by Franca Storm
My heart is pounding in my chest. Even my hands are shaking; every nerve ending in my body suddenly alive. I can’t speak. The words won’t come.
He smiles, victory flashing in his eyes. He leans down, his lips barely an inch from brushing mine.
And then he abruptly releases me and steps back. “Food for thought,” he says, grinning.
Asshole! He played me!
My eyes narrow, pissed at his little game.
I see him register my reaction, but he chooses to ignore it. Instead, he turns and starts making his way from the rear parking lot to the front of the gas station. “Come on. We got a situation to deal with here,” he calls over his shoulder.
Argh! Cocksucker!
Chapter 7
~Ax~
I’ve seen and done a lot of shit in my life. So much, that I rarely have much of a reaction to anything.
But that’s what’s going down right now. I’m struggling to hold back my laughter. I’m having a reaction to the show Rox’s putting on with the guy she’s interrogating.
Miss Ball Buster insisted she be the one to take the lead with this slimy guy. I didn’t bother arguing with her cuz I wanted to see what she’d do; what she’s really made of. Seeing as though Trig didn’t bother to give me much intel on her before I came down here, I gotta take any opportunity I can to figure shit out for myself. I hate not knowing ‘bout the people I deal with. And this bitch is one hard nut to crack. But she’s the one I gotta work with here. She knows this city better than anyone. Another reason why I let her take the lead with this guy she knows, JT.
Seeing such a little woman dominating the hell outta a guy twice her height is amusing as fuck. He’s a skinny prick, but he’s still got enough pounds on her to make it an issue. If she didn’t know her shit. But she does. So, I just stand here, enjoying my smoke, not caring ‘bout the non-smoking signs stuck on every damn wall in the place. Don’t live by no one else’s rules.
After zoning out for a few seconds, I start getting frustrated. This shit’s taking way too long. According to her intel, he’s already been approached by the Mavs. Approached is a nice way of putting it. Means they probably scared the shit outta him and had the dumbass pissing his pants with fear. No civilian walks away from an encounter with that club without that terror. Scaring people into doing shit is what they do.
More than I can say for little Miss Ball Buster.
What Trig did bother to tell me is the business she’s involved in. Her racketeering activities throughout the seedy downtown area of Brockford. But from what I’m seeing, she don’t use violence and intimidation to get her way. Ain’t how she deals with people—unless she’s got no choice. How do I know that? The fucking guy ain’t even bleeding yet. And I been watching her for the last ten minutes.
She’s got her arm at his throat and he’s shaking his head at her. Fearfully. But that fear ain’t for her. It’s for them—the Mavs. If it were for her, the interrogation woulda been over and done with already. She’s determined, I’ll give her that. But he ain’t gonna tell her shit. Why? Cuz her hesitation’s obvious. She ain’t prepared to go the distance. I can see it from all the way over here.
Well, fuck. I need answers from this prick too. Enough waiting.
I stub out my smoke and push off the wall. Before I can even take a step, that familiar thunderous rumble of bikes sounds outside.
I watch as Rox suddenly pulls out her phone. She’s getting a call. She answers, whispers something down the line and then stows it back in her jacket pocket. And then, I see something I weren’t expecting: fear. She lets go of JT roughly and steps back.
Her eyes dart outside at the bikers making their way over to the shop. Looks like she’s ‘bout to freak the fuck out.
“Let’s go,” she tells me.
Like hell we are. I wanna find out what this prick knows. I walk over to her. “Calm down.”
“I am calm,” she bites back at me.
Sure you are, babe. I call bullshit. Before I can get a word out, the guys push through the doors of the shop. Right away, their cuts tell me they’re Mavs.
Trig sent me down here for my subtler approach, so my first reaction’s to see how this plays out first, before I make a move. Getting in their faces right away will just risk a fucking fight that might come back on the club and fire up a war Prez don’t want cuz the club’s tryin’ to operate legit now. A goddamn turf war will spill blood and pile up bodies—nothing legit ‘bout that. That’s where I come in. Take their Prez out first, before it comes to war.
But my plan of hanging back is shot to hell the second Rox steps forward from her place beside me and tells ‘em, “Get the fuck out, assholes. Mavs biker trash isn’t welcome here.”
Shit. I’m starting to see this is her go-to with every guy she meets: busting their balls.
She got a death wish? Seems like it. Where’s her subtler approach? Non-existent. Disrespecting all of us ain’t doing her no favors. Just making her more enemies. I should just let her face the consequences. But she’s an asset and I already got my orders from Trig. Hell, I’m making excuses. If she were anyone else, asset or not, I’d wait to step in and let ‘em see where disrespect gets you. Let ‘em suffer through the lesson they deserve to be taught. But I can’t bring myself to do it. Not with her. Urgh!
I grab her wrist and yank her back beside me.
The larger of the two dickheads, a skinhead ugly looking motherfucker snarls at her, “What was that, bitch?”
“You heard me, asshole. This is my territory!”
“You need a lesson in respect,” Skin Head barks back.
My blood is boiling to the point of eruption, their threats to her making my fists clench as a confusing fucking protective instinct takes me over. Shit. Where the hell’s that coming from?
I push Rox behind me and get in his face. I see him ‘bout to fire back some bullshit, but he stops quickly as he takes in my cut. The fear flashing in his eyes tells me he knows who I am.
“Thorns VP. It’s Ax,” the other guy tells him, nudging him in warning.
“We got a problem here?” I demand.
They both hesitate before Skin Head tells me, “No, just gonna teach this whore a lesson, man.”
“Then we got a problem.”
“She was running her mouth,” the other guy tells me, not getting why I’m stepping in here.
Rox mutters something ‘bout sexist bikers not allowing their women to talk, or some shit. Great.
“See?” Skin Head tells me.
“You’re gonna let this one go. You feel me?”
“She yours, or something?”
Hell no. And the last thing I need is people thinking that. Thorns involvement in Brockford’s supposed to be on the down low. Making any connection between me—a Thorns member and her—the bitch basically running this city, ain’t gonna keep it that way. “You think I’d make a claim on a mouthy bitch like her? Last thing I need is some wild piece of ass who don’t wanna be tamed.” Eyeing Rox, I see she’s grinding her teeth at my words. If she could breathe fire, I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what she’d be doing right now. At all of us. But this is where I see just how street smart she is. She just gets it. Even though what I’m saying pisses her off big time, she don’t say a word. She just watches me. I nod my head towards JT and lie through my teeth to the two douchebags, “I’m here to have a word with that asshole. Just passing through. Got an issue with my bike and I heard he knows the guys to go to in this shit hole.”
I can feel the tension around us reach a dangerous level.
Why? Cuz it’s make or break territory right now. They know it as well as I do. If they question me here, they won’t be walking away from this.
If they don’t buy my story, they’ll report that to Skinner. And before you can snap your damn fingers, he’ll be claiming Black Thorns is interfering with his plans to claim this city as his territory. We are, but he can’t know that yet.
Something between a smile and a
sneer crosses Skin Head’s lips. And then he nods. “All right, man. You talk to JT and then me and Slim will settle club business with him. The bitch can go free.”
The stupid fuck! His eyes give him away. I can tell right away he’s gonna do something. His buddy, Slim, steps into me, causing enough of a distraction for Skin Head to lunge behind me at Rox. He fists his hands in her hair. “But first, we’re gonna have a little fun with her for the trouble she’s given us.”
Something snaps in me then. It’s a split second thing, too, so there ain’t no chance of me stopping it. Just as Rox fights herself free of his grip with the skill she showed me yesterday, my fist smashes into Skin Head’s face. The raw fury behind it knocks him right onto his ass. Dumbass kid ain’t strong enough to take a hit from a real man yet. Fucking poser. He spits out blood on the floor and chokes out a tooth. He struggles to get up. As he does, I’m suddenly aware of Slim lunging at Rox. With my peripherals, I see her thrust her steel-toe boot right into his fucking junk. That’s some brutal shit. He’s on his knees in a second too, puking up. Yeah, that kinda pain will do that to you. Goddamn. Now she’s a literal ball buster. Kid dunno what’s good for him. Instead of backing down, he tries to grab hold of her leg to pull her down with him. Turning, I grab his shaggy greasy hair and slam my knee into his face, knocking him out cold.
I catch Rox’s eye and I’m pretty sure I actually see disappointment there—disappointment that she didn’t get to finish the guy off. That has my dick stirring instantly. Fucking hot—demented, sure, but hot as hell to see in her eyes.
I haul Skin Head to his feet roughly by his cut.
“What’s your business with JT?”
“Club business,” he croaks out.
I scoff. “You’re a real comedian, ain’t you, kid?”
“Fuck you, Ax.”
Wow, he’s asking for a world of pain. Holding him steady with one hand, I plunge my other into his gut so fucking hard that he screams as a rib cracks. Tears of agony fill his eyes. I ready my fist again and raise my eyebrows. You want more, fucker?
“No,” he begs. “Stop.”
Pussy. “You sure? Cuz I got no problem keeping going. Cracking every last fucking rib, asshole. You Mavs are pieces of shit to me. So you gotta give me a hell of a good reason to stop.”
I feel an arm brush against mine then. Rox’s standing right beside me, her arms folded and her gaze ice as she looks at this shit head. He starts eye-fucking her then. Guy’s got broken ribs and he’s majorly fucked up by me and he’s doing that? Sick, horny prick.
“Eyes on me, motherfucker!” I roar, pissed at his dirty gaze checking her out. Holy shit. What the hell’s got into me? Why do I care? She ain’t nothing to me.
He flinches at my voice and jerks his head back my way. “We…we…came to collect.”
“Collect?” Rox cuts in. “Protection money?”
“Yeah.”
“JT is under my domain,” she says.
Skin Head chokes out a laugh. “Not…anymore…we got others…most of yours….”
“What?” I snap.
But he’s too concerned with Rox and tells her, “Stupid bitch. This ain’t…your city…no more….”
Before I can get a word in, Rox lunges forward and delivers a right cross to his temple. The crazy bitch knocks him out right away with it. I curse and drop his now dead weight.
“Seriously, woman?”
“Sorry, he pissed me off.”
Sorry? Huh, didn’t expect that word outta her mouth. “I needed that intel as much as you. You shoulda held back your damn anger.”
I expect her to bite right back at me. But she don’t. Major surprise. Instead, she turns to me, grinning. “Like you did, huh?”
“What?”
“You freaked out when he touched me.” She steps closer, looking up at me warily now. “Why?”
“Men shouldn’t rough up women.”
Her eyes widen. She’s shocked. I know why. Her and her fucking discrimination against bikers. And then I see something else—a softness. God knows what the hell I’m playing at, but I lean down so we’re eye-to-eye and whisper, “We ain’t all the same, Rox.”
There’s a beat where neither of us moves. No words. Just heat. Powerful enough to silence two mouthy assholes like us.
And then she clears her throat and steps back. She eyes the two prospects sprawled out on the floor. “I could have handled it without your help.”
That gets my back up instantly, considering what it might’ve cost me by interfering here.
But then she smiles and adds, “But not without taking a couple of hits myself. I…” she pauses and I see her fighting herself before she finally manages, “Thanks…thanks, Ax.” She clears her throat and looks away quickly. “I need to sort this shit out, find out more about what that thug alluded to.” She glances around and mutters, “Damn JT. He’s run off. Useless son of a bitch anyway.” She starts walking away.
“Rox,” I say, my deep voice carrying easily over the distance between us without the need to yell.
She turns. “Yeah?”
“Skinner’s got a foothold now. That prospect just told us that much. We gotta work together here.”
I brace myself for a storm of an argument. But she ends up nodding, agreeing with me.
“I’ll pull together what I have. I give it to you and you go, okay?”
“What?”
“You take the information I’ll give you and you get out of my city. I don’t want a biker turf war taking place on my territory. So, that’s the deal. Take it or leave it.”
“Fine.”
“Good. Give me a little time. I’ll come to you.”
Chapter 8
~Roxana~
“Rox! Are you listening to me?” my partner, Ralph Taylor, thunders at me as I scan the mammoth garage in my secluded mansion.
“No,” I answer curtly.
He stalks over to me and positions himself right in front of me, blocking my view of the vehicles. One black BMW, a sleek silver Dodge Charger, a navy blue Ferrari Fiorano and my Triumph motorcycle.
I glare up at him, not amused at his insistence on continuing with our tense conversation here.
I take in his black jeans and thin V-neck gray sweater that looks like it’s straining to contain what’s beneath it—those mammoth arms of his. To say Ralph is built would be a hell of an understatement. He’s like a linebacker. But he’s also got the brains to go with the brawn. People fear him, because of his size and the intense, stoic expression he always wears on his face. They mistake it for him being pissed, but really it’s him thinking and analyzing. Don’t get me wrong, he can be a scary beast of a man to anyone who crosses him—or our business—but to me he’s a teddy bear.
He always has been, ever since we grew up on the same street as kids. He has a decade on me and he’s always looked after me and had my back. Especially after all the hell that broke loose after my parents died when I was sixteen. He saved me from going into the system, foster care and all that crap. And now, years later, we’re inseparable. He’s my partner in crime. Crime? Well if racketeering is really considered that much of a crime? It’s not like we kill people for a living. We just…control them. Better than the other way around. Hell, I’ll never make any apologies for it. If there’s one thing I’ve learned the hard way, it’s that it’s survival of the fittest in this city. But we don’t go around threatening people. Unless we have to. It’s the opposite actually. They pay us. We protect them. Plain and simple.
His amber eyes flash at me. “You’re gonna give this guy everything on the Mavs?”
“It’s fine, Ralph.”
“Actively helping the VP of a rival club to the Mavs could end up putting us right smack damn in the middle of a war. We’ve always laid low when it comes to the Mavs passing through here cuz it was never worth the backlash if we went up against them. You helping this VP is gonna look like you’re taking a stand against them—taking Black Thorns’ side.”
“You think he’s just gonna listen to you?”
“Yeah, I do. He’s already agreed.”
He scrutinizes me for a moment. “What haven’t you told me here?”
“Excuse me?”
“This isn’t like you. Trusting Black Thorns given your history with that club. So, why are you? This guy is under your skin, isn’t he?”
I scoff. “Please. He’s a biker, Skinner’s son and he messed with my car. And you think…what…I have some sort of soft spot for him after all that?”
A grin spreads over his face. “Good looking is he?”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“So, he is then.”
That’s it! I‘m done with this infuriating conversation. “Yeah, he is. He’s also got a monster cock and he knows how to use it, too. Pity I kicked him off me during the best fuck of my life, because I found out he’s Skinner’s son. There! Is that what you wanted to hear?”
He bursts out laughing. “Holy shit.”
“Oh, shut up, dickhead.”
He rubs his hand over his shaved head. “I can’t believe it. You fucked a biker? You? With the deep-seated hatred you have for his kind? Wow, I guess months of not getting laid finally got to you, huh?”
“It was a momentary lapse in judgment. Get over it, Ralph. I have.”
“Has he?”
That gets my attention. “What?”
“You said you kicked him off you mid-fuck, right?”
“Yeah. What about it?”
“Guys, especially ones like him who are used to taking what they want, don’t stop once they’ve been given the green light, Rox. Hell, some of them don’t even wait for the green light to begin with.”
“What are you saying?”
“Perhaps this guy has more than just a hard-on for you.”
I screw up my face, disgusted at the suggestion. “Urgh. No, Ralph. No, he doesn’t. It was just a weird physical thing. Sexual tension that has since been diffused. It’s done with now.” Shit, there’s no way I’m telling him about the kiss, or what happened on Ax’s bike. That would just add fuel to the fire. Even though, it’s clear to me that Ax just did that to manipulate me, so he could get one over on me. Like me? Yeah, right. No way in hell. And it’s the last thing I need; to get mixed up with him and his way of life. You don’t just hook up with a guy like him; you hook up with his entire club. Become their property. That’s all women are to them. Property.