Army

by Wilder, Chiah

  Yeah … nothing but a fuckin’ pansy-ass.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Mia swung her legs sideways then stepped out of the car, stumbling on the uneven asphalt of the club’s parking lot. She’d opted to take her car because she couldn’t imagine how she’d ride on the back of Army’s bike in a miniskirt without showing her ass to the world. Army had reluctantly agreed and left his bike at the hotel where Mia was staying at for the next four days.

  Circling his arm around Mia’s waist, he drew her to him. “Stay close to me inside, otherwise you’re gonna be bothered.” He softly traced her jawline with his finger. “You look so damn sexy, and those fuckin’ high heels are killing me.” Sweeping her hair over her shoulder, he pressed his warm lips to her neck. She cocked her head to the side, shivering as he grazed his tongue across a reddish love bite he’d left there a few nights before when he’d come to Durango.

  She moaned and gripped his bicep, her fingertips pressing into the taut skin.

  “I love the sounds you make, babe.” He kissed the spot behind her ear that turned her to mush then gently licked her skin, his tongue tracing invisible patterns down to the hollow of her throat and back up to nibble on her ear.

  Tilting her head back, she closed her eyes. “Oh … Army,” she gasped softly.

  His lips covered hers, eliciting a small groan from the back of her throat. “You do something to me, babe,” he muttered against her lips before pressing the warm tip of his tongue along the seam of her own.

  She opened her mouth to him, and he delved in deep and urgent while his hand glided down the side of her until he cupped her ass and jerked her even closer to him. Mia’s body melted into his as sparks of desire stoked her need.

  A loud shriek splintered the air, and Mia jumped back from Army, who burst out laughing. She punched his arm. “It’s not funny.” She glanced over at a burly man with long hair switching off the engine of a huge motorcycle. “Damn, that bike is loud. The noise scared the shit out of me.”

  Army hugged her close, her face pushed against his solid chest. “You’re too damn cute.”

  “Yo, Army,” the long-haired man yelled out.

  Army looked over her and a grin split his face as he raised his fist in the air. “How’s it going, bro?” His broad chest vibrated against her cheek as he spoke.

  “Good. Ironclad and me just got here. You going in?”

  Through dark lashes, she glimpsed at the biker whose gaze swept over her before returning to Army’s.

  “In a minute. Did you get a new bike?”

  “Last month.”

  Army backed away from Mia then draped his arm around her shoulder and walked toward the brawny man. Army whistled low. “She’s a fuckin’ beauty, Tats. It looks like you added some aftermarket pipes.” Pointing at them, he looked at Mia. “See those? That’s what gives the bike that fuck-you noise.”

  Tats chuckled, his gaze quickly sweeping over her as Army bent down to examine them. She suddenly wished she hadn’t worn her black miniskirt, lace scalloped-edged crop top, and her peep-toe lace boots. The boots were a reward for having a full week of awesome training a couple of weeks before. When Mia saw them, she fell in love with their delicate black lace and satin piping, and the four-and-a-half-inch heels sealed the deal. It set her back a couple hundred bucks, but they were so worth it.

  But now with the biker’s eyes roving over her body, she felt exposed. She reached down and threaded her fingers through Army’s hair as if to tell this guy to back the fuck off. Army captured her hand and brought it to his mouth, kissing it as he stood up.

  “A real beauty, dude,” Army said.

  “She sure is,” Tats replied, his half-lidded eyes darting to her then back to Army who was still looking at the Harley.

  Mia stood behind Army and wrapped her arms around his waist. He put his hands on top of hers. From the way Vic and his biker buddies talked about women, she was pretty sure this jerk thought she was a hookup at best and a slut at worst. Tell him we’re dating. But she knew Army never would. She was in biker territory, where the women were for fucking and nothing else. In the outlaw world, women were best seen and not heard. At the parties they’d be ignored for the most part until someone wanted a little fun. It was just the way it went, and Mia had heard Vic talk about the wild parties the Satan’s Pistons threw, and she didn’t expect anything less from the Night Rebels.

  “Ready to go in?” Army asked her in a low voice. She nodded and tucked her hand in his as they walked toward groups of men milling in front of the two-story stucco building.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the men stealing furtive glances at her while they yelled out their greetings to Army as the two of them went to the front door.

  Once inside, the rush of warm air and the smell of pot, sweat, and cheap perfume put her on edge, and she gripped his hand tighter as he pushed through the throng of people, stopping every once in a while to talk to fellow bikers before making their way to the bar.

  Mostly men surrounded the large bar, which had a walnut slab top scattered with memorabilia from various metal and hard-rock bands all under a clear gloss resin. Riveted metal panels comprised the base of the bar, and thin beams of color from overhead lights bounced off the shiny metal bar foot rails. A few of the women, who wore clothes that made Mia’s look like her Sunday best, sat on some of the men’s laps or were dancing on top of the counter.

  “Let me get you a seat,” Army said in her ear.

  The people crammed the room and the scene was a riot of black leather and denim. Blue, green, and red party lights flashed around the room from spheres suspended from the ceiling that had an American flag painted on it. Hard hitting music filled the air, the deafening bass beats made her skin tingle and her bones vibrate. She looked behind her when she felt a hand on her arm, tugging her.

  “I got you a seat,” Army mouthed, pointing toward the middle of the bar.

  Holding onto him tightly, she looked down as they forged through a thick group of men who stood around drinking and somehow managed to carry on conversations despite the loud music.

  Army picked Mia up from her waist and settled her down on a comfortable black cushion. “What do you want to drink?” he yelled.

  His loud voice tickled her ear and she rubbed it vigorously with the edge of her palm. “A margarita would be good,” she yelled back and he nodded then leaned over and gave their order to a well-built man covered in tattoos. Smoke billowed and swirled around her, enveloping the room in a perpetual haze.

  Army handed Mia her drink, and she took a large gulp and placed it down on the counter. He waved a joint at her, a quizzical expression on his face. She bobbed her head, and he lit one and handed it to her. Men kept coming over to either pull Army in a hug, hit him on the back, or lightly punch his arm as they stopped and talked with him. They’d steal glances at Mia, and she could tell they were wondering who the hell she was.

  By now, her eyes had adjusted to the lighting in the room, and she noticed a lot of women wandering around as some of the bikers smacked their asses or copped a feel of their breasts when they walked past them. The women would laugh, and some even threw their arms around the offending men and kissed them. Mia had never seen anything like it before, and it made her feel uncomfortable and vulnerable. Images of her fighting off Gavin flashed through her mind, and she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to banish them.

  “Are you okay?” Army asked, his breath warm on her damp skin.

  “It’s so stuffy in here,” she said, fanning her face with her hand.

  “Finish your drink then we’ll go out back,” he said.

  She gulped it down then slid off the barstool.

  “If someone touches you, tell me.” He gripped her hand.

  “Wait.” She pulled back. “What the hell does that mean?”

  “You’re not wearing my patch so some guys may disrespect you. Usually, you’d be good ’cause you’re with me, but sometimes a dude gets drunk and acts like
a fuckin’ asshole. Night Rebels are cool, but we got some new faces here tonight. Just tell me and I’ll take care of it.”

  “How?”

  “Beat the shit out of him.” He said it so matter-of-fact that it took Mia by surprise and before she could respond, he was dragging her behind him.

  She spotted three large couches and two of them looked to be upholstered in a Southwest design, while the third one seemed to be either dark brown or black leather. A woman was reclining on the couch, her legs spread, with a man’s face buried between her legs. Her head lolled to the side as she played with her nipples. The man’s cut identified him as a member of the Fallen Slayers MC. Mia’s stomach twisted, and she decided that she’d only look at the floor as they cut across the room.

  The flaming torches around the perimeter of the large yard took the chill out of the autumn night. Strings of white lights that were twisted around a cluster of trees and draped around the tall chain-link fence gave an almost magical look to the area, and a large fire pit off to the side offered a cozy ambiance.

  “Better?” Army smiled.

  “Much. If you take away the people screwing in public, I’d think I was at an outdoor wedding reception.”

  Army laughed and drew her into a tight embrace. “You’re too funny, babe. Do you want to fool around?” He ran his hand down and cupped her butt.

  Mia brushed her lips across his. “As much as I’d like to, I’d rather do it without an audience.”

  “I can arrange that.” His fingers dug into her firm behind.

  “Can you?” Mia kissed him gently then drew his bottom lip between her teeth, slipping her tongue into his mouth. His growl reverberated through her, sending static flutters over her skin. Army’s other hand curled into her hair, yanking her closer, and then his lips covered hers while his tongue tangled with Mia’s in an erotic dance.

  Mia bucked into his groin and felt the rigid outline of his dick, moaning into his mouth. “Army …” she whispered.

  He broke the kiss and buried his face in her neck, breathing deeply. Needles of pleasure pricked every nerve in her body, and she realized that she’d never have enough of his kisses—his taste. Each time his lips pressed against hers, it stole her breath then gave it back, showing her that every other kiss she’d had before Army’s had been wrong.

  “Baby.” Army’s lips vibrated against her skin. “I think about you all the time. You’re killing me with all this fuckin’ waiting.” He groaned softly, adding conviction to his words.

  A surge of desire to have Army swept over Mia and she clasped her arms tighter around him. “I’m waiting too,” she reminded him.

  “Yeah, but I’m a man, and when it comes to you, babe, I have a one-track fuckin’ mind.”

  Before she could reply, her stomach rumbled and she froze in embarrassment.

  Cupping her chin in his hand, he titled her head back and captured her gaze. “When’s the last time you ate? And a protein bar doesn’t count.”

  She smiled. “This morning. I was so excited to see you that after my last client, I just headed down.”

  “Let’s go get some food. If it’s cold, we can warm it up in the kitchen.”

  Army guided her over to a long table that had platters of food strewn over it. She picked up a plate and piled it with pulled pork and a few hot links.

  “Is that all you want?” he asked, placing a large scoop of potato salad on his plate.

  “Just the protein,” she answered.

  Soon they were at a small picnic table with four other people. Army had brought over another margarita for her and a couple bottles of beer for him. The four other guys at the table spoke with Army and ignored Mia, but he made it a point to turn away from them and converse with her. The bikers seemed surprised that the two of them kept talking and laughing, and they frowned when Army didn’t immediately interrupt what she was saying to answer one of their questions.

  “Hey, dude,” a tall, good-looking man said, bumping fists with Army. “It’s been too fucking long.”

  Army laughed and gestured for him to take the seat across from them, which had just recently been vacated. The dark-haired biker sat down and his gaze fell on Mia’s. Shock swept across his face, then disappeared as quickly as it’d come.

  As the two of them talked, Mia’s stomach churned. This guy was surprised to see me. Why? I don’t know him, do I? She racked her brain trying to remember if she’d ever bumped into him. Maybe he’s seen me fight. That’s not a big deal, right? All of a sudden, the lukewarm pork on her plate made her nauseous. What if he knows Vic? Wait … all the guys here are against Vic’s club. I shouldn’t have come. As Army laughed and held her hand under the table, panic and fear spread through her.

  After what seemed like an eternity, the well-built biker stood up. “You gotta come to Silverado soon,” he said.

  “I’ll try. I’ve been so busy with running the strip club and other things.” He squeezed her hand and she smiled.

  The man glanced at her then back at Army. “I heard your brother’s one step from going pro.”

  “He is. His next fight is coming up soon, and if he wins it, he’ll be good as gold.”

  Again he darted his eyes to Mia, then quickly back to Army. “Let me know when he’s fighting. Me and some of the other Slayers will come up to watch it.”

  “Sounds good, Buzz. Taylor would appreciate the support. Are you coming to the rally next week?”

  “Yep. We’re all gonna be there. Steel said we can crash here. You may have a roommate for a few days.” The two men chuckled. “You got some hot women at the party.” Again a quick look her way.

  Mia leaned against Army, and he turned and planted a kiss on her temple.

  “Go pick one out.”

  “I got two picked out. I’ll see you around.” Buzz and Army bumped fists again, then the tall man disappeared into the crowd.

  “Who was he?” Mia asked, pushing the plate away from her.

  “Buzz is with the Fallen Slayers. He’s a good guy. We’ve had some great fun over the years.”

  “With women?” Mia picked up her drink.

  “That and riding. We’ve done a lot of poker runs together. You hardly ate shit, babe. What’s up?”

  “I’m not that hungry. I guess it’s all the excitement of the party.”

  “If you get hungry later, I’ll get one of the club girls to make you something.”

  “Do they do all the cooking?”

  Army took a swig of beer. “No. Lena’s our cook. She’s fuckin’ awesome. She’s been with us for four years now. Her old man used to be a Night Rebel, but he left her for another brother’s—Chains’—old lady.”

  “That’s awful. What happens in a situation like that?”

  “The fucker gets thrown out after a beatdown. So Cross Bones got his patch taken away and his ass beat. Chains’ old lady went with him after he threw her ass out. Lena was lost—she’d been part of the club for years, so she asked if she could come on as the cook. It worked out for her and for us. She’s a damn good cook. The club girls help out.”

  “How many of these club girls do you have?”

  “Six. You want another drink?”

  Mia wanted to ask him about the girls and if he bangs them regularly, but she held her tongue. “Some water would be good for now.”

  Army motioned over a woman with long dark hair, Daisy Dukes and a barely there gold sequined bikini top. “Clear the table, Alma,” he said as he slipped off the bench. “I’ll be right back with your water.” With two fingers, he pushed her head back and kissed her softly then ambled away.

  Alma stared at her as she gathered the Styrofoam plates and plastic utensils and cups. Mia smiled at her and helped her gather some of the debris. The pretty woman shook her head. “Army asked me to do it, not you.”

  Taken aback, Mia’s hand stalled above the dirty plates next to her. “I’m sure Army wouldn’t mind if I helped out,” she replied.

  “It’s not that. It’s j
ust that he asked me, not you.”

  Mia drew her hand away. “It’s all yours.” Alma continued clearing the table, her gaze still fixed on Mia.

  “Here you go, baby,” Army said behind her, leaning over to put a bottle of water in front of her. He nuzzled her neck. “You smell so fuckin’ good. Do you know what your perfume does to my cock?” He peppered her skin with feathery kisses.

  With Alma’s gaze burning a hole through her, Mia felt self-conscious, and she moved slightly away from him.

  “What’s up?” he whispered in her ear before licking it.

  His tongue tickled and scorched her at the same time. “She’s watching us.”

  “Who?”

  “Alma.”

  “So?” He sucked at the sensitive skin on her neck and knew she’d be upping her concealer coverage when she went out in public.

  “Do you want me to do anything else?” Alma asked in a soft, sensuous voice.

  “That’s it,” Army answered, his lips still doing delicious things to Mia.

  “I’ll see you around, lover boy,” Alma said, tossing her hair over her shoulders.

  Mia read the signal very clear: stay away. Alma was making sure she understood that even though Mia had him at that moment, she had him every day and night.

  “She seems upset that I’m with you,” Mia said.

  “Alma? Nah. She’s a club girl, she knows the score.”

  “And what’s the score?”

  He pulled away then came over and sat by her again. “Pleasing the men without any attachments.”

  “Is it that simple?”

  He shrugged and brought the beer bottle to his lips. “Seems to be.”

  “I think it would be hard to have sex with the same guys over and over and not form some attachment. I don’t believe there aren’t any emotions.”

  Army wrinkled his forehead. “I guess there are emotions and attachments but not in the traditional sense. I mean, the women are there for us, and we’re there for them. We give them lodging, a monthly stipend, and help out if there’s a problem. The club girls respect us and do things for us. Some of the brothers like some of the girls more than others and vice versa, but it doesn’t mean there’s any ‘falling in love’ going on.”