by Celia Loren
"Maybe you're wrong about me," she murmurs, but I see her lips parting, and her body moving toward me.
"Maybe. But I don't think so," I reply. I bend down and slowly place my lips over hers. They feel as soft as they look, and I press them apart and slip my tongue inside her mouth. My hands slide around her high, tight ass and I pull her body against mine. She moans as her breasts pillow against my chest, and I feel her wrap her arms around my neck. Even after my action earlier tonight, my cock is already hard and pulsing with lust for this woman. I need to take her, now.
There's a burst of noise from the front of the bar. I glance over for a moment, and Beth jumps away.
"I should get back to work," she gasps.
"I don't think that's what you really want to do," I say with a smirk. Her cheeks are flushed, her breasts heaving – she wants this just as much as me.
"I have to."
"We can go back to my place," I offer. "It's not far."
"No, no. It's my first night. Don't want to get in trouble, you understand," she murmurs hurriedly, already moving toward the front of the bar.
"But—" is all I have time to get out before she's disappeared around the corner.
I stare after her. What the hell? She clearly wanted me, too. Fuck. I can't remember the last time I was rejected by a woman. I don't even remember the last time I had to even put in any effort.
I pull at the waistband of my jeans, trying to adjust them around the massive case of blue balls she's just given me. Part of me wants to follow her inside the bar and take another shot, but a much larger part of me, my pride, is telling me to head out. I walk back over to my bike.
I'm sure there will be plenty of sweet butts still at the compound who will be eager to help me release this tension, though after having met Beth, I'm not sure how any of them are going to measure up.
Chapter 8 – Marie
I lie in bed staring up at the ceiling, thinking about Ford. Even though he kissed me a week ago, I can still feel tingling in my skin and lips where he touched me. Maybe I should have gone back to his place with him.
I'm supposed to be infiltrating the Death Dealers, and this man offered me the perfect way in. And not only that – I wanted him, too! Having sex with him certainly wouldn't have felt like some kind of sacrifice for the job.
So why did I rush off like that?
I just felt so…unsettled when I was talking to him. I'm used to feeling in control and in charge of my emotions, and with Ford, they practically felt like they were leaking out of me. I mean, I was only around him for a matter of minutes, and I already messed up Beth's back story.
Beth's parents divorced and her mother never remarried – not like mine. What in the hell made me mention my stepfather? I felt like Ford saw right through me. He has extensive military training…maybe my unskilled subterfuge can't hold up around someone like him.
I jump up and pull on a pair of shorts, a sports bra, and some sneakers. I need to get out of here and stop stewing in my feelings. There's a knock on my bedroom door.
"Come in!" I call.
"Hey, girl," Candice says as she opens it. "You need anything from the store?" she asks me.
"Um, I think I'm okay," I tell her with a smile.
"Alright. See you later!" she says with a wave and disappears. I've felt surprisingly comfortable living here with her. She's fun, and nice, and it's been surprising to me how much I missed having a close girlfriend. Female companions were hard to come by at the Academy.
I sit down on the floor and start lacing up my sneakers. I pause and frown as I hear an unfamiliar ringing. Is that Candice's phone?
Oh, shit, the burner from Drew…I jump up and head over to my bedside table. I pull it out of the drawer, and wait until I hear Candice shut the front door on her way out.
"Hello?" I ask as I answer.
"Are you okay?" Drew asks immediately.
"I'm fine," I reply with a smile.
"Head to exit 52. As soon as the you leave the ramp, there's a sign for a trail. Park, and I'll meet you fifty feet down it, right by the first fork," he tells me, and hangs up.
I sigh. I feel guilty that I don't have much to report, but I'm sure he wants to inspect me close-up to make sure I'm actually alright.
Twenty minutes later, and I'm walking quickly down the trail. I see Drew by the fork as he said, wearing a pair of old jeans and a t-shirt with a backpack slung over his shoulder. I smile and wave. It's good to see him. This past week has been so new and often chaotic, and he's a stabilizing presence.
"Aren't you cold?" he asks, eyeing my sports bra.
"I was going to go for a jog when you called," I explain, crossing my arms over my chest.
He clears his throat. "I just wanted to check on you, see how things are going. You look good."
"Thanks. I'm living with one of the other cocktail waitresses at the Keep, Candice Young," I tell him. "She's sort of on the fringes of the Death Dealers."
"Has she introduced you?"
"No, she didn't have to. They came into the Keep on my first night, though not since then."
"And?" he asks, leaning forward excitedly. I pause. I don't want to tell him too much about Taz because if he thinks I'm in too much danger, he'll pull me out.
"Well, there was this one guy Taz who was being a little too aggressive, but it was fine. Another brother warned him off."
"Who?"
"Ford. Matt Ford. Said he was a former lieutenant in the SEALs. He was older than Taz. Taz seemed kind of scared of him, honestly."
"Come on," Drew says, nodding off the trail. I follow him into the dry brush. "I used to come here when I was a kid," he tells me over his shoulder. After a couple minutes, we stop and he sits on the edge of a small boulder with a flat top, and I perch next to him. He pulls his backpack off and opens it, then rummages through a stack of manila folders inside it.
"Matt Ford," he says, opening it. "He's the one I couldn't find much on. Look at his paperwork from the Navy."
"It's all blacked out," I observe, running a finger over the black bars covering entire pages of text.
"Exactly, so who knows what they had him doing. He did seven tours, that much I know, in Somalia, Iraq, and Afghanistan. No criminal record at all. What'd you think of him personally?"
"Personally?" I ask, feeling a flush come to my cheeks.
"Yeah. You know, what kind of person is he? You said Taz was scared of him?"
"Well, yes. He's pretty… large. Tall, I mean, and muscular," I clear my throat. I'm getting off-track. "He seemed observant. Smart."
"And dangerous."
"Dangerous?"
"He's a Death Dealer."
"Yes, of course," I reply, nodding.
"Never forget that. It might be easy to, once you start getting closer to them. You might even mistake them for friends. But they're not."
"I know. You don't have to worry about that," I assure him.
"Good. Now Taz," he says, pulling another folder out of his backpack. "Real name: Joseph Teegan. This guy does have a rap sheet. Mostly petty stuff, misdemeanors, except for a sexual assault charge, which was dismissed after the victim decided she wouldn't testify. It was a sudden change of heart," he says, reading. "I wouldn't be surprised if she were directly or indirectly intimidated by the Death Dealers."
"I'm not surprised. I'll do my best to stay away from him."
"Good idea. I'd stick with Ford, since you've already made a connection. He's older, more senior in the organization, so he'll probably have access to more information anyway."
"Got it."
"What's your next course of action?"
"I was thinking I'd try to get back in touch via Candice. She really wants to be a sweet butt, so I'll try to encourage that."
"Good."
"Your parents brought you here?" I ask, looking out at the brush. Drew tucks the folders back into his backpack.
"Yeah, I grew up about ten minutes from here," he explains, pulling up the bottom of
his t-shirt to wipe a few beads of sweat from his forehead. I quickly glance out of the corner of my eyes, and can see a toned six-pack and a happy trail that disappears under the band of his shorts. All the little moments that we shared prepping at the motel come flooding back to me.
"Do you have a girlfriend?" I ask abruptly.
"What?" he laughs.
"Well, I was just thinking that I don't know that much about you. You've seen my file, so you know a lot about me."
"True. No, I don't have a girlfriend."
"Why?"
"I've been told I'm a little obsessed with my work. Apparently I'm hard to have a relationship with."
"That surprises me."
"Does it?"
"Well, not the workaholic part," I acknowledge. "But… I don't know. It's not my place," I realize.
"It's alright. I'm thirty-two. I thought I'd be married by now. It's just hard to find someone who understands…" he trails off. "We should get going," he says, standing up. He reaches down and offers me a hand to help me up, and I feel a warmth extending from his palm, a sense of safety.
Our hands part, and we turn and silently head back down the trail. Neither of us talks for the walk back to the road. We're nearing the final curve in the trail, and I can just see the grey pavement of the street.
"Let me know if anything changes," he says. I nod, but he's not looking at me. He seems to be staring at a point in the dirt just behind me.
Suddenly, he steps forward and wraps one arm around my waist, and slides his other hand behind my neck. His eyes lock onto mine, and I feel a surge of desire. My lips open to accept his, and as they meet mine, I taste mint and honey on his breath. His tongue slips into my mouth, gentle and rough at the same time. Our bodies press against each other's, and I melt against him.
He pulls away, and holds me at arm's length. "I'm sorry."
"You don't have to apologize, Drew. We both—"
"No, I do. Even if you weren't on this assignment, I'm still your superior. I shouldn't be making things more complicated than they already are."
"I guess you're right," I say, though I can't help feeling personally rejected.
"You're in a risky position, Marie, and it's only going to get more dangerous. We both need to stay focused."
"I know," I agree with a nod, swallowing my disappointment. "I'll keep you updated," I tell him, breaking away and heading toward my car. I quickly start the engine and drive off. I can just see Drew emerging from the trail head as I go, but I don't look back.
He's right. He's my boss and things are already complicated. More than he knows, really, since I neglected to tell him the part about how Ford kissed me…and how I kissed him back.
Chapter 9 – Ford
"What's happening?" I ask Marsh as we both head through the front doors of the compound at the same time. A text went out summoning all of us to an emergency meeting.
"I heard Uncle was seen skipping town," he murmurs, looking around nervously.
"Skipping town? You mean leaving the Death Dealers?"
"Wouldn't surprise me. He's been quiet lately, only coming to church and nothing else."
I nod, thinking, and follow him down the basement steps to the hall. There's a huge, rectangular oak table set in the middle of it, and right now, Uncle is sitting bound and gagged in a chair next to it.
My jaw twitches. Uncle is in his forties and was already in the Death Dealers when I came along. For an MC, he was always a bit of a hippie, more interested in heading out into the woods with a bag of 'shrooms than having a rager. I hate seeing him like this.
Tank walks down the steps, and we all make way for him. He moves toward the head of the table and leans down onto the back of the president's chair for a moment. Then he stands, and takes in the room.
"Some of you may have already heard. Uncle was seen packing up his car and leaving town. I had him taken at a gas station and brought back. If it wasn't clear to everyone here," he growls, his voice beginning to rise with anger, "when you join the Death Dealers, you join for life!"
He brings his fist up, then slams it down onto Uncle's jaw. Uncle's head snaps to the left, but he stays in his chair. The gag loosens, and Uncle spits it out, along with a good amount of blood.
"Thought this MC was about freedom," Uncle rasps. "Living outside the arbitrary laws of society. Lately, though, I feel like a prisoner here, and I'm not the only one. You're making brothers out of boys who aren't fit to walk in the footsteps of the men who used to wear the patch," he accuses Tank. "A president is supposed to earn loyalty, not force it through fear and—"
Tank punches him again, and this time Uncle flies out of his chair. Tank leaps on top of him, and I surge forward. Marsh steps in front of me and pushes me back.
"Don't," he says quietly. "You're outnumbered here."
I take a deep breath, trying to quell my anger. I know he's right. I know there are too many brothers here who agree with what Tank is doing. I wouldn't be able to pull him off Uncle fast enough, and then I'd get beaten, too.
"Everything okay?" Taz asks, sidling up next to us with a smile.
"Just fine," Marsh says, stepping away from me.
"Throw him in the cell," Tank says, wiping his bloody hands on his shirt. "I'll decide what to do with him later."
Two brothers pick Uncle up and take him to the door in the back, while the rest start to mill out. Some seem jovial, others quiet. I walk quickly back to my bike, Marsh close on my heels.
"You gonna be alright?" he asks as I swing a leg over the seat.
"I've seen worse."
"I know, but that's not what I asked."
"Uncle always did right by me."
"We've always known this MC was for life," Marsh points out. He's always been more of a peacemaker than me, always trying to see both sides. "We can't just bail if we don't agree with some of the president's decisions."
"I know it," I reply shortly.
"Come to the party this weekend. There's good stuff here, too."
I nod, start by bike, and drive off. The wind in my hair calms me down, as it always does.
Maybe Marsh is right. I haven't always agreed with the direction the Death Dealers has taken lately, but that doesn't mean there aren't still brothers here I respect. The Death Dealers MC is for life. So I just have to find out how to live with it.
Chapter 10 – Marie
"Maybe you should text him," I encourage Candice. I'm trying to get her to make contact with this prospect in the Death Dealers named Buzz.
"I don't want to bug him…" she replies worriedly, but she's got her phone in her hands.
"You're gorgeous. I'm sure you wouldn't be bugging him," I assure her.
"Alright…" she says with a giddy giggle, and shoots off a text. She puts the phone down, and it immediately vibrates. "It's him!"
"Told you."
"He says they're having a party tonight and asked if I want to go. You'll come with me right?" she asks.
"I don't know…" I reply, because I don't want to sound too eager. "They seemed pretty crazy at the bar the other night."
"That's part of the fun of it! It's like, hedonistic, you know? They don't have any rules!"
"Well, okay," I say. "If you really want me to."
"Yay! Come on, let's figure out what we're going to wear," she says, dragging me off the couch and into her bedroom.
Just after ten, we leave our apartment for the Death Dealers compound. I shot off a quick text to Drew telling him where I was going, and he reminded me to stay safe. On the drive over, I tug my dress down as it rides up to my crotch. I can't believe I'm wearing something so skimpy, but Candice is wearing a dress just like it and I'm sure that's what the other women at the party will be wearing, too.
Candice pulls through a gate in a barbed wire fence. A prospect glances inside our car and quickly waves us through. She parks on the brown grass, and I get my first close look at the Death Dealers' compound.
It's an imposing, ugly structur
e. All cement, with bars over the windows. As we get closer, I can see pock marks on the glass where bullets have struck it, so they must have sprung for bullet proof glass, and it seems like it was a wise investment.
"I'm so excited," Candice whispers. "This is only my third time here, and this party looks way bigger than the others."
I nod, looking around. People are flowing out into the huge yard, and the inside looks packed, too. There are two fire pits set up, and kegs everywhere. Music blasts across the entire place, and I'm already struggling to hear Candice. Well, at least it's chaotic. It'll make my job easier.
Candice takes my hand, and we head inside together. My eyes widen as we pass a couple near the door, openly having sex. The guy has the woman pressed up against the wall of the building, and the woman's head is thrown back in ecstasy.
"What'd I tell you?" Candice says with a grin. She guides me through the crowded, sweaty room, and toward a long bar. "Buzz!" she calls out, recognizing him behind the bar. He nods at her, grabs two beers, and heads over to us.
"Hey, gorgeous," he greets her, handing us the beers. "Who's your friend?"
"This is Beth. She's new in town," Candice says.
"Hey Beth," Buzz says with a smile. He's definitely cute – lanky and tall, someone I could picture as a lead guitarist in a band. "I gotta stick behind the bar," he tells Candice. "You think you could keep me company?"
"Okay," Candice says with a giggle, and slides onto a bar stool. I smile at her as they begin to chat, and let my gaze wander across the room. The crowd parts a little, and I see Ford sitting in the middle of a couch, his arms spread wide across the back of it, and women on either side of him. I subconsciously move my thighs together, and feel a moistness already seeping out into my panties. He looks even better than I remembered.