Race With The Devil_A Motorcycle Club Romance

by Layla Wolfe

  But . . . I wasn’t abusing her . . .

  “Unity.” I jiggled her by the arms. “Unity.”

  Nothing.

  I smoothed my hand over her forehead. Although the heat had been on in the room when I’d entered it an hour ago, her forehead was cool, clammy. “Unity, are you all right?”

  A giant gasp, and she sat bolt upright, a shocked expression on her face. Like a drowning victim who suddenly breathes, she looked around as though she’d never seen the room. Seen me. She held her palm to her neck.

  “Oh, what the fuck! Tanner?”

  “It’s me, darlin’. You fainted or . . . something.” I sat next to her on the bed, so I didn’t look like such a crouching predator.

  Now she held her palm to her chest, panting, looking off into the middle distance. “Oh, God. Oh, God. I’m so sorry. I don’t want you to think I didn’t like that.” She looked at me now. “That used to happen sometimes. You know. With Gary. I’d just zone out into a different reality.”

  I petted her hair. She nudged her voluptuous body closer to me. “I understand. Some fish are favored by natural selection because they play dead. Refuse to become dinner. It’s actually a major advantage to have a system that slows down if you can’t fight or flee.”

  She smiled weakly. “That makes sense. But I’m so, so sorry, Tanner. You were really getting me riled there.” Now she looked at me with desperation. “I was so close! You have to believe me!”

  I chuckled. “Oh, I believe you, darlin’. It’s difficult to think of ourselves as prey.”

  She sat up straighter. “Well, I was prey. But no longer!” She pointed at the floor. “Get back down there, slave! Serve me!”

  In my prior BDSM scenes, of course I’d been the Dom, the one who wielded the whip and paddle. “Okay, we don’t need to go that far—“

  She took me by the shoulders and shoved. “Down! On your knees!” In a more congenial tone, she added, “I’m already there, physically. Not much work for you to do.”

  I eagerly complied. Unity flung her torso back flat against the mattress, arms splayed with palms facing the ceiling. But now she stayed aware. She later told me she remained on point by imagining my face, some other choice parts of my anatomy. She needed that vision to blot out any involuntary images of Gregario.

  Well, it must have worked, her tactic. Now I used my fingertips against her labia to massage the lips against her clit as I stroked it with my tongue. Unity’s gasps and caterwauls told me I was on the right track. She hitched her ankles up onto my shoulders. It was as though I held her entire body above me, like she was a pitcher I guzzled from. Her toes curled and uncurled, gouging big sections of trapezius muscle in their grip. But I bravely soldiered on.

  She was right—it didn’t take long. We picked up where we’d left off. I stroked her higher and higher, her little gasps becoming higher in register and pitch. The buildup of tension was palpable. She began to shimmy her hips like a roaring twenties dancer. That’s when I knew I had her. The flow of juice doubled, dripping down my chin. I worked like a demon to bring this woman to fruition, and I was rewarded with a massive burst of contractions. Her legs tightened like a vise around my neck and she held her breath, digging her fingernails into the bedspread. I couldn’t resist sliding a finger inside her to feel the mighty spasms rolling up and down her canal.

  I kept up the lapping, bringing her to the peak and down a bit before I slowed my pace. I knew she was inundated with the rewards of neurochemicals, the changes in brain waves. Her pelvis hiccupped now with slowing contractions, and she wheezed a giant breath. Her little fists tugged my hair.

  “Stop, stop!”

  But I wouldn’t detach. I wanted to bring her down slowly.

  “No more! Oh, God! No, no, no! Stop!”

  At last, I did. I sat back on my bare feet, reluctantly sliding my finger from her, satisfied with my handiwork, wiping my face on my forearm. Her pussy looked like a stunning Georgia O’Keeffe painting, shiny and bulb-like. At last she relaxed into a somewhat normal panting, one hand limp on her stomach. I couldn’t resist one last tweak, capturing her bud between her pussy lips and rubbing.

  She slapped my hand away harshly, an automatic reaction. “Stop!” she cried, jolting to a sit. Her expression had an air of mischief and ire. I couldn’t tell which one I liked best.

  “Damn,” I said, happy as a dead pig in the sunshine. “You are one sizzling firecracker.”

  Now she became modest, crossing her legs and looking demure. “Well. You bring it out in me. Now let me reciprocate.”

  “Screw that.” I stood, painfully aware that my prick stood out like a rose among the daisies. I put my hands on my hips to show I wasn’t ashamed. “Tonight’s all about you. You’re the delicate, damaged doe.”

  “Oh yeah?” sneered Unity, pointing to her anchor. “Does this look like an injured doe to you?”

  I nodded. “Yes. Yes, it does.”

  She stuck out her lower lip. “Well. While we’re on the subject. What’s that?” She pointed at my midsection.

  I had to think awhile. My dick?

  “No, no, no,” she said hurriedly, getting off the bed to point more accurately. “That.”

  Oh. My awkward, crude rose cutting on my hip. Ten years later, it just looked like a blob of scars, like a cauliflower.

  “I cut myself,” I had to admit. Before she could mock me for my hypocrisy, I rushed to tell the story. “I was in the hole, nothing to do. I was sent there quite often, whenever I’d give a radio interview protesting my innocence. A guard was nice enough to slide me a knife to kill myself with, so I used it to cut this rose.”

  Unity looked up at me, nose wrinkled skeptically. “Rose?”

  “Yeah, I know. Not nearly as nice as your roses.” I caressed her arm. “When the guard saw blood, though, he freaked out and came into my cell. I could’ve strangled him with one arm and disarmed him, but I didn’t. My case toward having my sentence vacated was proceeding with Slushy. I could’ve raped him, but I don’t play that shit. Instead I . . . “

  “What?” whispered Unity, bending to grab her Grand Canyon shirt. When she stood, sticking her head through the neck hole, I still hadn’t answered. “What?” said the hovering head, eyes round.

  I helped her tug the shirt down. “Instead I allowed him to suck my prick. I made him lick all the blood from my cut, like a domineering thing. Then I knew I had one up on him, and he’d never dare punish me again.”

  “Were you right?”

  “You bet your ass. He even told the board I was an exemplar prisoner, leading me right down the path to having my sentence vacated.”

  “Did you come?”

  “What?”

  “Did you, you know, orgasm?”

  “Hey.” I wagged my finger at her. “If you’re saying if I came I must’ve enjoyed it, and if I must’ve enjoyed it I must be gay, forget about it. Sure I came. It’s the stimulation against the glans, the corpus cavernosum, that does the trick. It could be anything—a blowup doll, a plastic pussy, a sock. You know how men are.”

  “True. They’ll fuck anything. So, you came in his mouth.”

  “Now, let’s not get technical,” I said, glad when she went off to the can.

  As for me, I poured a plastic cup of Jameson’s. The fiery liquid burned, taking the edge off. Unity had just learned a lot of things about me. She could consider me a hypocrite if she was prone to that sort of thing. Then again, I knew a lot about her. Wasn’t that part of trust? Trusting the other person not to use that damning information against you?

  Taking the cup to the nightstand, I got under the covers and leaned back against the headboard. I wondered where she would choose to sleep. Either way was fine with me. I’d always known innately to take things slowly with this woman. And it seemed to be working.

  When she emerged, she looked around the room for me. I was pleased to see a slightly concerned look on her face when she didn’t immediately see me. When her eyes lit on my figure in
bed, she laughed with relief. She bounded over, tits bobbling under the kokopellis on her shirt. Taking a little jump, and landed on her knees on the mattress, practically making me spill my Jameson’s.

  “Let me sleep with you, Tanner! Please, oh please.”

  She really didn’t have to beg. “Of course, darlin’.” I patted the pillow next to me. Like a little girl, she clambered under the covers, her hands in a praying position under her cheek. “We have to think of a strategy for tomorrow. Wolf’s bringing his drone so we can examine the canyon. But regardless, if we find a body, I want you to stay up top by the vehicles. Do you promise? You don’t even have a piece.”

  “That shows how much you know,” she said mysteriously.

  She wanted to let it go, to talk about Wolf’s drone, but I interrupted. “Unity. Tell me. What piece do you have?”

  She shrugged. “I have a very small Remington, one of those pocket pistols.”

  “And you’ve been to the range? You can use it?”

  Again, the shrug. “Yeah.”

  I sighed. I had to trust her. “Well listen, little darlin’. Tutti Morgan knows where he shoved Lavinia Dock over the trail’s edge. He might even be waiting there for us.”

  “I’ve thought about that,” said Unity, her voice small. “I sort of blew it at his house, showing our entire hand like that. That’s why I’m glad I brought this little gun.”

  I sighed. “Being old is easier than being young. There are so fewer options.”

  I gathered her in my arms, her face against my bare chest. I wasn’t sure if I was glad she’d brought a gun. I would’ve rather she just stay at her ride, but then again, Lavinia was her friend. She’d followed this investigation through to the end. I couldn’t just tell her she couldn’t see the final black moment.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Unity

  “Wolf! Are you OK?”

  “Why’d you bring Beetle?”

  Tanner and I looked at each other, surprised by the other’s question. I thought it was more important that Wolf had a giant Ace bandage wrapped around his midsection. Tanner apparently thought it was strange he’d brought his dog.

  We were in the turnout at Grandview Point. Could’ve fooled me, but it sure felt like today would be the first day of snow. The sky was a sheet of steel, blandly lighting up the layers of rock Sax had told me were Paleozoic sedimentary. Today they all looked shades of olive or rust, and at such an early hour, we were the only vehicles there. A sign told us that Grandview Trail had been built in 1893 as a mining route. I believed them. When I dared peek over the edge, I saw an exposed, rocky, frightening trail with tall steps and severe drop-offs. Also, today the trail was icy. Within two kilometers the trail dropped 2500 feet to the next destination at Page Spring.

  A perfect place to toss someone.

  “This? Ah, this is nothing,” said Wolf, pointing to his midsection. “Just a bandage to keep me standing upright, you know? As for Beetle, who knows if he can’t help? You said your dog Paddington couldn’t make it.”

  “Right,” Tanner said skeptically. “But Beetle isn’t trained to track humans like Paddington is.”

  “Can’t dogs smell a billion times better than people?”

  “Three hundred million olfactory receptors compared to our six.”

  “Right. And wouldn’t he be likely to head toward a putrid, stanky—“

  “Okay, okay.” Tanner held out a palm. “We get the picture. No need for unnecessary description, Wolf. Remember it’s Unity’s friend.”

  “Oh. Uh. Sorry, Unity.”

  “It’s okay,” I said, squatting to rub my face against Beetle’s. “I’ve reconciled myself to the idea she’s down there somewhere, mangled and rotten.”

  “But you don’t need to see it!” Tanner reminded me. I shrugged. “Wolf, let’s take a gander at your drone.”

  Wolf said excitedly, “It’s actually a quadcopter.” He took an Enterprise-looking thing from his saddlebags. “Do you have a map of this canyon?”

  “Sure do,” I said, standing upright and handing Wolf the standard-issue Grand Canyon map.

  “Well,” he said dubiously. “This’ll have to do.”

  We walked to the edge of the overlook and the men argued about which way to set the drone off.

  I said, “Why don’t we walk down the path to the first steep cliff?”

  Wolf pointed upward with an idealistic forefinger. “Excellent idea!”

  Tanner frowned and said, “Unity, I don’t want you—“

  “I’m just going down with you to our home base,” I sang out, already on my way down the trail. The men had no choice but to follow, and soon Beetle took the lead. Before long he was out of sight, because we had to walk slowly among the ice patches.

  “Beetle!” called Wolf. “Go get it!”

  Beetle darted off down the path, and Wolf beamed with pride.

  “I’m training him to ‘go get’ things,” he explained to Tanner.

  Tanner asked, “But how does he know what to go get?”

  Wolf shrugged. “Just ‘go get’ something in general. Sometimes he comes back with dead rats and birds.”

  “Did he kill the rats and birds?”

  “No. Absolutely not. He’s a lover, not a fighter. Once he came back with a condom wrapper. Okay, this cliff looks pretty steep.” He set the quadcopter down after taking some protective plastic cups from its feet. “Here. You go.” He handed the control panel to Tanner.

  Tanner grinned like a boy. “I’ve used these before. Not one this new and high-tech though.”

  Wolf shrugged. “Well, you’re the pilot. Now you’re the drone pilot. Okay, we turn both on . . . “

  As the quad beeped several times, Wolf inserted an iPhone into the holder at the top of the control panel. He connected to the drone’s wifi, then launched the app. I was more interested in Tanner’s face. He looked so smoothed-out and youthful playing with that toy. The iPhone had turned into a camera now and Tanner was practically giddy with glee to be calibrating a compass, whatever that meant. I sort of crossed my arms and leaned against the rock wall that was farthest away from the sheer drop.

  I mused at how horrible Lavinia’s last moments must have been. Even if she’d been happily unaware of Tutti’s intentions the whole way to this path, the millisecond he shoved her over the edge it would take her a hellalong four seconds to fall to her death. What was going through her mind at that time? Where did my life go? Would she die of a heart attack before she hit bottom? Or if she lived, for how long before she died of exposure or animals picking away at her?

  I had a feeling we’d soon know these answers . . .

  “I like to calibrate the gimbal,” said Wolf.

  “Oh yeah,” agreed Tanner. “That’s always a good idea.”

  “We got seven or more satellites available?”

  “Yeah, looks good.”

  Now I knew what to get Tanner for Christmas. “Ooo!” I cried involuntarily when the drone raised itself ten feet in the air, buzzing like a weed whacker.

  Tanner played with turning left and right, up and down, using the controller’s joy sticks. Wolf went to the trail’s very edge, which must’ve been a doozy because there was actually a railing, and looked down. He made hand signals to Tanner that made no sense to me, but now the drone was moving out over the canyon. I stood behind Tanner, looking at the screen. Now a whole mile’s worth of trail could be seen onscreen, as twisted as a tapeworm. Of course, Tutti wouldn’t have left Lavinia on a path, but the drone could now descend and search both sides of the trail below.

  Wolf crowded me aside. “Let’s take a video in case we need it for evidence.” He pushed a red button on the phone’s screen. “Go wherever you think is best. Left, right, we need to peruse each side of the trail, especially where it looks like a steep drop-off.”

  “Cool,” said Tanner. “Almost like flying a glider.”

  “Except louder,” I said.

  Tanner was speeding over the ridges and ic
e-covered monoliths of the canyon. It was like watching the opening credits of a movie. But Wolf did not approve.

  “Slow down! You’ve got to investigate each little slot canyon—go back! You just passed a real deep one.”

  Tanner pouted. “Just having fun.”

  Wolf was stern. “Yeah, well, ‘having fun’ will not find our body. There. Go down. Don’t hit that tree! Good. Good. Good. What’s that bit of red?”

  “Just someone’s fucking coke can,” said Tanner.

  “Ugh. Wish we could pick up trash with this thing.”

  I’d never known Wolf to be such an environmentalist. Maybe some of Tanner was rubbing off on him.

  They checked out both sides of the trail, high and low. There was no cave, grotto, or indentation that the drone could not visually check out. We found a lot more garbage, which was disheartening, mostly cans of beer or soda.

  I held the official map out over the void below. “You’re reaching the Coconino Saddle,” I said. “That’s a thousand feet below us. You couldn’t pay me to go on that trail.”

  Tanner said, “The trail’s about three feet wide there.”

  Wolf said, “Like nightmares I’ve had. There. Go straight down from the saddle. It’s hairy.”

  I wandered a bit down the trail to get a better view of the drone, which I could still see—or maybe I just heard it in the profound silence of the canyon. Some kind of bird of prey cawed like an ancient pterodactyl, and a small rodent rustled a crispy bush. I jumped when, in the corner of my peripheral vision, something like a coyote appeared on our trail, about ten yards in the distance.

  It was no coyote. It was Beetle.

  Relief washed from me. “Beetle!” I cried, squatting and holding out my arms.

  He had something in his mouth. He was proud of it as he trotted forward.

  “What’d you find, Beetle? Did you ‘go get it’? What’d you ‘go get’?”