Three Hitmen: A Triple Bad Boy Mafia Romance (Lawless Book 2)

by Alice May Ball

  Two cities glowed purple and orange almost at opposite ends of the far horizon and her small town was a small sparkle of lights in front of them. Farther away, a couple of miles beyond the town, the big, low moon’s reflection shimmered on the distant ocean.

  She leaned comfortably into the crook of his arm and her head rested on his solid chest. The burr and rumble of his voice soothed her and excited her at the same time.

  “Do you ever think about going away, about packing up and starting again, Cara?”

  “I already did that when I came here.” She looked up at him. His question, she knew, wasn’t just a ‘what-if.’ There was something on his mind. She asked him, “Do you have a name, biker?”

  He looked out over the hills, out towards the ocean. His eyes scanned and raked the horizon, as though somewhere out there was a better answer than the one that he had. He was still looking a long way away as he said, “I have a couple. Not one that I’m proud of.”

  Her arms wrapped more tightly around him and her lips brushed across his chest as she stroked and savored the ridges and ruts of his warm velvet skin.He stroked her hair as he said, “I was thinking that you might help me make a new one.”

  She understood, and she pressed her head closer to him to show him that she did. Her lips were on his chest and she tasted his skin as she asked him, “In the meantime, how would I find you?”

  His arms slipped to encircle and enfold her more completely, his warmth passed more into her waiting skin. His voice purred through his chest and his ribs as he said, “Don’t worry, you won’t have to. You aren’t going to lose me.”

  She thought about this for a long time and scanned the horizon again. Finally she asked him, “Do you have a taste for bourbon, biker?”

  © Alice May Ball, TzR Publishing, 2014

  Cover Design by Signs of Desire for TzR Publishing

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner.

  Any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, or to any actual events is purely coincidental.

  All the people and places are portrayed in this story are fictional. All characters are over the age of eighteen, and entirely imaginary.

  Outlaw Bikers

  College

  Dorm Rampage

  Alice May Ball

  My leg trembled as Ashlee’s hair brushed the soft inside of my thigh. Her head rocked hard and fast as her lips slid along the biker’s hard, fat rail. I leaned back against his chest.

  The other biker peered up over my quaking stomach with a glint in his eye. His nose nuzzled the fuzz of my bush as his tongue parted my wet, swollen lips.

  This was not how our usual study nights went.

  We didn’t even notice the sirens, we were both so engrossed with our laptops—writing up lecture notes, checking Facebook and Pinterest..

  “Biker invasion!” Ashlee cried from the other side of the room, making me look up. Ashlee heard the low banging rumble of the Harleys first

  Her blonde curls bobbed and her big, pert boobs bounced under the loose Metallica t-shirt. She sat cross-legged on her bed with a comforter over her bare legs. The other side of our dorm room was a distance that even a well-covered girl like me, a girl who was not particularly tall, could straddle easily.

  Ashlee’s eyes shone over the top of her little laptop screen. “Lock your doors, hide under the beds!”

  “Or,” I smiled back, “Open the doors and hide your panties under the bed.” It all sounded way more exciting than revising for term papers.

  “I don’t think we’d get a credit from Ms. Binder for studying a big, hairy biker.”

  I said, “There could be forensic evidence on a big, hairy biker.” Ashlee giggled so I continued, “Could be a weapon concealed.”

  “Better search him, Jenni.” Ashley’s laugh bubbled through her voice.

  I tried to look serious, “Better search his pants!”

  It was a regular Wednesday night in the dorm. Ashlee and I were revising hard for midterm papers. Foo Fighters played on Ashlee’s laptop. I revised outward signs of neurotoxins and the traces they left in the blood.

  In sum, we were doing one hell of a lot of not much. A regular Wednesday night, like I said. The sounds of bikers nearby raised a tiny but thrilling jolt in the flatness of our evening of study. Lucy, our little-miss-prim classmate had recently wandered into a local biker bar, and the transformation that we saw in her was jaw-dropping.

  All of her quiet little print and gingham dresses had been dropped, like her panties. Now Lucy rocked shirts open halfway down the front, and a gorgeously ragged and obscenely short black leather skirt.

  Her mousey hair that she’d kept tied primly up and pulled back from her timid, round face now hung long, wild and black. Her Kohl-blacked eyes seared out in a razor-flash of a challenge.

  Ashlee and I were sure she was getting regular and exhausting injections of rough, hard biker. Something that she said even made us wonder if she were limiting herself to one at a time. We strongly suspected not.

  Ashlee had mused, “Those bikers have notoriously lewd tastes in sex.”

  “They perform sex acts in bars all the time.” My authority came from having read some very salacious stories. In my hometown, the sizzling gossip more than confirmed the tales of debauchery. Almost everyone knew someone whose sister or a cousin had gone to hang out in the local motorcycle club bar.

  In practically no time, they’d turned into loud, drunken crack-whores, according to very reliable sources.

  “They say that biker chicks are at the beck and call of the whole club.”

  “Anytime, anywhere.”

  “Biker wants a blowjob, Lucy better get busy.”

  “Championship sword swallowing.”

  “Slipping down the long, fat sausage.”

  “Blowing the meaty mouth harp.”

  “Chin to balls in one gulp.”

  “You think she’s been handed around the club?”

  “Can you imagine if she were in a barroom with like twelve horny bikers?”

  “Great big dudes with beards?”

  “Huge, sweaty guys, covered with tattoos?”

  “Huge… ”

  “Hard…”

  “HOT…”

  “Throbbing…”

  “Harley Davidsons!”

  The intercom in our room buzzed and we both froze. Our eyes widened and our mouths opened.

  Ashlee said, “You don’t think it’s a biker?” Her fingers covered her mouth

  I said, “Can’t be. Can it?”

  Without getting up, I reached for the handset. As I lifted it, Ashlee squealed. I turned to look up at the little screen.

  As I said, “Hello?” on the nasty little screen, a tall guy with long sandy hair in a cut-off bike jacket hulked over the speaker box. Even through the lo-res speaker, his husky voice dropped a liquid flow of thrill right down the center of me.

  In a rasping whisper he said, “Let me in.”

  My finger was on the button. The buzzer sounded even while my mind was screaming, Are you CRAZY? Ashley was wide-eyed and stared at me like I was mad.

  I ran out into the corridor, over to the stairwell. My room is only on the first floor, so I could see the doorway. The biker heard me and looked up. The flash of his green eyes made my knees go weak as soon as I saw them. He held the door open, and another biker slipped in behind him.

  Two bikers. What the hell had I done?

  They shoved the door closed, and slid along the wall as they both rushed up the stairs towards me. My heart pounded. What the fuck had I done? The second biker held his left arm and he moved stiffly. He wasn’t slow, though. He had a mane of wavy light brown hair. Gleaming brown eyes stared at me me over his wicked shades as he clumped up the stairs.

  I moved to block the top of the staircase.

  The tough look in his eyes made my stomach flip. He spo
ke in the same whisper. “We just need to lay low for an hour or two.” His voice was quiet, strong, and honeyed. I hadn’t heard that through the tinny speaker.

  I asked him, “Aren’t they going to see your bikes?”

  “No, I don’t think so,” he said. His hand touched mine and a charge bolted through me. As the biker got to the top of the stairs, he came very close to me. I stood my ground, but my heart thumped. These were two smoking hot men, and they were coming into my tiny room. A look passed between the two bikers.

  I felt the warmth and moisture of his breath. The heat of his body was discomfortingly close. His full lips spread in a smile. He lowered the shades down his nose to peer with his dark brown eyes into mine. He was so near, I felt physically pressured to step back and let him in.

  Standing with my feet apart, I stood firm. I folded my arms and chewed the inside of my lip. Climbing the stairs behind him, the blond biker cocked his head.

  “We don’t need to be here long,” he said, as he flashed a knowing smile. “You might just like us if you give us a chance.”

  Cars moved outside, coming near. Through the frosted glass in the door, red and blue lights flashed on the wall of the lobby.

  The blond biker leaned towards me. His green eyes appealed and his breath was warm in my ear and on my neck, “C’mon, beautiful. Give us a chance.” He bit the inside of his lip as his eyes searched mine. His musky scent was overpowering and I couldn’t think straight.

  The first one, the taller one said, “Now that you’ve rescued us,” he said, and his eyes seemed to plead with me, “Don’t abandon us. Please?”

  Ashlee stared as I showed the two big men into our tiny room. Both her hands clasped over her mouth. From behind them she said, “Oh. My. GOD!”

  The green-eyed biker stood very close behind me. His jeans scraped against my ass through my pj bottoms. I squeaked, “Ooh!” at the hard bulge against my soft skin.

  “So,” Ashlee said, “Tell us your names.”

  “I’m Jace,” the voice of the one behind me vibrated through his cock and against my soft cheeks.

  The other one said, “They call me Badge.”

  The buzzer sounded again. Ashlee and I looked at each other. Then we heard the buzzers going in other rooms on our corridor. It sounded like all of the rooms had their bells pushed. I know we all thought the same thing. The cops.

  Badge said, “Don’t let them in.”

  “It’s no good, Badge,” I said, “Somebody’s going to buzz them in.” As soon as I’d said it, we heard the door being buzzed open and the noise of heavy boots in the hallway.

  “Come with me,” Ashlee grabbed Badge’s hand and pulled him into the bathroom. The boots were coming up the stairs now. Jace looked at me. I pointed under the bed. I couldn’t think of another way to hide him.

  He was so big, I wasn’t even sure he’d be able to squeeze himself in there. Top to bottom, every the space looked too tiny so, when he slid underneath, I piled the comforter and all the bedclothes by the side to try to cover him up some more. It wasn’t perfect, but it didn’t look too bad. It looked the way these dorm rooms looked most of the time, so I thought there was a chance that we’d get away with it.

  There was a banging on the door right then so I had no time to think any more about it. I opened the door just a crack and peered round.

  A cop filled the doorway with another stood close behind him. “Sorry, miss, but we’re going to need to search your room.” His hard blue eyes glinted and dirty blond hair poked out from under his peaked cap. He touched the peak and made an apologetic smile.

  I said, “There’s no-one here, officer. Nobody except me and my roomie.” Now I had lied to a cop, before I’d even stopped to think about it.

  “Sorry miss,” his voice was firm. “But we do need to check. May we come in, please?” And he pressed his palm against the door. My heart pounded and I shook inside, but I knew there was no point trying to resist.

  I held the door open and stepped aside. I was careful to keep my eyes on the cops and away from the floor. My little room felt very crowded with the two cops inside.

  The blond cop stood very close as he looked around our tiny little room. In my pj bottoms and t-shirt, I felt even more exposed in front of the cops than I had with the bikers. Something to do with the uniforms, I guess, made me feel even more undressed, along with the guns. They did add to my general sense of vulnerability.

  The dark-haired one said, “Where did you say your roommate was?”

  “She’s in the shower,” I told him. Thank heavens Ashlee had the presence of mind to turn on the water. My heart was in my mouth as he pushed open the door.

  Ashlee shrieked, and steam wafted around the side of the door. The bathrooms in our dorm all have bathtubs with showerheads and shower curtains all the way around. Through the doorway, I saw Ashlee’s face poke around the shower curtain.

  “What the actual fuck?” she yelled at the cop and he backed away.

  Meanwhile, I was trying to distract the blond cop. “Do you need to search me, officer?” I flicked my eyelids at him. His neck swelled and his some red flushed into his cheeks.

  “That won’t be necessary right now, miss.” His eyes narrowed and he reached into his shirt pocket. He handed me a card.

  “Call this number if you feel like you need to be searched tomorrow evening.”

  “Oh. Are you on duty tomorrow?”

  “No, miss,” he said, and his jaw jutted, “That’s kind of the point.”

  “Oh.” This was turning out to be more interesting than the average study night.

  I looked at the card. Frank Cannon, it said, and a number. “Do you do a lot of this kind of thing, officer?”

  “Handing out cards?”

  “I meant searching innocent girls when you’re off duty.”

  “Give me a call.” His thumb hooked in his belt. “We’ll see how innocent you are.”

  He touched his cap again and gave me a hard, panty-heating grin as he steered his buddy out of my room. He looked back to watch me over his shoulder as I closed the door. I stayed pressed against it and kept very still as I listened to their boots clomp towards the next room along the hall.

  The next door they knocked on was probably Lucy’s. She was next along the hall and it sounded like that was the direction they went. I wondered whether she would get a card from Officer Cannon.

  Ashlee’s giggle trilled as I yanked back the shower curtain. She leaned back against the wall and the water bounced and cascaded over her. Her t-shirt was a soggy mess.

  The biker crouched angrily in front of her. His voice scraped. “I’m soaking wet now, you dumb bitch.”

  Her hand was on top of his head and her tongue flicked across her top lip. “Mmm. Me too, you big, dumb biker.”

  She leaned back against the tiles. Her hips jutted at him.

  She twirled her wet curls. “So, what are you going to do about it?” The water bounced over her t-shirt and clung to her heaving breasts. Her nipples poked up hard through the drenched cotton.

  He looked up at her and his lip curled with a leer. His wet black curls plastered against his head, and water ran down his face in rivulets that poured from his beard. His eyes blazed as he reached up and seized her waist.