Cade (Alexander Shifter Brothers Book 2)

by Selina Coffey

  I was weighing up whether chocolate would be more filling than crisps when I heard a distant roar outside. At first, I thought it was thunder, but it continued longer, and was deeper than any thunder I had ever heard in my life; and it was getting louder. So loud, in fact, the door to the motel shook a little. I walked over to the door and looked through the grimy glass pane towards the car park. The first thing I noticed was the coach driver running. He was running fast, away from the motel as if his life depended on it. The roar was now deafening. The source of which was now coming into view. Four motorcycles, Harleys, pulled into the car park in a haze of smoke and noise. After a few seconds of the deafening roar, it ended abruptly as the engines were turned off in unison. The huge bikes glistened in the moonlight. There was something very masculine and powerful about them. Trouble, I thought. Or just a gang of hunky bikers stopping for a beer? Either way, four leather and denim clad figures were heading for the door. My instincts were shouting at me to join the others, ‘Safety in numbers’ kept playing over in my thoughts. Over the years, I have learned to trust my instinct without question so I slipped back through the double doors to the bar to join the others, leaving a credit in the vending machine.

  The front door of the motel didn't just open. It flew open. These guys knew how to make an entrance. All eyes were drawn towards the double doors, fear and concern showing on the faces of the guests. But it was more than just fear that showed on the face of the waitress. Terror. There was absolute terror in her eyes. Her mouth was open but she was speechless. The sound of boots, with steel embedded in their soles, filled the bar area as the gang ambled in. The leader of the gang, at least I assumed he was the leader as he was in front and the biggest of the four bikers, arrived at the bar and looked for a waitress.

  "Beer. Four of them." He announced. No emotion, nothing. He just spoke matter-of-factly.

  Speechless, the waitress turned and did as she was ordered. She pulled four bottles of Bud from the fridge, opened them with the bottle opener hanging from the belt holding up her short black skirt, and placed them on the bar. They made no attempt to pay for them, and there was no request for payment. The bikers grabbed their beers from the bar and threw their heads back, taking a long drink. So long in fact, that two of the gang finished their beers in one mouthful.

  "Again." The lead biker demanded, slamming the empty bottle back on the bar.

  Once more, the waitress did as she was ordered and pulled four more beers from the fridge, took the tops off, and placed them on the bar.

  One of the gang walked over to the jukebox, pulled some change from his pocket and pushed a few buttons. The sound of heavy-metal music filled the air. He then casually walked back to the bar to join his friends.

  I sat staring at them, not obviously, just stealing the odd glance to try to judge their manner, their intentions. The leader was a very big man. Well over six feet, stocky and unshaven, with dark hair and eyes. There was something very enticing about him, sexy in fact. He oozed power and had an aura that demanded attention. Large dark eyes that transfixed your gaze. The other three bikers were a little shorter, but not by much. They all looked weather-beaten and tanned. The result of a life on the road I figured. The other guests were sneaking the odd look at them, while trying to avoid eye contact. My mind flashed to a scene from one of my favorite fantasies.

  The waitress came out from behind the bar and walked purposefully towards to double doors; a look of fear still etched on her face. My eyes followed her as she walked out of the bar. Must be heading to the restroom, I guessed, as she turned right in the entrance hallway. Her manner indicated that she knew these guys, feared them even, so I followed her out of the bar. I wanted the lowdown. I could feel all eyes in the room following me, but nobody said anything. And even if they did, I wouldn't have heard them over the sound of Motorhead, now screaming from the jukebox.

  There was no sign of her in reception or the hallway leading to the restrooms. I walked down the hallway and opened the door marked ladies. There, in front of me were young, recently waxed legs, half hanging out of the window. The waitress was trying to climb through, but failing badly.

  "What the … Hey, what are you doing?" I shouted at the legs!

  "Getting the fuck out of here. That's what. If you have any sense at all, you will be right behind me." She replied.

  A subconscious thought entered my head; there was no way I would fit through that tiny window! The legs fell back into the restroom and she prepared for another attempt at climbing through the window.

  “What's wrong? Is it the bikers?”

  "Bikers! That's one word for them, I guess. Try murderous, evil psychopaths." She looked panicked, the color draining from her face.

  The image of the leader standing at the bar, oozing sex appeal flashed through my head for a second. He looked forceful, but in no way murderous. "Oh come on, they seem okay. They just stopped for a drink."

  You don't know anything Hun." She called me Hun, again.

  "What is there to know?" I asked.

  "Do you think they are just some random bikers passing through? Do you think it's an accident that you’re here?" She was speaking fast, so I had trouble comprehending her.

  "What do you mean?" I was feeling a little panicked now.

  "Ten years ago, Bobby Campbell, one of the local wanna-be redneck hard men, shot the biker leader's girlfriend in the back. There was a bar fight. It was just your run-of-the-mill bar fight, until that idiot Bobby pulled a gun. Shot her in the back he did, as they were driving away." She was crying now, nervous sobs between each sentence, as tears started to flow down her cheeks.

  "Bobby left town that night, haven't heard from him since. But every year, on the anniversary of that night, for the last ten years, they drive into town and take a girl. A replacement girlfriend for Clint, that's the leader.” She continued, as I stood in silence, trying to make some sense of what I was hearing.

  "We have lost Sarah, Gemma, Anna, all local girls. Taken and never seen or heard of again. After a few years of this, Jim, your friendly coach driver, pretended to break down in Haverford to provide ‘outsiders’ for the bikers to choose from. We have had enough." She paused.

  I was hearing the words she was saying, but they made no sense. This must just be a young girl’s wild imagination, I thought.

  "You honestly expect me to believe this? You’re talking madness!" I was shaking my head.

  The crash made us both jump. Startled, I turned to see a biker standing at the door, which was now hanging off its hinges.

  Standing in the doorway, beer in one hand, was Clint. "Ladies, you're missing all the fun."

  Chapter Three

  I was led out of the restroom, behind the waitress. Clint, the apparent murderous revengeful leader of the strange biker gang, walking casually behind us. We walked through reception into the bar. The girls from the coach were standing by the bar. Miss Loved Up was sobbing. The slim young girl, had her head down, staring at the floor. I took my place tentatively at the bar behind the waitress. One of the bikers stood over us. The two guys, Mr. Loved Up, and Mr. Laptop Man were sitting at a table in silence, one of the bikers standing over them. Clint moved to the center of the room, in silence yet demanding attention. All eyes were on him. God, he was handsome.

  "Well folks, it's that time of the year again. Time to take what's owed." Clint glanced over towards the bar.

  You can never really control your thoughts. Despite the waitress's story of horror and revenge, I was staring at the powerful man standing there. I couldn't help feeling some empathy for him. I had lost my husband today, but not in the way Clint had lost his love. Taken away from him by some drunken redneck in a moment of madness, if you believed the waitress’s story. I was memorized by Clint. I should be scared. I knew that, but I wasn't. In some strange way, I felt a need to help this man.

  Clint continued, "This town took something precious from me. Something that can never be replaced. Every year I return searchin
g for it. Every year there is disappointment. I grow tired of this. But you owe me.” Clint's voice was getting louder; he was on the verge of shouting but showed no sign of violence.

  Clint gazed at the bar. Four of us lined up like cattle waiting to be purchased, but not able to comprehend our fate. "It's time to choose."

  I noticed the waitress staring at the doors. Judging whether she would make it if she made a run for it. Clint walked over and stood in front of Miss Loved Up. She was still whimpering; cheap eye-makeup smeared around her eyes. She was wearing denim shorts and a red top straining under the pressure for her bosom.

  "What's your name?" Clint asked casually running his eyes up and down her body.

  "Emm… Emma." She managed to reply.

  Clint moved onto the slim young girl who I hated instinctively for what she represented. If I were the betting type, my money would be on her getting chosen. Pretty face, small pert breasts, and a young body to die for, covered in a short purple dress. She was the obvious choice. The perfect trophy girl for the leader of a biker gang.

  "And your name?" Clint asked running his hands through her long blond hair.

  "Claire." She muttered, too scared to look up and meet his gaze.

  Clint moved on and stood in front of me. He towered over me. The musky smell of engine oil and grime overpowered my senses. A manly smell, I thought. Unlike the younger girls, I dared to meet his gaze. He needed a shave, but the stubble added to his presence. His perfect teeth verging on a smile. Deep brown eyes that demanded obedience. I was transfixed. I felt giddy, expectant. Strangely, for a moment the thought of being chosen actually excited me.

  "Jayne." I stated before Clint had a chance to ask the question.

  He never uttered a sound. His eyes moved up and down my body. I had been wearing my short green dress all day. I hardly looked a picture. I wore no make-up; most of it washed away following the events earlier today. Clint's gaze stayed on my breasts. His gaze never moved. It seemed like minutes, but it was no more than a few seconds. Long enough though for me to feel the blood rush to my nipples. I wondered if he could tell I was becoming aroused. I wondered if he could read my mind, which was racing with uncontrollable thoughts of fucking this giant of a man.

  "Jayne eh?" He muttered, calmer now, without any sign of anger in his voice.

  I looked into his eyes again. Lost for a second. "Yes, Jayne." I paused "Pleased to meet you Clint."

  Clint smiled and looked around at the other bikers. Not seeking consent, just a smile or a nod of the head.

  "Well Jayne, shall we take a ride?" It wasn't a question, more of a demand.

  I found myself smiling inside. The other girls were still sobbing, and the waitress had the fear of God written all over her face. I didn't feel threatened at all by Clint. Quite the opposite. I was strangely excited by the thought of 'taking a ride' with this man. I thought of my pathetic husband, comparing him with Clint. There was no contest.

  Jayne, I said to myself. Let's start living shall we.

  I walked with Clint to the door, in his shadow, not looking back, but aware of the other gang members obediently following us a respectful few paces behind. Walking across the car park, the moonlight glistened off the oval fuel tanks of the Harleys parked in a neat row in front of the Haverford Motel. One by one, the bikers threw a leather boot over their machines and seconds later the deafening roar that announced the arrival of the gang began again, this time to announce their departure.

  Clint kicked the chrome footrest back onto its catch at the side of the Harley and stood up, the powerful machine throbbing under his legs.

  I managed to catch Clint say, "Climb on," over the deep pitched rumble of the engine.

  I took one last look at the motel. I could see my fellow passengers at the windows. I sensed they feared for my safety, a fear I did not share with them. Anticipation, adventure, and excitement yes, but definitely not fear. I felt safe with Clint despite it being just a few minutes since we met. I couldn't explain it, didn't want to analyze it, if I was truthful. I looked down at the seat, no more than a narrow strip of black shiny leather. Lifting my dress to the top of my thighs, I swung my right leg over the back of the bike, surprising myself that I managed to do it on the first attempt without making a fool of myself. Clint was holding the bike steady for me, as I lowered my hips down onto the thin leather seat. As soon as I felt the seat beneath me, I gasped and my suspicions were confirmed. I was dripping wet. The throbbing of the engine made things worse and I could feel the heat building between my legs. Convinced I would have an orgasm at any moment, Clint revved the engine to make things worse and sent vibrations running through me and we pulled away and out of the car park. The speed and noise building as we headed into the darkness. I wrapped my arms around Clint for stability, feeling the cold from his body, an unnatural cold, even with the cool night air blowing on my face.

  How long we rode for, I couldn't tell. I don't think it was long before we pulled off the highway and onto what I took to be a rough farm track. Clint slowed to a crawl, as did the other bikers, lighting up the darkness with their headlights. At the end of the track, the silhouette of a building came into view. When the headlights lit it up I could see it was no more than a wooden slatted barn that had seen better days. I had no idea where we were. The only thing I was certain about was that I was in the middle of nowhere with a biker gang that had been terrorizing a small town for years. But I didn't feel in any danger. Quite the opposite, in fact, I started to feel an irrational sense of belonging.

  Clint and the others pulled up to a wooden door and turned off their Harleys. Silence again. So quiet I could hear myself breathing, my heart beating. I removed my arms from around Clint, who stood and held the bike steady for me to get off. The gang members headed inside. A security light fixed to the roof of the barn illuminated the yard we parked in. I put my left foot on the ground and, with some difficulty this time, swung my right leg up and over the machine. Glancing down, I noticed a glistening wet patch on the seat. I flushed and hoped that Clint hadn't noticed. Clint put the Harley on its rest and headed inside. No words were spoken, and I followed him inside like his obedient lapdog.

  The room was sparse. By the light of a few glowing candles, I could make out a kitchen area leading to a large room with a rug, sofa, and a fireplace. Four doors led from the main room; bedrooms I guessed and a toilet. Nothing sinister to be found. No dead bodies, mutilated livestock. Nothing. Just your average converted barn. The gang members disappeared through one of these doors leaving just Clint and myself in the main room.

  Clint sat on the sofa and looked up at me.

  "Jayne." He begun. “I guess you know about us?"

  I looked down at him. "Only what some crazy waitress told me about you. How you terrorize the town, taking their women."

  Clint laughed, a deep laugh showing his perfect teeth again. "Well, some of it's true. Probably all of it. The love of my life was taken from me, shot in the back like an escaping animal. Yes, I do seek revenge from the residents of Haverford. That much is true." He paused as if considering just how much to tell me. "But most of all, I…" he paused to correct himself, "We seek love. The love of a woman. We also need that woman to love us back. I'm hoping you are that woman."

  I paused before responding, "And if I'm not, are you going to kill me? Leave me dead in a ditch by the side of the road?"

  "Of course not. But you can never return to your old life, whatever your choice. You do understand that don't you?" For a second, Clint's eyes were distant.

  "What I do understand is that I have feelings I shouldn't have. Couldn't have. I feel attracted to you, aroused by you. I should be heading for the door and running as fast as I can. I can't offer an explanation for that. What I don't understand is why me? There were two young slim girls with firm tits, and a pert arse to choose from. Why not pick one of them?" I waited for his answer.

  "I don't want some plastic little slut. A little girl who will bolt at the first ch
ance she gets. I want…" Clint corrected himself again, “We want a real woman to care for. To see to our needs and not run at the first chance she gets. Are you that woman Jayne?" He waited patiently for an answer.

  "Maybe." I corrected myself this time, feeling the heat in my knickers. "Hopefully." Looking into his eyes, I didn't want to refuse him.

  "You're aroused aren't you Jayne?" His question came out of the blue. I wasn't expecting it. Was I really that obvious?

  I knew my reply would change my life forever. If I said yes, I would want him to fuck me right here and now. I would never be able to leave then. If I said no, my future was uncertain. What the fuck did he mean by 'Never return to my old life?'

  I answered him honestly, although the answer came from the heart and not my head. "Very," and sat down next to him. "Do you want me, Clint?"

  He smiled, "It’s not that easy Jayne. If you join us. Yes, you will be mine, but I have to share you with the group, sexually. I have to have their consent in this. In short, you love me and please the others, so they love you." He held my hand as he spoke, his finger reassuringly stroking my palm.

  My thoughts were running riot, out of control. I knew what he was asking. To be a wild biker gang's fuck toy. Turned into a slut. But somehow Clint made it feel alright. I just couldn't ignore this overpowering urge to please him, whatever that meant.

  "So you want to share me... totally?" I asked dreading the answer.

  "Not totally. Fucking you is out of bounds. The boys know their limits. That pleasure will be mine and mine alone." His eyes were very convincing.

  I answered very quietly, "Okay." Clint strained and moved his head closer, continuing to seek an answer from my eyes. "Okay let's try it."

  "There is no trying Jayne, either you do, or you don't?"

  "Okay I do Clint, I really do"

  He put his arm around me and pulled me close to him, my breasts pushing against his chest. He must have felt my nipples hard and aching for attention through my dress. I looked up at him and he kissed me deeply. I knew as soon as his tongue worked its way into my mouth and his hand cupped by breast, I would do anything he wanted. I was his.