by Chiah Wilder
“So, this is where you live and party. I’m finally given a glimpse into your life.”
“You look gorgeous,” he breathed in her ear as he slinked his arm around her small waist. “How do you like the clubhouse?”
Picking up her drink, she said, “Not sure. I’ll have to give it a bit more time before I decide. It’s a lot neater and smells way nicer than I thought.”
“What’d you think it was going to smell like?”
“I don’t know. A men’s locker room, something like that.”
“The club girls keep it nice and sweet-smelling. They’re in charge of taking care of us.”
She glanced behind him to where a group of scantily clothed women sat. “Are those the club girls?”
“Yeah.”
“They’re pretty.” She took another sip of whiskey.
“You’re prettier, and way-the-fuck sexier.” He kissed her lips, slipping his tongue inside her cool mouth. She tasted of mint and whiskey.
“Have you fucked every one of them?” Licking her lips, she shook her glass around, causing the ice cubes to clink.
“What difference does it make?”
“So that’s a yes? I’m not going to get mad. I just want to know.”
He nodded. “That’s the way it is. The women like it and choose to be here. It’s just fucking, nothing more.”
“It must be nice to have a woman available twenty-four seven.” She pushed her head back and tapped the bottom of her glass to dislodge the ice.
Leaning in, he kissed the soft skin on her throat. “You’re the only one for me. Yeah, it was fun having a woman whenever the urge hit you, but it also got boring. I mean, the challenge wasn’t there, and I like a challenge. Like you. You’re the opposite of easy and boring.” He kissed her again.
“The blonde is staring a hole right through me,” Raven said as he continued peppering her neck with soft kisses.
“That’s Ruby. The girls are suspicious of citizens. They’re not too crazy about hang-arounds, but citizens just piss them off.” He laughed.
“Ruby? Didn’t you have something with her?”
“How do you know her?”
“I don’t. I just remember the guys mentioning her name to you that night we bumped into each other at Alfonso’s.”
“That night you made me crazy with lust and then shooed me away?” Nuzzling her neck, he loved how soft her skin felt.
“Is she your girlfriend?” She pushed him away.
“Girlfriend? She’s a club woman, I told you that. And she’s not my anything now. I’m with you.”
“You don’t sleep with anyone else?”
Scowling, he asked, “Do you?”
Shaking her head, she picked up her empty glass. “No. I just thought that maybe…. I mean, you have all these women here. You know what I mean.”
He motioned to Ruger for another whiskey sour for her, then took her hands in his. “I’m not some fuckin’ douchebag. Just because the women are here doesn’t mean I’m constantly having sex with them. And besides, I’m going out with you.” Kissing her gently, he said in a low voice, “I’m right where I wanna be. You got that?” She nodded. “Good. Now let’s get some food.”
Lena, the cook for the club, had just finished putting out the last platter of ribs when they came up to the buffet table. Muerto piled his plate with pork ribs, green chile, fried potatoes, coleslaw, corn and black beans, and a big wedge of cornbread. When he saw Raven’s plate, she had a dollop of coleslaw, a spoonful of potatoes, and a small amount of green chile.
“That’s all you’re eating? Don’t you want any ribs?”
“I’m not that hungry.” She placed her hand on her stomach. “Nervous tension. And I’m not a big meat eater.”
Pulling her chair out, she sat down and asked him to bring her a Diet Coke. After he came back to the table, Crow joined them.
“You’re not at the pool hall tonight?” Muerto asked as he shoveled a good portion of fried potatoes in his mouth.
“I arranged for a relief bartender to help out Zach. I wouldn’t miss this game for the world. I think we’re going to score big tonight, bro. Almost all the brothers placed bets on Army.”
“This is a betting game?” Raven asked as she picked at her food.
“Yeah. We always bet on the games. It’s no biggie. Don’t let it throw you,” Muerto said.
“It doesn’t,” she said coolly. “I need the cash, so it’s good to know that I’ll get it.”
Muerto and Crow laughed. “That’s my girl. Full of confidence.” He squeezed her hand.
Soon Army came by and chatted with Muerto and Crow, his eyes darting to her every few seconds or so. As the time neared eight o’clock, the brothers turned off the TV and overhead music, and the club girls scrambled to clear off the tables.
“It’s time for me to win some money,” Army said while looking at Raven.
Muerto smiled when she stood up, looked Army straight in the eyes, and said, “Agreed. I could use some cash. Where’s the pool table?”
Clasping her hand in his, Muerto walked with Raven to the back of the room. Under a brass fixture stood the table. Several of the brothers flocked to the stools that had been set up against the wall. Muerto bent down and kissed her. “Kick his ass,” he whispered, loving the way her whole face lit up when she grinned. Taking his seat on one of the stools, he scooted a bit to the left when Crow sat on the one next to him. Except for Steel, all the brothers were there, and the club girls flocked around them. Kelly and Fina blew kisses at Army, who winked at them.
The air crackled with anticipation and tension. Raven went over and picked up several cue sticks, examining them until she settled on one. Army smirked and grabbed one for himself. Taking out a quarter from his jeans pocket, he looked at Raven. “You choose what breaks, heads or tails.”
“Heads.”
He handed the coin to Muerto. “Toss it.”
Muerto threw it up in the air, caught it, then flipped it on his hands. He looked at it. Shit. “Tails.”
Army grinned and sniggers circled the area.
The game was on.
Chapter Twenty
Raven turned to the brothers. “After this game, I’ll play a couple more with whoever wants to.”
Brutus clucked his tongue. “You’re pretty cocky.”
“I’d characterize it as confident.” Turning to Army, she said, “Take your shot.” Army broke up the balls, a solid one landing in the far left corner of the table. “Solids are yours, stripes mine. Stripes are lucky for me.”
“Be prepared for me to change that.” Army leaned over, studied his shot, then hit the cue ball again. Another ball landed in the pocket. Cheers rose up from the brothers. Raven watched, a cool smile gracing her lips.
Ball. Pocket. Ball. Pocket. Army kept hitting and pocketing the solids. “This is too fuckin’ easy,” he said as he aimed once more. He missed. The brothers groaned; they’d thought it was going to be a sweep.
Raven picked up the chalk cube and brushed it over the tip of the cue stick. To Muerto, it looked like she was using a paintbrush, the strokes that light and airy. She went to the table, assumed her stance, and studied the positions of the ball. Then in one beautiful, fluid stroke, her precise aim scattered the balls, pocketing three stripes at once. She didn’t bat an eye, just went for the chalk cube and repeated her motions.
Muerto saw a light sheen around Army’s hairline, and he knew his brother was beginning to worry. Since a brother was playing against a citizen, and a woman to boot, Muerto was expected to watch the game stoically, but inside he was rooting for Raven. He loved watching her play. And every once in a while she’d glance up at him before making her shot, tossing him the smile that woke up his dick before her face would grow stern in concentration. Clack. She made the shot again.
Army scrubbed his face and Muerto knew that meant he was getting pissed. When she missed a shot, he practically pushed her out of the way in his eagerness to show her up. Bu
t emotions and pool didn’t mix, and Muerto knew Army wasn’t concentrating. He missed the shot. Instead of gloating, Raven picked up the chalk cube, ran it over the tip of her stick, and studied the balls.
Her concentration was spot-on, and even when some of the brothers tried to throw her off by knocking down stools, coughing loudly, and yelling out, she bagged all the balls. She’s a real pro. Pride spread through him, lighting him up, and when she hit the winning shot of the final game with Army, he couldn’t help but jump off his stool and go to her.
A dead silence descended on the room for a few seconds as the reality that a woman with impossibly high heels had just taken down Army. He was the brother who usually cleared up the pool tables at club parties. Army, who was the Night Rebels’ best player, won most games at the Insurgents’ and Fallen Slayers’ MC parties, had lost to a citizen woman. It was incomprehensible.
Consoling him, the club girls handed him his favorite drinks, hung onto him, kissed him, and tried to wipe away the humiliation Muerto knew he was feeling as he handed over his money to Raven. She nodded and said, “Good game. You’re a great player,” as she shoved the bills into her tight-as-sin jeans.
“I fuckin’ challenge you,” Cue Ball said, his voice laced with anger.
“Okay. What’s your name?”
“Cue Ball.” He grinned.
Raven’s eyes widened, and Muerto knew she thought his brother got the road name from being a pool pro. He didn’t. Ten years before, he’d been at a pool hall in Durango when a guy came over and started some shit with him. He’d accused Cue Ball of giving his woman the eye. Cue Ball didn’t deny it, and he’d pointed out that “his woman” had been flirting with him since the biker had first come in. That had pissed the man way off, and he got into Cue Ball’s face. Cue Ball told him to back off, and the guy had asked, “What are you gonna do about it? Hit me with a cue ball?” And he did, after he’d sucker punched him. Then he beat the guy senseless until he heard sirens wailing in the distance. He’d done seven years in the pen and earned the road name Cue Ball.
“You scared?” Cue Ball smirked and the brothers guffawed.
“No. How much do you want to bet?”
“Everything you just got from Army.”
Again her eyes widened and she glanced at Muerto. He wanted to go over and hold her tight, tell her she didn’t need to prove shit to him, but he just locked eyes with her. In his world, the men ruled and women knew their place. Brother showed loyalty to brother first, then to the women in their lives. Raven was definitely upsetting their outlaw world, and Muerto fucking admired her for that. It was her toughness, her sass, and her independence from caring what others thought that attracted her to him. And the way she was commanding the room and pissing off his brothers was turning him on way more than he wanted his brothers to see. He draped his cut over his crotch.
Once again, Raven commanded the table, and he heard Ruby say in a low voice to Angel, “It’s not natural for a woman to play pool.”
Muerto turned to her. “Shut the fuck up.”
Hurt crossed Ruby’s face, but he didn’t want the girls dissing his woman. And as she played the game with coolness and grace, he realized that she was his woman. He’d never claimed a woman, had never wanted to, and he didn’t pretend to understand what the fuck was going on with her. Being with her was like he’d stepped on a high-tension wire and his dick was always magnetized.
Raven made another shot, and another, and another. As the brothers drank more, their grumbling got louder and angrier, and he knew he had to put a stop to it. After she collected Cue Ball’s money, Brutus challenged her. She looked at him calmly; she hadn’t even broken a sweat.
Muerto came over, taking the cue stick out of her hands. “She’s done. That’s it.”
“I’m good,” she whispered in his ear.
“You look tired. I want you full of energy, baby.” He kissed her jaw.
“You’re shutting down the game just when a brother who can win steps forward. Where the fuck does your loyalty lie, asshole?”
Brutus’s words ran through Muerto like a hot poker, and without answering, he pulled away from Raven and punched him in the face. Brutus recovered quickly, and soon the two men were punching and swearing until Paco came over. “What the fuck is going on?”
Wiping his mouth, Brutus pointed at Muerto, “This sonofabitch is way fucked-up.”
Muerto lunged, but Crow and Goldie held him back. “Don’t you tell me about loyalty, asshole!”
“Enough!” Paco boomed. “I knew this was going to happen.” He turned and glared at the brothers. “I’ve been watching the games. Raven played a fair game and she won the money fair and square.” He fixed his gaze on her. “You’re a good player, but you’re done for the night.”
Grumbling, the brothers dispersed and someone turned on the music. Hard rock beats reverberated around the room. Muerto wiped the blood from his nose and gripped her hand, pulling her along with him, going to the bar and grabbing a bottle of Jack and two glasses. Holding onto her, he led her upstairs, leaving the cacophony behind them.
Chapter Twenty-One
A double bed, neatly made, stood in the middle of a nice-sized room. A nightstand on each side of the bed, two chrome lamps with gray shades, and a tall dresser where sunglasses and a stack of rolling papers sat on top of it. There were so many posters of motorcycles, bands, and Day of the Dead vignettes on the walls that Raven wasn’t too sure of the paint color behind them. In the corner stood a black and gray upholstered armchair that had a leather jacket and a couple pairs of jeans draped over it.
Her gaze gravitated back to the paintings and she smiled. Being in his room gave her a glimpse into his passion and his soul. “I didn’t know you liked paintings. I love your collection of Day of the Dead reproductions. Diego Rivera is one of my favorite artists, and his oil paintings of the Mexican holiday are awesome. I’d kill to own an original.”
“It’s actually my favorite holiday after Halloween.” He grinned. “If there’re skulls, ghouls, and demons, I’m in.” He pulled off his boots.
“Is that where your name comes from?”
“In a way. When I first started as a prospect, I’d told them that the one day I couldn’t hang was November first because my family and I went to the cemetery to decorate and bring food to our ancestors. So it was that, coupled with a few altercations I had with assholes who like messing with bikers, that gave me my road name.” When he walked by her, he stopped, kissed her briefly on the lips, and then went over to his computer on a small table next to the armchair. “It’s cool you’re into it.”
In a matter of minutes, the beats of a Hammerfall song curled around her, and she laughed. “I can’t fucking believe this. Hammerfall is one of my favorite bands. I saw them in Denver last year and it was one of the best concerts I’ve been to. This is totally lit as fuck.”
“Seems like we have some good shit in common. I like that.” He stripped down to his jeans and then poured her a drink. “Get comfortable,” he said as he put her drink on the nightstand.
She kicked off her heels and sat on the bed cross-legged. After taking a sip, she held the glass in her hands and looked at him. “I think your club hates me.” She grimaced.
Laughing, he shook his head. “They’ll get over it. They were the ones who wanted to play. I warned them that you were a badass player.” He took a gulp of whiskey.
“Sometimes it’s good for a man to have his ego taken down a few notches by a woman.” Smiling, she brought the glass to her mouth.
“Devoradora,” he said softly. He finished his drink and, with the bottle of Jack in his hand, went over to her. The mattress sagged when he sat down. After taking a swig from the bottle, he put it on the nightstand and turned to her. “Baby, you got a hold of my cock like no other woman ever has.” His finger running up her arm made her skin pebble. “I loved watching you play tonight, and it made my dick so fuckin’ hard.” Tugging her to him, he kissed her firmly on the li
ps.
He tasted smoky and she grasped his face, drew him closer to her and kissed him deeply. Pulling back, she smiled and licked her lips. “You taste good.” Standing up, she buried her hand in her pockets and took out the money she’d won. A few of the bills ripped and she giggled.
“I’m surprised you could put anything in those jeans. Woman, the way you wear clothes and move makes me all kinds of crazy. Now take off those tight-ass jeans so I can touch your skin.”
When she walked over to the dresser to put her money on top, she exaggerated her moves, swaying her hips even more. Behind her, Muerto whistled under his breath. With her back to him, she unzipped her jeans and slowly slid them down, bending over to peel them off each leg. She’d worn a thong, and when she heard him inhale sharply, she felt a flush of heat rise in her.
“If you’re trying to make me hard, it’s working,” he said thickly. “Get your hot little ass over here.”
Before she went to him, she took her time, counting her winnings, finger-combing her hair, and looking out the window at the quarter moon and blinking stars.
“Sweetie… I’m dying here,” he said, and she knew he was loving the game. With deliberately slow movements, she turned around and took small steps. When she was finally within arm’s reach, he grabbed her and yanked hard. Yelping, she toppled over, landing on his firm chest and hard-as-stone cock.
Before she could chastise him, he silenced her by devouring her mouth. As he kissed her, he rubbed his hands firmly up and down her back. Soon her sexual hunger began to build, and she grabbed his hair and tangled it around her fingers, tugging it harder as her desire grew. His hands were touching her shoulders, back, and sides as he alternated his kisses between her lips, neck, and earlobes. Raspy whispers of “You’re so fuckin’ sexy” and “I can’t get enough of you, babe” scorched her senses, sending her arousal to an all-time high. And each long stroke of his tongue sent another shiver of pleasure through her body.