RAW: THE ULTIMATE MC COLLECTION

by Palomino, Honey

  The first one was open, and I peered inside. A bathroom. Empty.

  I stopped outside the second door, and took a deep breath. I needed to find Diana and soon. I shook off the fear of what I might find, and slung open the door. Again, nothing. An empty bedroom, that looked like it had never been slept in.

  I walked down to the third door, and listened again. I heard something, but I wasn’t sure what it was. A low, steady hum. Slowly, I turned the door knob and opened the door.

  We all jumped back at once, stumbling backwards down the hall. The floor was filled with dozens of rattlesnakes, tangled up together, hissing and rattling, and racing to get out of the room.

  “Fuck!” I exclaimed, as I tripped over Riot, and landed on the floor. I quickly jumped to my feet, and followed the Gods down the stairs, the snakes following down the hallway behind us.

  When we reached the bottom, I turned towards the kitchen and stopped in my tracks.

  Wyatt stood there, pointing a gun at Diana’s head.

  “Diana!” I yelled, frozen in place. I looked at Diana, tears were streaming down her face. She was holding something, and it took me a moment before I realized it was a snake in her hands. She was shaking, holding the snake as far away from her naked body as possible.

  “Slade,” she whispered, “I’m so sorry.”

  My heart shattered as I saw the fear in her eyes.

  “Let her go,” I said to Wyatt, as my eyes darted around for a way out of here.

  “I don’t think so. Put your guns down. All of them, or else,” he said, digging the gun into Diana’s temple. Slowly, we put our guns on the ground.

  “Kick ‘em over,” Wyatt said. I was seething with anger, and I couldn’t wait to get my hands on his throat. We kicked our guns his way and waited.

  There were more of us than him, but he had Diana and I knew better than to try to rush him.

  “Listen, brother, if you just let her go, we’ll all be on our way out of here and nobody will get hurt,” Ryder said, trying to reason with this madman.

  “Let her go? Are you kidding? She’s the whole reason we’re here. Don’t you see? I’ve chosen her. She was pure and unblemished…before she met you, that is,” he said, pointing to me.

  The snake danced in Diana’s hands, its forked tongue darting in and out of its mouth.

  “But she’s clean now. Now, all she has to do is believe, and then she’ll be saved. And she’ll be mine. I’m never letting her go,” he said, his voice echoing in the loud room.

  I knew then just how crazy this guy was. I knew we’d never be able to reason with him. We were being even more crazy thinking that would work. There were only two things that were going to get any results in this situation.

  One was violence. Which was probably unavoidable. The other, the really crazy one, was something I had to at least try. From the corner of my eye, I saw that the snakes from the bedroom upstairs had started slithering down the stairs, which were now directly to my right.

  “I believe,” I said quietly.

  “What?” Wyatt said, looking at me in disbelief. I felt the other Gods eyes on me, but I ignored them.

  “I do. Mark 16, right? If you believe, you’ll see the signs, isn’t that right?” I had once seen a show on snakehandling, and the crazy bullshit they had slung had stuck with me. “Watch!” I said, putting my hand out to keep Wyatt at bay. I reached over and grabbed one of the snakes on the stairs that was now within reach, its smooth scaly skin slithering under my fingers. It began rattling violently, and I lifted it up towards the ceiling.

  “See?” I said to Wyatt, as he stared at me in shock. And then slowly, I started moving around the room and speaking in gibberish, making it all up as I went along. I was taking a huge chance, knowing he could shoot us, or Diana at any moment, but it was the only thing I could do. If we rushed him, he’d shoot her for sure.

  “Bagoola ooooh jah jah boogetyboo do, praise the Lord!” I yelled.

  I danced in circles, getting more into it, getting louder and louder, hoping the fucking snake wouldn’t bite me. I tried to keep it as far away as I could, but I knew I had to go for it if I was going to get Wyatt to believe me.

  His eyes lit up and I saw a glimmer of a smile as I continued dancing around the room, the sounds coming from my mouth sounding like complete bullshit, but the crazy fuck seemed to be buying it.

  “Yes, yes…” he muttered, his eyes locked on the snake in my hands, the gun still pointed at Diana. I began dancing wildly around the room, praising the Lord, and singing hallelujah in between all the gibberish because that’s all I could remember from the show I had seen.

  These people thought if you were bitten by the snake, that God and prayer could keep you alive. So, I went with it.

  I took a deep breath, and then put the snake right next to my face, staring it in the eye, its forked black tongue darting towards me as I continued making the ridiculous sounds.

  I turned my back on Wyatt and Diana, locked eyes with Riot and winked. And then I lunged the snake towards my face, screamed loudly as I threw myself on the ground, hollering and writhing in pain as I held my face.

  Wyatt ran over to me, just as I had hoped, and when he got right next to me, I pushed the snake in his face and it bit him right on the forehead.

  The rest happened so quickly. Diana dropped the snake she was holding on the ground. Wyatt had dropped his gun when he knelt down, and I quickly grabbed it, and jumped up. The Gods had already retrieved their guns and we all towered over a screaming Wyatt as he writhed on the ground in pain like a little boy. Six guns pointed straight at his head, as he looked up at us and began pleading for help.

  “Call an ambulance, p-p-please…” he sputtered. “Help me!”

  “Help?” Riot asked. “Why don’t you pray? Isn’t that what idiots like you are supposed to do now?”

  “Please, please…” Wyatt begged.

  “Looks like God isn’t going to save you after all,” I said.

  The color drained out of his face, and his forehead began swelling and turned bright red. He began spasming on the ground and I smiled. I kicked the two snakes away, and they slithered into the kitchen.

  “The snakes always bite back, motherfucker,” I said, as I unloaded my gun into his face.

  EPILOGUE

  Nine Months Later

  “This fucking cage is so fucking slow!” Slade roared, as he drove Diana’s car to the hospital.

  “Get the fuck out of my way!” he yelled to the passing cars, honking at every single one that got in front of him.

  Diana panted beside him, sweat pouring from her brow as the contractions tore through her.

  “C-calm down, baby, I’m okay, I’m ooooooooo!” She writhed in pain, her words ripped from her as she began concentrating on her breathing, the only thing she could control at the moment.

  By the time they pulled up in front of the emergency entrance of Good Samaritan Hospital, she was sure she wasn’t going to make it.

  “S-Slade! It’s happening!” she screamed to his back. He was racing into the hospital, and within seconds he had dragged out the first person he saw wearing scrubs.

  “Now! She’s having it fucking now, goddammit!” he yelled.

  Moments later, Diana was on the table, her legs spread, her screams echoing down the hallway as a tiny little miracle came into the world.

  “It’s a boy!” the doctor exclaimed, as a loud, wailing cry filled the room.

  Slade’s eyes filled with tears as the doctor handed him a pair of scissors. He looked at his little, slimy, bloody baby boy and then looked down at Diana, the love of his life. His heart soared with joy and he shook his head.

  With shaking hands, he looked at the doctor for reassurance.

  “Here?” he asked, hovering the scissors over the pulsing cord that connected his two miracles.

  “Yes, that’s it,” the doctor replied. He winced as he sliced through it, and handed the scissors to one of the nurses, letting them take over f
rom here. They took the baby away for a moment, and then laid the beautiful, blanketed, crying bundle of joy in his mother’s arms.

  Diana’s eyes were filled with love, tears streaming down her cheeks, as she held her baby for the first time.

  “Hi, there little Slade,” she said to him. “I’m your Mommy.”

  “Not Slade. Jeremiah,” Slade said quietly. It had become a running joke. They had debated the baby’s name a million times in the last few months, finally deciding on Jeremiah, after Slade wouldn’t budge. Diana insisting she could never call a little boy something so formal, and that she would call him Slade, after his daddy.

  Slade looked down at his boy, his son, and felt his heart burst wide open. He had never expected he would ever have a child. How could he bring a baby into the life of a God? Hell, he was sure that Ryder and Grace, or Riot and Lacey, would be the ones to do that.

  Never in a million years would he have thought he would be looking down at a soul he had helped create.

  But never in a million years would he have thought he would have fallen in love, either.

  The last few months with Diana had been amazing. After rescuing her, and the other girls, from Wyatt, he knew he’d never be able to let her go. She was a part of him. She had found her way into his heart.

  His long dead heart had been brought back to life with her gentle touch, her soft laughter, and her breathtaking beauty.

  And now he had a boy to raise.

  He knew he wouldn’t be perfect. Far from it. He knew he had a lot to learn. Hell, he had everything to learn. His parents had only taught him what not to do when you raised a kid.

  But he knew one important thing.

  He knew he had to teach him that he could fly to unimaginable heights. And when he crashed, as he would surely do, then he’d show him that he could still fly.

  Even with broken wings.

  THE END

  ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼

  Old ghosts die hard,

  just like old habits do.

  CHAPTER ONE

  MIKE

  “You know what you have to do, Mike,” the woman sitting behind the desk said to me, her red lips snarling into a smile that spread tightly across her face.

  She was right. I did. And while it went against my every instinct, I would give her what she wanted - what she demanded - every time. She was holding my balls to the fire, and so far, I hadn’t found a way out of it.

  Her bright red hair was pulled into a bun on top of her head, and her green eyes squinted at me as she waited for me to respond.

  I stood up slowly, my heart thumping in my chest. Despite my hatred for the woman, my cock betrayed me and it hardened before I even reached it. I opened my jeans, the buttons popping open on my 501’s like a countdown to my own personal nightmare.

  Five. Four. Three. Two. One.

  Bang.

  I’d almost rather be dead than go through with this.

  I looked down at her, the object of my disdain. She stood up, and slowly reaching up, she pulled the pin from her hair, releasing a cascade of red curls around her shoulders. It didn’t matter that she was beautiful. She was ugly on the inside, and I hated her.

  My disgust with her was even stronger than my disgust at my growing cock. It was like a bad habit that I couldn’t shake. And even if I could, I had no choice in the matter. If I didn’t do what she wanted, she would take away the only thing in the world that really mattered to me. There was nothing I wouldn’t do to avoid that.

  Even this.

  “Bend over,” I said to her, as I closed the distance between us.

  “Once again, you’ve made the wise choice, Mike,” she whispered, as she quickly removed her silky shirt and lacy bra. She turned around and bent over her desk.

  I raised her dark blue skirt around her hips to find that once again, she wasn’t wearing any panties. Just like last time. And the time before that. And the time before that.

  I wasn’t surprised.

  “Condom,” she whispered needlessly. I was already opening the package. She braced herself against the hard, wooden desk. “Make it good this time, big boy.”

  After one quick glance at the door of her office to make sure it was locked, I wrapped her red curls around my fist and entered her swiftly, roughly, without any hint of friendliness.

  No. This was all business.

  But she liked it that way. Her body told me so as it wrapped around me, gripping onto me rhythmically as I thrust into her, my cock betraying me even further as my flesh easily forgot who she was.

  It didn’t matter.

  As usual, it was a warm body, and in situations like this, my cock seemed to possess a life of its own, inhabiting my body completely with its need for something it never seemed to find.

  I was just the idiot trapped in the car as it barreled out of control.

  I pulled her hair hard as I thrust into her, harder and faster, the force pushing her violently up against the desk, her breasts smashing into the glass top and leaving imprints of her nipples on it. She bit her hand, suppressing a scream as I pounded into her relentlessly.

  Her cheeks flushed as red as her hair, and I knew she was close. I picked up the pace, hammering into her as fast as I could and as soon as I felt the first spasms of her pussy, and her wetness seeping around my shaft, I slammed into her with one, last hard thrust, my cock exploding inside of her.

  Quickly, I pulled out, and the shame and disgust flooded over my heart while I pulled off the condom and put my cock back in my pants.

  I reminded myself why I was doing this as she stood up and turned around. As she shimmied her skirt back over her curvy hips, she quickly reached up and tried to press her lips to mine.

  “Kissing isn’t part of the deal,” I grumbled, turning my head away to avoid her lips, throwing the used condom in her trash can.

  “Oh, fucking relax, Mike,” she said. “It’d be real good for you and the club if you were nicer to me, you know.”

  “I do what I have to. Don’t fucking push it,” I snarled.

  She stood in front of me, still topless, and staring up at me with her hair falling in messy curls around her face. Her beauty was striking, there was no denying that. If she had been anyone else, I would have taken her a second time. Her fingers traced my cut sensuously, and yet it did nothing but make me want to get away from her sooner.

  “I gotta go.”

  “Okay, okay…,” she turned, and sat back down at her desk as I headed for the door. “Give my love to Rosie, Mike.”

  “Fuck you, Detective Jones,” I snarled, without turning around. I couldn’t look at her another second.

  “Indeed,” she smirked.

  I opened the door of her office to the sound of her soft laughter, and thundered out of the precinct as fast as my boots would take me.

  CHAPTER TWO

  DAISY

  Have you ever had one of those days where you wake up and you know something important is going to happen? Something exciting, something unexpected, something unpredictable? Like when you get that feeling in your gut that signals anticipation so intense you can’t even begin to think about anything else?

  But you have no idea what it is you’re supposed to be looking for, so you go around feeling lost and on edge, waiting for the other shoe to drop? And you spend the day just hoping it lands on the pavement in front of you? That you have time to side-step it somehow, instead of falling victim to its wrath when it finally shows its face?

  That’s what this day was like.

  I just never for a moment thought its face would turn out to belong to Mike Montgomery.

  Mike Montgomery, little Rosie’s dad. Mike Montgomery, rough and tumble president of the Gypsy Riders Motorcycle Club. Mike Montgomery, a rugged package of deliciousness all rolled up into one mysterious, leather-clad man.

  Rosie was seven years old and my student at George Peabody Elementary School. And her dad, Mike, or Big Mike - as Rosie told me he was called as we sat on the c
urb that first day of school waiting for him - was indeed the president of the Gypsy Riders.

  Rosie’s mom had died during childbirth, and Mike had raised her on his own. These important facts I had been told by the principal of the school on my first day at my new job. It was a week before classes were starting and Ms. Johnson was telling me various details about my new students.

  The story she told me about Rosie was sadder than almost anything I had heard, and I decided right then and there that I was going to take Rosie under my wing before I even met her. My own mom died when I was a young girl, and I couldn’t help but feel protective toward Rosie.

  “Mike Montgomery is a good man. He’s a good dad that’s been dealt a bad hand, but he’s always taken the best care of Rosie. For the last seven years, I get the impression he’s had to make some difficult choices, but he and Rosie have a good relationship. Maybe someday he’ll settle down and find another mom for Rosie, but ever since her mother, Rose, died, he’s been devoted entirely to Rosie. I’ve known him since he was a boy in this very school. He was in my class when I was a teacher here.” Ms. Johnson said. She had been at Peabody Elementary for over thirty years. She had neglected to tell me Rosie’s dad was a biker, but Rosie was quick to tell me that herself. She seemed proud of her dad and his club, and she talked about him all day.

  Today was the first day of school, and when I finally met Rosie that morning, it was clear she would be a pleasure to have in class. She was smart as a whip and sweet as candy, with a small side of sass. She told me all about her dad’s club, and her friends named Reaper, Demon and Sandman. I was tempted to disregard her stories as figments of a child’s imagination, but as her stories grew richer, I couldn’t help but believe her.

  By the end of the day, I had forgotten all about that feeling I had woken up with. I had spent the school day trying to put faces to names and wrangle the kids that needed wrangling and doing my best to draw out the shy kids at the same time.