First Ride (The Slayers MC Book 1)

by Tara Oakes

  “Angel, welcome home.” Gryff is the next to stand. “Don’t think this is gettin’ you outta working at the club. I’m not gettin’ behind that bar again.”

  I laugh. I’ve gotten to know Gryff perhaps the best out of all the brothers so far. Chase introduces himself next. I’d seen him last night, but other than serving him a beer or two, he’d been too wrapped up in one of the strippers to take much notice.

  The only one left is Dawson, leaning back, ankles crossed, waiting.

  He doesn’t come to me like the rest had, He’s clearly expecting me to come to him. Everyone stands by and watches. It’s another test.

  I drop Sasha’s hand so she can stay and talk to her new pirate friend and I walk forward. Each step seems to cause my heart to thud louder.

  Dawson sets his beer aside on the railing to his left.

  “Hi,” I speak softly. Should I say something else?

  He doesn’t reply, though I see his eyebrow lift. Most people watching us are silent and still. I see his mouth twitch and something takes over my body, pushing it forward to smash my lips into his.

  His arm instantly snakes up my back, holding me tight while my hello kiss is taken over by something so much more intense. I feel his tongue stroking against mine, dominating my mouth and I have sudden flashbacks of what else that tongue is capable of.

  I feel a large hand squeezing my ass, kneading, for everyone to see. Either my hearing’s just returned or all at once people start talking again, as if everything had been paused.

  “Welcome home,” Dawson’s lips tickle against mine.

  I’m close enough to see through the dark lenses of his shades, to see his deep, piercing eyes. I nod.

  “Sasha,” I call out behind me. “Come meet Mr. Dawson.”

  Uno steps aside and Sasha comes to me, her light pink coat swishing as she walks.

  Dawson bends down to her, their eyes on the same level. He takes off his sunglasses so she can get a better look. “Hey, Sasha. You’re just as pretty as your aunt, you know that?”

  The little girl blushes.

  “You know, we’ve got most of your things put in your room already. Why don’t you guys go see? We can paint the walls if you want. Even pink.”

  Playfully, Dawson tugs on the hem of the pink coat that’s covering her pink sweater, perfectly matched to her pink pants and her pink shoes.

  Sasha looks up to me and I nod before she nearly pulls my arm from the socket trying to coerce me along to go check out if what he’s saying could possibly be true.

  Dawson stands and quickly takes my lips again while patting my ass twice. “Let me know when lunch’s ready. We’ll have the boxes all brought in by then.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  DAWSON

  “Nope.” I answer her point blank.

  I can’t blame Angel’s friend for being protective, but damn this chick is nosy.

  “Ever come close?” Lana fires her next question.

  Clearing my throat, I sit up straight and play with the cold beer bottle between my palms. “Listen, I’ve never been married. I’ve never come close. I’ve never lived with a woman before. You didn’t ask yet, but my blood type’s AB and my favorite color’s black.”

  “You know what they say about people who like the color black?” She just doesn’t know when to let up, this one.

  “Let me guess …” Gryff pulls one of the lawn chairs over to us and uses it to sit backward on. “They’re mean, nasty mother fuckers with mommy issues?”

  Angel’s friend stops mid-chew and nearly chokes on her burger.

  “Yeah,” My V.P. nods his head smugly. “I have that effect on women, darlin’. Don’t worry. It passes. The name’s Gryff.”

  Lana gulps her mouthful down and stares at him in disbelief. “You’ve got to be the cockiest S.O.B. I’ve ever met.”

  My second in command laughs, and I’m grateful Lana’s disdain is aimed at someone else right now. “Thanks.” He makes no effort to hide his hand as he shifts his dick, adjusting himself. “You haven’t even seen it yet, though. I think it’s only fair we play show and tell so you get the whole effect. See how cocky I really am. How’s about you and me go take a ride?”

  “How’s about you drop dead?” She spits out.

  I roll my eyes and leave the two of them to duke it out. She’s only been here an hour or so, using almost every minute of it to grill me about everything and anything that really is none of her fucking business, and he’s an even bigger pain in my ass sometimes.

  They’re perfect for each other. Let them drive each other nuts and leave me the hell out of it.

  I can still hear them bicker as I walk away toward the house.

  “You get the prospects to help clean up?” Angel barely hears me as she’s wrapping up the leftover food.

  Nearly dropping a bowl of coleslaw, she looks up. “What? Oh, no, it’s fine. I’ve got it. Almost done.”

  “Esè!” I yell back over my shoulder to where I last saw him chowing down near the grill.

  “Yeah boss?” He’s quick, damn quick, to pop up behind me. He knows it’ll only be worse if he drags his feet when I call him.

  I don’t look at him. It has more effect this way. “Why is my woman busting her ass cleaning up?”

  The half-empty bowl of slaw is taken out of Angel’s small hands faster than fast. “Sorry, boss. I’ll get this shit cleared away.”

  I sip what’s left of my beer and step aside as the kid gets to work. Angel tries to help but finds she can’t get close to the picnic table as two other prospects jump in to help, robbing me of the opportunity to ride their asses like I did Esè’s.

  “Let them take care of it, Angel.” I take her hand and lead up the back porch stairs and through the wooden screen door to the kitchen. “You go through all the rooms, find where everything is?”

  She breathes deep. “I think so. Listen, I was hoping we could talk? This is kind of all getting out of hand.”

  “Plenty of time for talk later.” We pass Trixie, Uno’s Ol’ lady, in the main hall. “Hey, Trix? You get a chance to meet Angel’s kid yet?”

  The aging redhead who helped Angel set up lunch smiles at us. “Just played tea with her. She’s a sweetie. Gonna fit right in tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow? What’s tomorrow?” Angel stops short, just as I’m about to lead us up the main stairway.

  “I own the Tiny Tots daycare and pre-school in town. Sasha can start tomorrow.” Uno set his woman up with the business years ago. Gives her somethin’ to do all day.

  “I know the place! I hoped to get her in there by fall. I know most kids her age have started already, but I’m trying to scrape the money together. I—I’m not sure I can pay for it just yet, though.” My girl looks worried and embarrassed.

  Trix swats her hand as if there’s an imaginary fly, chasing Angel’s words away. “Family don’t pay, Angel. The boys will work it all out. Dawson and Uno will figure something and square it up. Don’t sweat it.”

  “But--” The younger woman starts.

  “Already told Sasha about it. Tomorrow’s arts and crafts day. Gonna make popsicle stick picture frames. Make sure she brings an old button down shirt for a smock.” Trixie moves right along, not letting Angel protest.

  “Babe!” Uno spots her. “You gotta come see this! We’re gonna make the prospects have a potato salad eating contest.”

  Trix pretends to gag. “Fantastic. Just what I want to do with my afternoon. I clean up after kids puking all week at work, I don’t want to do it on my day off too.”

  Regardless, she follows her man out to the backyard for the main event.

  I take the next stair and finish climbing to the second floor, Angel following.

  “I have enough money from last night’s shift to pay for a couple of days for Sasha. I can get the rest within the week, I think.” Angel’s half talking to herself as I lead her down the hallway, past Sasha’s room. The door’s open and the little girl’s found a new victim for her tea
party, where Baby’s pretending to eat invisible cookies.

  Good. Give her practice for when her own kid pops out. I can just imagine Stitch holding a little cup with his fucking pinky all up in the air. Gotta make sure I get a picture of that.

  “How expensive do you think it will be?” Angel wonders.

  “Babe. Relax. It’s all taken care of. Enough.” The next door we come upon is my room, with a collection of cardboard boxes piled high in the middle.

  There aren’t many, as Angel didn’t really have all that much. Just a couple of drawers full of stuff.

  “But--”

  I quiet her by pulling her over to the bed and between my legs as I sit on the edge of the mattress. “I said, enough. I took care of it.”

  “You’re taking care of too much. Really. It’s starting to freak me out.” She’s gettin’ all worked up. “Maybe this is a mistake.”

  I rest my arms around her waist. “I don’t make mistakes.”

  Her brown eyes watch me condescendingly. “Everyone makes mistakes.”

  “Do I strike you as the kind of guy who just does shit without thinking about it?” I feel her eyes searching mine for an answer.

  “Maybe I’m making a mistake, then?” She comes up with another thought.

  I glance briefly past her to the boxes that bare her name in black marker. “Did it feel like you were making a mistake last night?”

  She doesn’t answer.

  “Did it feel like you were making a mistake when you saw Sasha playing in her new room, in a house that’s safe? Where she’ll go to school and get to do things that all little girls should be doing?”

  Still no answer.

  I pull her forward until she nearly falls into my lap, her lips close. “Does it feel like a mistake when I hold you, like this? When I kiss you … like this?”

  I take her mouth, letting her answer me with her tongue instead of her words. Once she gives in and starts pressing deeper on her own, her hands holding tighter, I swing her around until she lands on the mattress with a soft bounce.

  “Does it feel like a mistake when I fuck you? Like this?” I don’t give her a chance to answer, leaning over her and burying myself in the crook of her neck, devouring the fleshy softness that makes her moan.

  “D!” The bedroom door swings open. “Just got a call from the Russians. We gotta go.”

  Fuck.

  “You got a fuckin’ alarm on my dick I don’t know about?” I growl out to Gryff. “I’m about to get some, so you gotta come up and fuck it all up?”

  Angel pushes me off her, “Who say’s you were gonna get some?”

  I roll my eyes at her. “You know damn well I was about to get some.”

  “D!” Gryff barks. “Gotta go, now!”

  My head drops in disappointment, landing on her tits.

  “Fine. Get the boys together. And brother?” I look over my shoulder to him. “You best believe the next time you think you’re gonna get lucky, I’m gonna cock block you so hard you’re gonna limp for a week.”

  Gryff leaves us to round up the troops.

  “Russians?” Angel asks, playfully pushing my head away as I sneak in a couple of little bites to her t-shirt covered nipples.

  I take her chin in my hand. “Business. Don’t worry about it.” Swiping her lips once more, that’ll have to do until later tonight. “The club’s closed for a private party tonight. Brothers only. Stay home with the kid. Unpack. I’ll be home late.”

  ~*~

  “You shittin’ me?”

  He doesn’t look like he’s shittin’ me.

  “You don’t want to pay our prices? We found another buyer. Pays double.” Anton’s always been a lousy negotiator. “One who doesn’t come in and shoot my men in the leg.”

  “It was a fucking foot.” Chase corrects him and my men laugh from our side of the table.

  Anton doesn’t look amused. “Free market. We sell elsewhere.”

  The metal flip top of my lighter snaps shut. See what this fucker’s driven me to? I almost never light up anymore. Well, not cigarettes at least. He’s stressin’ me out.

  “You know the deal, Anton. You sell us guns, we sell you dope. You wanna cut us off? Then we cut you off.”

  He doesn’t look fazed. “Wonderful thing about this country. Entrepreneurs. Plenty of opportunity.” His thick Moscow accent rips through his words.

  “Not in these parts, Stalin.” Uno feels the need to jump in. “We control the black market pharmacy around here.”

  “Maybe,” Anton straightens his shoulders. “Maybe not.”

  “You lookin’ to go back to the Kremlin in a body bag?” Chase is always quick to pull a trigger, and even quicker to shoot his mouth off.

  “Enough.” I end the bullshit. “If you’re buying shit from anyone other than us, Anton, you may want to rethink it. It wouldn’t be a smart business decision. Could be the kind that gets you killed.”

  The open threat causes the half dozen or so of dark-haired former soviets sitting across from us to ready themselves.

  “Business relationships come and go, Dawson. Bigger and better opportunities come along. ‘Tis how you say? The American way.” His English needs a little work. Maybe a broken jaw would help? “You’re not the only game in town, anymore.”

  Is that so?

  “And who might this new competitor be?” I’m more than a little curious. Let’s just say things didn’t end well for the last guy who tried to push in on our business.

  My Russian comrade steeples his fingers. “No names. Not yet. He says he will be introducing himself to you shortly.”

  I’ll bet he will. While he’s at it, he can introduce himself to the barrel of my gun too.

  “I think we’re done here, gentlemen. My boys will see you out.”

  Looks of relief wash over the commies’ faces. I’m sure more than one or two of them doubted if they’d be getting out of here alive. Explains why they brought so many tonight.

  “What the fuck, D?” Gryff whispers through gritted teeth as the last one of those Siberian shit-heads leaves the room. “You gonna let them get away with this?”

  I sit back, staring at the door, rubbing my chin with my thumb and my forefinger.

  “Too easy.” I strategize.

  “Huh?” My VP voices his frustration.

  “It’d be too easy to pick ‘em off right here. How many people you know that would walk into their own funeral? They got something up their sleeves. We strike first and we could be walking right into something.” A crowd of my men gather ‘round.

  “I want to know who the new game in town is. I wanna know now.”

  ~*~

  The porch light is on. So is the one in the upstairs bedroom; my bedroom. The two lights cast out into the pitch-black night.

  It’s late. Nearly two.

  I’d hoped she’d be sleeping. By the looks of the curtain moving, not only is she awake, but she’s waiting up for me.

  This isn’t going to go well.

  I cut my bike and leave it in the driveway. At least I don’t have to worry about someone trying to steal it in this neighborhood. I wonder what ever happened to that fucker from last night, anyway?

  I try my key in the handle, but find that it’s unlocked. I make a mental note to go over some shit with Angel. No one in their right mind would ever take a chance and break into my house, but that don’t mean she’s got to leave the front door open for the stupid motherfucker who might try.

  I kick off my boots near the front door, lock the handle, the deadbolt, and set the alarm before heading up the stairs. I can’t help but think it’s weird as I try to soften my steps to be quiet, knowing the kid’s asleep in her new room.

  There’s a soft hue to the wooden floor of the hallway at the top of the landing and I spot a little plastic bulb thing plugged in; some type of nightlight. The dim light casts funny shadows on the walls as I walk past. Sasha’s door is open and I see another light, identical to the one I just saw, plugged in
near her bed. I peek in and watch her pink pajamas rise and fall as she breathes steadily, fast asleep.

  Smiling to myself, glad she’s settled in, I close her door just a bit before working my arms out of my cut as I head to my own room. The door is shut, but I see a bright white outline around the edges, the light from inside peeking out.

  My eyes adjust to the harshness of the bright bulbs once I enter, causing me to squint and do a double take when I find Angel sitting on the floor surrounded by stacks of paper.

  “Hey. I’ll get this cleaned up.” Her fingers quickly go to work scooping up the rustling multicolored pages into thick handfuls.

  “You always stay up this late?” I’m practically nocturnal myself, but I think most people still up this time of night are either getting wasted or screwing. Not doing paperwork.

  Angel drops the collection of documents into a nearby box and closes the lid, pushing the square cardboard container deep into the open closet that’s hers by default.

  “I’m not a big sleeper. Usually get stuff done while Sasha’s out like a light. Things I never get to do while she’s running around.” The closet’s closed, sealing up whatever she was working on.

  Once the distraction of her project is finished, we both begin to feel the awkwardness of the situation. Might as well get it all over with. My cut’s left to hang on the doorknob to my own closet; it’s small compared to what’s now hers, but I don’t need much space.

  Jeans, shirts, hoodies and my gun safe; that’s all I need room for.

  I pull my shirt overhead, still smelling the remnants of the cigarettes in the cotton, and toss it over into the hamper bin. I can feel her eyes on me and I go out of my way to give her a little show, flexing and tensing muscles to emphasize my best parts as I undress and throw my jeans atop the pile.

  “Everything quiet around here while I was out?” Stepping out of my boxers, I feel myself hang low while I search through the top bureau drawer for some clean sweats.

  Her voice hitches as she begins to answer, catching an intended glimpse of my cock before it disappears beneath the soft material. “Uh—pretty much. Lana hung around for a bit. Then I took Sasha to get some ice cream after dinner. There’s a cute little place that let her make her own sundae. She made a mess.”