“Hit me.”
“Luke’s riding bitch with you.” Boss/Big Joe indicated Outlaw and then pointed to Matthew. “Sober this motherfucker up, Outlaw. Catch up to us later.”
With that, the two older bikers left, leaving Matthew with Outlaw. He took one of Matthew’s onion rings, then narrowed his eyes. “Look here, Matthew. You ride with me and pull any fuckin’ bullshit and I’m fuckin’ buryin’ you.”
He didn’t trust the man not to bury him, anyway. “Why are you bringin’ me?”
“Don’t got to,” Outlaw responded without hesitating. “You wanna stay in LA and fuck around with Reverend Sharper Banks, that shit up to you.”
“So you’re saving me from him?”
Outlaw laughed coldly. “I don’t save no fuckin’ body. No, that ain’t the reason I’m invitin’ you to come.”
“Then, why?”
“Purely fuckin’ selfish reasons, assfuck. Heard them mention Logan?”
Matthew nodded slowly.
“Motherfucker my Ma’s old man. Can’t stand his fuckin’ ass and he can’t stand me. Most of the motherfuckers in the club loyal. I just don’t know to fuckin’ who. Rack, eat out Logan ass cause he one brown-nosin’ motherfucker. K-P ain’t a big fuckin’ fan of my grandfather. One day, some motherfucker gonna get lucky and take that dirty old fuck out. When that time come, Big Joe gonna need brothers who don’t have to question if they should be splittin’ the club the fuck up to get Big Joe out.”
Matthew couldn’t process where he fit into all this. He might walk into a trap and they were waiting right outside the city limits to kill him and bury him under some forgotten scrub.
Part One: Innocence Lost
Chapter One
Four years later
I’m my brother’s sister.
As Zoann Donovan walked up the gravel road that led to her granddaddy’s isolated property and saw the dark-haired, shirtless guy, carrying a tin tub of dirt, the thought rolled around in her head.
He’d hung around her brother for the last four years, but Christopher kept Zoann separated from the bikers, using himself and his dire threats as the barrier, so she didn’t even know the man’s name, although she intended to find out before he left.
She took a moment to admire his wide shoulders and trim waist. He wasn’t as tall as Christopher, his muscled body stocky rather than ripped.
It was late February, too cold for him to be shirtless or to have sweat beading his skin, tanned from hours in the sun. On a motorcycle.
Granddaddy hated motorcycles and Christopher warned her to stay away from his friends as much as he warned the guys to stay away from her.
So?
She wasn’t thirteen, anymore, and she was a girl, and bikers really, really liked girls. As a free-thinking and independent woman, she liked one biker in particular, the one who’d been left at Granddaddy’s like a Christmas morning gift. His carefree mannerisms, so much less intense than the others, always caught her attention. He always had a smile and a brief nod of acknowledgment for her. But it was his eyes, a brilliant, sea-like turquoise, that had captured her from the first time she’d seen him.
Pausing next to his bike, she swallowed, still mesmerized by his rugged good looks.
He sat the tub near his feet and grimaced. Something about the entire scene bothered her. She was just too flustered from finally being near him and all alone, too, to explore her misgivings.
Calm down.
Every now and then, she suffered asthma attacks, so if she didn’t get her breathing under control, humiliation was on the horizon. Between the long walk and her breathless excitement, she treaded on dangerous territory.
Muscles flexing, blood and sweat plastered his knuckles and chest. Resting the bucket on the porch, he wiped his brow with the back of his hand. Wondering how he’d gotten injured, she swept a covert gaze from his head to his booted feet, clunking down the wooden porch and onto the stone steps. She balled her hands into fists and dug her heels into the dirt to prevent herself from running to him and touching his thick, dark hair.
Heat flooded her cheeks and she remembered she needed to find a way to talk to Mama about birth control. Patricia was pretty open, but Zoann still worried her mother might mention the request to Christopher. Then, her brother would lock her away for the rest of her life and she’d never have sex. She just had to find a way to state her case to Mama—about the birth control and not blabbing to Christopher. She’d decided she’d be completely honest with Mama about her last study session with an athlete from a nearby school who she’d been tutoring since the second month in the school year. Her academic tutoring now included his making out with her. The last time he’d brought condoms, but Zoann still turned him down, threatening to knock his teeth out if he kept tempting her with all his hot words.
She didn’t want some hokey condom to break, so they were going to do it on her terms, not his. No matter how much she wanted to.
Giggling again, she fanned herself and the biker turned, his jewel-like gaze sliding from her to the tub and back again. Twisting to retrieve the container from the porch—more flexing muscles that made Zoann’s hormones go absolutely wild—he picked up his dirt-filled, tin tub, and took another step toward the pathway leading to Granddaddy’s vast grounds. His intentions to ignore her were quite clear in the set of his jaw and the thinning of his lips.
She hurried forward, angling her body in front of him. “H-hi,” she got out, shy, her heart rate speeding a little more as he halted a nanosecond before colliding into her. His grip tightening on the tub handles, he scowled at her. “You’re one of my brothers, um…brothers.”
She bit down on her lip to hold in another nervous laugh, but calling the guy brother seemed funny, considering the unbrotherly thoughts running through her mind.
He grunted something unintelligible, but it didn’t deter her and make her turn away. Blood smeared the side of the bucket and she frowned, the niggling in the back of her mind growing a little more persistent.
What in the world had he been doing inside, with dirt, to work up such a sweat? Not to mention the blood. His gaze fell to her mouth, his lustful look hardening her nipples and making her brush aside everything else. He was so sexy.
She just wanted to touch him and taste him. He sighed and set down the tin tub beside him, then thrust his fingers through his damp hair.
She squirmed on her feet and wondered if he guessed her dirty thoughts. “I’m Zoann,” she blurted, as seconds suspended in time and he remained silent.
“I know who you are,” he said finally, not too friendly.
Only one way possible. She smiled, uncertain. “Christopher and Johnnie talk about me?”
Pleasure burst through her at his nod and his intense head-to-toe study. Not that he saw much of her in her uniform, especially her stupid, pleated, knee-length skirt.
“Would you like a glass of lemonade?”
His brow lifted and genuine amusement lit his eyes. His smile brought out a deep dimple, transforming his face and intriguing Zoann a little more. “You always invite strange motherfuckers inside?”
“Tell me your name and you won’t be a strange motherfucker,” she retorted.
He swept her with another look, humor brightening the blueness of his eyes. “I need to dump this dirt in the orchard.”
“What’s in there?” she asked, torn between curiosity and suspicion. As Christopher’s friend, Granddaddy wouldn’t want anything to do with him. And there it was. The thought that had been trying to break free. This man didn’t belong at her grandfather’s house. She narrowed her eyes. “What are you doing here?”
His scowl returned. “Taking care of something for Logan.”
“Granddaddy wouldn’t want you here. You’re a biker and Christopher’s friend.”
His tight smile hardened his features and gave him a mean, frightening edge. “Don’t give a fuck if you believe me or not, Princess Zoann.”
The way he sneered her name stu
ng her. He must’ve seen her hurt feelings. His look softened.
“Big Joe sent me, babe. I’m the bottom feeder. They needed this dirty fucking shit done.”
She cocked her head to the side. “Does that mean you’re a probate?”
Appreciation lit his eyes and he smiled, his full bottom lip like a tempting piece of candy. “You know about bikers?”
“Duh…Christy is my brother.”
His laughter broke the tension between them. “Right, babe.”
“What dirty shit did you have to do?”
He tensed, his guard back up. “Nothing you need to worry about.”
Not good enough. He was acting too suspicious. “But—“
“If your offer is still good in twenty-five or thirty minutes,” he interrupted with another disarming smile, “then, yes, I’ll have a glass of lemonade with you.”
“Really?” she whispered, the head rush of his words making her forget her unease over his reasons for being there.
He nodded.
“Okay. Deal.” Zoann hurried up the steps and into the house, his laughter trailing behind her. She only had half an hour to make herself look like a woman, instead of a schoolgirl.
She needn’t have worried. The biker took forty-five minutes.
By then, Zoann decided the motorcycle parked in the yard belonged to someone else and he’d departed a different way. Another exit existed at the far end of Granddaddy’s property, although he’d always forbidden her from going anywhere near that area.
Glancing around the kitchen, Zoann frowned at the small drops of blood on the formica countertop near the big wash sink. She ran through different scenarios in her head. She’d been there a couple days ago and there’d been no blood. Granddaddy hadn’t been around to bleed anywhere. That left the logical choice—the biker. If only her brain connected dirt in tin tubs, blood, and washbasins. Before Gran’s death, Zoann had seen her wash delicates by hand in that thing and the horror of all that hard work made Zoann more thankful for modern technology.
“Hello?”
The biker’s voice floated through the screened door. She’d kept the wooden door cracked to allow the cold breeze to float in.
“Zoann?”
Tingles raced through her at the raspy way he said her name and she ran to the kitchen door to unlock it. Water clung to his hair, but not from sweat. The blood was gone, too, and he’d changed his jeans. Not thinking, she unlocked the door and stepped aside to allow him in.
His gaze fastened on her bared legs, revealed in the black velvet mini skirt and button down blouse she’d changed into. Usually, she wore high boots with the skirt but, today, she had sparkly berry lotion on her legs and stood in her bare feet. His eyes slid closed and instead of stepping forward, he inched back.
Didn’t bikers like girls in short skirts? Although she always imagined chicks who liked bikers to be tired and worn-out looking. “Aren’t you coming in?”
His eyes popped open and he narrowed them at her. “Never told you my fucking name.”
She relaxed a little now that it seemed he didn’t have an issue with her clothes. Granddaddy didn’t like this skirt too much, but, after the first time he’d made her cry over the names he called her, he’d relented and allowed her to keep it, although he demanded she keep it in the room she used here rather than take it home and wear it.
“I’m still a fucking stranger to you,” the biker observed cuttingly.
“You’re also being an asshole,” she snapped. “You’re Christopher’s friend. That’s enough for me.”
“Yeah, well, your big brother won’t always be around to protect you.”
“If something happens to me and he’s not around, all I have to do is tell him when I see him again.”
“It’ll already be done,” he pointed out, scrubbing his fingers through his damp hair. “Save him a life sentence and protect yourself more.”
She should slam the door in his stupid face for talking such crap about her brother. Instead, she hissed in outrage, “A life sentence? My brother wouldn’t kill anyone. Beat them really bad, yes. But he’s not a murderer.”
He looked away and shrugged. “You’re right, babe.”
Boinnnggg. Her nipples tightened and popped up at his low tone, as if he hadn’t just annoyed her to within an inch of her life. She looked at him through the fringes of her lashes. “What is your name?” she whispered, his signals confusing her. One moment he seemed as if he liked her and the next he didn’t even want to look at her.
“Matthew,” he said gruffly.
“We’re studying about Saint Matthew’s life at school.” The saints who’d written the four gospels always received extra lessons during the school year. Zoann had learned so much about them, she felt as if she’d lived during their time. She frowned and considered the conversation she needed to have with her mother, the as-yet-unhad talk about protection from diseases and pregnancy popping into her head at this inopportune time. “They need to teach us something useful like using birth control.”
They both froze, the mention of the subject somehow ratcheting up their awareness of one another. He choked. Zoann gasped and the thought to slam the door in his face flew away when he snatched it open wider and stomped past her. Dweeb. If Christopher found out about this conversation, he’d be so angry. And Granddaddy? Zoann cringed.
Humiliation burrowed into her that she’d opened her big mouth in front of Matthew, but she tossed her hair over shoulder, running to the cabinet and taking down a glass. She’d intended to have lemonade with him. Not now. She’d go to her room and crawl under her bed, never to come out again.
She slammed his glass on the table and squeaked when his fingers fastened around her wrist. “I’m not telling on you,” he swore as she jerked away from him.
Not only that. More…”You’re not supposed to talk about birth control with guys.”
His brows drew together, the action lengthening his curling lashes. “They’re the ones putting their dicks in you, so why shouldn’t you talk to a guy about it?”
Licking her lips, her glance slid to his crotch. “Since you aren’t putting your dick in me, I don’t need to—“
At the darkening of his eyes, she shut her mouth. Now would be an excellent time to get a brain-to-mouth filter. Repetitions and sarcasm didn’t work when it involved a hot biker oozing all kinds of sex appeal.
He gulped from the glass and sighed in what sounded like bliss. “Maybe, I should tell your brother you’re talking about getting some fuckhead’s dick into you.”
“No, please.” Forgetting her embarrassment, she clamped her fingers around his. “He’ll ruin it all and I’ll forever regret I didn’t do it with Toby and—“
“Who the fuck is Toby?”
“The captain of the wrestling team. I tutor him to earn extra money. He’s really hot, too.”
Releasing her wrist, he grunted. He seemed to like the sound, since he did it a lot. “Zoann, babe, don’t fall for that bullshit. I’m a guy. I hand it to gorgeous girls like you all the time to get in their pussies.”
She rocked back on her heels and lowered her lashes. A real grown man had never called her gorgeous. After a moment’s consideration, she realized Toby had never called her gorgeous, either. “How old are you?”
“Almost twenty-two.” He smirked at her, polishing off almost all the lemonade. “Why?”
“Becaaauuussseee,” she responded, drawing out the word to cover her inability to think of a snappier response. “I’m curious.”
His laugh transformed his entire face and, suddenly, Zoann wanted to be the one to keep him smiling. He seemed so guarded and mysterious. “Curious, huh?” he echoed when his chuckles died down. “More like fucking nosy.”
Biting down on her lip, she stepped further away from him, the pit of her stomach twisting at his amusement. Silly! She, more than anyone, enjoyed a good laugh, even at her own expense. However, she didn’t want Matthew to see her as a stupid girl to brush off.
<
br /> What was she thinking? She was a girl and a virgin to boot and Christopher’s little sister. To capture his interest, she’d need experience and the ability to have a brief affair with him. He was a biker and, even though Granddaddy thought most bikers—except Johnnie—were garbage, they fascinated Zoann.
She wanted a man like her brother, badass, beautiful, protective and loyal.
Ice cubes clinked in the empty glass that Matthew held up. “That was delicious. You made it?”
She nodded, pleased. “Want s’more?”
He gave her another sizzling look, hot enough to singe her blood. “You need company or something?”
Granddaddy was out of town until tomorrow and he’d asked her to come and clean the place for him this evening. He’d arrive home before she got out of school the next day. She enjoyed having people around her, especially here in this isolated place. Besides, at the moment, Matthew’s attention focused solely on her, just like Toby whenever they were together. Momma did her absolute best, but sometimes Zoann felt lost in the crowd of her sisters. All she needed to do was call Christopher and he was there, but he’d long ago stopped having a lot of time for her. Her best friend had gotten pregnant a few months ago and, now, Granddaddy refused to allow Zoann anywhere near her. Not long after she’d told him, her friend had stopped coming to school and rumor was it was Granddaddy’s doing. Zoann refused to believe Granddaddy wielded such power. No matter. Her popularity had suffered and she became more isolated as the days went by, the reason she tutored boys after school.
And…Stop, Zoann.
Very convincing excuses. Now try for the truth. She wanted Matthew to stay a little longer. What should she say or do to make that happen? Flirt, maybe? She knew how to flirt. She did it with Toby, didn’t she?
“Yeah, I need company,” she said flippantly, not stopping to consider anything else but the end result. “Yours.”
Death Dwellers Motorcycle Club:: Fifteen Bad Boy Biker Books Page 120