Riot: A Hell's Heathens MC Christmas Story (Older Man, Younger Woman MC Romance)

by Raven Dark

  “You’d do that? You’d run off to my brother like that?”

  “Don’t make it sound like that, like I’m outing you. This is not about making trouble for you. It’s about giving us what we both want.”

  “You can’t, Riot. You won’t.”

  “Damn right, I will. You belong to me, and he’s going to have to live with it, and so are you, because I’m not letting you get away.”

  His words cycle through my head. I belong to him. He’s not letting me go. Each one serves as a reminder as to why I decided to leave the MC—why I’d decided on that before I even left for Cali. I’d wanted out before some man came along who thought he could run my life. Before I lost myself to the expectations of a biker’s wife.

  Before my life was no longer my own.

  Fuck, I thought he was different. I thought he’d accept a single night or two of a good time, then be content to let me walk away with my plans in tact. I should have known he’d pull this. I should have known he’d turn out to be like every other guy in a cut, thinking he has a right to reroute my life to suit him.

  Letting my anger burn away any emotion for this man, I storm over to him. “You sexist, misogynistic caveman!” I snarl. “See, this is just it, Riot. This is exactly why I’m leaving Ohio, and my brother, and the MC.”

  I whirl around and toss off the towel, throwing on my clothes.

  “Men like you, who do exactly what you’re doing now, is why I don’t want this life. I watched this happen to my mother. It isn’t going to happen to me.”

  At this, he looks genuinely confused. “Okay, why the fuck do I feel like I’m not getting the whole picture here?”

  “Never mind.” I yank on my shoes and stomp for the door.

  “Red, get back here.” He reaches for me and I step away.

  “If you want to tell Devil, fine. It won’t change a thing.” There’s no way to really stop him, so I won’t waste time trying. “I’m not letting Devil control my life, and I’m not letting you do it, either. I have plans, and like it or not, they do not, and will never, include you.”

  “Red—!”

  I step out of the room and slam the door.

  Curses drift through the door, but I force myself to ignore them, storming down the hall.

  There’s no way I can stay the night with Riot, or go home with him, but it’s not only because I’m pissed as hell at him. The more time I spend with him, the more time I’d be allowing my need to be with him to eat away at my resolve.

  The door opens, and Riot’s footsteps thud behind me.

  “Red, get your ass the fuck back here,” he growls.

  I walk faster. So does he. Riot stomps after me, not seeming to care about the stares we’re getting from the staff as he passes.

  “We’re going to talk about this,” Riot says.

  “Not gonna happen.” Headed for the doors to the motel, I pull out my phone, about to call an Uber. But then I catch sight of a cab sitting in the parking lot with what must be a customer he’s dropped off coming into the motel.

  I hurry out and across the lot, flagging the driver before he takes off.

  “Red, we’re not finished.” Riot races across the lot after me as I hop into the car.

  Giving the driver my destination, I slam the door before he can grab it.

  “Drive,” I tell him.

  The driver gives an alarmed look at a pissed off Riot with his biker’s patch and his cut and nods. He drives out of the lot and down the road as fast as possible, leaving Riot behind.

  I look back in time to see Riot fade from view in a swirl of snow, and my heart threatens to shatter.

  God, what have I done?

  7

  The Demon’s Wrath

  I hardly even notice the ride to the restaurant where I’ve asked the cab driver to drop me off.

  Since I have to save money for my return trip to Cali, I couldn’t pay for what would likely be a three hundred dollar fare back to the clubhouse. So, I’d asked Dave to pick me up at a restaurant close to the motel, meaning that I’d only had to pay ten dollars for the cab.

  “Just make sure it is you this time, okay?” I’d ask him as I signal for the driver to pull into the parking lot. I hate that my voice shakes.

  “Yeah, listen, I’m really sorry about the mess you got into with Clutch,” Dave says, his voice gruff. “If I’d known the little fuck was going to pull that shit with the car, I never would have—”

  “Don’t worry about it, Dave, really it’s fine.” I hope my voice sounds more even to him than it does to me. “We’ll talk about it when you get here, okay?”

  “Sure. I’m on my way now. Red, are you all right?”

  I guess I wasn’t doing such a hot job at sounding casual. God, what the hell is happening to me? So much for being tough, letting myself get all broken up over a man after a night of great sex.

  Sadness and anger with Riot, and with myself, storm through my thoughts. How the hell did I let a man get under my skin like this?

  “I’m fine, Dave. Seriously, don’t worry about it.”

  As if he realizes he’s not going to get more out of me, he sighs. “All right. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Sit tight.”

  Since Dave lives in Whiskey, it takes almost an hour for him to get to the restaurant. He pulls up in a black range rover that his dad owns.

  When I get in the car, Dave looks me over. “You sure you’re okay?”

  He’s checking for injuries. Shit, had I sounded that broken up on the phone?

  Dave looks exactly like Clutch, but older and a little taller, with darker hair and stronger features.

  “Really, I’m good. I just need to go back home and forget the last two days ever happened.”

  “Clutch didn’t do something to you, did he?”

  I raise my brow at his alarmed tone. The memory of how pushy Clutch was, trying to manipulate me, floods back and my stomach tightens. “No. Why? What did he tell you about that day? And…wait. Isn’t he in jail?”

  “He should be, but you know Clutch. As usual, he managed to get Dad to bail him out of trouble. The cops were all ready to charge him for stealing that car, and Dad talked them out of it. I’m guessing all those much needed donations to the police station make it hard to refuse our old man.”

  I shake my head. “Figures. I thought he had his life all straightened out.”

  “So did I. Fuck, I love my brother, but he really is a screw up. I’m so sorry he got you mixed up in his shit again.”

  “It’s not your fault.” I squeeze his shoulder.

  “Well, anyway, for what it’s worth, he told me he really blew it with you that day. He feels like a shit.”

  I scoff. “He has a gift for understatement.”

  “No, he wasn’t only talking about the car. He said he tried to get something going between you and him and he pushed too hard. He knows he was out of line.”

  Irritation pricks at me at the memory. What was it he’d said? Not ready to play with the big boys, huh, Red? I shiver at the way he’d brushed my hair off my shoulders, at the sweaty, clammy feel of his fingers. When had he become such a creep?

  “Well, it’s over now. I’m going to go home, curl up with a good girl power movie and pretend some virus has wiped out the male populace or something.”

  Dave snorts. “Yikes. What did one of us do to piss off the biker princess?”

  I let out a broken laugh. Dave makes it hard not to like him. “Nothing. It’s stupid. I got involved with a guy, we had a good time, but he wants more, and I don’t.”

  It’s a load of lies, but I can’t bring myself to give him the unedited version. Especially when I’m not sure what even happened.

  I’m not scared. I didn’t run off on Riot because he wanted something that scared the hell out of me. I didn’t. I ran off because he wanted something I know I can’t have without losing who I am.

  Dave seems to mull this over before he looks from the road to me. “Well, I don’t know who this
guy is, but not every guy is an asshole, Red. Some of us are good guys.”

  I don’t know what to say to that, so I don’t reply, instead, looking out the window at the fields of white that pass us by. Memories of the perfect night I’d had with Riot flash through my mind, and my chest tightens painfully.

  How close had I come to accepting a life with Riot? How close had I come to giving up my dreams? How close had I come to making the same mistakes my mother made before she had me and Devil? Riot made a life with him feel so perfect. But it wouldn’t be.

  MC life isn’t the way they make it sound in romance books. It’s full of heartache and sacrifices, and women and kids who come second to the club. It’s full of broken dreams and pain, and lonely nights. I don’t want that for me.

  Dave drops me off at the clubhouse over two hours later. It’s early evening by the time his SUV pulls up out front.

  “Thanks for the lift, Dave.” I climb out of the car. “I really appreciate you going out of your way like this.”

  “It’s no problem at all. If you ever need anything, give me a ring, okay?”

  “Thanks.” I dig into my back pocket for my wallet. “Here, let me give you some money for the gas.”

  “Oh, please, don’t worry about it. I was happy to help.”

  But my wallet isn’t in my jeans pockets. I pad the pockets of my leather coat but still don’t find it.

  “Hang on, my wallet’s gone.”

  We spend a few minutes looking around the floor of the car and between the seats, but come up empty.

  “It doesn’t look like it’s here,” Dave says after feeling around on the floor of the passenger side.

  “Shit.” I sigh. “I must have dropped it at that restaurant where you picked me up or something.”

  “Well, if I find it in here, I’ll let you know. And don’t worry about paying me. I’m glad to do it. Besides, I owe you for getting you into that mess with Clutch.”

  I give his hand a squeeze. “No, Clutch got me into that mess with Clutch. See you later.”

  Dave shuts the door and waves before he drives away and I make my way across the lawn toward the front porch. A few of the men who are gathered out there wave at me.

  I heave a sigh. Devil’s probably in there somewhere, waiting for me. Since he sent Riot for me at the police station, he’d have heard about what happened with Clutch.

  How much had Officer Henderson told him over the phone? Well, it doesn’t matter. Just my being at the station would be enough to have him pacing like an angry tiger. This is not apt to be a fun conversation.

  “Red,” Badger calls, hurrying across the common room as soon as I walk in. “You’d better get your ass into Devil’s office. He’s been stomping around all afternoon, cursing your name. He’s as mad as a grizzly.”

  I roll my eyes and head for Devil’s office, but then stop, turning back to Badger. “Wait, this afternoon? Not yesterday?”

  The time doesn’t make sense.

  “Oh, no, he was pissed yesterday after that cop called. Something about you getting in a stolen car. But he’s mad again, and it’s worse this time. Did you get into more shit today?”

  I shake my head slowly, confusion slowing my brain down. I shrug it off. “Well, whatever it is, I’m sure I’ll hear about it soon enough.”

  “Hang on,” Badger says stopping me at the doors to the office. “Where’s Riot? Didn’t he pick you up?”

  Unwilling to risk questions I can’t safely answer, I open the door to the office and step inside. Say what you want about women who gossip, but the guys are worse than high school kids. The rumor mill in the clubhouse grinds hard and fast, and I don’t want what’s happened between Riot and I getting back to Devil when he already has plenty of other reasons to be pissed at me.

  My stomach roils at the thought of confronting Devil over what’s happened with Clutch and that stupid car. Well, it’s not like I can avoid him forever. I might as well get it over with.

  I find Devil talking with Havoc and Vicious at the wide desk in his messy office. As soon as Devil sees me, his nostrils flare, and I watch his fists tighten.

  Shit, he is pissed.

  “Hi, there, carrot top,” Havoc says, giving me a hug when I walk over.

  I grin at my brother’s right hand man, the one who will take his place when his time as President ends.

  Havoc is one of the most interesting looking men I’ve ever met. With thick, jet-black hair that’s parted down the middle like Riot’s, and eyes so dark I can barely make out his pupils, he has an appearance that makes me think of a biker vampire. Or it would if he didn’t have olive skin, a silver dagger in one ear, and if his hair didn’t have a white streak in one side of his bangs. I don’t think vampires age, not even as well as him, and he wouldn’t be wearing a silver earring.

  Buying myself time, I let the hug linger. Havoc’s always been like a second older brother, but without the whole control issue. “Hi, Havoc. Devil giving you guys a hard time?”

  “Always, but it’s part of the job.” He squeezes me close. “Missed you.”

  I add a hug for Vicious, smiling up at him. “Congratulations, Vicious. Where’s this Anne of yours I’ve heard about?”

  “Hi.” Vicious ruffles my hair. “Welcome back. She’s in this place somewhere with Sandra, probably fending off the girls who keep wanting to feel her baby kick. She and Sandra have been wanting to meet you since you got back.”

  I stare at him. “She’s pregnant? You’re going to be a dad? God help us,” I tease.

  “Funny, that’s what Anne keeps saying.”

  “Boys, get out of here and give me a minute alone with my sister,” Devil growls.

  Havoc winces. “Come on, Vicious, let’s get out of here before the Prez throws us out bodily.”

  The two of them make the kind of quick exit that members only make when my brother’s about to go on the warpath. Once they’ve gone and the door clicks shut, I turn my focus to Devil.

  One look at the anger blazing in Devil’s eyes, and I know I’d better take control of the conversation fast or he’ll bulldoze right over me.

  “Okay, look, Dev, I don’t know what Officer Jerkoff told you when he called, but I swear, I had no idea that Clutch had stolen that car—”

  “Save it,” Devil snaps. “You’re in enough trouble without talking yourself in deeper.”

  I make a pissed off sound. “See, here we go again. I knew you’d do this. I knew you’d assume I’d had something to do with the theft. You still see me as that naïve, irresponsible little—”

  “Irresponsible?” Devil hisses the word as if it’s a curse. “Don’t you dare talk to me about being irresponsible, Red. Not now. Not after what you have done.”

  I put my head back, infuriated. “Okay. Devil, I know, I made an incredibly stupid mistake, getting in that car with him. But I had no way of knowing that—”

  “No. This isn’t about that.”

  “What?” I blink at him. What the hell else would he have to be this pissed at? He can’t know what’s happened between Riot and me.

  Unless Riot already told him.

  “What?” I repeat.

  He jerks his head at one of the chairs sitting opposite his. “Sit down.”

  “No. Tell me what’s going on.”

  “Sit down!” Devil roars.

  The anger pounding off of him hits me like a wave.

  All right, this is not about Clutch. He’s too mad for that. Especially since, though I don’t know how, I get the feeling he knows I didn’t have anything to do with stealing that car.

  Dread pools in my gut. I almost ask him what Riot told him. My being involved with Riot is the only explanation for his anger. Because he isn’t just pissed. He’s enraged. Devil hates his voice, so he never yells unless he’s been pushed to his breaking point.

  Slowly, I sit, unwilling to push him further than I already have.

  Devil rakes his hands through his hair, and for a long moment, he looks at t
he ceiling as if he’s thinking. Trying to rein in his temper. For that instant, he reminds me of Dad, when Dad would try to play the calm, rational father without his anger mucking it up.

  When he looks at me and finally speaks, his naturally gruff voice almost sounds calm, except for the steel in it. “I’m not going to ask you what you were thinking, because obviously you weren’t. Red, just tell me one thing. Why him?”

  I click my teeth. “So, Riot did tell you. God, that—”

  “No, he didn’t tell me anything. He didn’t have to.” His voice is low and dangerous.

  I sit up straighter. “Wait, he… but then… how… Devil, how do you know…?”

  Devil leans on the desk toward me. “A picture says a lot more to me than he ever could have. And since the guys have already told me that you always call Riot Florida, there’s no question who this one was for.”

  A picture…

  Oh. My. Fuck.

  My stomach gives a sickening roll.

  Devil pulls out his phone and presses a few buttons before pushing it across the desk at me. I make myself look at the image on the screen, the image of buck naked me sprawled on a hotel bed.

  Jesus Christ. “How did you… How did I…” God, what the fuck?

  “I sent you a text this afternoon,” Devil growls in a very low, lethal tone. “Imagine my surprise,” he continues, coming around the desk with a predatory slowness. “Imagine my surprise, when I ask you where the fuck you are, and I get this back.”

  I shake my head and push to my feet, grabbing my phone out of my pocket. When I bring up my messages and scroll through them, sure enough, there is a message from Devil, demanding to know where I am.

  And there, in all its horrific, humiliating glory, is my reply.

  The nude pic.

  Kill. Me. Now. Just kill me now.

  “Oh my God.” I close my eyes as my mind pieces together what must have happened.