Blood & Bones: Trip (Blood Fury MC Book 1)

by Jeanne St. James

  He didn’t appreciate that, either.

  Or when the cop dug into his pocket and pulled out a business card, holding it out to Trip. He reluctantly took it and read the name. Corporal Marc Bryson.

  “I was a jarhead, too. So was the chief and some others on the force.”

  “And what the fuck do you want me to do with that info?”

  “Just saying.” Bryson shrugged and headed back to his pig mobile. He threw over his shoulder as he walked away, “That brotherhood runs deep, too. Like my brothers in blue. Like your MC. Remember that.”

  Trip tucked the card into the front pocket of his jeans. If he crumpled it up and threw it on the ground, he was sure he’d get pinched for littering.

  “Remember this,” Trip called out as the cop opened the driver’s door. “Ain’t goin’ nowhere. Know why?”

  Bryson said nothing as he folded himself back into the cruiser.

  “Just like the American flag, my colors don’t run,” he shouted.

  Unless he was being shot at.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Trip stared at the sled parked next to him at the curb. It could mean that Stella had a customer, which was a good thing. Or it could mean trouble.

  He heeled the kickstand down, twisted the key, and swung his leg over. He pulled two bags of hot food from Dino’s Diner out of his black leather saddlebags.

  Yanking open the old, paint-peeling wooden door to Crazy Pete’s, he went inside.

  Yep, just as he thought. Fucking empty.

  Except for Stella who was behind the bar talking to a guy on one of the stools with a beer in front of him.

  His jaw got tight when that guy leaned in, reached out, ran his fingers down her forearm and she didn’t pull away. Or curse him out.

  Oh, fuck no.

  Both heads pivoted his way as the door closed behind him and he started in that direction, his eyes only for Cage.

  Cage sat back, his chest rose and fell under his cut, as his eyes got more wary with each step Trip took toward him. When Trip got to the end of the bar, he put the bags of food down and stepped behind it.

  He didn’t slow down until his body hit hers and he wrapped his fingers around the back of her neck and under her hair. With a tight grip, he leaned in and demanded, “Gimme your mouth.”

  When her mouth dropped open, he laid one on her, muffling her complaint.

  He kept the kiss brief but left his hand curved around her neck when he ended it and turned to face Cage. “Watcha doin’ here?”

  Cage tipped his eyes down to the half-empty pint glass. “Havin’ a beer. Usually what you do at a fuckin’ bar.”

  Trip dropped his chin and caught Cage’s gaze. “That it?”

  “Talkin to my girl, here.”

  “Your girl?” Trip’s eyes fell on Stella, who he had pressed to his side. “That right?”

  “No,” she answered. “Do you want a beer?”

  “Want answers first.”

  “You’ll get a beer, instead,” she told him and yanked free of his grip.

  As Stella moved away, Trip leaned in and said in a low growl, “Let’s get somethin’ straight from the get-go, brother, so there ain’t problems between us. Stella ain’t your girl.”

  “She yours?”

  “You gotta ask?”

  “You know, Prez, you made me the Road Captain. I sit at that fuckin’ table. Didn’t hear you claim her durin’ that one bullshit meetin’ we had.”

  “Do you think I can’t hear you two? Jesus Christ!” Stella snapped as she returned, carrying two fresh beers. “The taps are like five feet away.” She slammed one beer down in front of Cage, the foamy head of it spilling over the rim onto the bar top and splashing her hand, as well as Cage. The other, she slammed down in front of Trip. “That’s five bucks each.”

  Cage’s head jerked up. “Five? It’s usually four.”

  “It’s five for dicks. And you two are being big ones.”

  Cage shook his head. “He’s claimin’ you? And you’re lettin’ him?”

  “No and no,” Stella said.

  Cage grinned, which Trip wanted to wipe off his face. “Good. Still gives me a shot.”

  “No, it don’t,” Trip answered.

  Stella turned to him with narrowed eyes and said, “Since you’re here, you can work the bar the rest of the night.” She leaned in. “Just a warning, Cage’s tips suck.” She turned, and disappeared into the storage area, no doubt heading upstairs.

  He’d deal with her later. Right now, he had to get some things straight with Cage.

  “You gettin’ a piece of her?” the man asked, sounding a bit annoyed. “Been workin’ on her for the past year and you come strollin’ back to town and she instantly drops her fuckin’ panties? What the fuck?”

  “She didn’t drop nothin’.”

  “She musta, if you’re actin’ like she’s yours.”

  “She is mine.”

  “Again, my ass was at that half-assed meetin’, too. Didn’t hear you claim her as your ol’ lady. And we certainly didn’t vote on it.”

  “Was half-assed ‘cause all the spots weren’t filled. Now they are. And your vote ain’t needed ‘cept to fill in when necessary.”

  If Cage had a thing for Stella, it might be good they wouldn’t need his vote. He’d probably vote no when Trip did officially claim her. And when it came to a brother claiming an ol’ lady, a no vote was rare. There had to be a good reason for it.

  “Who took the secretary’s spot?”

  “Ozzy.”

  Cage guzzled down half of his fresh beer. “Have no clue who that is.”

  “He moved into the bunkhouse today. Was an Original like your pop.”

  “Yeah, Dutch mentioned somethin’ about someone comin’ back, didn’t say who.”

  “Well, that’s who. Rooms are startin’ to fill up, so if you want one, you better grab one. You don’t, then you don’t. But can tell you, Stella’s gonna be movin’ into the farmhouse with me. That means she’s also gonna wear my cut. That also means that shit you did with touchin’ her? That ends right here.” He poked the bar top with his index finger. “I catch you flirtin’, touchin’, whatever with her again, you’re done. I’m not gonna have that bullshit in my club. Once a woman’s claimed, she’s totally off-fuckin-limits. You get me?”

  “Then you better get to claimin’ her. ‘Cause until then...” Cage smiled.

  “Judge is gonna be dishin’ out law and order. I’m sure he won’t mind teachin’ you a hard lesson if you can’t keep your hands to yourself.”

  “Like you did? Forcin’ her to kiss you like that? And you gonna have Judge fight your battles, Prez?”

  “Like I said, Judge is the enforcer and will keep law and order. But if I gotta make a statement, I will.”

  “Sounds like a threat, Prez.”

  “Not a threat. It’s a fuckin’ promise.”

  “Don’t think she’s on board with your plan.”

  No, she wasn’t, but she would be. Maybe not tonight, but soon. However, Cage didn’t need to know that. He just needed to stay out of Trip and Stella’s business.

  “Not her call.” He needed to go upstairs, to not only get Stella to eat something but have a little conversation. He couldn’t do that and leave the bar unattended. “Now, since your ass is sittin’ in here, need you to watch the bar while I take care of business with Stella. Can you handle that?”

  “That an order?”

  “Sure the fuck is.”

  “Do I get free beer?”

  “Yeah. But you gotta stay sober enough to serve a customer if they come in.”

  “Then, I got it covered.”

  “Good.” Trip went down to the end of the bar and snagged the two bags of food, which were probably now cold.

  “How long you gonna be?” Cage asked Trip’s back as he moved toward the storage room.

  “As long as it takes.”

  “As long as what takes?”

  Trip didn’t answer him as he
pushed through the single swinging door.

  Stella heard boots on the stairs before the door handle jiggled.

  Then jiggled again.

  “Don’t make me replace this fuckin’ door, Stella,” came through it.

  She hesitated. She didn’t want to let him in, but he wasn’t going to simply disappear. He wasn’t the type of man to let a locked door stop him from getting what he wanted.

  “Gotta keep pushin’ me, baby, and I got my limits.”

  He wasn’t the only one who had them. She moved closer and called out, “Who’s watching the bar?”

  “Open the door.” His growl was muffled like he had his head pressed to it.

  “Answer me.”

  He did with a loud, “Fuck,” then a grumbled, “Cage.”

  She hurried to the door, unlocked it and flung it open. As she rushed past him, he hooked her around the waist and forced her back into the apartment, shutting the door behind them with his boot.

  “He’s not a bartender,” she complained.

  “Neither am I, but I’m sure as fuck he can figure out how to pour a fuckin’ beer.”

  “Or drink it all himself.”

  He released her and held up the bags of food. “Right now, we’re gonna eat, then we’ll go back down and work the bar ‘til closing.”

  She stared at the white paper bags. “Dino’s?”

  “Yep.”

  She flared her nostrils and inhaled, wondering what he brought.

  He grinned and moved toward the tiny galley kitchen. He answered her unasked question. “Two bison burgers, cheddar cheese, pickles, lettuce, tomato, their special sauce... oh, and double the bacon.”

  Her mouth watered since she hadn’t eaten all day. “Loaded fries?”

  He put the bags down and dug out two Styrofoam containers. The burgers. She didn’t even care if they weren’t hot. He pulled out a large container next. He placed it on the counter and popped open the top.

  Loaded fucking fries.

  Her stomach growled and her feet moved without her even telling them to.

  She snagged a drooping fry covered in melted cheese, sour cream, chives and bacon bits and shoved it into her mouth, closing her eyes as she chewed.

  Damn, that was good. She didn’t realize how hungry she had been until now.

  The sound of Styrofoam sliding over the counter made her open her eyes again and pop another heavily loaded fry into her mouth.

  She opened the square container he’d put in front of her. The burger smelled heavenly, but it was so big she’d never be able to eat the whole thing. But half? She could try.

  He removed two more small containers out of the other bag, putting them on the far counter.

  “What’s that?” she asked around her third fry.

  “Two slices of Death by Chocolate cake,” he told the interior of the fridge as he pulled out two cans of Sprite, popping them open and depositing them on the counter.

  “Damn,” she whispered. “That’s their specialty.”

  “No shit,” he said, swiping the fourth fry from her fingers and shoving into his own mouth.

  He moved around the counter and settled on the second stool, dragging his burger in front of him and the container of fries between them so they could share.

  She sank her teeth into the burger and didn’t care some of the juice ran down her chin. It was rare she could go to Dino’s for a meal, but for a small northern Pennsylvania diner, they had made the best homemade food. The new owners made everything from scratch and most of it was locally sourced.

  He didn’t say anything for the longest time, which surprised her. So, she took that time to eat in peace, savoring every bite of the burger and fries.

  Eventually her stomach cried mercy, since she had eaten not only most of the burger but the fries.

  When she was done, Trip finished off her leftover burger and the few surviving fries, then sat back and sighed, patting his stomach. “That shit was good.”

  “The best.”

  “Now we need to talk.”

  Great. “You need to talk. Not me,” she corrected him.

  He grabbed their empty containers, shoved them into one of the empty bags and tossed them into the garbage, but he didn’t settle back next to her. No. He stayed on the other side of the counter, so he was facing her.

  She wasn’t going to like this talk.

  “He buggin’ you?”

  Oh, Jesus. That was not what she was expecting, but she should’ve known. While he wasn’t the type of guy to let a locked door stop him, he also wasn’t a guy who would let another man stop him from getting what he wanted. But that didn’t mean she needed to make it easy for him. “Who?”

  He cocked a dark eyebrow. “Who you think?”

  He was jealous of Cage. Imagine that. “It’s nothing new, Trip.” Cage always flirted with her, made moves, tried to sweet talk her out of her jeans. While he was admittedly good-looking, he wasn’t her type. Plus, he was a few years younger than her and that just wasn’t her thing. Not to mention, she was avoiding the bad boy types like the plague. “He’s a regular. And I need every regular I can get.”

  He reached across the counter and grabbed her chin, holding her gaze when he asked, “He get in there?”

  Her brow furrowed as she played dumb. He had no right to ask that. “Get in where?”

  “There.”

  She wanted to laugh with how ridiculous that was. Like he should care who all she slept with in her lifetime. It wasn’t his business. Just like it wasn’t any of hers who he had sex with for the past twenty years. The problem was, she wasn’t laughing. She was getting annoyed at his line of questioning. “You mean in my bed?”

  “In your fuckin’ pussy,” he growled.

  She stared at him. Was he for real? “Would it matter if he did?”

  Trip’s head jerked back and he released her chin. “Fuck yes. No way I’m havin’ an ol’ lady who’s fucked any of my brothers. No fuckin’ way.”

  Trying to keep a lid on her temper, she pushed off the stool and went to the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water. “Well, that won’t be a problem.”

  “Good.”

  She turned and twisted off the cap. “One, I never slept with Cage. Two, I’m not your ol’ lady.”

  “Yet.”

  Stella shook her head. “No, Trip. You can’t claim me.”

  “Already did.”

  “You didn’t at the table.”

  “Not yet.”

  “Not ever.”

  “Bullshit,” he muttered.

  She carefully put her water bottle on the counter and turned toward him. “Thank you for dinner. Now, I need to get back downstairs and make sure Cage isn’t shotgunning beer directly from the tap.”

  “He’s fine.” Trip reached out to grab her wrist and Stella jerked it away.

  He wasn’t going to start controlling every aspect of her life. “I have no choice about the bar, Trip. But the rest of my life is my own.” She pressed a hand to her chest. “I’m in control, not you.”

  His lips flattened. He was struggling. She could read it in his face, in his body language. He was trying to keep from saying whatever he wanted to say so he wouldn’t piss her off any further.

  He was going to fail.

  She could see his temper spiking. She could see his frustration.

  He wanted her, for whatever reason. So, he believed he could have her. With no question.

  He was a man who got what he wanted. By sweat or by force.

  But she had learned her lesson about men like him. A lesson she should have learned when she was a girl and watched all that shit go down with the original Fury members and the women who were around them. How they were treated. Not only the sweet butts and hang-arounds but their mothers. Hers. Trip’s. All of them.

  At the time, she thought that behavior was normal. She later discovered it wasn’t. And once she was free of that environment, she should’ve stayed free.

  She didn’t.
/>   Bad boy rockers weren’t much different than bad boy bikers. Only their toys were different.

  “You in control, Stella?”

  His voice was so low and gravelly when he asked that, a wave of heat rolled through her. A deeper meaning was behind those words, which shouldn’t affect her, but it did.

  Her answering, “Yes,” sounded shaky. Because it was. The look in his eyes, like his hunger hadn’t been sated by the food, made everything inside her quiver.

  “You sure?’ he asked as he came around the counter and moved to stand behind her.

  No. No, she wasn’t sure.

  She didn’t turn to look at him. But with how close he was, how his heat radiated against her back, it sent a shiver through her. Her nipples became points, her breasts began to ache, her skin tingled.

  He wasn’t touching her, but she wanted him to.

  Fuck, did she want him to.

  “I need...” What did she need? Damn it. She knew what she needed. She didn’t want to need it. She cleared her throat and quickly finished, “To go back downstairs.”

  She was wrong. He didn’t fail.

  She did.

  Once again, she failed to keep him at arm’s length. Failed to make it clear that she didn’t want him. Because that was untrue. No matter how bad he was for her, she couldn’t resist him.

  She wasn’t mad at him about it, she was mad at herself.

  She should insist he leave. To remove the temptation.

  She should.

  Instead of those words coming out of her mouth, the breath rushed from her lungs as he drew her to him, staying behind her and pulling her back to his front.

  She wanted this just as much as she didn’t.

  Why, why, why did he have to come back to Manning Grove?

  Why did she?

  She was supposed to be getting her life back in order, not let it spin out of control. Again.

  He grabbed a handful of her hair and lifted it, sliding his lips over the back of her neck. His other hand spanned her ribs before sliding across her belly and down. The tip of his fingers skimmed the waistband of her jeans, teasing her.

  Her brain was screaming it wasn’t a good idea, while her body screamed it was a great one.