Biker's Bride: A Bad Boy Romance (Demons MC)

by B. B. Hamel

  The room exploded. Men were yelling about revenge, war, murder. Some were wondering why the hell they were even attacked to begin with.

  “Who is that?” I asked Janine.

  “Snake Spit. Another big club from Dallas.”

  I frowned. “Why would they attack us?”

  “Who knows?” she said. “Club business, probably.”

  “It’s war, boys,” Larkin yelled, and then he slowly climbed down off the bar.

  It was all-out chaos. Men were standing, yelling, shouting, and more and more were drinking. Ford looked at me.

  “Happened this morning,” he said. “Out of nowhere, an ambush.”

  “Why?” I asked him.

  “Not sure. Could just be that they want to push into our territory.”

  “But you think it’s something else.”

  He shrugged. I looked to his right and saw Larkin coming right for our table. He gestured for me and Ford to follow him. We stood, my stomach nervous, and quickly waded through the crowd, disappearing into the back room.

  Larkin sat down with a sigh behind his desk. “Dark times,” he said.

  Ford grunted. We sat down.

  “Listen,” Larkin said. “We’re moving up your wedding.”

  I felt a spike of panic. “What?”

  “Tomorrow, you two are getting hitched.”

  “You’re kidding me,” I said.

  “Sorry, girl, but with this shit, I want to tie up your loose end fast.”

  “Okay, prez,” Ford said impassively.

  I looked at him but couldn’t read him at all. Did he really want to marry me? I couldn’t imagine that he was okay with this, and yet he was going along with it. I looked back at Larkin.

  “And do I get any say in this?”

  He laughed. “Not at all. We’ve done shotgun weddings before, and we’ll do another if we have to.”

  I frowned and looked down at my feet.

  Ford, my husband, the asshole biker.

  “Okay,” I said.

  “Good. Now get out of here,” Larkin said.

  Ford stood and I followed him out of the back room.

  So much had happened in such a small space of time. The Demons MC was at war, and now I was getting married the next day.

  I could barely come to grips with it all.

  Chapter Eighteen: Ford

  The whole damn chapter was in absolute chaos.

  The boys had gotten fat, dumb, and happy. Most of them hadn’t been around for the war back in the day that had grown us from some two-bit backwater to the dominant force we had become. They didn’t know what it meant to bleed for your club.

  Though many of the old-timers knew it, and knew it well, they didn’t want war because they were tired of fighting.

  But they hadn’t been there. They hadn’t see Tyson get gunned down. They hadn’t seen the Snakes try to come at us. They hadn’t seen the grenade that blew them to pieces.

  We spent most of the day at the clubhouse, talking with people, organizing, trying to figure out what our next move was. Larkin spent most of the morning with the council, talking strategy or whatever else they talked about.

  And then there was Caralee. I kept thinking about what she had looked like in the morning when I’d gone to wake her up, that cute fucking yawn, her sexy as fuck body. I wasn’t sure she really understood what she did to me, or what she would think if she did.

  And now I was marrying her. The very next day. I had hoped I had at least a week to be a fucking free man, but I had made my choice. It was happening faster than I wanted, but that didn’t mean I’d back down and leave her hanging. I was going to marry her just like I’d said I would.

  Hours passed that way, and eventually I sent Caralee back to my cabin. I had to stick around a while longer and talk with the boys, especially since I was a part of the crew that had been attacked. Caralee didn’t argue for once and actually seemed a little relieved that I was sending her home.

  I was sitting at the bar with Clutch, Spoil, Thade, and Rutt. Caralee had left an hour ago, and I was well into my third glass of whisky.

  “Seems to me,” Rutt was saying, “that we need to hit back and hit them hard.”

  “Course you think that,” Clutch said. “You’ve never seen war.”

  Rutt was a relatively new member. I remembered when he was a pledge only a couple months earlier. He didn’t know shit about war.

  “So?” he asked. “Doesn’t mean I won’t die for my club.”

  “Nobody’s dying,” I said, “so shut the fuck up, Rutt.”

  “What’s your problem, Ford?” he asked. “You suddenly a fucking pussy?”

  I stared at him and then stood up. Clutch laughed at Rutt and Thade shook his head. I walked over to Rutt and stared him down. “Motherfucker, what did you say?”

  “You just seem hesitant about all this is all I’m saying.”

  I smashed my head directly into his face. He fell back off his stool, clutching his nose. He made to get up and come at me, but I slugged him once in the jaw, knocking him back down.

  “Watch yourself, Rutt,” I said. “Few guys in this club ever drew more blood than me.”

  Clutch laughed again, and I returned to my spot at the bar, feeling even more angry than usual. Normally smashing someone’s face like that would put me in a good mood, but for some reason that just wasn’t happening. I kept seeing Tyson getting gunned down for no good reason, kept seeing the bullets fly.

  I wanted revenge, and I wanted it badly. I wasn’t interested in getting drunk and talking shit in the clubhouse. I wanted to get on the road and fuck some guys up.

  But I had more to think about than just that.

  “Careful,” Thade said to me. “Larkin isn’t going to give you a pass forever.”

  I shrugged. “Whatever, man. He deserved it.”

  Rutt had walked off to the bathroom to plug up his bloody nose.

  “Yeah, he did,” Clutch said. “But now’s maybe not the time to fight each other, eh, Ford?”

  I gave him a look but said nothing.

  “Did I hear you’re getting married?” Spoil asked.

  “Who fucking told you that?”

  “Larkin. Told us boys to show up early tomorrow for the ceremony.”

  “Fuck,” I said. “Yeah, it’s tomorrow.”

  “We knew it was happening, but man, tomorrow?” Clutch laughed. “Your life is over, man.”

  “You’re locked into one pussy forever,” Thade said. “Fate worse than death.”

  “Not like it’s fucking real,” I said. “It’s to keep the girl safe.”

  “Still, you’re a man of your word,” Thade said. “You’ll stick it out if you have to.”

  “Yeah, Ford. We never thought we’d see you saddled with an old lady,” Spoil added.

  “Like I said, not my choice. It’s to protect the girl from the other clubs.”

  Clutch nodded. “If there’s a time someone needs to be protected, it’s definitely now.”

  I held up my glass. “Cheers to fuckin’ that.” I drained it and TomTom poured me anther one.

  “What I don’t get,” Thade said, “is why the fucking Mexicans started running like that.”

  “Because they were getting shot at,” Clutch said. “Usually people fucking run from bullets.”

  “Yeah, can’t say I wanted to stick around,” Spoil added.

  I looked at Thade, frowning. I had noticed something weird about the Mezcals too, but at the time I hadn’t thought too much about it. I was distracted by Caralee and thinking about the upcoming fight.

  But he was right. It was strange the way they just took off like that. They weren’t taking much fire from the Snakes and were hardly shooting back. They really just up and left us there to get gunned down.

  I looked at Thade, frowning. “It is weird,” I said finally.

  “Come on,” Clutch said, “you think it’s some conspiracy?”

  “Anything’s possible in a war,” Thade said.<
br />
  “Wasn’t a war then.”

  “Was, we just didn’t know about it,” I said. “Look, you guys can’t deny that it was weird the way the Mexicans just up and ran.”

  “They were barely getting shot at,” Thade said.

  I nodded at him. “I’m with Thade on this one. I think it was strange.”

  Spoil shrugged. “Go tell Larkin, then. He oughtta know.”

  “Fine.” I slammed back my drink and stood. “Save my fucking seat. It’s my last night as a free man.”

  The boys laughed as I stalked off to Larkin’s office. I knocked on the door and waited for him to call me in before opening it and stepping inside.

  The man looked haggard. Normally he was unflappable, but it had been a long fucking day. He was dealing with Tyson’s family, dealing with the war, the club. Guy had a lot of shit on his mind.

  “What do you want, Ford?” he asked. “You’re marrying tomorrow. I don’t care if you smashed Rutt’s face.”

  I laughed. “Heard about that already?”

  “Saw the guy in the fucking toilet. Wasn’t happy with you.”

  “I’m here about what happened,” I said.

  “I’m listening.”

  I took a deep breath. “I think the Mezcals might be involved.”

  “Why?” He peered at me over his glasses.

  “Thade saw it too. They acted weird today, just up and ran when the shooting started. It was like the Snakes weren’t aiming for the Mexicans at all, almost like the Mexicans knew it was coming, too.”

  “That’s a big accusation,” Larkin said, sitting back and sighing. “Makes this war fucking harder.”

  “Sorry. Thought you should know.”

  “Yeah, well, glad you told me. Anything else?”

  “Nah. That’s it.”

  He nodded. “Enjoy your last night as a free fucking man then, Ford.”

  I stood up. “You got it, prez.”

  “Bright and early tomorrow. We’ll marry your ass off and move on.”

  I grunted at him, turned, and walked back out into the clubhouse.

  I had no plans to go home. Let the fucking pledges watch over Caralee for the night.

  I got another whisky at the bar, smashing it back. I was going to get good and drunk with the fucking boys. I couldn’t face my wedding day without a hefty fucking hangover, that was for sure.

  Even if that wedding day was with Caralee, the only woman I’d ever consider shacking up with.

  Chapter Nineteen: Caralee

  Every girl dreamed about her wedding day.

  Maybe that was a cliché, but I didn’t care. Maybe she didn’t obsess about it, but every girl thought about it from time to time.

  When I imagined my wedding day, it was always outside. I saw friends and family all sitting on cute white chairs while I walked down the aisle in a beautiful white dress. Daddy would give me away, but he’d be sober, reformed. My husband would be strapping, handsome but kind, and not at all a drinker.

  I never imagined that I would be in the bathroom of a biker bar changing into a borrowed dress with a girl I’d met only two days before.

  “How’s it going in there, honey?” Janine asked.

  “It’s tight,” I said, taking a deep breath and squeezing myself into the dress. “Really tight.”

  “Supposed to be, sweetie,” she said. “Got to show off the goods, make Ford know what he’s getting.”

  I sighed. I didn’t want to make Ford know anything. I didn’t want to be in a grimy toilet stall shoving myself into some totally revealing and inappropriate black dress.

  That’s right, a black dress. Because, according to Janine, bikers didn’t wear white. It was black or nothing.

  I managed to get the thing on and zipped and stepped out, looking at Janine uncertainly.

  “I’m practically falling out of it,” I said.

  “Oh damn,” she said. “Damn. Girl, you look hot.”

  I turned and looked at myself in the mirror. The dressed showed off way too much cleavage and clung to every inch of my body. But I had to admit, I did look good.

  I looked really damn good.

  I couldn’t help but start laughing. Janine stood next to me in the mirror, smiling.

  “I know it’s not what you probably pictured,” she said, “but for what it’s worth, you look good.”

  “Thanks,” I said, and I meant it. Janine didn’t have to help me get dressed, didn’t have to stand in as my maid of honor, but she’d shown up and had even brought a dress.

  And she seemed to get it. She understood that this marriage thing wasn’t what I wanted, and she wasn’t acting like it was the happiest day of my life. I was grateful for her all over again.

  “So,” she said. “I have one final question before I start on the hair and makeup.”

  “What’s that?”

  “The kiss. You ready for it?”

  I laughed. “I’ve kissed a man before, Janine.”

  “Sure you have, but never a man like Ford, and not on your wedding day.”

  “I think I’ll be okay.”

  “Okay, sweetie. Whatever you say.” She began to unpack her makeup kit, her straighteners, hairspray, and more—practically an entire beauty arsenal.

  “Do you know what you’re doing with all that?”

  She grinned at me. “You just relax. I went to beauty school.”

  “Really?”

  “Sure. For a few weeks. Dropped out, but I was there.”

  I frowned. That did not make me feel confident. But she was already yanking, prodding, and pulling at me. I decided just to go with it. How bad could it possibly be?

  Two hours later, I looked like a prostitute.

  Okay, maybe not that bad. But my hair was teased out, my makeup was heavy, and I felt like I was just one pair of insanely high heels away from getting propositioned on the street.

  Janine disappeared to get us both a drink, and I sat there in her little folding chair, looking at myself in the mirror. I could barely recognize myself, and I had no clue how I had gotten to where I was. The path seemed insanely foggy, the events all too fast. And yet there I was, staring at myself in the mirror on my wedding day.

  There was a knock at the door. “Come on in,” I called out. “Right on time. I could use that drink.”

  “I hear that.”

  I looked over, surprised. Standing in the doorway was Ford, grinning at me. He was wearing a suit, no tie, the dress shirt left open. Around his neck was a small necklace with the Demons MC logo in gold.

  “Holy shit,” I said.

  He looked good. Really damn good. I was shocked that he was wearing a suit, but there it was.

  “I clean up good, right?” he asked.

  “I can’t believe you’re wearing that.”

  “It’s my damn wedding,” he said, “and I thought you’d like it.”

  “I do,” I said quickly. “I really do.”

  “Good. I feel like a fucking asshole in it.”

  I stood up, smiling. “Don’t. You look handsome.”

  His eyes roamed down my body, his grin getting wider. “You look pretty fucking hot yourself.”

  “Isn’t it bad luck to see me on the wedding day?”

  “Probably,” he said. “Not like I much care about that.”

  “I guess it doesn’t matter.”

  He came a step closer. “Look, you want out of this, just say so.”

  “What? I thought I had no choice?”

  “It’s the right thing to do, no doubt. Clubs don’t go after an old lady; it’s just not done. You’ll be safe if we do this.”

  “But I can back out.”

  He stared at me intently. “You can back out.”

  I took a deep breath and let it out. “Let’s just do this, okay?”

  He nodded once. “Okay.” He took another step closer. “Ever get fucked rough up against the sink in a bathroom?” he asked.

  “Maybe, but I’m not interested.”

&n
bsp; “Might help you relax, girl.”

  “I’m relaxed enough.”

  “God, you look so fucking sexy in that dress. I want to tear it off your body slowly, make you beg for it.”

  “Keep dreaming,” I said, sitting back down. I hated to admit it to myself, but my panties were soaking wet. I’d have to change before the damn ceremony.

  Just then, Janine returned from the bar.

  “Ford!” she said. “Get the fuck outta here!”

  “Just saying hello to my bride-to-be,” he said, smirking.

  “Don’t. Fuck off. It’s bad luck.”

  He looked at me. “See you out there.”

  “Sure.”

  He nodded and then left.

  Janine handed me a gin and tonic, and I took a long sip.

  “Don’t mind him,” she said. “Men are just idiots right before they get hitched.”

  “How would you know?” I asked her.

  “Might’ve been married, once upon a time,” she said softly.

  “Oh. Sorry.”

  She laughed. “Nothing to be sorry about. His ass is long gone.” She knocked back her drink. “Now, you ready for the finishing touches?”

  I sighed, looking into the mirror.

  I was not ready for the finishing touches, not at all. I couldn’t imagine what else she was going to do to me.

  But it was my wedding day. And she was being so damn nice to me.

  “Make me beautiful,” I said.

  “You ready for this?” Janine asked.

  My heart was pounding. My palms were sweating. I thought I might pass out.

  “Yes,” I said.

  “Let’s do it.” She pushed open the doors and walked into the main room.

  I hesitated.

  What the hell was I doing? Was I really going in there, really going to marry Ford Cook?

  The boy from my past, the boy that saved me. The one that disappeared, leaving me heartbroken, confused. Ford the badass, the muscular, dirty, filthy, cocky asshole. Ford the gorgeous biker.

  What the hell was I doing?

  Janine looked back at me. “Come on,” she said.

  I took a step. My heart was pounding. I took another. I crossed the threshold.

  Up ahead, standing near the bar, was Clutch, Spoil, Ford, and Larkin. Ford was the only one wearing a suit, though the others would have looked crazy in them. There were a few other members scattered around at the tables, listening and watching.