~Boomer~
After two days away, my mind isn’t any clearer than it was before.
My phone rings with an unknown number. It could be a potential client, so without thinking, I answer.
“How’s that pussy been treating you?”
“Excuse me? Who the fuck is this?” I ask.
“I marked her; she’s mine.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“You shouldn’t fuck another man’s wife. That pussy has my mark. You’re gonna pay and so is she. Once I find my sons, you’re both dead.”
Silence.
I look at my phone screen, seeing the call ended. My mind runs wild. Keri? Does Keri have a husband? And sons? Was that her reference to secrets?
Anger boils in my veins. Some crazy-ass motherfucker just threatened my life over a piece of pussy. I don’t know him or his fucking wife.
Sure, I fuck around, but I have no ties to anyone. I asked Pami, and she declined, so I have no ol’ lady to respect. The pussy I fuck is consensual, and it damn sure isn’t married.
What secrets does Keri have? What shit storm is she bringing to the club?
The barflies are given a background check, but they don’t get any club business, so it’s not the most thorough. It might be time we reevaluate this policy on the hang-around whores. Someone has secrets, and secrets in a motorcycle club cost lives. No life of a brother is worth a piece of pussy.
Looking at the phone, I make the call. The Hellions need to know there is something going on, even if it turns out to be nothing.
“Shooter,” I bark into the phone.
“Brother,” he answers calmly. That is Shooter: always collected.
“Ride out.”
“Where to?”
That simple response is what defines the Hellions. No questioning why, just take your brother’s back whenever he calls. Shooter would have my back club or no club, but he will make sure Tripp, Rex, and the rest of the crew are there to back me up if needed.
“I’m a day and half away. Round up Keri. Fuck, find out about all the bitches at Ruthless. Every barfly who is affiliated needs to be checked.” I try to think rationally. It may not be her husband calling me.
“Consider it done. Where do you want Keri when you return?”
“Somewhere no one can find her before I get there.”
“You good, man?”
“Just need some questions answered, not just for me, but for the whole fucking club.”
Shooter sighs. “If shit is gonna rain down on the club, I gotta know now, Boomer.”
Honesty is part of loyalty. “I don’t know. I got a call. Someone has a husband, one who apparently has a wife and sons he wants back.”
“Fuck!” Shooter loses his cool demeanor.
He has a son—stepson, but Axel is as much his flesh and blood as Tessie and Rex. If someone took Tessie and Axel from him, he would go crazy. If someone kept them hidden, he would go after whoever stood in his way.
“Day and half tops,” I remind.
“Consider it handled.” Shooter clicks off.
Without another thought, I set off for home. Fuck with me, fine. Bring shit to my brothers' doorsteps, and we have a problem. Barfly or not, the Hellions won’t tolerate problems from an outsider. Whoever her ex is, he just made his last threat.
The motherfucker is going to die, and if I have it my way, it will be at my hands for that phone call.
****
The old hunting cabin is one room, no decorations. We keep it for the times we need to hide someone or, in this case, question someone. A fireplace lines one wall with a couch to the side of it. There is a toilet that has a shower curtain hanging for privacy. It’s a shithole, but serves its purpose well. Sitting off the beaten path, no one can find it unless they are looking.
Shooter and Rex are on the porch talking when I pull up. Shooter’s short hair is a contrast to the man bun Rex is sporting. Two completely opposite men, but after a long road between them, they have a bond that is thicker than blood.
“Boomer, how goes it, brother?” Rex greets.
“Helluva ride,” I reply, stepping onto the porch. “She in there?”
“Yeah, we checked her out, too. She has an ex-husband. Cop,” Rex answers my next question before I can ask.
“Kids?” I wonder if she is the one now.
“Can’t have them,” Shooter answers.
“Let’s go have a chat with the wife of a boy in blue,” I say, irritated that she has covered her past that well.
“Ex,” Shooter corrects.
“Last pussy I fucked sits in there, the same pussy that wanted to bring up secrets the morning after. We’ve all got secrets, she said. Two days later, I have some stranger calling me about fucking his wife and wanting his sons. The cop was a secret, so what else is she hiding?”
“True, but I don’t think she’s the one,” Rex says.
We enter and see Keri sitting on the couch, looking tired. Her eyes are swollen from crying, her makeup smeared, and her hair is a complete mess.
“Boomer?” She looks up at me.
My eyes go cold. I feel the betrayal. She knows more than she has let on.
“Secrets, Keri.”
She blows out a breath. Rex leans against the wall casually, crossing his legs at the ankles, while Shooter stands at the door. I stand in front of her, scowling down at her.
“What did you mean the other day about secrets?”
“We all have them,” she whispers, her lip quivering.
Fatigue from my ride and the anger that someone threatened me have me at my breaking point. Reaching down, I wrap my hand around her throat, squeezing just enough to get her attention and hold her still.
She reaches up and holds my wrists, trying to relieve the pressure.
“Enough with the word games. What the fuck are you talkin’ about?”
Her eyes grow wide. “Secrets,” she chokes out in a whisper.
I push her back against the couch and straddle her. Releasing her neck, I grab her hands and hold them over her head. I put my nose to hers, my beard hitting her chin with every word I speak.
“What fuckin’ secrets?”
Tears fill her eyes again. “Boomer, please.”
“I’m an asshole, so pleading won’t help you. I could give a shit what the hell happens to you. You keep talking about secrets, but you don’t share them, and now I’ve got some man threatening me over pussy and secrets. It’s time to start talking, Keri. We know you’ve got a cop husband.”
She tenses under me at the mention of him. Ah, good to know he still has some effect on her.
She blinks slowly as if fighting some emotion. “Ex-husband and ex-cop.”
“Where is he now? Where are his sons?”
Panic fills her eyes. “Sons?” she asks, and that’s when I realize it isn’t her. “Henley and I didn’t have kids. He’s remarried with a little girl. I’m not the one with the secrets you should be digging into.”
I jerk off of her harshly.
If it isn’t her, then who is it? A thought hits me. It can’t be. No way would she have that kind of secret.
At the same time, I begin to think it, Keri moves to stand. Her soft hand reaches out, and she rubs the side of my beard gently.
“You should be keeping Pamela close right now. You should be asking her the questions you’re asking me. I’m sorry, Boomer.”
Anger, fury, and rage—I see red as I am consumed in madness. I pull her hand off my face, jerking her up as I do, and put back her to the wall as Rex moves out of the way.
“She’s not here; you are. What do you know?”
Fear fills her eyes again. She should be afraid. She has kept secrets from the club, secrets that could have Pamela in danger.
“I don’t know much. A man found me outside of Ruthless the night before we hooked up last. He tried to pay for sex. When I said no, that we are for the club, he asked about special pussy, marked pussy, where he cou
ld find marked pussy.”
The truth hits me like a wrecking ball. Marked pussy. Pamela’s tattoo covers scars; I have felt them.
Keri keeps talking while my mind spins.
“I said, if he’s looking for hookers, he needs to go to the city, not out here. He said he was exactly where he needed to be; he just needed a release before he found his woman again. He rambled about a wife named Pamela and two sons. He was half-crazy.”
“Half-crazy and you didn’t think to tell a brother?” I roar.
“I told you people had secrets. You’ve got a thing for Purple Pussy Pamela, so I figured you would seek her out and sort this.”
Fucking Pamela… What the hell kind of baggage does she have?
~Pamela~
Ruthless is slow, and I am thankful for that.
Corinne is behind the bar. I look at her, the closest thing I have to a real friend, and hate myself. I should have told her. I should have told someone.
“Hey girl, what’s up?” she greets as I slide onto a barstool.
“Can I borrow your phone to make a call? Mine is dead,” I ask, knowing this is my only hope. If Dennis is watching me, I can’t use my phone to check in. I have a burner phone, but I don’t want him to get suspicious.
“Sure. It’s in my purse in the office.” She smiles then moves to wipe down the bar.
I make my way to the back, shutting the office door behind me. He can’t see in here. I haven’t seen anyone around that resembles my ex, but I don’t want to take any chances.
Not being able to call and verify he hasn’t gotten to the boys has killed me, but I have to be smart. I have to stay a step ahead. Maybe all he has is my phone number.
A girl can dream, right?
I get Corinne’s purse out of the bottom desk drawer and make the call to the prepaid phone I have set up for my mom.
“Hello?” she answers cautiously.
“Hey, Ma.” I swallow back tears from hearing her voice.
“Pami.” She doesn’t hide the delight and relief in her tone.
“He called.”
I hear her gasp into the phone. “We have to go.” She begins to jump into action.
“No, you stay put. I think you’re safe. But I can’t be in contact for a while, and I can’t send money until I get reestablished somewhere.”
“Pami, please go to the police. Get help.”
“I can’t, Ma. He would still get visitation, and I don’t want a monster like him around my boys. I know he will find a way to kill me, anyway, police or no police. Just keep the boys safe and give them my love.”
“I’ll die before anyone gets to them.”
“I know, Ma. That’s why they’re with you.” Tears fall down my face. “I love you.”
“I love you, precious.”
“I’ve gotta go,” I whisper, not wanting to end the call.
“I know. Be safe, my daughter.”
The line goes dead, killing another piece of my heart.
I miss my boys. I miss my mom. However, I can’t be with them and keep them away from him. I would die to give them freedom.
I walk out of the office and bump right into someone. Backing away, I look up into the dark brown eyes of a man on a mission.
Boomer.
Dammit, this is not helping things.
I inhale deeply, taking in the masculine scent of leather and Boomer. I stop myself from reaching out to touch him.
He wants to give me more. He wants to give me himself. Nathan ‘Boomer’ Vaughn thinks he’s a bad man, but he is really everything a woman could want. Strong, loyal, honest, caring, and fierce are just a few characteristics that make up the man behind the cut.
My body and mind come alive whenever he is near. Today is no different.
“Where you off to in such a hurry?” he asks as his eyes bore into mine, seeking something.
“I have work to do,” I stammer, trying to wipe the tears from my eyes.
“Work, huh?” He is pissed, but right now, I can’t allow myself to care.
“Boomer, I don’t have time for this right now. I’m late to clean a business. I can’t afford to lose this client,” I lie.
“I’ll pay double their rate for an hour,” he says calmly, and I see red.
Reaching back, I swing, not thinking of the consequences, and slap him across the face.
“I’m no one’s hooker. Fuck you, Boomer! Fuck. You!” I storm off as he holds his hand to his face in shock by my reaction.
I have to get out of here. Boomer was the only one I thought saw me as more than pussy. He wanted something real not so long ago. Now I’m just ass he’s willing to pay for. Well, fuck that and fuck him. I have enough on my plate.
Why didn’t I just leave when I got the call? Why did I bother to give Doll notice? It’s not like I’m going to need references. I need nothing to tie me to North Carolina.
He found my number; he may have found me. That means finding my sons will be next.
I cannot and will not let that happen. With my dying breath, he will not get my boys.
Chapter Six
~Boomer~
What the hell is she running from? During all this time we have been together—not just fucking, but pillow talk and what I would consider a developing relationship—how could she not know I would help her? How can she think for one second the club wouldn’t back her?
It hits me—she’s not claimed.
I offered her that spot. I have been with my fair share of women, but none have been like a balm to my wounded soul like Pamela. Now something is going on, and she won’t be honest with me.
Why?
A husband? Sons? Is Pamela married with kids? She doesn’t strike me as the type to leave her kids behind. She has a soft side, a nurturing side that I don’t think would allow her to be separated from her kids.
My mind goes crazy with questions while my cheek stings from her slap.
Did she really think I was offering to pay her for sex? Is her idea of the man I am that distorted?
Asshole, most definitely, but scum who pays for sex, I am not.
I would never think of her like that. The club doesn’t pay barflies for sexual services. No woman has to do anything she doesn’t want to. They are given a place to hang out, plenty of booze to drink. We help them with jobs, help them have a place to stay, and when they want to, they are around to fuck whichever available Hellion they choose. The only rule is don’t mess with the Hellions who have ol’ ladies. The barflies stay clean, and we help them out. They can leave at any time.
I clutch my chest. She’s going to leave. I feel it. Dammit, I am fucking this up at every turn.
“Boomer,” Shooter calls out, and I realize I am still standing in the same spot, dumbfounded. As I turn to him, he studies me. “You feel it?”
I raise an eyebrow at him in question.
“The pull? The drive? The need? The fire? She yours?” His last question hits me square in the gut.
“Abso-fuckin-lutely.” I feel every bit of it. For the first time since my momma died, I feel.
Absently, I rub my chest. I fucking feel it. Pamela better look out because I’m coming for her, and I expect answers.
He smiles. “Then we need to follow your woman, not stand here.”
I’ve spent too many years riding around aimlessly. I’ve spent too much time trying to outrun the past instead of looking toward the future. Pamela is the only person in all this time to give me a reason to think about anything good.
The things I have seen, the things I have done, they don’t hold me back when she’s around. I get tunnel vision. I get lost in her. She has this softness to her, this look in her eyes that tells of a woman who has been through hell and fought her way out. I know that look. I see it in the mirror every damn day. Only, I can’t find my way out without her.
Kids? Does she really have sons?
“Need intel before we chase her. She’s running scared. Just need to figure out if it’s from me or someone
else.”
“I’ll make the call,” Shooter says, reaching for his phone.
Going to the bar, I slide in front of Corinne, and she gives me a half smile.
I fucked her a few times before Pamela. She’s a hellcat in bed. She goes wild, but she gets lost somewhere in her mind, and it becomes as much a release for her as me. The connection just doesn’t happen.
She has secrets, too. They all do. Keri was right about that. Only, their secrets don’t bother me. Pamela’s do.
Could she have a husband? In all this time we have shared together, I know she is the kind of woman you bring home to your mom. She knows how to be a lady on your arm and the mistress in your sheets. I have a hard time believing my Purple Pussy Pamela would make a lifelong commitment and not stand by it.
Marked pussy… The words come back to my mind.
I have spent countless hours with my face between those thighs, my lips on those lips, and my tongue diving deep into her core. Each of those orange polka dots is over raised flesh—marked flesh.
Marked pussy.
Bile builds up in my throat, but I swallow it down. He marked her lips. Did he do the tattoo? Or is that her way of hiding him?
Although Corinne sets a beer in front of me, I can’t bring myself to touch it.
“What did she want?” I ask, trying to stop my stomach from churning.
“She needed to use my phone.”
“I need your phone then and the last call you made.”
She shakes her head yet moves for me to know she is giving in. I follow her back to the office where she hands me the device. It is still mildly wet, probably from the tears Pamela was fighting to push back.
Who did she call? Why was she crying?
I go through the call log … Last call, Devlin. I look at the time. Three hours ago.
Not her call.
In frustration, I throw the phone. It hits the back wall, and Corinne runs after it. The screen is cracked, and she looks ready to kill.
Well, guess what? So am I!
I open my wallet and toss out five hundred dollars. “If that’s not enough, I’ll get you more later. I’ve gotta find your friend.”
Simple Ride (Hellions Ride Book 6) Page 4