Full Heat: A Brothers of Mayhem Novel

by Carla Swafford

  Included in that file was the history of the club. What was publicly known, anyway. Easy and his dad were founding members, and Storm was a third-generation member. He could be considered Brothers of Mayhem royalty. No wonder Storm had landed the president’s position at such a young age and so soon after being paroled from prison.

  Returning her attention to Storm, she almost choked on a gasp. She’d never seen such a look of pure hatred. His eyes darkened like his namesake. What would she do if he attacked his dad?

  The arteries in Storm’s neck bulged, showing the strain he was under to be civil.

  “Mary Jane, go to my room,” Storm said in a hard even tone.

  She lifted her eyebrows. Common sense warned her to not say anything and start more drama that would only end badly.

  “Sure. I’ll let you two talk.” Sliding off the stool, she stood to move away. Easy grabbed her wrist. She tensed. For goodness sakes, man. Don’t you see your son is on a short tether? She bit the side of her mouth to keep it shut.

  His fingers caressed her palm. She tugged, and he squeezed her wrist tighter. Her stomach roiled. Even before she’d remembered what he had done, his cold, dead eyes told her he wasn’t quite right in the head. Father and son were dangerous, but in such different ways. She sensed Easy would kill at the least provocation, while Storm appeared to control his temper and only release it on those deserving. She hoped.

  “Let her go, old man.” Storm grasped her by the waist. Easy lifted her arm and made a show of dropping it.

  “Is that the way to greet your daddy?”

  Storm ignored the question and pulled her a couple steps away. Then he kissed her. He held the back of her head as his tongue slipped between her lips. Her breath left her body. She forgot her audience and leaned against his hard body. Before she could wrap her arms around his neck, he released her, and his hand dropped to the small of her back and shoved.

  “Go.” Storm clearly wanted her out of the way.

  Dazed by the kiss, she blinked. What brought that about? She’d never seen him look so serious and dangerous. A mixture of fright and lust stirred in her. The man oozed alpha. Something was wrong with her. She should be running up the stairs screaming and hiding beneath the covers. But this side of Storm fascinated her. The kiss had been unexpected and mind-blowing. She felt he was a man who didn’t do anything without a reason. Warmth spread down her body.

  Her curiosity slowed her steps. Unable to help herself, she stopped on one of the lower steps in the stairwell, out of sight, and listened.

  —

  Storm narrowed his eyes at the old man. By kissing Mary Jane, he ensured Easy understood she was under his protection. Of course, Easy didn’t always think things through.

  One wrong move, old man.

  His knuckles itched with the need to punch the bastard’s face. His old man acted as if he had nothing to atone for, despite the fact that he’d slapped around and murdered Storm’s mom. Easy never thought of how much the people around him suffered because of him, especially his kids. They never had new clothes or enough food, and heaven forbid anyone remembered their birthdays. Of course, he would never say any of those things. When Storm grew up, he’d learned to deal with what fate had dealt and moved on. Yeah. He had handled it until the asshole grinning at him reappeared in his life.

  “What do you want?” Storm growled. Arms crossed, he waited for the answer.

  “Well, Stormy boy, I’m doing what’s proper as a Mayhem Brother. I’m checking in with the president of my chapter.” He leaned back and canted his head, looking up and down at Storm. “You’ve got balls to be president at such a young age. Nineteen?”

  “I’m twenty-one, but that has not a damn thing to do with it. As president, I have a say in who can be a member and who can’t. You’re not. Hand over your colors.” Storm gritted his teeth, wanting to push him some more.

  “Wrong. There has to be a vote from all of the members and approval from the Skull. That’s my good ol’ drinking buddy, Speed Crane, isn’t it? How’s he doing?”

  Storm could tell the old man wanted to hide the fury burning deep in his gut. He didn’t like “Stormy” telling him what he could and couldn’t do.

  “It will be in your best interest to stay away,” Storm said, his tone threatening. “You can tell Twofer over there where we can find you after the vote.”

  “You need some help, boss?” Twofer crowded the older man, trying to intimidate him so he’d do what Storm said. Twofer was known to crack a few heads.

  Storm had to hand it to his old man; he didn’t show any fear.

  Easy’s eyes narrowed as he nodded faintly. “Fine. I thought you had grown up enough to know that every story has two sides. When you’re ready to hear mine, let me know.”

  “Is that what you told your lawyer and the parole board? That you’re misunderstood? Don’t feed me that bullshit. You forget. I was there.” Fury brought on a coldness to Storm’s limbs. If Easy didn’t leave now, he wasn’t sure he could hold back any longer.

  Easy hadn’t been the boss of the Brothers of Mayhem all those years ago by accident. He was smart enough to know he wouldn’t win any fights at that moment. The old man sucked in his cheeks, lifted his chin, and walked away.

  With a nod from Storm, Twofer followed a few paces behind, making sure the old man left.

  Storm slammed his fist down on the bar, cracking the wood. Pain pounded along his arm like a heartbeat. The man infuriated him in equal measures for killing his mom and for making him yearn for it all to be a big mistake. Every child wanted to believe their parents loved them more than any earthly possession. He thought he gave up on that as a kid.

  The asshole hadn’t even asked about Cassidy. If not for needing to check in with the president of the Sand County chapter, Storm doubted the old man would have even thought about seeing him.

  He lifted his head and looked toward the steps. He heard light footsteps as Mary Jane ran up the stairs. Had he made a mistake by kissing her? Would his old man really know she belonged to him? Damn it! Not belonged to him. He squinted. She was under his protection. That was all. Though if he were to be truthful with himself, he sure as hell wished she belonged to him.

  The door upstairs closed. She’d tried to be quiet, but the place was old and every sound carried unless they blasted music downstairs.

  How much had she heard?

  Didn’t matter. It was time for the two of them to talk terms.

  Chapter 6

  Mary Jane rapidly pushed buttons on the remote, shaking it as if the action would speed it up. The TV blasted on, nearly exploding her eardrums, causing her to jump and scramble to find the volume control. Toggling the button, she kicked back in the other recliner, pretending that she’d been in his room all along, not listening to their conversation.

  Storm charged into the room, coming to a skidding stop.

  With a calmness she didn’t feel, she looked over her shoulder and raised her eyebrows as if saying, What’s all the rush?

  He glared at her, his eyes narrowed.

  Really, she’d tried not to do it, but she couldn’t hold it back. She burst out laughing. Maybe her nerves made her laughter a touch hysterical, but as tense as the situation had been earlier, it felt good to laugh uncontrollably.

  The incredulous look on his face ratcheted up her amusement. Straightening the chair, she bent over, holding her stomach. The remote thudded to the floor.

  Out of the corners of her wet eyes, she noticed his expression change to disbelief. Had he never seen a person laugh so hard?

  “Sorry.” She inhaled deeply, trying to catch her breath. “I couldn’t”—another deep breath—“help it.”

  He leaned his back against the wall and crossed his arms as he continued to watch.

  Shoving hair from her face, she grinned. “What had you expected to see when you came running in here?”

  “I heard gunshots.”

  That was when she noticed the program was an old western
, cowboys firing their weapons. Storm had come to her rescue. What a nice guy.

  “Everything’s okay.” She liked how his lips twitched as if he was fighting a grin.

  What a fine specimen of a man: broad shoulders stretching a thin T-shirt, lean hips with jeans riding low and showing the waistband of his underwear, and long legs with big feet wearing shit-kickers, thick-soled motorcycle boots. His hair swept back from his forehead ended at the collar of his open vest. The shadow of a beard prevented his looks from being pretty along with the faint, thin scar across his chin. That only toughened him more.

  His gaze remained on hers.

  She’d gradually quit laughing as her smile faded away.

  “Come here, Mary Jane,” Storm said in a hoarse tone.

  She wanted to say no. She hated how her curiosity put her in impossible spots. The memory of that kiss earlier had her body tingling and craving more. Everything about the man excited her. She wanted him more than any person she’d ever known. That was a lot of people. In her last couple of years with Jimmy, the older man had ensured she met all kinds of men in the hope she would find someone to love and love her back. Jimmy had worried about her being alone.

  Yet out of nowhere, Storm fit the bill for her all the way around. Commanding, sexy, and fascinating, he had an unconventional mind that matched hers.

  Without realizing she’d moved, she halted mere inches away. She felt the heat radiating off his body. Maybe she was a bit of a daredevil to taunt him like she did.

  “Here I am,” she said breathlessly.

  With a fluid twist, he grabbed her wrists and crossed them above her head as he pressed them to the wall with one hand, her chest heaved against his sternum. His other hand clutched a handful of hair and pulled back enough to have her look into his eyes.

  No words, but his eyes told her so much. He wanted her and hated it. She didn’t understand why she knew that, but she saw the debate in those wintry eyes. His mouth covered hers, tongue thrusting, stroking along hers. Without pause, she imitated his moves, loving how he hummed as if he was tasting something wonderful. He tightened his hold on her hair. She gasped, and for a split second she thought about biting him for punishment but decided she liked kissing him too much. Each swipe of his tongue against hers sent a pulsation straight down until her pussy rippled. Without considering the ramifications, she rolled her hips up until she felt his hard cock. She always found it to be fantastic how boys—no, men—could have a part of their body lengthen and harden like that.

  He released her hair. His hand cupped a breast as his thumb rotated around her taunt nipple, and squeezed before traveling down her torso, over her quivering stomach and thighs, reaching down to her knee. He lifted it high enough for his groin to press to the heartbeat between her legs. She released a long moan that quickly turned to a groan when the banging on the door became louder.

  “Hey, boss! You’re needed downstairs. The Skull’s here.”

  Storm’s head dropped to the curve of her neck. Before she could stop him, he bit her. Hard.

  She screamed and pushed him away.

  His smirk pissed her off.

  “Are you nuts? That hurt.” She rubbed the place, feeling a slight indention. Chances were good she’d have a bruise. What had she thought about the day before, about him biting and being dangerous? He’d just proven her right.

  He leaned down to her face. “Yes. I’m batshit insane, and it would be best that you remember that.” He opened the door, and without looking back, he said, “Don’t try coming downstairs to listen again. If I or one of the Brothers catch you, it won’t be pretty. Understood?” He finally cut his eyes her way.

  She wanted to throw a lamp at him. Instead she flipped him the bird.

  “Definitely later. Got business now.” He shut the door.

  Definitely later? Oh, my. Tingling enveloped her body again.

  After taking a couple deep breaths to regain control, she waited until she heard his big-ass boots clump down the stairs, then slowly cracked open the door. No matter what he thought, she wasn’t crazy enough to eavesdrop again, but she wanted to see if her assumption was correct. It was that curiosity problem of hers rearing its ugly head again. She peeked into the hallway.

  Standing across the hallway facing her door was the tall, lanky Mayhem Brother called Wolf. Arms crossed and head leaning back, he stared down at her.

  “Get your ass back in there.” He growled each word.

  “What if I want a drink?” Silly excuse, but she wanted to test how far Storm would go to keep her in his room.

  “There’s a mini-fridge in the table between the recliners. Bottled water and sodas.” His tone lightened up some.

  So she pressed on. “No beer?”

  “The boss don’t drink alcohol.”

  “That’s right. I remember him saying that before. Why? Is he in AA’s twelve-step program?”

  “AA?” Wolf wrinkled his forehead in confusion. “The boss? You’ve got to drink in the first place. He’s allergic. Shit!” He rubbed his chin. “He’ll beat the shit out of me if he finds out I told you that.”

  “Why? Is it a secret?”

  “No. But he’d rather outsiders not know. Some days, I agree with my big brother. I have a big mouth.”

  Deciding she’d better not press to find out more about Storm, she let it drop.

  “When you say brother, do you mean your sibling?” she asked.

  Wolf grinned. An evil one, like Little Red Riding Hood had probably seen right before she got eaten.

  “Yeah. My asshole of a blood brother.”

  “Is he a Mayhem Brother?”

  “He is, no, was. Let’s say he disappeared after several of the Brothers were arrested.”

  “You haven’t heard from him since? He hasn’t written, emailed, called you?” She couldn’t imagine having a sibling and not keeping in contact. She’d always wanted a brother or sister.

  Wolf looked away. “We were never that close. Hey, I don’t want to talk about him.”

  Her heart squeezed at the misery on the big guy’s face. He loved his brother, but the asshole didn’t care enough to let him know where he was.

  “Hey, you want to come in and show me how to play Grand Theft Auto? I noticed Storm has it. Jimmy loved to play, but his game was an older version.” When Wolf hesitated, she said, “You’ll still be guarding me.”

  Wolf looked toward the stairwell, then at her. “Sure.”

  She turned and began to set up the game.

  —

  Storm’s fists itched to flatten the club’s national president’s nose.

  Speed had come into the local clubhouse and announced they were having a special church meeting. It was a slap in Storm’s face. Sure, as the Skull of the Brothers of Mayhem MC, Speed had a right to do whatever he wanted, but common courtesies were usually shown to the local prez. Not this time.

  Mitch “Speed” Crane stood in front of the large conference room, arms crossed as he glared at everyone milling around.

  “Get your asses in a chair and shut the fuck up!”

  The man was in rare form. His thinning hair held in a stringy ponytail trailed down his back and his gut hung over a large belt buckle with the club’s skull logo. His face was flushed red, enough to concern Storm in spite of his anger. Speed had been his foster father, caring for Storm and his sister after his old man was arrested. He owed the older man a lot.

  Storm leaned to one side, with one arm on the back of his VP’s chair and his legs stretched out, making people step over them as they made their way to seats. Wolf wouldn’t need his chair as he had babysitting duty. And Speed was using Storm’s chair. It was his right. So Storm sat at the opposite end.

  “Everyone close your motherfucking mouths!” Speed waited another couple minutes until his sergeant at arms’s whistle cut through the room. The talk settled down to a rumble. “About fucking time.” Speed adjusted his belt buckle and puffed out his chest. “I’ve received some news. One of o
ur own has been released for good behavior —for a hell-raiser, that’s fucking amazing—and he’s with us today! It’s time to celebrate! Come on in, Easy.”

  The sneaky son of a bitch.

  Storm sat up straight, and his gaze followed his old man’s every self-assured step through the room until he stood beside Speed. So he’d gone to the Skull and acted as if he hadn’t stopped by and asked to return to his chapter. Like a kid who was told no by one parent, he decided to try another. He knew if Storm protested, he’d look weak to his Brothers.

  The asshole.

  Shouting filled the room. Most of the older men slapped his back and shook his hand. Storm’s chest expanded when he noticed several from his chapter stayed away. He didn’t believe it was a sign of allegiance to him. If Easy stirred up trouble and caused the chapter to choose allegiances, that could actually mean the end of the Sand County chapter. Brothers fighting Brothers was not allowed. The Skull’s only option would be to close it down, regardless of the fact that it was the mother chapter, to prevent bloodshed.

  Speed banged his fist onto the table.

  “Tonight, we celebrate! Bring beer, whiskey, whatever you like, and of course, bring your bitches and old ladies. A man needs pussy when he’s done without for…” He looked at Easy for the answer.

  “Let’s say a hell of a long time!” Easy’s smirk deepened when his gaze met Storm’s.

  With a roar, the room exploded with laughter and talk about the blowout that night. A couple of Storm’s men looked his way, he nodded. With the Skull saying they would party, they had no choice but to prepare for an all-nighter, and Storm’s rule about no women in the clubhouse would be ignored. Fuck, he’d already broken the rule himself.

  The crowd flowed out of church, down the hall, and into the large outer room and around the bar. All the prospects headed for the door to purchase the alcohol needed to infuse their revelry.

  Storm sat alone in the conference room. Frustration pulled at his shoulders. He’d wanted things to be better after being paroled. That was why he’d tried to direct the club into more legal businesses. The bodyguard work would be simple and quick money. No addictions, no arrests, and they could still set their own schedule. Still be free.