Sweet Perdition

by Cynthia Rayne

  While the alpha male kick butt thing could be hot, she didn’t want to see it in action. She might loathe Carl, but she wouldn’t unleash a motorcycle gang on him. Damn tempting though. “Nah, I think he got the message.”

  His chest puffed out a bit. “Damn straight, he did. You tell me if asswipe calls again.”

  Hmm. Not a request, but an order. She steered the conversation away from her ex, preferring not to give him another thought. “You didn’t say where we were going so I hoped I dressed appropriately.” She did a little twirl. “You will notice I’m in real clothing today, nothing pink or even remotely poofy.”

  “Believe me, I noticed, Pinky.” He pulled her flush against his body and devoured her mouth, kissing her as though starved for a taste “I thought about you a lot today,” he said, when he finally pulled his lips away from hers.

  “Yeah?” She clung to his chest, fearing her knees would buckle and she’d fall to the floor. Being around him made her feel so lightheaded. “And what did you think about me?”

  “Mostly I thought about spreading you out on my desk and fucking you from behind. I imagined you in this tiny leather skirt that I could just flip up and then pound the shit out of you.”

  Oh my God. She gasped as though all the air had been sucked out of the room.

  It took all of her willpower not to wrap her arms around him, let him take her to bed. She licked her suddenly dry lips and took a step back. Then she wrapped her arms around herself, deliberately putting distance between them. She faked a light tone. “So, uh, tell me where we are going.”

  The sensual tension broke as he shook his head. “Have it your way, darlin’. I’m a patient man, so I can wait to have you for dessert.” He held out his hand. “Come on. We’re going someplace very exclusive.

  Chapter Five

  He took her back to Perdition, but this time, they went straight to the rear of the bar, bypassing the skanky girls and assorted tattooed biker dudes, down a long hallway through two double steel doors into a boardroom. Yes, a freaking boardroom in a bar. And from the looks of it? An evil one to boot.

  The steel doors had been stamped with the image of a stallion’s head, along with the club’s name. A quote from Revelations had been carved into the oak table: Behold a pale horse. And his name that sat on him was Death. And Hell followed with him.

  To match it, another bible quote in a frame hung on the wall: And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who would attempt to poison and destroy my brothers.

  She suppressed a little shudder. Yeesh. Talk about ominous.

  Despite the serious be afraid vibe in the room, he had made an effort to make it cozy. Or more likely, he’d ordered one of the prospects to make the place date-ish. She couldn’t picture him fussing over a table setting, but an attempt at a romantic atmosphere had been made, nonetheless. A couple of tea light candles blazed in the corner of the long table, along with two fluted glasses sitting beside a silver bucket, filled with ice and a bottle of red wine. He pulled out a chair which she sat in and then sat down beside her.

  She glanced around the room, taking it all in. She had been curious about the club for ages. “You were right. This is very exclusive.” She doubted anyone outside their group had been here, and certainly not for dating purposes. This beats any restaurant in town.

  She could see a smile briefly curl his lips before it disappeared. “Glad you like it, darlin’. We got the best steaks in two counties, which is saying somethin’ for Texas.”

  She had no doubt the bikers appreciated their beef as well as their liquor.

  He popped the cork and poured them both a glass. He hesitated as he tasted the wine. The delicate glass appeared awkward in his big hand, much more natural for him to do a shot or drink a beer. He set it down and pushed it away.

  She bit her lips to keep from smiling.

  “You know,” he said, raking his eyes over her. “I figured this table is the perfect height.” He ran his hand along the corner, back and forth, caressing the wood. “When we’re done eating, I’ll bend you over it,” he mused. “Christ,” he moaned. “Maybe that’s a bad idea, my cock would be throbbing at every damned meeting, picturing you naked and ready for me.”

  She forgot to breathe.

  His earthy words touched her in dark places she hadn’t known she possessed. She cleared her throat and shut her eyes, clutching the arms of her chair for support. Get a grip, girl!

  When she felt composed once more, she finally spoke. She had to find out a few things about him before her libido made the decisions.

  “I have a couple of questions for you.” She gulped down some wine for courage and then gestured to the room with her glass. “I don’t want to upset you or anything, but I’m curious. The Four Horsemen have a notorious reputation in town. It’s a motorcycle gang, right?”

  He pressed his lips together and his eyes became hooded. He obviously didn’t like questions. “No, it’s a club and we’re a group of men who are enthusiastic about motorcycles. A motorcycle club.” He finished his spiel with a flashy grin.

  She tried again. “Mmhmm, and that sounds a bit like a rehearsed little speech you give. I’ve heard rumors about the Four Horsemen for years. If I hadn’t been having such a crappy night, I probably wouldn’t have come here yesterday.”

  He leaned back in the chair, swiveling it in her direction and crossed his arms over his chest. “Why not? As you can see, we’re nice enough guys.”

  She had no idea how to ask the next question without offending him, but she had to know what she’d gotten herself into. “But does the club do things that… I don’t know… are illegal, for instance?”

  She expected him to laugh it off or maybe she just hoped he would. Instead, he opted for a cryptic response. “What can I say, darlin’? I try to follow the law and the law follows me.”

  “Jeez. This is like talking to the Cheshire Cat, biker style.” She bet women usually found him charming and forgot what they had asked in the first place. But she wouldn’t be placated so easy. “What does that word puzzle mean?”

  “Nothin’ you need to worry about.” He used a harsh tone, his jaw had clenched.

  His body language clearly said end of freaking discussion.

  She waited, refusing to fill the silence, but he didn’t offer up an explanation, or reassure her about the law-abiding nature of the club. He merely watched her, expressionless.

  She stared back. Undaunted.

  After a few minutes, he burst out laughing. “You don’t back down easily, darlin’. Keep it up. Men respect a girl with backbone, especially Horsemen.”

  With no revelations coming, she finally gave up. For the moment, at least. “Fine. Have your secrets. But I’m not attending any tea parties.”

  A brief knock on the door interrupted them.

  “Hey, Ryker!” Shepherd poked his head in the room. “Sorry to butt in, but we need you, brother.”

  “Do yourself a favor and turn around. Walk yourself on out of here, while you still can.”

  Undeterred, Shepherd stepped in the room and then closed the doors. He leaned against them and crossed his arms over his chest, slanted his head to the side, as though just asking for trouble. “Yeah, I ain’t afraid of you. But you should know the liquor delivery guy is making a drop off and he shorted us four bottles of Jack and two cases of beer again. And seems insistent he still get paid for them. Thought you might want to go have a, uh,” he paused to glance at her, “word with him.”

  Yeah, right. A conversation with fists. She doubted he negotiated anything.

  “Christ,” Ryker bit out as he stood up. “Sorry, but I got to deal with this shit.” He placed a finger under her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. “I promise we will go someplace else next time, far, far away from these assholes.” With a wink, he headed out.

  “I thought he’d never leave,” Shepherd said with an affected sigh as he fell into Ryker’s vacated chair. He picked the wine up. Sniffed
it. Then placed it back on the table and pushed it away with a grimace. “He’s drinking wine?”

  Speaking of, she topped off her glass. She felt like plunking a straw into the bottle and guzzling it down like a juice box. “More like tried it and decided against it.”

  Shepherd watched her with wily blue eyes. She had to admit he was a handsome man. Actually, all of the brothers seemed to be hot as hell. She had yet to meet one who couldn’t find work as a Chippendales dancer.

  She remembered what Ryker had said about Horsemen respecting women who held their own and decided to head Shepherd off at the proverbial pass. “Let me guess, you stopped by to invade my privacy again?”

  He flashed a smile. “Pretty much. There’s no such thing as a private life in the house of pain, sweetheart.”

  “Then why don’t I get snoopy with you this time then? I’ve been wondering something since this morning. Why do they call you Shepherd? Are you religious?”

  He chuckled. “I believe in hellfire and damnation, if that’s what you’re asking. But I’m not the church going type. No amount of holy water’s going to wash me clean.”

  “Well, when would you have the time, between beating up alcohol distributors and interrogating wayward women?”

  “No rest for the wicked, sweetheart. I’m the club’s VP, the second in command. Since Captain, the Prez, is away for a bit, I’ve stepped up to handle other club business,” he said vaguely. “But, I usually work with the prospects. I show them the ropes, train ‘em. Lead them to the promised land of the Four Horsemen, MC.” He tipped an imaginary hat to her. “That’s me. Drill sergeant and older brother rolled into one incredibly handsome package.” He pointed to her. “But I want more of your story, Pin-”

  “If you call me Pinky, you are going to wear some of my Merlot,” she cautioned, raising the glass aloft in a threatening manner. “My name is Elizabeth.” She actually found the nickname charming when Ryker used it, but she wouldn’t give anyone else leeway.

  He ignored her request, opting for another nickname instead. “You’re scaring me sweetheart, threatening me with stains.” He feigned a shudder. “Come on. Out with it. What’s your story?”

  She shrugged. “Not much to tell. I’m a librarian.”

  Shepherd howled with laughter. “Holy shit. A librarian.” He shook his head. “Some of the guys have kinks, but banging a naughty librarian? That is twisted.”

  “I’m not naughty!” she snapped.

  His lips twitched. “You’re here, aren’t you?”

  Good point. She took a swig of wine.

  Shep pulled a Zippo lighter from his pocket and it had a horse’s head engraved on the silver surface. He lit a menthol cigarette and took a deep drag, blew the smoke out in rings. Then, he offered it to her.

  She shook her head.

  “I got to be honest with you, sweetheart. This is a record for Ryker. Excuse my bluntness, but he gets more pussy than a tomcat. What’s the deal? Are you two getting serious?”

  She felt a flush creeping up her neck at his crudity. “I honestly don’t know.” Better to be vague, right?

  “I see.” Shepherd searched her face. “What has he told you about the club?”

  “Not much.” She bit the inside of her cheek. And no information was much worse than unpleasant info, because her imagination could fill in all sorts of blanks.

  “Well, judging by Ryker’s clubhouse seduction scene going on here, I’d say on the serious scale, y’all are hitting ‘pretty damn’. What if he wanted to make you his old lady one day?”

  She lifted an imperious brow at him. If she’d had glasses, she would have perched them on the end of her nose, librarian style. “Why is my private life your business?”

  He smirked at her. “It isn’t, but Ryker’s is. We don’t let everyone become an old lady, just like we don’t let any guy become a prospect.”

  “Well, I’m neither one of those things.”

  He leered at her, all villain-in-a-movie style.“Well, we got two kinds of chicks in the clubhouse, sweetheart. If you aren’t an old lady, you’re a hellion.”

  She remembered Cowboy calling her a hellion earlier. “What’s a hellion?”

  “They’re women who hang around the club. They usually got some serious daddy issues and a biker fixation. They come and go as they please, as long as they are useful and,” he drawled, “very, very, accommodating.”

  Yuck. She’d been warned Ryker was a slut, but she didn’t know he practically had a harem at his beck and call.

  “I could be wrong – you’re still here and I’d have laid even money against that happening. But I don’t think you’re the hellion type. And if you’re gonna stick around, you should know what you are in for.” He pointed to the wall. “For example.”

  She followed the direction of his finger and noted four holes in the wood paneling. She’d noticed them when she sat down, but hadn’t given it a second thought. She felt cold all of a sudden, realizing exactly what they were. “Those are bullet holes, aren’t they?”

  “Yep. Drive by. A rival crew did this as payback. You ever heard of the Raptors?”

  She shook her head.

  “They’re an MC about half an hour from here. Nasty blood-soaked bastards. They shot the place up one night and killed one of our brothers. That’s why we left the holes in the wall. It’s a reminder to watch your back.” He ashed his cigarette into Ryker’s wine glass.

  Her chest felt uncomfortably tight. “I don’t remember reading about a drive by shooting in the paper.” Surely, something that big would have made front page news.

  “I know you didn’t.” He wore the same cold expression Ryker pasted on earlier.

  Holy crap. What had she gotten herself into? He didn’t just act all rebel without a cause, he actually lived the life and one day he might die that sort of death. She hadn’t even considered it, as naïve as it sounded.

  “I don’t want to scare you, sweetheart. I’m giving you a reality check is all.” He placed his hand on hers, soothingly. Then, rubbed the back of her knuckles with his thumb. “You seem like a good person and this world might be too much for you. He has never gotten involved with a citizen before. As a general rule, we don’t mix with your kind. They don’t understand us and we sure as shit don’t get them.”

  At her look, he explained. “A citizen is someone from the outside. Someone not affiliated with the club. That’s why I want you to have all the facts. For the safety of everybody involved, you can’t be half in, half out of the Horsemen. But if you decide to stay with Ryker after all this? We’d be more than glad to have you.”

  She blew out a shaky breath. “Thanks. I appreciate it.” She said the words automatically, gone on autopilot by the sheer enormity of the situation. She’d wanted to know the truth and now she did. She never could have guessed it would be this frightening.

  Another knock sounded at the door and she jumped.

  A cute younger guy entered and she tried to focus on him instead of the panic attack threatening to overtake her. He had big green eyes, blue-black hair and wore white T-shirt with a pair of black leather pants. His vest had a Prospect patch on the front. He held two plates of food.

  “Hey Shep.” His chin jutted in the direction of her companion. “Thought she had a date with Ryker. Are you eating dinner with her instead?”

  “What if I am, Pretty Boy?” Shepherd raised a brow and the boy’s smile died. “I don’t recall asking your fucking opinion on the matter.”

  Pretty Boy was an apt nickname, she conceded. He had a model perfect appearance, his face perfectly symmetrical. While Ryker had more masculine, harsher outlines to his face, which she preferred.

  He trudged over to the table, about to set the food down, when Shepherd cleared his throat. “Think, prospect. Do you see him here? He doesn’t want to eat cold food, go put it back in the oven until he’s ready.”

  Pretty Boy sighed. “Voodoo said he would have my ass if I didn’t serve it now because it will dry out
.”

  “Tell Voodoo that he isn’t here to eat it,” the VP said slowly, as though his patience had been tried one too many times.

  “Got it.”

  “Got it, what?” Shepherd challenged, lifting his chin a bit.

  “Sir,” the prospect blurted out, before backing out of the room and then trudging down the hallway. She didn’t miss the appreciative way Shepherd’s eyes lingered for a millisecond on the guy’s cute butt.

  Hmm. The VP had a thing for the prospect? She bet nobody else knew. Apparently, the house of pain had more than a few secrets. Given the macho man vibe around this place, she doubted any of his brothers had figured it out. She latched on to the topic, if only because it felt safer than the last discussion.

  “Now that we’ve gotten my relationship all squared away, why don’t we talk about yours?”

  “I got no idea what you’re driving at, sweetheart.” He sat back in his chair and took another drag on the cigarette.

  “Yeah, I just bet you don’t.”

  He swallowed hard and looked away, but neither confirmed nor denied her suspicion.

  A minute later, Ryker shoved open the door. He sighed heavily when he saw Shepherd. “What the hell, man? We had this talk before. What are you still doing here?”

  “Enjoying my afterglow, dickhead. What the hell does it look like?” He finished off his cigarette and dropped it in the dirty wine glass.

  Ryker’s jaw clenched. “Explain yourself.”

  She watched the exchange with wide, wary eyes.

  “I nailed her on the conference table,” Shepherd said, deadpan. “She said I lasted a hell of a lot longer than you, quick draw.”

  At Ryker’s thunderous expression, she couldn’t contain the laughter bubbling from her throat anymore. She laughed, tears streaking down her cheeks. God, it felt so good to let go for a bit and mock Ryker’s possessive streak. She needed the tension release. A sly smile spread over her face. “Actually, we had sex under the table. I’ve got really bad rug burn.” She pressed a hand to her back, rubbing it.