Blazing Hot Bad Boys Boxed Set - A MC Romance Bundle

by Glass, Evelyn

  "We're thinking Sam's for next week, John. What do you think?" Larry asked.

  "Sam's is always a good run. I'm in." John nodded, and then said to Chelsea, "You're pretty good on that Sporty. You should think about getting one of your own."

  "Think Duffy will trade me for my Shelby?" she asked.

  John laughed. It was a deep laugh, out of a mountain of a man. "Not a chance."

  "Why not? The Shelby is worth three of those Sportsters," she complained.

  "Not to Duffy it’s not. The only thing he drives is his flatbed tow truck, and only when one of the club is down and his helper isn't around. He’s bikes all the way."

  "Weirdo." Chelsea grinned.

  "Yep, but he's our kind of weird."

  She looked over at Elias. "So I've heard. I think I'm going to have to meet this man soon. His reputation has grown to heroic proportions from all the stories I've heard."

  John laughed again. "He's quite the guy. Well, I'll be taking off. Glad things are taken care of, though I had little doubt they would be. See you all soon."

  Chelsea watched the huge man make his way out through the kitchen and felt something warm inside of her. He really did care what happened to her. Why? She was nothing to him. Not really. She wasn't part of the club, and as far as he knew, she wasn't anyone special to Elias. She hoped she was now, but John didn't know about last night.

  "What you thinking?" Larry asked her.

  "Honestly? I was wondering why John seemed to care so much."

  "Because Elias told him you're worth the effort," Larry said simply. "The club is like that. 'All for one and one for all,' and all that other stuff. Only it's not just stuff to us. It's important, and real."

  She thought about that, and then put her hand on Elias' thigh. "Thank you."

  He gave her a small smile. "You are worth it, you know."

  Was she? Was she really? Two weeks ago she was bedded by Tomas, Mr. Stewart, and two of their friends whose names she never learned, one after the other—passed around like she was a fuck doll. She performed several degrading sexual acts, and then was humiliated further by having to wait on her knees until someone wanted his dick sucked again, or her ass to fuck. Worthless in their eyes, and hers. When did she become someone a man like Elias could care about? Or John? Or Larry? Or the five men who came in ready to kill for her? She bit her lip and tried to hold back the tears threatening to spill from her eyes.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Elias woke at four in the morning Monday. Chelsea was trembling in his arms from the torments of some restless dream. He smoothed her hair, hummed, and gently kissed her neck. "It's alright baby, you're safe," he whispered.

  She woke with a start and locked eyes with him, and then relaxed, gripping fitfully at his arm around her.

  "Just a dream baby, just a dream," he soothed.

  She turned into him and nuzzled his chest while gripping at his shoulders and replied, "I know, I know, but that's not what is hurting."

  "What is it Chelsea?"

  "You know so little about me, and you are doing so much, risking so much for me. I want to tell you, I really do, but I'm so scared, and it hurts so much even to think about. He's so mean, Elias. Meaner than you know. Really. You handled him well but only because he didn't expect to be ambushed like that. Next time, he'll be ready for you, and the way he gets ready for things is with overkill." She looked up into his eyes, "Please don't leave me, and give me more time. Please? I want to be worth it to you, but… I know I'm not. You just don't know, and it's tearing me apart."

  Her tears glistened in the moonlight coming through the window, and he leaned down and kissed her gently. "I'm not going anywhere."

  "You should. You should dump me back on the road, get on your bike, and never look back," she whimpered, and then she clutched at him. "But please don't."

  "I'm not going to do that, and yes, I can wait," he told her, running his fingers through her hair, which was damp with sweat.

  "But you shouldn't have to," she bawled. "You are risking your life, and the club, and Larry, and John, and men I don't even know. He's not alone. He has friends. Friends on the force, and friends off the force who are even worse than he is."

  "You've met these friends?"

  She shivered in his arms—deep, trembling shudders that came from her bones. "Yes," she whispered. "I've met them." And the degradation coming through her voice made him want to get his gun and start removing people from the sphere of her life.

  "Do you know any of their names?"

  She nodded, but didn't say anything.

  "Even their names scare you?"

  She nodded again, and then resumed trembling. "What scares me most, Elias, is what you are going to think of me when I finally have the guts to tell you what I should have told you before you risked your life today. I want so much for you to like me, to see me like you do now, but it's just not going to happen, and I know that. I'm a selfish bitch because I can't bear to let this go. To let this dream end."

  Elias gently lifted her chin to look her in her tear-filled eyes. "If you never believe another thing from me, believe this—nothing you can tell me about your past is going to affect who I see you as right now. You are who I met at the bar, and who you have become to me now. You are the woman I ride with, and who I will fight for, and nothing in your past is going to change that."

  "You don't know—" she started to bawl.

  "You left that past," he told her, stopping her protests. "You had the strength to run, and to risk everything doing it. That's hard stuff. Many people, men and women, never have the strength to take that kind of risk, to run from hell, knowing hounds will be on their trail. That's what I know about you. That's who I care about. Who you were in hell isn't, and will never be, more important to me than who you are to me right now."

  Her face flashed with a series of emotions, and then she broke into a keening wail of tears and sobs. "Fuck, Elias! Shit! You are tearing me in half!"

  He kissed her cheeks, and her forehead, and then soothed her and caressed her with his hands, massaging her deeply, and pulling her into him. He petted her and cooed at her until she calmed down and began to kiss him back.

  "Please make love to me? I need you Elias. I need to be the woman you see, because I can't stand the woman I see. Make me your woman, Elias. Make me believe I'm yours."

  ***

  When Chelsea's eyes fluttered open again, it was dark and she was alone in Elias' bed. She looked over at his bedside clock and saw it was after nine. Elias would be at his computer, or maybe out in the garage working on the bike frame he was designing. Or maybe he was painting another work of art for his walls with oil paints. She sighed. He was such a complex man. There was so much to him—depths she wanted so much to explore and enjoy.

  On the nightstand beside her she noticed a tall glass of orange juice and a folded note under it. She reached and took both off the stand. After a long drink she read the note. Good morning lover. You are my woman, it said.

  Tears welled up in her eyes. "Fuck," she sobbed.

  How could she tell him what he needed to know without telling him what she became? Yes, she did it to survive, and no, she didn't enjoy it. And yes, it wasn't her fault, but no, none of that really mattered. She wasn't even a whore. Whores get paid. She was something so much less. She felt so humiliated when she thought about Elias possibly being hurt because of her, and so deeply ashamed when he said things like he said last night. He didn't know who he had in his bed, who he was letting his heart care about, who he was calling lover.

  "But he has to know. He has to know what he is risking, and what he's up against," she told herself as she wiped her tears from her cheeks with her palm. "I have to tell him. He'll leave me, or at the very least, he'll move me back into the guest room and never touch me again. But I have to tell him."

  Just the thought of Elias never wanting to touch her again forced her to curl into a ball of sobs and moans.

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  Back to Table of Contents

  Trust in Me

  A.L. Summers

  TRUST IN ME

  CHAPTER ONE

  The Dark Riders or DRs, as we call ourselves, is a club of like-minded individuals that enjoy riding motorcycles. Specifically, hogs. We each have our day job. I work the parts counter at a Harley-Davidson dealership, for example. We also have our…ahem…other jobs. The DRs is a very exclusive club. You are only allowed in if you are recruited. We only recruit when we need a very specific set of skills. You see, the Dark Riders, we’re in what you might call the export business.

  We work together to obtain Harleys for customers who might otherwise find them unattainable. Customers in other countries. Other European countries, to be exact. My brother Danny is Vice President of Business Development at one of the local banks. In other words, he makes loans. He makes sure we have sufficient cash to pay for the bikes we buy.

  Charlie works a help desk for a large IT firm. He functions as our forger. His computer skills allow him to make modified documents, both electronic and paper, that are indistinguishable from the originals. He makes sure the paperwork looks nice and legal. This insures the feds are kept in the dark about our gray marketing.

  Sean drives a truck. He handles transportation and is responsible for getting the bikes in a container and on the water. Rick is an air freight pilot on a regular run to London. He is perfect for handling sales and is the contact for our customers.

  Then there is Lew, our president. Lew is retired after selling his string of restaurants. He founded the Dark Riders years ago. He runs our little export business for something to do. Plus, it brings in a little “walking around money,” as he calls it. He handles the money and makes sure each of us gets a slice of the pie.

  And me? My job is to locate and obtain the bikes the customers want. I’m also the breaker. I break some of the bikes we buy down and sell them as spare parts.

  We all have our jobs and we’re all an important cog that makes the well-oiled machine run. The problem is that not everyone sees it that way. Charlie gets no respect for what he does and neither do I. I know more about bikes than anyone else in the DRs, but do they respect me? That would be a big fat fuck no. I’m just Danny’s little sister. I would like to see one of these ass-clowns buy this many new bikes in a year and not have someone get suspicious. Or take one apart. Hell, Rick can’t even change his own oil. I know because he brings his bike to me to do it for him.

  So even though Charlie and I are the ones getting the damn bikes for everyone else to do their part, they give me a pat on the head and a “ain’t she cute” bullshit attitude. I finally had enough of it. I was tired of living in the shadow of Danny. He didn’t do shit unless we ran into a cash flow problem. Three weeks ago, after throwing a wrench at Sean for his smart ass attitude, I stormed out vowing to never return.

  While I sat drinking my beer at one of our regular watering holes, thinking evil thoughts, Darren Kelley strolls in. He sat down beside me at the bar. Darren used to be a Dark Rider, until he and Danny got into it. Darren was pissed that he was passed over for the vice president position in favor of Danny. Rather than suck it up and act like a man, he started spreading rumors. When they got back to Danny, Darren found himself tossed out on his ass. That was two years ago. Danny and Darren have hated each other since.

  Since then, Darren formed his own club, the Demon Knives. He appointed himself president. It didn’t go without notice that his club’s initials just happened to match his own. That’s Darren. He’s an insufferable, know-it-all, blowhard; but, damn, he’s good looking.

  Plied with beer and attitude, one thing led to another and I ended up going home with him. In hindsight, we both wanted the same thing, to stick it to the DRs. And in Darren’s case, by extension, Danny. The first couple of weeks were pretty fucking good. That is to say the fucking was pretty good. Darren might be an asshole, but he knows how to please a woman. After the second week, Sean, Danny, and Lew called and apologized. They asked me to come back. I was mostly over being pissed off anyway, especially since I worked off my frustration on Darren’s cock. That’s when I started to try and ease my way out of the relationship. That’s also when Darren started to get a little clingy.

  Last week, I finally had enough of Darren’s shit, too. I told him I was out of there. At first he pleaded, then he threatened. Then, he slapped the shit out of me. There must be a course at asshole school that teaches a man how to hit a woman because that slap hurt like shit. I hit him with the door and ran like hell. When I got back to the club, I claimed a kid chasing a Frisbee in a park ran me over. I had to explain away the bruise. I don’t know if they bought it, but nobody said anything.

  I would have considered it a lesson learned and let it go at that, except Darren is creeping me out. It seems every time I turn around, he’s there. He’s always where I am, watching. When I finally confronted him about it, he didn’t deny following me. He said that he couldn’t live without me. That was scary. What is even scarier is that he said that I would realize that I couldn’t live without him, too. I told him to wait right where he was and I would come get him when I realized he’s right.

  This morning I was going to ride my bike into work, since it is going to be such a nice day. When my garage door went up, the first thing I saw was Darren propped on his motorcycle at my curb. I decided to take the car. I have no idea how long he had been there, hanging around outside my house. It unnerves me to think he might be standing outside my house at night; so, I drove straight to Charlie’s after work.

  CHAPTER TWO

  I stand before Charlie’s door chewing my lip. I’m still not certain that I want to go through with this. Normally, I can handle myself just fine, thank you very much, but this shit is getting out of hand. I have managed to explain away the bruise, but I am seeing Darren in way too many places for it to be just a coincidence. I take a deep breath to suck up my courage and rap on the door.

  After a pause the door swings open. “Aubrey? What are you doing here?” Charlie asks in surprise.

  “May I come in?”

  “Sure,” Charlie says, stepping back and holding the door for me. “Uhh, would you like to sit down?” Charlie asks when I step inside the door and stop. I’m not sure what to do next.

  “Thanks,” I say, as I move to a chair and pick up a pile of mail addressed to current resident, occupant and Charles Hill. I hand the pile to Charlie. The top envelope announces that he may have already won! Charlie’s apartment is small, made smaller still by the gutted computers piled around everywhere. It’s also a dump. Mountain Dew bottles and empty fast food containers are piled on every flat surface, save one place - his computer desk.

  Charlie sits at his desk chair and swivels to face me, but says nothing. Apparently, he’s waiting for me to speak. “Well? What can I do for you?” he finally asks.

  “I have a problem,” I say. Why is it so hard to admit I’m in over my head? I talk to Charlie at least twice a week. Unlike everyone else, I like him.

  “I gathered or you wouldn’t be here. Why don’t you just tell me what’s going on?”

  “I’ve fucked up. You’ve heard me pissing and moaning about how all the Dark Riders don’t respect me?”

  “Yeah, well, welcome to my world,” Charlie says.

  “Well,” I say, pausing to gather the courage to continue, “I’ve had an affair with Darren Kelly.” I say in a rush.

  “Darren Kelly? The Darren Kelly? The Darren Kelly whose nuts Danny threatened cut off? That Darren Kelly?” Charlie pauses, then he begins to snicker. “Danny is going to positively shit kittens when he find out about this!”

  “Don’t you dare tell him!”

  “Aubrey, he’s your brother. He’s going to find out sooner or later,” Charlie chortles, spinning around once his chair. “Oh God, I want to be there when he does!”

  “Charlie! You can’t tell him!” I beg. I
knew this was a bad idea.

  “I won’t tell him,” Charlie says grinning like an idiot. “So why are you here? Are you going to have an affair with me now? Just in case you fucking Darren Kelly isn’t enough to give Danny an aneurism?!”

  I jump to my feet, thoroughly pissed off. “Fuck you, Charlie!” I snarl. “I thought you were the one guy I could trust to help me! You’re as bad as all the other assholes in the DRs!”

  “Aubrey, wait! Just wait a minute!” Charlie says, still grinning. “I’m sorry. It’s just, Jesus. Aubrey, what were you thinking? You’re Danny Carmichael’s little sister. Vice President Danny Carmichael,” Charlie says, making little tick marks when he says vice president.

  I storm to the door, but Charlie is quicker. He puts his hand against it to hold it shut. “Let go of the door, Charles,” I say, my voice dripping with contempt on his name.