction from noticing the splendor of the starry sky, and when you did notice it, the city lights muted its beauty. Out in the desert, one could stare at the vast spread of twinkling orbs for hours, and Lila had a few times while relaxing on Striker’s deck.
In no time, night riding with Striker had become one of her favorite activities. There wasn’t any experience that matched the feeling of flying down the highway in the dead of night. The combination of the seemingly endless desert surrounding them, with the infinite starry sky above, and the strong man beneath her arms was a recipe for bliss.
“You coming, babe?” Striker’s voice brought her back to earth. He was about twenty feet ahead of her, just a few steps away from the car.
She chuckled to herself, and quickened her steps. “Sorry, hon, I got lost in the sky.”
Striker used the key fob to pop her trunk open, and bent to place the box inside. He rose back up and turned toward her. In the next instant shock and fear slammed into Lila in equal measure as Striker gave a cry of pain, and crashed to the ground, his body convulsing as he fell.
What the hell? Lila had just enough time for her medically trained brain to wonder if a blow to the head during his fight caused a seizure when she felt a biting pain on the side of her neck, and a terrible surge of electricity traveled through her body.
Unable to control them, her legs gave out and she rushed toward the ground. She tried with everything she had to reach out her arms and brace the fall, but they wouldn’t respond to her commands. Fiery pain coursed through Lila’s system, and she thrashed uncontrollably on the way to the asphalt.
Panic set in, fueled by the realization that both she and Striker where completely helpless against whatever threat had reached them. Was it the Grimm Brothers? They’d given their word that the two clubs were square, but could Snake really be trusted to keep his word? Probably not. The last thing Lila remembered before her head hit the ground, and blackness set in, was two old sneakers in her line of sight.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Lila floated through a sea of seemingly endless darkness. Her head ached and her eyes felt like sandbags weighted them down. Trying to clear the cobwebs from her mind, she thought back to the last thing she could recall. Friday Night Fights. It had been a great night, at least the part she remembered. What happened after the fights? Why couldn’t she remember going to the party? She wasn’t usually enough of a drinker to black out and forget half the night. Was that what she did?
Shivers racked her body, and her brain registered the fact that she was cold. It took a few minutes to sort out the reason, but eventually she figured it out. She was supine on a bed without any blankets, and apparently she was only wearing her underwear. The second that thought ran through her mind the rest of the evening came back to her in an avalanche of
fear and horror.
Holy shit! She and Striker had been tased in the gym parking lot, and now she was on a bed somewhere, practically naked. No longer foggy headed, her eyes flew open and she shot up with a gasp as pain sliced through her head. “Oh my God,” she cried, panic lacing her voice.
“Baby, hey babe. It’s okay. You’re okay. Look at me.” Striker’s voice was a balm to her out of control nerves.
Lila turned and focused in the direction she heard Striker’s voice coming from. “Oh my God,” she exclaimed again. She attempted to rush to his side, only to be painfully jerked back to the bed when a metal cuff around her wrist halted her motion. “What the fuck?” Her voice was shrill and thready, and she sounded like she was about to lose her shit. It pretty much mirrored how she felt.
“Striker, are you okay? You look awful. What’s happening? Where are we?” Lila frantically scanned the room trying to get her bearings.
They appeared to be in a small bedroom, in a house or apartment she wasn’t sure. A twin size bed with an iron headboard was pushed into one corner, with a nightstand next to it. Lila’s right arm was handcuffed to an iron rung, and allowed her to stand, but not tread more than two steps from the bed. A table lamp on the nightstand provided the only dim lighting in the room. Across from the bed was a tall chest of drawers, and in front of that was a chair that held Striker.
Her heart squeezed with fear as she took in the sight of him. He was slumped in the chair, bound to it with what had to be yards of duct tape woven around his midsection multiple times. His arms and legs were each secured to the armrests and legs of the chair. His head bobbed to the side as he fought to remain conscious. Jesus, someone had beaten the shit out of him. Blood tracked from his mouth, and his face had extensive bruising, but what worried her were injuries she couldn’t see.
Lila was trained to work in high stress and crisis situations. She shoved her panic down and drew on that training, with a promise to herself that she could freak out like crazy later on. In a voice that impressed her for its calm sound she said, “Tell me about your injuries, Striker. Did you lose consciousness at all?”