Biker's Librarian (Lord of Mayhem Book 1)

by Shyla Colt

  His promise of violence on her behalf touched her. There’d never been a man in her life to play that role. In her life men only hurt.

  “Aaah, I see the blood-lust in your eyes.”

  “Maybe I’m amused by how old-fashioned you are.”

  “Only in some things. Or it seems to be you in specific.” He bent and nipped at her bottom lip.

  A moan crept up from the depths of her soul. This man inspired passion. He swooped down, capturing her lips, melting her from the inside out with his talented tongue. It was all she could do not to lift her leg and hook it around his hip.

  Fuck it. Giving in to the wild streak he set into motion, she did just that. His hardened cock pressed against her, and she rolled her hips. A rumble vibrated his chest as they surfaced for air.

  “You’re too tempting for your own good. I need to get out of here before I’m late. Prez doesn’t take too kindly to flaking.”

  “Prez?” She wrinkled her brow.

  “My boss.”

  “Okay.” She wondered exactly what it was he did, but now didn’t seem the time to ask.

  “I’ll call you.”

  She nodded, taking a mental picture to last her if he didn’t. Sliding his sunglasses down over his eyes, he offered one last smile before he walked down her driveway. The faded jeans hugged his firm ass and muscular thighs. His leather vest covered a plain white T-shirt, the Lords of Mayhem brand there for all to see.

  Clearing the lump that had settled in her throat, she pasted on a smile and peered out at the neighbors who’d crept out onto their porches, peered over their fences, and practically pressed their nose to the glasses. Yes, he’s all mine. Pride and a sense of naughtiness bubbled to the surface. Deciding she didn’t give a fuck might be the best thing she’d done for herself in years. The time for meeting up like two members from rival families we’re over. This relationship was coming out in the open.

  Turning, she unlocked her door and went inside, determined not to watch him ride away like some desperate half of a one night stand. Jogging to her phone in the breakfast nook, she dialed Joey and placed her on speaker.

  “Hey, hooker! It’s about time you called. I was debating calling the police.”

  “Shut up! I texted you from breakfast.” Juliette grinned as she sank into the chair.

  “Was it in bed?”

  She snorted. “No. Listen, I’m ready to come clean. I’ve been hiding for long enough.”

  “Wow, so this just got serious?” Joey asked.

  “Very.”

  “Hang on. Let me get the other girls in on this call. They’ll never forgive us if I get all the details first.” Joey’s voice faded. Juliette relaxed while she called and connected the other girls.

  “Okay, are we all here?” Joey asked a few minutes later.

  “Yes,” Evonne and Hilary replied.

  “I have a confession to make. You remember the guy I met at the bar, Shooter?”

  Hilary snickered. “Like we could forget him.”

  “Right?” Evonne said.

  “Well, I saw him again.”

  “What?” Evonne asked.

  “You’ve been keeping secrets,” Hilary said.

  “I didn’t want to say anything, in case it all crashed and burned.”

  “Joey’s quiet, so she knew,” Hilary said.

  The hurt in her voice made Juliette wince. She never meant to hurt anyone’s feelings.

  “Hey, I’m the least judgmental of us. Someone had to keep tabs and be ready to receive the emergency get-me-out-of-this-date-now call,” Joey said.

  “True,” Evonne said.

  “All right, if you’re telling us now, that means this is serious,” Hilary said.

  “After last night it very much is,” Juliette said.

  “Okay, they’re all caught up. Now give us the goods. You know we’re all living vicariously through you. I about died when you picked the baddest motherfucker in the place to go sinning with.” Joey’s amusement read over the phone loud and clear.

  “Go sinning? Really?” Juliette giggled. The image of Shooter’s dark head buried between her thighs made her bite her bottom lip. She pressed her thighs together and refocused on the conversation.

  “Tell me I’m wrong,” Joey countered.

  The vulnerability she’d glimpsed in his eyes made her smile. Beneath the larger-than-life persona lay a man who’d been hurt. “You’re not wrong. Shooter is amazing. Everything you’d think he’d be. There is more to him than meets the eye, though. I don’t know that I’d call it a sensitive side, but less than cocky for sure.”

  “Wait, is this going to be a repeating thing?” Evonne asked.

  A hushed silence fell.

  “I think so. He made it pretty clear if I was looking for a one-night stand, he wasn’t interested.”

  “What?” The echoed statement exploded out of the speaker, making her wince.

  “Tell me exactly what he said. I speak M.C.,” Joey said.

  “M.C.?” Hilary asked.

  “Motorcycle club, girl! I need to school you.”

  “He mentioned something about an old lady,” Juliette said.

  “Oh my God!” The squeal pierced the air and threatened to do the same to her eardrum.

  “Jesus, Joey!” Juliette pulled down her earlobe.

  “That’s like a wife, girl.”

  “Whoa…that’s jumping ahead. We just made things official. Why would he want that with me? It doesn’t make any sense. ” She knew she was babbling, but she couldn’t seem to form coherent sentences as her brain erupted with concerns like a volcano. Are we ready for this? The last thing she wanted to do was hurt him.

  “What did you do to that man?” Joey asked.

  “N-nothing. He wouldn’t sleep with me until I agreed. How is that like a wife?” She licked her lips. Would he make demands now? Expect her to play maid and personal assistant? Stupid! Did I learn nothing?

  “Listen, women love wild men, and motorcyclists are the cream of the crop in that category. There’s a plethora of ho’s, some who for all intents and purposes belong to a club. They hang out, clean the club, and the men’s clock if they’re so inclined. They’re called Sweetbutts.”

  “I’m well versed on that, and they’re not all horrible,” Juliette said.

  “Wow, look at you, already stepping into your role,” Joey said.

  “Well, fill us in,” Evonne said.

  “A Sweetie is someone they’re seeing and not just screwing. An Old Lady is serious shit! Some women don’t get that status after years of dating. You could wear his cut.”

  “I think you’ve scared her into shock, Joey,” Evonne said.

  “I-I had no clue. What— is he going to expect me to move in with him now?” Panic placed cracks in her perfect evening.

  “No, nothing like that,” Joey assured. “We never would’ve let you leave if that’d been the case, Jul. You’ve been going at it for a couple of months and there’ve been no red flags. You know what to look for when it comes to douche bags in disguise.”

  “You’re right, you’re right. I had no clue it was this serious, though.”

  “Still, you knew it was semi-serious. Why agree?” Hilary asked.

  “Because he moved me,” Juliette whispered honestly without hesitation. She found Shooter completely compelling and irresistible. He pulled her to him like a magnet.

  “She’s so fucked!” Hil laughed.

  “Hil! You don’t have to sound so happy about it!’ Evonne scolded.

  “Come on. The planner has it bad after one night. It’s funny,” Hilary responded.

  “No, it’s terrifying! I step out of my comfort zone and I land neck deep in a crazy subculture I’m still learning about.” Juliette palmed the back of her neck, massaging away the tension.
r />   “Emergency meeting, ladies!” Evonne chimed.

  “I’ll bring the Sons of Anarchy seasons,” Joey volunteered.

  “I’ll bring food from Panera. Hang tight, Jul. We’ll be there in thirty.” They all disconnected, and Juliette placed her head in her hands.

  What the hell was I thinking? Her heart beat rapidly like hummingbird wings. Could she get out of the Old Lady role if she wanted to? What would she tell Shooter? The hopeful expression in his eyes haunted her. If she bailed now she’d crush that look.

  Kicking off her heels, she stepped down from the stool to walk the familiar layout. The woods behind her house had been the main selling point for her. After hurrying to the bedroom, she exchanged his sweatpants for a pair of blue jean shorts and sneakers. Then she made the short walk to the woods onto her favorite path. Breathing in the scent of moss, flowers, and rich soil, she calmed.

  If she walked away now she’d always wonder, and wouldn’t it ruin all the progress she made? Placing a hand on her rolling stomach, she paused in front of a massive fallen log she often used for thinking. She went over her courtship with Peter in her mind. He’d been dazzling. Wealthy, attractive, and charming as hell, he’d won her over by the second date. The perfect gentleman. A Ken doll come to life— Until his darker side began to emerge. At first, he’d passed it off as caring, but that had quickly fallen away to reveal the monster that lurked beneath.

  This Old Lady thing wasn’t binding. There was no paperwork or ring. Despite what the biker community might say, the world at large would be clueless. Pulling her shirt up over her nose, she inhaled Shooter’s manly sandalwood scent. She’d made her decision the moment she’d thrown caution to the wind and climbed on the back of a steel machine behind its tattooed driver.

  Chapter Seven

  Shooter strolled into the M.C. at fifteen till two. The smell of stale beer and leather greeted him as he walked up to the bar where Moose sat.

  “Cutting it close, weren’t you?” Moose asked, eyebrow raised.

  “Long night.” He sank onto the black stool beside Moose, tired but satisfied.

  “Wait, you got the classy chick to go home with you?” Moose’s stunned voice made him smirk. “Miracles never cease.”

  “Jesus, Moose, I’m not a scum bucket.” He sneered.

  “No, but she seemed like diamonds and debutante material.” He held up a pinky.

  “Probably is. I couldn’t give a shit, and she doesn’t mind, so we’re good.” He flexed his jaw.

  “Struck a chord?”

  Shooter shrugged. “I hadn’t thought that far into it.”

  “Damn, she got you off your game?”

  A smile flitted on the edges of his lips as his chest filled with warmth. Wide, innocent, and full of passion, her eyes had done him in. “Fucking slammed into me like a Mack truck.”

  Moose chuckled and shook his head. “Now you see why I got my ass out of there. Classy chicks like that have a way of dragging the decency out of you.”

  “You’re right about that, bro.”

  A tiny redhead walked over. “Can I get you a drink, Shooter? Maybe something else after the meeting?” She leaned forward, showing her cleavage.

  Usually Red hit the spot, but today he couldn’t be bothered. “Whiskey and Coke, and I’ll pass.”

  She gave a mock pout but stepped away to fix his order.

  “Wow, you’re turning down Red? Shit is real.”

  “It’s something,” he mumbled.

  “You seem conflicted.”

  “’Cause I’m wondering what the fuck I’m doing. She’s a librarian!”

  “Okay, no offense, but that adds to her hotness factor, bro.”

  “I know,” he growled. Fear wasn’t an emotion he experienced often, but this chick had him shaking in his boots. The last time he’d given his heart to a woman it’d backfired when he needed her most. His gut told him Juliette would be different. But she hadn’t seen the ugly yet. Red set the glass down, and he tossed it back, savoring the burn. The Librarian and the Biker sounded like some cheesy movie from the fifties.

  The door in the back opened and the Prez, Tiny, stepped out. At six-foot-six with a bulky frame, the man had never been small in his life. Must have been why his father labeled him with the small name from the start. Most of the Lords were born in, but there was the occasional Prospect like him who made it in and climbed the ranks. “We ready to hold church?” Prez asked.

  “You heard the man! Move your asses!” Moose went from carefree to all business as he stepped into his role as Mr. Secretary.

  They all filed into the room, and he sank in the leather chair away from the window, facing the door. Old habits died hard. Moose sank in the seat to his left, and Rocky sat on his right. Across from him were Maverick and Hawk, with Tiny at the helm.

  “Ready when you are, Tiny,” Moose said.

  “This will be a short meeting. Right now it’s quiet, and our focus is on padding the bank account. Rocky has a big fight coming up, so he’ll keep training. I want the Sweetbutts and the Old Ladies out there doing promo. Maybe we can come up with some events.”

  “Lazy’s Old Lady has some kind of degree in marketing. I’ll get with him,” Maverick said. As treasurer, he tended to know everyone and their business, a perk of handling the money and financial records.

  “Good. How are the arms dealings going, Shooter?”

  As Sergeant in Arms, he kept his President safe and order among the ranks. Due to his specialized knowledge, the position had expanded to dealing with the weapons they bought and sold. He could tell right off the bat if it was decent or junk.

  “Got a buy set up for next weekend with the boys down south. Never had a problem with them before, and I’m not anticipating any bullshit. Their crew is a hell of a lot smaller and newer, but they know their place.”

  “That’s what I like to hear.” Tiny nodded from his seat at the head of the large oak table. “Anyone got something to add?” He glanced around at the other members. “My Old Lady’s ready for some down time. I’d like to give it to her.”

  They all chuckled. The one-woman cyclone he’d married had a temper you did not want directed at you. Though petite in stature, she had the personality of a hockey player and a mouth to match. Of course, that might be due to her city of origin.

  “All right I think we can adjourn this meeting. Keep your noses clean. We have a ride next Tuesday for the children’s hospital in town. Let’s raise some money for the kids, shake hands, do photo ops to prove we aren’t that scary, and come back to party. The boys are about ready to blow off some steam.”

  There were murmurs of agreement.

  “I’m calling the meeting at two twenty-five,” Moose bellowed as he brought down the gavel.

  “Fastest meeting I ever been to,” Hawk said. His black brows were drawn into a point.

  “You wanted to stay longer and sing campfire songs?” Tiny asked. As the son of Tiny’s father’s best friend, the two had grown up together in the club. With about ten years’ difference they had an older brother/ younger brother relationship that occasionally proved extremely entertaining to watch.

  “Just an observation.” Hawk shrugged.

  “Careful, Moose, Hawk’s looking to jump ship.” Tiny snorted as they all stood from the table and made their way out of the room.

  “You headed out now?” Moose asked.

  “No, figure I could use a few more drinks and try to get my head straight.” He rubbed his forehead.

  “Hah. Good luck with the latter. The drinks we can provide you.”

  “Smart ass, sometimes I think they misnamed you.”

  “I’m fine with Moose, thanks. Why do you think I always tell that story? Last thing I wanted to be stuck with was Mounty or some other lame Canadian reference.” Moose rolled his eyes.

  “Clever.”
Shooter tilted his head in acknowledgment of his friend’s hidden maneuver. People frequently underestimated Moose. It was the worst possible thing to do.

  “I know, eh.” He grinned and flagged down Red for drinks.

  Shooter loved his life— he just wondered if there was room in it for a woman like Juliette. She’d grown used to Moose and a few of the other more lighthearted brothers, but he’d never brought her to a full scale club function. I already jumped the gun. It’s time to rip the Band-Aid off. This weekend I’ll bring her to a party and introduce her to the Prez.

  The phone jangled, and the couch scooted forward as the girls all jumped. Sons of Anarchy was engaging, bloody, tense, and full of scrumptious men. Blinking, they struggled with their glazed eyes and fumbled around for their purses. A glance down at her phone told Juliette that Shooter was calling as promised.

  “Is it him?” Joey asked.

  She nodded. “I’m going to take this out on the deck.”

  “I bet you are.” Hilary winked. “Enjoy your real life M.C. member.”

  Answering the phone, Juliette tried to forget the gratuitous pictures of violence and scantily-clad women who’d appeared on the television.

  “Hey.” The deep timbre curled her toes in her sneakers.

  “Hi,” she whispered, opening the sliding door and walking over to sit on one of the maroon and white cushioned lawn chairs.

  “Are you still wearing my clothes?”

  “Just the shirt.”

  “Good. Wear it to bed tonight, and nothing else.”

  Her sex tingled in anticipation. Focus.

  “Are you alone right now?”

  “No, I have some friends over right now,” she said.

  “When do you think they’ll head out?” his easy acceptance made her heart sing. There was no interrogation about who she was with or why they’d come to visit.