Retaliation: A Twisted Mayhem MC Novel

by Cat Mason

  My lips won’t move to form an answer. Shaking my head violently, I claw at his chest, tears streaming down my face as I gasp desperately for air. His eyes frantic, Jensen hauls me up into his arms. “Hang on to me, Baby.” Then everything goes black.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Stone

  Roanne’s body goes limp in my arms, her head falling against my chest as I take the stairs as fast as I can. “Colt!” I shout, hauling ass for the front door.

  Gun drawn, he storms into the foyer, with Schrader right behind him. “What happened?” he asks, his eyes dropping to Ro.

  “Think it was some kind of panic attack,” I reply, shifting her in my arms.

  Reaching out, he presses his fingers to her neck, checking her pulse. “She’s okay.”

  “Call D.A. and get the van. I’m not puttin’ her on the back of my bike like this.” Moving quickly, I carry her into Alfred’s office and carefully lie her down on the red leather sofa. Bending down, I brush the hair from her face, my fingers lingering on the soft skin of her cheeks as I watch her whimper softly. After a few minutes, the color begins returning to her cheeks, putting me at ease.

  “D.A. didn’t answer. Got the Prospect comin’.” Coming up beside me, Colt claps me on the back. “Knew the moment I met her, you’d be claimin’ that one.”

  “Never been a time when she hasn’t been mine, Brother,” I reply honestly, not taking my eyes off her.

  “She know that?” he asks with a sarcastic laugh.

  “Starting now,” I reply, turning to meet his eyes. “Everyone will.”

  It isn’t long before Schrader comes through the door, letting us know that Hoss is pulling up out front. With Colt keeping an eye on Roanne, I force myself to leave her side long enough to close everything up downstairs to protect the secret I promised I would take to my grave. Once that is done, I make my way back up the steps, ready to get her the hell out of here. Ro stirs when I lift her into my arms again, her arms wrapping around me tightly as she whimpers softly into my chest. Carrying her out the door, my eyes scan the street as I make my way over to Hoss’ blue Dodge pickup truck. Coming around the side, Hoss yanks open the passenger door, his eyes trained on Ro and me. “Shit,” he says, stepping back so that I can get her inside. “What the hell happened?”

  “Long day,” I reply, settling her in the seat. “She’s fine.”

  “Jensen?” Ro looks to me, but her eyes don’t hold focus.

  “Yeah, Baby.” Cupping her face, I kiss her lips quickly.

  “Are we leaving?” She blinks slowly, appearing completely detached and shut down. Squeezing her hand, I nod. “Good,” she breathes, her eyes filling with tears. “I can’t go back in there.”

  Regret churns in my gut, making me wish I hadn’t brought her here at all. The sour taste it leaves in my mouth is unsettling. Following Hoss back to the clubhouse, I can’t help wonder if maybe I should have kept this secret from her. Or, at least, planned better for it. After that damn Fed showed up and pumped her head full of bullshit, I wanted Roanne to understand and know as much of the truth as I can give her, not break down.

  Now, I have to snap her ass out of it.

  Hoss pulls through the gates, parking his truck where the van usually sits. Stopping beside him, I shut off my bike. “Where the hell is everybody?”

  “Bodies have been in and out all day,” he replies through his opened window, then opens the door and climbs out. “Huck and Doc took the van and headed out to Shadow Ridge. Haven’t seen D.A. or Torch. Jinks is inside shootin’ pool with Shy.”

  Turning to Colt, I meet his eyes. “Call D.A. and Torch. Don’t give a rat’s ass if Torch is balls deep in diamond-studded pussy, I want them both back here now. I need to know what the fuck is going on with the fuckin’ law.” Without waiting for his reply, I walk around to the passenger side of the truck and open the door. Roanne stares straight ahead, her hands folded in her lap. “Come on, Baby. We need to talk.”

  Unfastening the seatbelt, she turns and slides down to her feet. “I’m talked out.” Meeting my eyes, she shakes her head. “All I want is a shower and sleep.”

  Taking her face in my hands, I press my lips to her forehead and sigh. Pulling back, I meet her deep green eyes. “Here’s how this is going to go,” I inform her, keeping my voice low and calm. “Once I get some food into you, you’ll shower, then we talk. And, Babe, when I say we talk, I mean I talk and you listen. You don’t have to like it, but I’ve got shit to say. I’m fuckin’ well gonna say it and you’re fuckin’ well gonna listen.” I arch my brow, preparing for whatever smart ass reply that is about to come out of that mouth of hers. “If you fight me on this, I’ll spank that beautiful ass of yours so fuckin’ hard you won’t be able to sit for a week. Got me?”

  She blinks, but doesn’t respond. Not that I needed her to. Honestly, it is probably better if she doesn’t at this point. That will only end with me tossing her argumentative ass over my shoulder and packing her down to my room to follow through on my threat.

  Which won’t help shit right now.

  Walking Ro through the clubhouse, I throw together some sandwiches and grab a bag of pretzels from the cupboard in the kitchen. Not stopping to root Shy on with Colt and Schrader, as she whips Jinks ass in eight ball, we make our way down to my room.

  Refusing pretzels, Roanne surprises me by eating her entire sandwich. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she nurses the beer I gave her from the mini fridge, hoping it would ease her frazzled nerves. Dropping my plate and empty bottle into the trash, I lean back against the closed door and clear my throat. “You okay?”

  Her body bristles. Lifting the bottle to her lips, she takes a long, slow pull from the bottle. Looking at me, her eyes narrow. “Just great,” she bites out sarcastically. “Nothin’ tops off a day with cops and criminals quite like finding out your father built the only place you ever loved in the world because he needed a cover for his secret serial killer bunker.”

  “You’re making it sound like he went out and picked random shitheads off the street and hacked them up for shits and giggles,” I reply, shaking my head. “That’s not how it went.”

  “Oh, cut the bullshit,” she huffs, rolling her eyes. “You expect me to believe my father spent thousands and thousands of dollars on a room to kill one guy?”

  “No,” I reply instantly. “That would be a lie. Every goddamned person who died in that room, fuckin’ deserved it. That’s the truth.”

  “Great,” she says, pushing from the bed. “Now that we’ve cleared that up, I’m going to take a shower before we have the conversation where you talk and I listen,” she adds, mocking me.

  “I’m not done,” I tell her, grabbing her wrist as she passes me.

  “I am,” she grounds out. Yanking her arm free, she spins around to face me. “I’m done with all of this shit. The lies, the secrets, the insanity. It has me questioning everything I’ve ever known. I feel like I have aged ten years in only a few days. I’m fucking drowning in it, Jensen.” Tears spill over onto her cheeks, her hands shaking at her side. She shakes her head. “Nothing is ever going to be the same, is it? I feel like I’m fighting a battle that is never going to end.”

  “Like you said—” Reaching out, I swipe tears from her cheeks with my thumbs. “There’s no going back now. But, if I’m fuckin’ breathin’, you’ll never fight alone,” I say, pressing my mouth to hers, tasting the saltiness of her tears. She starts to resist, but the moment my tongue touches hers, her body goes soft against mine.

  Her sweetness, the way she feels in my hands, drives me fucking crazy. Thrusting my tongue into her mouth, I kiss her roughly, letting her know exactly what to expect from my cock once I get her naked beneath me. Slipping her fingers into the belt loops on the front of my jeans, she pulls me into her body, her hips grinding into my already aching cock.

  “What are we doing, Jensen?” she asks, nibbling on my bottom lip.

  “Been a long day,” I reply, walking her back and pres
sing her to the wall. “A lot of shit went down. This is us forgettin’ all that fucked up shit for a while.”

  “Okay,” she breathes, as her fingers make their way up my arms and into my hair. “A distraction sounds nice.”

  Sliding my hand down to her ass, I squeeze hard, making her moan. “Woman,” I growl, rocking against her hip. “When I’m inside you, I’m not distracting you.” My other hand tears at the front of her shirt, ripping the buttons away and exposing her perfect tits, all wrapped up to tease me in a fucking see-through white lace bra. “I’m owning you.”

  “Please,” she gasps when I tug her nipple with my fingers.

  “Fuck yeah,” I hiss through my gritted teeth. “Tell me how bad you want my cock.”

  Releasing her hold on me, Roanne drops to her knees. Unfastening my belt, she pops the button on my jeans and drags down the zipper, freeing my dick. Looking up at me through her lashes, she smirks as her fingers wrap around the base. “I’d rather show you.” Taking me into her mouth, she hums softly, the vibrations making my damn toes curl in my boots.

  Bracing my hands on the wall in front of me, I rock my hips, needing more. Teasing me with her tongue, she uses her other hand to pull my jeans down my thighs, then grips my ass tightly. I groan, her mouth driving me close to the edge already.

  “Mmm.” Locking my eyes on hers, it takes all the power in me not to fist her hair in my hands and fuck her face until I come. Her mouth feels fucking amazing, but I want more. “As good as your mouth feels, I’d rather come buried deep inside your tight cunt.” Grabbing her arms, I yank her to her feet. Quickly, I tear the clothes from her body before getting rid of my own. “Time to shower.”

  Slamming my mouth to hers, I navigate us into the bathroom. Urging her legs around me, I press her back to the wall as I fumble blindly to get the water going. The spray is cold at first, making Ro yelp into my mouth. Not able to wait another second, I grab her hip and slam her onto my cock. Breaking our kiss, she throws her head back, crying out my name as warmer water begins spraying down on us.

  “Fuck,” I grunt, gripping the back of her neck with my other hand. “You feel so damn good.” Burying my face in her neck, I bite and suck at her sensitive skin. Her fingers fist in my hair, yanking harder with each thrust of my hips. My crazed grunts, and her sexy as hell moans echo off the walls of the room, driving a hunger inside me that I can’t ignore. Even if I wanted to.

  “Jensen!” Ro cries out, clawing at my back. I fucking love it.

  “Goddamn hellcat,” I hiss, tightening my grip on her and leaning back to meet her eyes. “Your pussy was made for my cock.” Ro moans low in her throat, her eyes fluttering open to meet mine, the green dark and intense. “You’re all mine, Roanne,” I grunt, feeling her body clamp down on me. “Say it.”

  Her face hardens, fire igniting in her eyes. “Fuck me,” she pants, gripping my shoulders tightly.

  Slowing my hips, I pull back until only the tip of my cock is still inside her. “Fucking. Say. It,” I roar, emphasizing each word with slow, hard thrusts of my hips. “Or,” I taunt, arching my brow. “I’ll make you scream it.”

  Shifting our bodies, I slide my hand down and grip her ass while the fingers of my other hand tighten at the back of her neck. Then I drive into her hard. Roanne’s eyes roll into the back of her head, her moans quickly growing louder and louder. I feed on every pleasure filled scream like a goddamn starving man. My body aches for release as every ounce of fight leaves her body. “Ah! Fuck!” she screams, her body shaking against mine. “I’m yours, okay! I’m yours. Please, Jensen.”

  Releasing her neck, I slam my hand to the wall, cracking the tile. “Again.”

  “Oh God,” she moans breathlessly. “I’m yours.”

  Slamming my mouth to hers, I lose myself in her taste as she surrenders to everything I do to her beautiful fucking body. My hips pump violently as I go over the edge with her. Her body sags back to the wall when I still inside of her. Breaking our kiss, my lips trailing over her jaw until I reach her ear. “All fuckin’ mine.”

  The woman who has starred in every erotic fantasy I have ever had, falls apart in my arms. The reality of hearing her say those words is so fucking much better than anything I have ever imagined. The years without her in my life have done nothing to lessen how much I want her. If anything, now that I have had her, the need has only intensified.

  Easing Roanne to her feet, I take my time exploring every inch of her with my hands and mouth as we get cleaned up. By the time we are out and dried off, the toll the day has taken on her is showing again. She yawns, her eyes beginning to droop. Getting settled in bed, I brush my lips over her forehead. “Get some sleep.”

  Pulling the blankets up over her body, I wrap my arms around her once she settles, pulling her body back into mine. Burying my nose in her hair, I breathe her in, my mind already beginning to work out how the fuck I am going to keep her in my bed once this shit is all fucking over.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Roanne

  One Week Later.

  Amid trying to process everything my father has kept from me, I have been working to manage the changes in my life. There have been several times where I have had to go down to Frazier Stone to handle some sort of issue that the damn lawyers said was of ‘vital importance for the good of the business’. All it really meant was they needed a damn signature from myself or Jensen on a ridiculously huge stack of forms in order to proceed with the plans they already made.

  I have also learned that Jensen meant every word he said while nearly fucking me through the wall of his shower. I woke the next morning, quickly realizing that everyone in the clubhouse had been informed of my claimed status. Anyone who wore the Mayhem patch, or has any association with the club at all, knows I belong to him. According to Shy, this was huge. It means I am untouchable. And if anyone has the balls to come after me, they would meet the wrath of the entire damn club.

  Hearing Jensen call me his is unreal. My heart leaps each time a possessive growl leaves his lips. Over the last few days, I have noticed how people see him. Stone is respected. Everything about him, and the way he carries himself, demands it. And, everything in me, lives to push his buttons.

  That usually ends with me screaming his name into the mattress.

  As great as that is, there are times, I find myself doubting if any of this shit is even real. Or wondering how I can realistically expect it to last. It’s almost as if I could wake up at any second and find this all to be a dream. I find myself gorging on every ounce of him, desperate for every second of his touch, of his taste, that I can get until it is over and I lose him all over again.

  I need Jensen. Always have. Even as a child, I always felt as if he were my other half. We fit together seamlessly. Then, when he left to join the club, the void he left behind was something I hid from the world. Especially my father.

  Now, I feel completely turned inside out. While parts of me want to get lost in Jensen and enjoy having him back in my life again, I can’t help hesitating. There is still so much up in the air. My worry for my father and the guilt I feel at not being able to find or help him, are weighing up against the betrayal and hurt I feel for what he has kept from me. The lies are the hardest part to wrap my head around. I feel like I have lived in the dark for so long, then someone flipped a light switch, illuminating things that I never saw coming, but were right in front of my face. I have a head full of questions and no one giving me straight answers.

  Mostly because there are none.

  Agent Laswell and Detective Ashmead assure me they are working as hard as they can, but still have no solid leads on my father’s whereabouts. With each call, they feel the need to ask if I feel threatened by the club, or Jensen, in any way. I find the entire situation laughable. I can’t help feel like they are spinning their heels in the hopes that I will give them something to implicate the club in my father’s disappearance. Jensen is reassuring, doing all he can to keep my spirits up. He tells me not to l
ose hope, and that he and the club are determined to find my father alive.

  The unknown is driving me insane.

  One positive, that has come from Jensen’s declaration, is it somehow gives me more freedom. Even if only on the compound. I have only been allowed to leave with Jensen, himself, or when absolutely necessary, with Schrader and D.A. as my escorts. It is frustrating to say the least, but arguing about it is basically useless. I know deep down that it is all to keep me safe. Over the last few days, if I am not helping Shy with meals, or Jensen isn’t taking out his frustrations on my body in the best ways I have ever felt, I am digging into financial records along with mounds of files and paperwork with Jinks.

  The things he can do from behind his computer screen are impressive as hell. Though, alongside him, I can hold my own. Between tracking his car and bank records, every move Hank Wright has made has been meticulously documented.

  Then the trail goes cold.

  Leaving us pretty much clueless on where they are keeping my father.

  “There has to be more to this shit,” Jinks huffs. Turning away from his computer screen, he scrubs a hand over his face. “There’s no fucking way our trail’s goin’ dead with this piece of shit. I’ll give him credit, he’s dirty as hell. Cheap materials, paying off inspectors to cut corners, this guy is stellar as fuck, man. Building for pennies on the dollar, while pocketin’ some sick profits. Of course, I could turn this shit into the Fed prick sniffin’ at your skirt tail and put Wright away for twenty-five-to-life, but—”

  “That does fuck all for my dad,” I finish for him, swallowing hard.

  “You got it,” Jinks nods. Spinning back to face the screen, he laces his fingers, cracks his knuckles and rolls his neck. “Time to keep diggin’.”

  “Think of it like pussy,” Schrader says, tossing some take-out bags on the table. Dropping to the chair beside me, he props up his boot covered feet on my legs and smirks. “It’s all about findin’ your groove and nailin’ that sweet spot,” he adds, thrusting his hips.