Layne gritted his teeth and threw his head back, letting out a deep grunt. He held inside me as he started to come. His cock was spilling, pulsing, pouring inside my body. He kept fucking me. Then he pulled out and slapped his cock against my mound. I reached down and gripped him, feeling our messes tangled together as he continued to come.
Yeah, he definitely hadn’t been fucking anyone else.
I opened my hand and pressed his cock to my lower stomach. I was sopping wet from myself and his orgasm. Layne kept thrusting, slowing by the second.
When we finally finished, I laid there, trying to catch my breath.
Layne lifted his jeans and tucked his cock away.
“Lay with me,” I said in a weak voice. “Please. Don’t leave…”
Layne grabbed a towel off the floor and I cleaned up all I could. He then got on the bed and pulled at me, bringing me to him. I was naked, on top of him, as he wore all his clothes. Call it fucked up, but I never felt so sexy in my life. His fingers trailed up and down my shoulder, my back.
I kissed his neck and groaned again as my body continued to pour.
“Stay the night,” I whispered. “Please, Layne.”
“I won’t be here when you fucking wake up, sweetheart,” he said.
I shut my eyes.
When I opened them again, Layne had been telling the truth.
He was gone.
6.
(Layne)
There was no fucking way I could stay there with her. I’d gotten what I wanted, gave her what she needed, and I even was nice enough to hang around so she could fall asleep. My job was all but done. Shit. Bad enough I was protecting her without asking for a damn thing. She wanted to suck my cock. She wanted me to get between her legs. That was all her. And, yeah, I went along with it.
I’d rather fuck Shelby than some clubhouse whore looking for a dick. Even though the clubhouse whore didn’t come with baggage and goddamn emotions and feelings and all that shit.
I was on the road, right where I felt comfortable. Thundering horsepower between my legs, my hands gripping tight at the handlebars, the open road twisting, moving against the horizon. Behind me, Finn trailed. Two behind him, Brett and Hawke. We had no business going to Pep’s bar, but I had to see it again. I had to revisit. Replay it in my mind. The sound of the bullets tearing through the place. How in the fucking hell did those first bullets not hit Shelby? Or myself? Christ, for all I knew, I should have been sitting there, picking at some fries, and then getting sprayed with Shelby’s brains.
It made my stomach sick.
I turned into the parking lot. The front windows were now boarded up. The bar taped off in caution tape. Another set of tape around the perimeter. I pulled up to the tape and grabbed it, tearing it to the ground.
“What the hell is this about?” Finn asked me as he stepped off his motorcycle.
“Inside,” I said. “You and me.” I looked over at Brett and Hawke. “You two stay out here. Run guard on the place. Police show up, tell them I’m inside.”
“This is trespassing,” Brett said.
“This is my fucking town,” I yelled.
I walked to the back door and kicked it open. No surprise it wasn’t locked. The police didn’t give a shit about Pep’s bar. Hell, who would? It was a breeding ground for drunks and fighters, but Pep had ties to Devil Call MC. He deserved better than getting shot like he did. Lying in a hospital bed with tubes sticking out of him like some damn experiment.
Finn followed me inside. The place was eerie quiet, each step we took had a crunching sound. It almost felt like the bar had been abandoned for years instead of days.
“Layne, what is this?” Finn asked.
I stopped in the doorway from the kitchen. I crossed my arms and stared out at the bar where Pep was shot and the floor were one of the guys was killed. Crimson stains covered the cheap flooring. The table where I sat with Shelby, still flipped up from me using it as a shield.
All I could see though was the Devil Call MC cut walking away from the place.
“Let me ask you a question,” I said. “No bullshit, Finn.”
“When do I bullshit?”
I looked at him. “Every one of us is bullshit. There’s a fucking reason you didn’t want the President’s patch. And I’m trying to figure it out.”
“Why? You nervous I’m going to steal your job?”
“No,” I said. I pushed from the doorway. “Not unless you’re man enough to put a bullet in my head.”
Finn put his hand to his back, reaching for his gun. “You want to go down like Pep?”
“When it’s my time, I don’t want to know. Finn, I want to know if anyone has secrets in the clubhouse. That’s a tough question, because we all have secrets. But something caused all this to happen. It’s not random. It’s not just old shit. This was raw. Fresh.”
“Maybe someone charging through Oakville,” Finn said. “Someone new. Someone barking orders. Someone stomping on ground where they don’t belong.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“No,” Finn said. “Just running a scenario. Got it?”
I gritted my teeth.
“What about debts?” I asked. “You owe anything to anyone, Finn?”
“My personal life is none of your business.”
“You’re right.” I stepped from the kitchen. I pointed to the table. “I was sitting there with Shelby. I heard the bullets zinging around. They had a silencer on the gun. Usually attacks are loud. Right in your fucking face.”
Finn walked in front of me. He went to the table and touched it. He kicked forward and put the table back upright. It hit with a dusty thud. He put his hand to the table. I stared at the back of his leather cut.
Could he…?
“Aye,” Finn said, letting a little accent slip. “I have secrets. Any man in this life does. Don’t you?”
I didn’t answer. I had no fucking reason to answer. I was the one asking questions.
“We’re under attack, Finn. I’m trying to find out if it’s coming from the inside or the outside.”
“Inside,” Finn said. “You mean…”
“Whatever you want it to mean. The last thing I want to do is start shaking down my own guys for debts on gambling and pussy, but if there’s something lingering, I need to know.”
“Eh, I’m sure a handful of them owe. But what does that have to do with shooting up the bar here? Those bullets were meant for you. For Shelby.”
I shook my head. “No. If they wanted me dead, they would have gotten me. That was a warning. That was a bloody warning.”
“Mountain Killers then,” Finn said. “They were going up to the Canadian border and really moving shit through. They snuck through Oakville when needed. Going out means running the risk of bigger towns, cities, political stuff. Plus, then you start getting into mafia and cartel territory. And you don’t want to get in the crosshairs of their wars.”
“Maybe I do,” I said. “If it gives us muscle.”
“Trust me, it won’t.”
“What the fuck do you even want with the club, Finn? You didn’t want the patch. You don’t want to go out there and fight.”
Finn moved from the table. He tore off his leather cut and threw it at me. I caught it, squeezing it tight.
“What the hell is this? You quitting?”
Finn turned and lifted his shirt. There was a jagged scar on his back. Almost like a large crater. Something had been cut off his back.
“See that?” Finn asked.
“Yeah.”
“That’s for the MC. That’s what I gave up. Don’t question my fucking loyalty.”
“One of your secrets?”
“Aye,” Finn said. He and stepped toward me. “You want to run out and take on the mafia and the cartel, do it. Take on the Mountain Killers. Take on Oakville. Do it all, Layne. Do it all. I’m ready to fight for my cut, my club.”
“Okay,” I said.
I walked through the kitchen again. I
kicked open the back door and was faced with a gun pointed directly at me.
7.
(Shelby)
I left the clubhouse and went to feed the dogs. AJ lumbered around slowly, no reason to move anymore. Sugar was full of life. She jumped up on me, desperate to lick my face. She was a big girl and I stood no chance trying to hold her up. I sat and she sat. She pressed her body next to me, turning, falling to her back, wanting her belly rubbed.
These were my moments of peace, for now.
I needed a plan. I needed to find out what was eating away at Layne. It went beyond the shooting. That kind of stuff happened all the time. It was just sad that Pep decided to stand up and shoot back. That’s what left him with bullets and now in a hospital bed.
Maybe I could help.
I left the dogs and ran to my car.
Layne and Finn were gone. The rest of the guys were in the clubhouse. Two prospects were at the gate but I could get by them. I still had my keys. They opened the car. They started the car.
I put it in drive and crept forward. The prospects looked at me and I hit the gas. They knew better than to draw their weapons on me. One of the guys flung the gate open at the last second, saving my car from getting smashed up. I cut the wheel to the right. My tires squealed and the car started to spin. I fought with the wheel and managed to keep from actually crashing.
I drove.
The open road scared me a little. Layne had me convinced that I was a target. Christ, I knew I was, but I wanted to refuse it. I wanted to chase it all away. Yet the Mountain Killers had come after me. And I was somehow all tied into the mafia.
All I wanted to do was find my mother. Get her side of the story in life.
I checked my mirrors every few seconds.
In no time I was at Daddy’s trailer. Parked far off a dirt road.
I approached with caution, knowing he was trigger happy.
The last time I saw Daddy, he hit me. That set Layne off, too.
The door to the trailer opened and Daddy stood there, a white t-shirt tucked into his tan pants. His beer gut pressed against his shirt. He looked tired and beat up. His gun was at his hip. When he saw it was me, he crossed his arms.
He reached into the trailer and brought out his rifle. He slept with the damn thing and never told me why. I knew his hands were fast, physically and with his trigger finger, but I had questions to ask.
I stood with my car door open as though it were a shield. Like a bullet couldn’t get through the window. Better yet, from my neck up I was exposed. I was a sitting duck, waiting to be killed. That was, if my own father would do it.
“Daddy,” I said. “I need to talk to you.”
“Where’s your boyfriend?” he asked. “He coming to take me out because I made you shut up?”
I shook my head. “He doesn’t know I’m here. He’s going to be mad. I have to talk to you about something.”
“What?”
“That shooting in town.”
“The bar?”
“Yeah.”
“That doesn’t matter. Bunch of bikers trying to take each other out. Nothing more.”
“No, it’s more,” I said.
Daddy started to sweat. “What the fuck are you talking about, Shelby? You got that paranoid thing going on again? Just like your mother with that. You going to take off soon?”
“Don’t say that.”
“You find her yet?”
“Not yet. Things have been happening. That’s why I’m here. The shooting at the bar.”
“Damn, Shelby, let that the fuck go,” Daddy yelled.
“I can’t!”
“Why?”
“I was there.”
Daddy’s face dropped. “What?”
“I was there. Eating dinner. Having a drink. Layne saved me. He pulled me to the floor and flipped the table up to block the bullets.”
“Jesus Fuck,” Daddy said. He let the rifle fall into the trailer. He ran down the steps and hurried to me. “Shelby, I didn’t know.” He looked around, paranoid. “I didn’t know.”
“I want to ask you about something.”
“What?”
“Is there such thing as the mafia?”
Daddy put me at arm’s length. “Why would you ask something like that for? Is he telling you to do this?”
“Who?”
“Layne. The new guy. The President.”
“No. But Layne told me I’m connected to it all somehow.”
“He’s full of shit,” Daddy growled. “That son of a bitch knows nothing. It’s all mind games with Devil Call. You should know that. When they’re scared and feel weak, they go for the mind.” Daddy looked around again. “You need to be careful. You need to take care of yourself. Maybe you should take off. Get the fuck outta here and this goddamn state.” Daddy then sighed, “What am I saying? There’s nowhere to hide.”
He looked at me and then cackled. A scared cackled. His breath was rancid and stunk of whiskey.
“Are you drunk?”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s a simple question. Are you drunk?”
“I may have had a zip or two in my cereal,” Daddy said. He then laughed. It was a weird, maniacal laugh. “It’s the only way to function in this damn town.”
“You’re the sheriff.”
He waved a hand at me. I jumped back, wondering if he was trying to smack me. He stumbled forward, trying to grab at me. But I kept moving. There was no way he was going to be able to touch me.
Daddy picked up speed and I turned to run. He got a handful of my hair, but it was enough to snap my head back. I threw my hands out and braced myself, knowing that if I fell something bad was going to happen.
I spun and the back of my right hand slapped Daddy’s scruffy face. It was like hitting a cactus. But it was effective. Daddy tripped and went down to his knees. He looked up at me, reaching with one hand. Snot dripped from his nose as he yelled for me.
“Something is wrong,” I said as I got to my car. “Something is really wrong. The shooting. The mafia. Everything. You need to be ready. It’s going to get worse now. And it’s not my fault.”
Maybe it is your fault, Shelby. You just don’t know it yet.
“Wait!” Daddy yelled. “They’re… it’s… oh, shit. Did you hear a car? A horn?”
Daddy then turned and crawled like a child, hands and knees in the dirt. He scrambled back to his trailer and climbed up inside.
I watched the door shut. My hands on the steering wheel. Daddy used to be a big, tough man. I always remembered him worried though. The years of that definitely wore on him, but something else was there. Something he wasn’t telling me.
I started the car and grabbed the shifter to put it in reverse.
“Where’s the fire?” a voice asked.
I screamed and jumped.
I turned my head and looked up. I thought it was maybe one of the deputies, someone coming for orders from Daddy.
It wasn’t.
It was a man in a suit.
I checked my mirrors.
There was a black car behind me. Two men stood at the hood, wearing suits, arms crossed.
8.
(Layne)
Brett and Hawke stood there, hands cuffed in the front. Brett’s lip was bleeding. He sucked on it, his eyes burning with rage.
I looked at the two officers, one with a gun drawn on me.
“What the fuck are you doing?” the guy bellowed at me.
Clean cut, cleft chin, defined jaw, nice hair good boy. That’s what he was. Mommy and Daddy probably had the perfect marriage, even if Daddy was fucking two other women on the side. Probably took the badge with a sense of entitlement, thinking it added a few inches to his dick.
The difference?
I was the one who was free. He was bound by the justice set forth through the legal system.
I stepped toward the gun.
“I bet you’ve never fired that,” I said.
“Fuck you.”<
br />
“Or when you do go shooting, you flinch each time you pull the trigger. Because you’re afraid. Because you thought it was going to be like a TV show. But it’s not.”
“Get on your fucking hands and knees.”
I looked at his shirt. “Officer Jenning.”
I reached forward and pulled at the name tag. He brought a fist down and then tried twisting my arm. Pain shot through my shoulder as I turned.
“This is our bar,” I said. “Belongs to the MC. I have every right to be here.”
“You have no rights,” Officer Jenning said. “I’m taking you in.”
“For what?” I asked.
“Trespassing. Didn’t you see the caution tape?”
“It was on the ground. I thought you were protecting the ground.”
“Smart ass. Fucking punk.”
“You’re younger than me, brother,” I said.
Officer Jenning twisted my arm. “Hey. I’m not your fucking brother. I’m not your anything.”
I twisted back at the young officer and broke his hold. He hand came back up. His finger was on the trigger. I put my hand to the top of the gun and fought to keep it pointed down.
“I am something. Your worst enemy and best friend.”
A second later, Finn came out of nowhere. He tackled the other officer to the ground.
“Jesus Christ!” Officer Jenning yelled.
He reached for his radio and I grabbed it and tore it from his body. I kicked at him, sending him flying back and down to his ass. His gun ended up in my hand. I opened the chamber and took the clip, tossing it aside.
“Don’t reach for anything else,” I said. I pointed to the officer. “This is my fucking town. This is my fucking crime scene. You’re not going to fucking do a thing about it. I know how this works. You’ve been waiting for this. The bar shot up. Now you’ll leave it like that. You have no fucking idea what this bar means or the man who owns it.”
I reached for Officer Jenning and he flinched. He turned his head, waiting for me to hit him.
“Christ,” I said. “Your old man used to beat you.” I grabbed the keys to the cuffs from his belt. “How bad was it?”
SAVAGE HEART (Layne & Shelby Book Two) (A Devil Call MC Book) Page 3