Beauty and the Bad Boy

by Scarlett Dupree

  Where the fuck was she?! I kept flashing to Tina, lying in the street. Then I'd see Dakota there. I saw her burned. I saw her beaten. My imagination was bludgeoning me with awful possibilities. It was all I could do not to lose my shit.

  "Dixon, I still can't fucking reach her. I have to get to the house."

  "Yeah, man. Let's move."

  When we got there, I first checked the garage–the Mustang was there. Now I was feeling full-fledged panic–why wouldn't she have fucking picked up if she were home? "Her car's here!" The guys all pulled guns and went on alert. Where the fuck could she be?

  The patio door wasn't locked. This was bad. She wasn't in the house. She wasn't in the garden. Nothing was out of place, but she wasn't here. I called again. Still no answer, but I hadn't heard it ring, so wherever she was, she had her phone. I looked at Dixon and let the panic show. "Dixon..."

  "No, Jake. No way. She's fine. Hold on." Dixon dialed his phone. "Mickey. Can you use the GPS in Dakota's phone to get her twenty?" Dixon looked at me and nodded. "Good. Call when you know." He hung up. "He said he can track it down in a few minutes. Then we'll know where she is."

  "No. Then we'll know where her phone is." I punched the kitchen wall hard enough to make the dishes in the cabinets rattle. My rings gouged the plaster. I was going to get a beating from Dakota later on. God, I hoped so.

  "Easy, brutha," Lenny said, putting my hand on my shoulder. I shrugged it off and punched the wall again, twice. I'd made quite a divot in the wall. This time, the pain in my fist shook me out of my fugue a little. I sighed and leaned against the counter, shaking my sore hand.

  "I asked her to be my Birdy last night.... She said yes. I gave her my grandma's ring…"

  Dixon and Lenny both clapped me on the back. "Congratulations, bro. That's excellent," Dixon said, whose phone rang just then. "Yeah, Mickey. Where? You sure? Okay. Thanks, man." He hung up and looked at me. "You're not gonna to believe this, man. She's at Storm."

  That didn't even make sense. Her car was here. It was Christmas Day. But why would someone take her against her will to Storm? Didn't matter. "Okay, then, that's where I'm fucking headed."

  Dixon headed to the door. "That's where we're all headed, Jake. No one's on their own today, so let's go get your girl."

  We parked on the street and strode into Storm, me in the lead, hands on the grips of our guns, the 'Open' sign was swinging on the door as it closed behind us.

  I heard Dakota grunt, and I pulled my gun and tore around the corner into the main part of the nearly-empty room. And there she was. In the ring. She was sparring with a guy I didn't know. She was wearing a small pair of body-hugging red shorts and a black top that was little more than a bra. She was barefoot. Her hair was braided and coiled on the back of her head.

  The guy was shirtless. He was shirtless and wearing bike shorts. They were too involved in their spar to notice us, guns drawn, standing about ten feet away.

  First, I was so relieved I felt woozy. I slid my gun into its holster. She was okay. She was okay.

  Then, watching her fight, I was more than impressed. For a while, I stood there and watched her move as she kicked, punched, spun, leapt, ducked, rolled. She took some hits, but she evaded most, and she dealt more. She was kicking this guy's ass. I didn't know what she was doing exactly, but she was really good at it, whatever it was. She looked good doing it, too. Her skin glistened with sweat, and the muscles in her legs, arms, back, and abdomen–what she was wearing left a lotexposed–rippled gorgeously.

  I heard Lenny behind me. "Jesus. I don't think we have to worry about her, brutha."

  I'd forgotten for a minute that Dixon and Lenny were there with me, watching her. Then jealously raged through my veins. The shirtless bastard came up behind her and wrapped his arms around my woman. She pulled him over her shoulder and to the ground, her fist in his face. Then she offered him her arm, and he took it and pulled himself up. There was way too much full-body contact going on between the two. I didn't care if she was kicking his ass.

  Finally, a red fury overtook me. I had nearly gone mad with worry. I had been convinced she was dead or hurt. I'd been imagining horrific things. I had asked her to stay at the fucking clubhouse this morning. I'd asked her to stay home. I'd asked her keep her phone close. Instead, she was rolling around with some fucking anonymous shirtless asshole in fucking bike shorts. My hands rolled up into fists and clenched at my sides.

  Just then, the fucker put up his hand in a way that made Dakota step back. They were both panting hard. They did a fist bump and a quick hug. She turned around to slip between the ropes and out of the ring. She saw me when she turned, and she smiled. "Jake? What are you doing here?"

  She jumped to the floor, and I was on her before her smile could fade. I grabbed her and slammed her against the nearest wall. I heard her gasp as the impact knocked the breath out of her. I also vaguely heard Dixon behind me warn, "Jake..."

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw bike-shorts guy make a move towards me, but apparently the two-armed bikers behind me dissuaded the shirtless asshole, who stopped in his tracks.

  I held her against the wall by her arms. I don’t know what overcame me. I just felt rage. "What the fuck, Dakota! I've been calling you for two fucking hours! I was fucking terrified! You could have been hurt!" I was yelling, my face inches from hers. I knew I needed to calm down. I just couldn’t. I lost myself with her.

  In her eyes, I saw her own fury doubled. Her voice was quiet but razor sharp. "Like now, you mean?" I faltered and froze. Fuck, what was I doing?

  With two quick, fluid moves, she knocked my hands away and hit me so hard in the chest with the heel of her hand that I staggered back several steps, breathless. She stalked towards me. "Maybe you're confused, Jake. Maybe because I like it rough when we fuck–" she hit me in the chest again, this time with both hands but less force, to punctuate that word "–you're starting to think you can throw me around whenever you want. I. Don’t. Think. So."

  The shirtless wanker piped up. "Dakota, do you need me to do anything here, or call anyone?"

  Dixon warned, "Bad idea, man."

  Without looking away from me, Dakota said, "No, Scott. You should go. Now. Dixon. Lenny. You too. Get the fuck out."

  "We'll be out front," Dixon said.

  The three left, leaving me alone with her. She still hadn't taken her eyes off me or softened her expression at all. I, on the other hand, had lost all my rage and was instead devouring myself with regret for coming at her like I had. I didn’t deserve her. "My God, I'm sorry, babe. Really sorry." I reached a hand to her face. She knocked it away. I was starting to feel a whole new kind of panic.

  "Keep your damn 'sorry'. I don't want it. If you ever touch me like that without my consent again, we will be over. Well, truly, and forever over." She put her hands on her hips and took a shaky breath. "I need you to get away from me now."

  I was scared and sorry and defeated. But I couldn't give her what she needed. "I can't, Dakota." I couldn't get out much more than a whimper.

  She sighed, easing up a little. "Jake, we're okay. I love you. Nothing's really changed. But I am ferociously pissed at you, and I need you to give me some time to cool down."

  "I know. I know. But I can't. I'm so sorry. But I need you to come back to the compound with me."

  She stared at me. "Jesus fucking Christ. Are you serious right now?"

  I was. "I am." I reached for her hand, and but she yanked it away. Please God, don't let me have ruined this. "I know how bad I fucked up just now. Whether you want it or not, I am sosorry. You have to know that right now there's no way I would push the point unless it was really important, so please just hear me out. Things are bad. We've called all the families into the compound. Fry’s house burned down last night with his whole family in it. They’re all dead."

  "Oh my God. Fry?"

  "He was still at the party when it happened. We don't know what happened yet, but it looks like it could be related to the club, an
d if so, someone might be targeting family members. Everyone is safe together right now. Please, please don't fight me on this. Please, Dakota. I'm begging."

  "Okay." She put her arms around me. I clutched her tightly. I tried not to cry.

  Dakota told me that she'd gone for a run to burn off her own anxiety about my safety. She'd found the gym open and gone in on a whim, so she only had a jacket, her shoes, and her phone–for all the good it had done us on vibrate–with her.

  With Dixon and Lenny, I took her–on my bike, despite her very bare legs–back to the house to grab some clothes. She'd kept her hands on her own legs the whole ride home. When we got to the house, she threw a bag together. She insisted on taking her car to the compound, and I didn't have the spirit to fuss about it, so the guys and I escorted her. I could feel an intense distance between us that was killing me inside.

  We'd been engaged less than a day.

  The atmosphere in the clubhouse was social, despite the reason everyone was there. A lot of people were there–especially women and kids–and there was a lot to do, so the place was buzzing. But it was not boisterous.

  Tiffany came up to Dakota, gave her a hug, and said something low in her ear. Dakota chuckled softly and nodded.

  Lenny leaned over the bar and said low to me, "Weston wants us in the Lock as soon as I and Ron get back." I nodded.

  Dakota nodded at someone across the room and called out, "What can I do?"

  One of Weston’s girls shook her head. "Nothing right now. We'll need to get food on soon, though."

  Dakota looked at me. "I'm going to go back to your room. I need to take a shower and get actual clothes on." She walked past me, across the room, and down the hallway. It took me just about a minute to decide to follow her.

  I opened the door to my room. She had taken her jacket and running shoes off and was unbraiding her hair. She looked up at me but didn't say anything.

  "Babe. This whole day has been wrong. Can we take a minute and talk?"

  She regarded me steadily for several seconds. Then she let out a long breath and sat down on the side of my bed.

  I sat next to her, my leg pressed along hers. I took her left hand, the one wearing the ring I'd given her only hours before. She looked down at our linked fingers. I watched her beautiful face in profile as I spoke. The outside light was coming through the small window and into the room. It highlighted her frame. She really was enchanting. I couldn’t lose her.

  "You've never asked me what I do in the gang, how I earn. It means a lot to me that you understand it's not something I want to talk about much–or even something I can always talk about. I know you're too smart not to have an idea. But I think the time for secrets between us is over. I think if you really knew the Fire Birds, you might understand why I worry about you so much.

  “I can never excuse how I treated you today, and I swear that I will cut my own throat before I ever do it again, but I would like to try to explain why I was so upset." I paused. The next part was hard. "Maybe really knowing will be too much. Maybe knowing will be the end of us. If it means a chance to keep you safe, one way or another, I'll take that risk.

  "So I would like to tell you about the gang. Then I'll answer any questions you ask me. I trust you not to hurt us. I know that we're your family now, too. No matter what, I know you won't."

  I told her everything. I told her about the drugs, the guns, and the other gangs. I told her everything. I told her about the people I'd killed. I told her how I’d murdered the man who killed Tina. I told her everything.

  She never interrupted me, but she gradually moved to be closer to me, and by the time I was finished, we were lying on my bed, her head pillowed on my chest.

  She asked me nothing. She leaned over my chest and met my eyes. She said only, "I'm sorry," and kissed me. In that moment, the distance that had risen up between us receded. My heart swelled as the fear of losing her eased away, and I released a breath that was almost a sob.

  I felt overpowered by my need of her. I cradled her face in my hands and I whispered, "I don't deserve you, but I can't live without you." I kissed her again, this time deepening the kiss, pushing my tongue past her soft lips to search her mouth. I rolled and moved her under me, my chest on hers, her legs tangled with mine. I pressed my mouth to her collarbone and pushed her top up, exposing her beautiful breasts.

  Dakota writhed and gasped under me as I moved to suckle one, then the other. She tasted sweat-salty and sweet. I felt her hands on my head, in my hair, holding me closer. I sucked hard on the nipple I had caught between my teeth, and she moaned and surged up against me. I slid my hand under the waistband of her little shorts and down between her legs.

  She was hot and wet and thrusting against my hand even before I'd settled in. Still suckling her breast, I slid all four fingers into her and pushed the heel of my palm against her clit. I didn't even need to move my hand; she was bucking and flexing so much already herself that I could feel her wet nubbin rubbing against me.

  I curled my fingers up slightly to rub against the extra-sensitive spot of her inner wall, and she cried out and bucked even harder, faster. Her fingers were tangled in my hair. She was panting and gasping. I knew she was close.

  There was a knock at the door. We froze, though Dakota's whole body continued to quiver. I released her breast and took a beat to compose myself. "Yeah?" I heard the impatience in my voice.

  It was Lenny, clearing his throat. "Sorry, Jake. Weston's back. We're at the Lock."

  Fuck. "Got it. Be right out." I waited for a count of five and turned my attention back to the tense, shaking beauty in my arms. "Come for me, Dakota, before I go," I murmured. I took her breast in my mouth again and began moving my hand hard, fast and deep. After barely a minute, she cried out and surged up. I let her ride my hand, then pulled my fingers out of her and rubbed them in hard circles on her clit until she cried out again and slammed her legs together, squeezing my hand between them to hold it still.

  I held her close, pressing gentle kisses over her face until her spasms were over and she relaxed into my arms.

  "I'll be back as soon as I can. I love you, Dakota." She was lying loose-limbed and still panting when I kissed her sweet-tasting forehead and went out to meet the Fire Birds.

  ***

  I went looking for Dakota as soon as I got back to the clubhouse. She wasn't in the main room. I checked the kitchen, where I found Tiffany. "Hi, Tiff."

  "Hey, everything okay out there today?"

  "Seems quiet, yeah. Have you seen Dakota?"

  Tiffany put her hands on her hips. "Don't worry, Jake. You’re evil charm is still working. She's still here. I think she's back in your room. Working, she says. I thought she was on a break. If you could see if she'd do some work out here, that would be great."

  I laughed. "I'll see what I can do. But when Dakota’s set on something, not even I can persuade her.” I kissed her on the cheek. Tiffany had become like a sister to me over the years.

  Dakota was sitting sideways in the old armchair in the corner of my room, her legs draped over the side, her laptop on her stomach. There was a stack of tented books on the floor. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail. She was barefoot. She was wearing jeans and one of my shirts, with only enough buttons done to meet the least standard of propriety. I could see that she wasn't wearing a bra. She was, however, wearing her glasses. I thought this look–a pretty typical one for her, actually–was hands down her sexiest, and that was saying a lot.

  She was typing steadily and completely immersed. I closed the door and walked over to her. She smiled without looking up as I went to my knees in front of the chair. I laid my head on her arm, and she tipped her head to rest it on mine.

  "Whatcha doin', babe?"

  "Mmmm. Working on stuff for class. I'm missing some of the books I need, though."

  "No problem. I can make another trip. Let me know which ones, and Dixon and I will pick them up for you."

  "That's great, Jake, but it's not go
ing to work for much longer. It's been five days. I need to be able to work at my desk at home. I need all my books. Bad Boy, soon I'm going to need to be able to go to campus. We have to figure out a plan soon that doesn't include me holding up in Hell's frat house forever."

  I sighed. I learned a long time ago Dakota was a butterfly and I hated myself that my life was caging her. But I had to. My East Rider brothers had recently discovered that the fire at Fry’s had been a Locos attack. The Locos were a small street-racing gang but rumors recently had them connected to the Drago Cartel–the most brutal, most feared cartel in California.

  But this didn’t make any sense. We hadn’t ever dealt with the Locos or stepped a single foot inside their turf. Dixon and I had our suspicions that someone in the gang had pissed the Locos off but didn’t know whom, how or why. Nobody had admitted to anything at the Lock that evening. I only knew it wasn't safe to be, or to be with, a Fire Bird in Shadowbeach right now.

  Fry wanted his bloody vengeance and was furious to have had that right stripped from him. He and Weston had almost come to blows before he had left to take the bodies of his family home to be buried.

  The problem was that if the Locos were allied with the Drago Cartel, the cartel could crush us with barely a ripple. If Weston said no, it was no. Gang retaliation was impossible. Weston had told us that it would be dealt with, with smarts. But he didn’t go into any details.

  I couldn't believe the original charter of the Fire Birds had become bitch to a weak leader. Over the years, the recession had hit the gang hard. We had owned several bars and garages that were affected hard during the financial crisis and it was tearing the club apart.

  Weston, who had been Pops’s vice, had forced Pops into early retirement as the club’s leader. Weston wanted to expand and make the Fire Birds a much more powerful and feared gang in California. He wanted the club to become more involved in serious crimes because that’s how we would make a considerable amount of money. And with money, brought power.