“Well, your brother is a damn fool,” Beck growls out, pulling out his phone again, dialing another number. From the look on his face, still no answer. “If he hadn't given the order to shoot my friend, neither of us would be standing here right now. We might have a couple o' black eyes and some wounded pride, but that would be it. Sugar, your fucking family is going to wish they were dead if they touch one finger to Mel. If she dies on their watch, boy, am I going to lose my shit.”
“What did you do?” I ask him because Darren would never just shoot someone, let alone a woman. In fact, I'm finding myself hard-pressed to imagine a single scenario where my brother would ever condone that. And I know he was there. He said he was going out on this ride today. “What did you do to my family?” I stand up as Beck moves forward, sliding a knife from his pocket and pointing it at my throat.
“I didn't do shit,” he growls, grinding his teeth together. I know it's a terrible moment to say this, but … he has nice lips. A full bottom curve and a bow tie up top. I swallow and lean away from the blade. “We were standing there havin' a nice chat when one of your pussy Brothers shot Melissa fuckin' Diamond right through the back. This is his fault, your piece of shit, pansy ass, loser of a brother.”
“Fuck you!” I scream because Darren is not like that. We are not like that. Seventy-seven Brothers doesn't do things like that. “We would never disrespect another club like that, not unless they'd pushed all our buttons first, threatened us, hurt one of our own. If Tax ordered that, then you must be horrible fucking people.” Beck leans back and tucks his knife away, squeezing his fists so hard, the veins in his hands stand out sharply against his skin. He looks like he wants to hit me, and that's fine. I'm willing to take one for my brothers and sisters. “Respect, dignity, pride, and family. Those are our credos. What are yours? You steal from others and you kill indiscriminately.”
“Indiscriminately? Oh, sugar tits, you are very well misinformed,” Beck drawls, leaning back and putting a wicked slash of a smile across his face. “We killed before to protect ourselves, to protect the rights of our women, to fight for the right to live the way we want.” Beck shakes his head and takes one more step back, scoping me out from head to toe. I can feel his gaze like it's a physical thing, burning through my clothes, eating me up from the inside. I have to swallow three times before I can even speak.
“There are two sides to every story.” I want to ask if my brother is still alive, but I doubt he'd have the answer to that, or if he'd even tell me if he knew. I lean back a little and even though it's not really in my personality, not in my best interest, and certainly a stupid ass fucking thing to do, I check him out. Just the same way he's looking at me.
“All that comin' from an ol' lady? You got a pretty mouth there, lady luck. You want to put it to better use tonight? Pass the time while you wait for your pathetic fuck of a brother to come and barter for your ass?”
“You wouldn't touch me,” I tell him, using the judgment of his character to make the assumption. The smile is false, the bravado real. He doesn't want to hurt me, but he will. At the same time, I don't think he'd get any pleasure out of it. “This isn't about me.”
Beck's face relaxes up a bit, and he shakes his head.
“No. You're right. This ain't about you at all. I just want to do damage control, get my friend back, find out who the fuck your people took away from me.”
“They wouldn't do it without a reason,” I repeat, wondering who he and his friends took away from us. Triple M. I was fantasizing about them, and here one of them is, and he's nothing like I expected. And everything like I did.
“Keep flappin' your lips and the wind is bound to listen,” Beck says, moving forward and pausing a few inches from me. I watch as he puts his hand on his gun. I turn away and stare out ahead of us, at the open road, and I wonder how far this is going to go. If the ending's going to be something I can live with. Or if there's going to come something I can't live without.
Beck
Chapter 10
I don't want to be thinkin' nasty thoughts right now, but I can't help myself. I'm a man, and I'm wrapped around a beautiful woman, a woman whose body is hot and ripe, rounded curves in all the right places. She's got these perfect lips and hair the color o' blood. Better circumstances, better days, and I would've picked her up in a hot second. Right now, I have to worry about my club, my friends. Who the fuck is dead, injured, and where the fuck they all are. I got my cellphone, programmed with the number of everybody in Triple M, but that doesn't do me any good if they don't fucking answer.
Nashville it is then, I guess.
I get to ride for eleven hours with unknowns crawling around in my head, what-ifs and all that. A shooter on the roof? It just doesn't seem like something Seventy-seven Brothers would do. And then why just one guy? Why not have a whole host of guys up there waiting to shoot us? I hate this covert ops sort of shit. Why can't everything be plain as Goddamn day? The world would be a lot better place if it were simplified a shade or two.
Melissa, I'm sorry. I tried to keep up with the group, but they split off a few guys and took shots at me while I was riding. It was get hit or stay back, that much was obvious. And then I lost them right as I was coming into town.
Then I saw her.
When I first stopped, I didn't even know what I was doing. I saw that shock of red hair, the bright green eyes, so piercing from so far away. There was a pull in the air, like I was being controlled from within, pushed forward against my own will. Strange as shit, I'll tell you that much. Then I saw her jacket, her colors, and I knew what I had to do. If she really is the Pres's little sister, then the hopes of getting Mel back are high. Provided she doesn't die from that gunshot wound.
I squeeze my fingers around the handlebars and rocket down the freeway, happy that the wind is fierce enough to hide this girl's sweet scent from me, like a field of flowers or somethin'. Woo wee, Tease sure is a right appropriate name. This woman still has me thinking about things I shouldn't be thinking about. Actually, on the other hand, maybe this is exactly what I should have my mind focused on. I can't do anything but ride right now. In another hour or so, I'll pull over and try my friends' phones again. For now, I'm trapped right here with my arms around her and her body pressed tight against me. If my pants get a bit tighter, who would know?
For a second there, I get all nostalgic and start pinin' away for Austin and that horse shit music he likes so much. I start reminiscing about Mireya's snarky commentary and Melissa's overly ridiculous outfits, dark makeup, and blatant come-ons. This is not over, Beck. Not by a long shot. Stop being a bitch and get your crap together.
I smile wider and ride harder, grinding my wheels into the hot pavement, letting my sorrows spill from my skin and fly away in the breeze. Back to that cold calmness. I almost let my anger and my fear get the best of me. Almost. But Beck Evans has a lot of practice in this department. I draw on my past mistakes, lessons learned, and I man the fuck up.
By the time we get to the border between North Carolina and Tennessee, I can almost pretend that I don't give a shit.
“Answer your damn phone, you son of a bitch,” I growl, leaving a message for Austin first. Then Gaine, Mireya, Kimmi, until I'm halfway through the alphabet with no information and a massive fucking headache. The few folks that pick up don't know shit about shit. Nashville. That's the last thing they heard, so it's where we're all headed. I make plans with anyone I can get ahold of to meet outside the city proper, on the side of the highway. I don't like that I have to ride all the way there, leave Melissa behind, but there's not much else that makes sense at this point. I have to find my MC and scrape us all back into shape. As long as I have this foxy, young thing on my bike, I've got leverage.
“Get off the bike,” I snap at Miss Thing, my lips wrapped around a cigarette. She gives me a weird look, staring straight at and through me with those green eyes. They're about the same shade as Kimmi's, as mine. Green, but with flecks of gold instead of brown. Two
little clovers right there in that cute as a fuckin' button face. Even with that ugly T-shirt and those loose jeans, I can tell the babe's got a body. After a brief moment of hesitation, Miss Emily 'Tease' Hathorne climbs off and wipes her sweaty palms on the thighs of her jeans. “If we're gonna get to Nashville alive, we gotta eat.”
“Eat?” Tease looks back at the diner behind us, silhouetted against the slowly setting sun. Something about summer is just weird to me, like the days aren't really longer, just that the sun takes more time to set, wading through golden light in its quest to escape the sky.
“Yeah, eat,” I snap and then force the smile back onto my face. I continue to smoke my cigarette, watching as Tease's eyes catch on the burning cherry. “Listen, darlin', I feel like I been rode hard and hung up to dry. My mouth's as dry as a nun's cunt and it's hotter than a billy goat's ass in a pepper patch. All I want to do is have a damn Coke, a burger, and some fuckin' fries.” I flip the cigarette at her and watch in surprise as she manages to catch it, taking a drag and closing her eyes. “But first, take off your jacket.”
Tease pauses, glancing around at the mostly empty parking lot. I'm not worried about taking her into the diner. Club business is club business. I know she knows she doesn't stand a snowball's chance in hell if she flaps her lips at the waitress.
“No.”
“What the fuck do you mean, no?” I growl, moving forward and getting in her face again. I don't mean to be so darn nasty, but hey, my fuckin' life is in shit shambles right now, and this bitch is the enemy. “My grandma taught me manners, missy, but I don't extend courtesies to the enemy. I ask you to take your jacket off, please. Last chance.”
“Or you'll take it off for me?” she asks, and I almost lose my shit. Hot little redhead asks me to take something off? Fuck. I look her up and down again, taking in her creamy soft skin, her long fingers, bright eyes. She's young, probably eighteen, nineteen at the most. I might be a couple o' years older, but I can't say I'd be opposed to playing around. If only we had the time or leisure.
“Or yeah, I could make that happen for you. You definitely don't want to tease me. If I want your jacket off, it's coming off.” Teases swallows and stares me down. I can tell she's used to following orders, but I'm also the enemy. I know how she's been raised, what she's been told. Typical ol' lady, even if she belongs to her damn brother. Fucking weird shit going on here. I bet this girl is going to fight me tooth and nail.
“Then do it,” she says defiantly, red lips a shade too dark for her face. I'd like to see them pale and pink, a compliment to her skin instead of a contrast. Or not. Get your head out of your hard as fuck dick, Beck. I can feel my cock brushing up against the inside of my jeans. So inappropriate, so out of place. So me. Forgive me my sins, Melissa, baby. I will find you. “Right here in this parking lot, in front of all these people. Fight me. I know you can overpower me, and you can get your way, but it's going to cost you.”
“I've been a lot of places, seen a lot of things, you sure you want to fight me on this?” Tease stands tall and unapologetic, staring me down with her softly sloping eyes. Naturally, my gaze travels downwards, towards her breasts, but since there ain't nothin' to see, I end up focusing on her collarbone. My eyes trace the fine line there, imagining what would happen if I touched my fingers to it, curled my nails around the gray cotton of that tee and tore it clean off. I sure would like to get my frustrations out right now. I won't force myself on the girl, but if she wants to fight me, a fight is what she'll get.
I reach out and grab her around the wrist, lightning quick. I don't doubt that she's a tough lady. You have to be to exist in this world, whether you're a full patched member like Mireya or an old lady like this chick. But toughness doesn't necessarily prepare a person for my own personal Beck bullshit. I yank Tease forward on her bare feet, pulling her across the gravel without much effort. Her body slams into mine, breasts smashing up against my chest as my arm snakes around her back and grabs hold of the jacket.
My dick gets hard as a rock, grinding painfully against my jeans as I struggle to keep in control of myself.
“Jacket, off,” I growl into her ear, getting a little too close with my teeth, scraping her skin and sending chills through her body. I can feel her shaking against me, but not out of fear. I've kidnapped the girl, threatened her, and she's not afraid. Either she's just plain stupid or I really do have that magnetic, magical charm I always boast about.
Tease swallows and the sound truly and utterly convinces me that her nickname is a hell of a lot more accurate than her given name. This girl is no Emilie.
“No.” Tease snatches my knife out of my pocket and slices up towards my bicep, managing to cut into my jacket but stopping short of my flesh. I manage to catch her before any real damage can be done and squeeze her arm so tight she drops this weapon, too.
“I warned you, cupcake,” I tell her, wrapping one arm around her waist, the other around her arm. Even as she struggles, I start to move her across the gravel, her feet levitating just this much off of the ground. To any onlookers, we're like any other couple havin' a friendly chitchat. Nobody has to know she's not actually walking alongside me. She could fight harder, sure, but then people will come running and I think she knows how desperate I am. Like I said, I will shoot her. I don't want to, but I absolutely will. I've done harder things before. You can't always win the war by being the nice guy.
I take Tease around the side of the diner, opposite the highway and slam her into the wall, flipping her around and tearing the jacket from her arms. Immediately, she spins on me, eyes flickering this way and that, contemplating her next move. But she's not impulsive or stupid. Surprising, right? I haven't known many girls her age to have that much sense. Definitely haven't known any boys. I was a fucking idiot when I was her age. Still am, I guess.
I toss the jacket to the ground and step on it.
“Off means off.” I get out another cigarette as Tease steps forward and shoves at me. I don't go nowhere, but that doesn't mean the act doesn't annoy me. “We can have a cigarette together, and share lunch. Or I can whoop your ass and put you in your place. Your choice. Remember who's the fucking prisoner here.”
“Get your foot off my cut,” she says, and her voice is less cherubic and actually a little intimidating. I watch as her fingers curl by her sides. “I haven't disrespected your club; don't disrespect mine.”
I take a step forward, both feet now firmly planted on the leather of the jacket. My eyes follow a drip of sweat that falls from Tease's forehead, slides down the curved line of her jaw. Her full lips are trembling and the pulse in her neck flutters. Hot damn. I have to actually adjust myself before I move forward, tucking the boys into place best I can.
“Make. Me.”
I take a drag on my cigarette and toss it to the side. Tease comes at me again, giving me just enough time to remove my gun and throw it down alongside the still crackling cherry. She goes to shove me again, and I snatch her wrists, holding her body stiff and rigid just inches from mine. Our mouths are so close we could fuckin' kiss.
“Now what?” I ask as she breathes in hard and deep, chest rising and falling in rapid succession. I notice absently that mine's doin' the same. I swallow and wet my lips, feeling the stir of my body down below. I am so fuckin' hard, I could fuck a rock and break it.
Tease stares into my face, body trembling against mine, and then she kisses me. Tears at my lips and smears her red lipstick across my face. My hands release her arms and scramble at her jeans, unbuttoning them in an instant and shoving them down her hips. I am a motherfucking expert at this shit. I'm no good with heart to hearts, apparently no damn good at taking care of my friends. But sex? I can do sex. I step on her jeans and manage to get them the hell out of my way, pushing her up against the wall with my body as she scratches at the back of my neck with her nails. We kiss furiously, tongues tangling, as I keep one hand wrapped around her waist and use the other to free myself from my pants. My dick is so eager, it practic
ally opens the zipper for me, springing free hard and insistent.
I don't bother with pleasantries. This isn't a damn date or nothing. I lift one of Tease's smooth, creamy thighs up and out of the way with my hand, angling my cock to push inside of her. Her kisses get more fervent then, her fingernails cut into me harder, drawing blood and a slight brush of pain across my neck. Kinky, bitch. I like it. My stomach muscles tighten as I grab tight onto her ass cheek and pull her onto me, spearing her with my cock. Heat envelopes me and makes me shiver as I groan into the girl's mouth and start to pump my hips. Her body slams into the wall of the diner as I grunt and dig my way into that heat, balls tightening as I find myself slipping straight through all the cycles of pleasure straight down to a fuckin' orgasm. With a massive amount o' self control, I pull back, sliding mostly out of her, letting the air on my cock wake me up a slight smidge.
Tease opens her eyes and meets mine as I growl and shove myself fully inside of her, desperate for that wet heat around my cock. Her eyes widen a bit and her mouth parts fully, letting a whimper escape her lips that causes mine to curl. Goddamn. Hot damn. Holy shit.
“You are so fucking tight,” I snarl because I can't fucking seem to control myself. The lack of sex, the fuck up today, all of that frustration is bleeding out of me and into her. And I don't give a shit. She's a prisoner of war right now, and while I'm tickled pink she wants to fuck me, I still don't fucking care what really happens to her. So I let my rage and my frustration boil up as I slam into her as hard as I can, knocking our pelvises together as her moans increase in pitch and her head falls back, lips trembling as she tries to speak. Can't get out a single word though, not one fucking word. “Like a virgin. Tight as a fucking virgin,” I whisper into her ear, feeling her tightness wrap me harder, pulse quicker, like a pump, milking my cock for all it's worth. “A virgin fucking cock Tease.” I bite at her ear and she screams, voice echoing strangely through all the open space around us. Her bare ass slaps a nice, earthy rhythm against the green siding of the building while the slick sound of our bodies moving together complements the song. Amen.
Needing Me, Wanting You Page 6