Kinkaid (Bad Boys of Retribution MC Book 2)

by Warren, Rie

  He was gone now, but she was here.

  The cottage would’ve felt empty without her. She’d stayed since the moment I’d called her, and each night I fell asleep wrapped around her reassuring warmth, knowing I’d wake next to her in the morning.

  Next week arrived and with it my first shift at The Gentleman’s Quarters since Grampa’s death. I showered late in the evening, shaving with care, and getting my gear together in my gym bag.

  I passed through the living room, and Sadie swiveled from her latest painting at the sound of my footsteps.

  “Where are you off to?”

  “I’ve got a shift.” I looped the bag over my shoulder after shrugging into my leather jacket.

  “At Retribution?” She thrust a paintbrush into a Folgers can filled with turpentine.

  “No. The GQ.” I picked my keys up off the coffee table.

  “You what?” The second paintbrush was shot like gunfire into the coffee can.

  What exactly. The GQ, Wednesday night. It was what I did. I needed to return to normalcy.

  “I’m working tonight.” My jaw pulsed and my muscles tensed. I was suddenly faced with a dangerous animal—an angry female.

  “What? You don’t need the money now. It was Grampa Dean’s wish you find something worthy of you!”

  “Maybe you just think I’m not worthy enough for you.” I cornered her, throwing my bag across the floor.

  “Bullshit, Kaid.” She punched me away from her, her loose hair spinning behind her.

  “It’s all I have left!” I shouted.

  Maybe not entirely true, but The GQ was what I knew. They were a sort of family to me. If the MC didn’t make me a member I’d lose that connection, too. There weren’t enough people left in my life I could blindly cut ties, strippers or not.

  Sadie turned sheet white, staring at me.

  “What’s so fucking wrong with dancing?” I loomed over her.

  “It’s not the dancing. Goddamn it!” Barging past me, she thrust her arms into her jacket. “You know what? Forget it. Forget all about me. Us. Maybe if you can get your head out of your own ass for a few minutes, you’ll be so kind as to pack my stuff up and leave it on the porch so I can come get it.”

  “I’m not packing up shit! You can come home if you want it.” I barked after her, stalking her down the hallway.

  She stilled with her hand on the doorknob when I said home. Then, shoulders drawn back and without another look, she stepped outside and slammed the door behind her.

  I listened to her gun gravel on the driveway beneath the tires of her Suzuki. With a scream of her engine, she was gone.

  Too late, waaay too fucking late I realized what I’d said: It’s all I have left.

  Fuck.

  I had her, too.

  Correction: I’d had her.

  Chapter Fifteen

  IT DIDN’T TAKE ME long to figure out how much of a massive dumbass I was this time. Less than an hour and I was on the phone to Micah to cancel my gig that night. Our conversation ended with a gentleman’s agreement.

  My final night dancing at The GQ just happened to fall on Valentine’s Day. The place seethed with wild women looking for a little escapism on this night meant for lovers. I didn’t sweat it. I already knew what was important to me. That was Sadie, no holds barred.

  I’d screwed the fucking pooch with her big time and no way did I deserve a reconciliation. She’d been there for me. Taken care of me. And what had I done in return? Made her feel used.

  Smooth, Kaid, real smooth.

  I’d taken her friendship, her body, her confidence, her comfort, and given nothing in return.

  I was, in fact, a total dick.

  I’d been too blind to get the simple fact she didn’t want me to share my body with a mob of lust-hungry women while I knew for a fact I felt the same about her. I’d castrate any man who laid hands let alone eyes on her.

  We weren’t so different, except she was right and I was wrong. And bull-headed stupid.

  I’d never give myself to anyone but her.

  Fact.

  But I did owe one last thing to Micah, Mamie, and the women who faithfully turned up, show after show, wanting to be seen and needed.

  At the end of my set—I’d done my farewell special repeat performances of The Businessman and The Boxer, virtually back to back—I stood in the center of the stage. Sweat slicked down my body, and the lights came up, coning over Micah and me.

  “I’m going into retirement now.” I laughed into the mic Micah held. “Micah should think about it too.”

  “NOOOO!” Women howled.

  “I got this lady, you see?” I said. “She’s my whole heart and my whole life. And I wanna honor her the way she deserves. I know you’d want your man to do the same thing.”

  “One more dance! One more dance!”

  The chants went up in loud roars while the chicks pounded on their tables.

  Micah looked at me, the Stetson dipped down low over his eyes.

  “One. More.” I agreed.

  The music cued up and started out fast in a grinding gospel groove: “What Makes a Good Man” by The Heavy.

  I jumped off the stage, arms raised. I already knew what made a good man.

  Sadie.

  Dancing into the throng in just the jockstrap I’d finished my boxing number in, I wove through the crowd. The women didn’t touch or grope as they tended to do. This time they danced along with me, raising their hands, shimmying their hips, their shouts loud and their whistles even louder.

  They didn’t rain money on me. Only broad smiles and fun-loving laughter. I gyrated down to the floor, my hair gripped in my hands. My feet slipped and slid across the floor as I rolled back up, my hips hitting side to side.

  The room exploded as the song’s volume increased. Gospel met strip joint. Mamie pulled Micah into the crowd, and Jamal, Jack, and Hiro grooved on.

  I rolled against the bar, accepting a shot of Jack from Rebel-Mae. Downing it, I skated the glass to the other end. Hopping up to dance on top of the bar, I lifted my fingers, beckoning the women to shout, sing, dance. They skirted below me, hips swaying, high fiving each other.

  Smiles spread. Laughter coiled up.

  I felt the effervescent emotion alive inside me.

  I did a backflip on the bar just as the song was ending. Hands shot up all around me, and I put a final spin on the impromptu dance, landing in a split, my balls all but bouncing on the bar. The lights cut out while shouts rose all around me.

  When the lights came back up, I breathed heavily. Sweat shimmered on my body, and I stood with a half bow to the crazed, clapping women. Straightening to my full height, I had a bird’s eye view of the room and what I saw across the sea of ladies almost made me fall off my perch.

  Deep masculine shouts boomed among the usual high-pitched Hell yeahs!

  Oh, shit.

  The Retribution MC dudes were here.

  Big and forbidding, they lined the back wall in sheer muscle and black leather, clapping their hands and ogling me as I stood on top of a bar in the middle of a strip joint with nothing but floss up my ass and my junk barely concealed inside a laced-up jockstrap.

  Boomer. Brodie. Hunter. Cole. Tuck. Tail. Handsome. All the MC officers.

  Fuck me sideways.

  They’d already attracted attention. Honeys sidled up to the rough-looking bunch only to be courteously deflected.

  Hiro, seeing the situation, laughed like a loon when I jumped down to the floor.

  I grabbed his neck, hissing, “Go get me my sweats.”

  My face burning like flames, I took the walk of shame toward the MC gang.

  Can this shit get any worse?

  “So, you’re cut, huh?” Tail’s long black hair swung forward as he squinted down at my crotch.

  Yep. Seems like it can.

  The washed-out white jockstrap was so tight pretty much everything was visible, as Tail had just confirmed.

  “Hell. Never mind that.”
Handsome uttered from behind his thick hair. “I think we should start calling Probie 2.0 here Donkey Dong.”

  The evil dudes didn’t bother to mute their laughter as they pounded each other’s backs at my expense.

  Hiro fucking finally turned up with my pants.

  “What was that Micah said the other night? You work out together, huh?” Tuck looked between Hiro and me, his arms folded on top of his beer keg belly.

  “Gimme those.” I snatched my sweats and stepped into them.

  Jamal strolled over and stood like a big black tower beside Hiro, the two of them grinning so hard their teeth gleamed brightly.

  Dicks.

  “Busted.” Cole unsuccessfully tried to hide a smirk.

  Dickhead.

  “Interesting way to work out. But effective I see.” Brodie scratched his goatee, eyeing my glistening body that rippled with dense muscle.

  “Why are you here?” I crossed my arms over my chest. “Did Sadie tell you?”

  “Sadie had nothing to do with it.” Hunter gripped my shoulder. “I’ve known for quite some time about you and The GQ.”

  Well, that explained a lot, like why he’d always had that calculating gleam in his leonine eyes when he watched me.

  All the Retribution men shifted their stares to him.

  “Undercover, fuckers. Try it, you might like it.” Hunter tapped his forehead. “You have no idea what I’ve got on the rest of you.” He let out a low, dirty laugh, shooting a pointed glance at Cole.

  Hmm. Maybe I wasn’t the only one with deep dark secrets.

  Hunter continued to look pleasantly evil, as was his usual fashion.

  “In that case I hope you plan on looking into your boy Bo too.” Brodie rocked on his feet in Hunter’s direction.

  “No need. He's already been vetted by the US Marines. He's solid.”

  Jamal and Hiro watched the proceedings, elbowing each other and waggling their eyebrows.

  “Will you two fuck off already?” I spun on them.

  “What? This is just gettin’ interesting.” Jamal frowned at me.

  “Better than Days of Our Lives.” Hiro agreed.

  “Yeah, well this is my life. So get lost.”

  The two stomped away, muttering about entertainment value and lack of showmanship.

  “We don’t give a good fuck what you do in your spare time, Kinkaid.” Brodie grinned. “Or should I call you Kinky Kaid?”

  Boomer pushed his brother aside. “But you are a Grade A fuck-up. We couldn’t help but notice you’ve been shit miserable without your girl.” He leaned against the wall and crossed one heavy boot over the other. “Decided it was high time we talked some sense into you.”

  “You couldn’t have just sat me down at Retribution?” I asked, still burning with embarrassment.

  “Where’s the fun in that?” I couldn’t see Handsome’s face through his hair, but I heard the smirk lingering in his voice.

  Hunter joined in. “Wanted to catch you in action.”

  “Yeah.” Tail laid a large hand on my shoulder. “You got some moves, boy. Might need you to show me a few of them.”

  Wouldn’t that be interesting.

  Brodie nudged Tail aside and stood directly in front of me. “So here’s the deal. You’re not getting your Retribution patch until you make good with Sadie, because I’m tired of lookin’ at your mopey face.”

  He was right. And I didn’t need him to remind I felt like an utter schmuck about Sadie. But all the same . . . “You're blackmailing me for it?”

  “Don't be a dick. You want to be a member, and you want Sadie back. I'm doing you a favor, providing the incentive.” Brodie softened his words with a smile.

  I chewed on my lip, considering for a moment before my mouth spread in a grin. “Looks like you owe me that patch.”

  “Huh?” Brodie scratched his goatee, the chunky silver rings glinting.

  “I already decided I’m going after Sadie. This is my last show. Hope y’all got your rocks off.”

  “Well, I’ll be damned.” Boomer clapped his hands together.

  “Go on then. Reckon we’ll stick around for the rest of the numbers.” Brodie led the way to a couple tables front row and center.

  “Y’all are twisted,” I called out after them.

  Boomer turned the same ice cold eyes as Brodie on me, but they warmed when his lips curved up. “Says the exotic dancer.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  MICAH HAD HONORED MY last request and let me be the first act of the night. It wasn’t too late by the time I cleaned up, changed, and hauled ass to Sadie’s.

  But it was Valentine’s Day. I hesitated on my bike, removing my helmet. What if she had a date? What if she had a guy in there right now? I’d have to do something very unfortunate and most likely illegal. Like kick the guy’s face in. Yeah, that’d go over well.

  Happy Valentine’s Day, Sadie. Sorry I murdered your date.

  Man, I was sweating it. I didn’t even know if she’d let me up to see her, let alone listen to anything I had to say. What if I’d fucked up everything beyond repair? I’d decided actions speak louder than words and it being Valentine’s Day I had a special gift in mind. Not flowers or chocolate or jewelry. That wasn’t me, and it wasn’t my girl either. But maybe my plan was stupid. Maybe it would backfire in my face.

  Maybe I needed to make sure I still had a set of balls and the cock to go with them.

  Expelling a deep breath, I straightened my shoulders, punched the button on the intercom, and prepared to be the kind of man Sadie needed.

  “Yes?” Her disembodied voice floated out of the intercom.

  “It’s me, Sadie. Do you think I could come up for a few minutes?”

  Sweating it? Sheeeit. My heart pounded, my palms were damp, my throat dried up.

  I counted the seconds in my head, listening to nothing but silence from the intercom. Thirty seconds. It took her thirty seconds to decide:

  The door buzzed open.

  I was through it like a shot and straight up the stairs. Her door swung open, framing her face. She looked at me with suspicion.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Can you let me in?” My smile quivered around the edges of my lips.

  She opened the door wider and let me pass through.

  “What are you doing here?” she repeated, watching me warily while I shucked off my jacket.

  I wore a black muscle tee and a pair of black leather pants tighter than any she’d ever seen me in before.

  I laughed nervously and ran a hand over my head. “Apologizing the only way I know how.”

  “But, Kaid—” She approached me, her lips turned down.

  I leaned close enough to smell her. Peaches. God, I’d missed that smell. Her hair floated down her back and she obviously hadn’t been on a hot date. She was in one my favorite looks: light blue tank top and no bra—her nipples were noticeable dark circles beneath the cloth—and a pair of matching cotton panties. The metal of her hood piercings shined beneath the material.

  If she hadn’t wanted to encourage me surely she’d have thrown on some more clothes before letting me.

  “Shh.” I pressed one fingertip against her mouth, the smallest contact enough to jolt pleasure through my strung-tight body. “Please. Just give me five minutes. I know you have things you need to say to me, and you probably want to wallop me too. And you can, after.”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay?” My heart filled for the first time in days.

  “Five minutes.”

  “Gotcha.” I got down to business, plugging my iPhone into her speaker dock. The song was already tuned up to play. “Can you sit here?” I carried a chair into the center of the room.

  She frowned at me with a tilt of her head. “Oookay,” she drew out.

  When she sat down, I kneeled in front of her and pulled her hands into mine, kissing the paint-flecked fingers. “I’m done dancing, Sadie.”

  “Kaid, I don’t—” she struggl
ed to free her hands.

  I kept hold of her. “I quit The GQ.” I let her hands go with a final kiss and rose to stand. “No more stripping.” I pressed play on my iPhone and glanced over my shoulder. “Except for you.”

  Her lips popped open and so did her eyes.

  The song started. “If Lovin’ You is Wrong” by Faithless began with a slow beat followed by hot moans and deep groans. I heard Sadie gasp and smiled. Remaining with my back to her, I swiveled my ass then rocked it forward. The song was raunchy, naughty, the tune totally a sexy turn on and so much more.

  “Kaid,” she whispered.

  The heat of her stare drilled into my back. Reaching down to grab the bottom of my shirt, I turned with it drawn up over my flexing abs. Hips circling, I grinded down to the floor. I pumped back up, pulling the shirt higher, teasing one hand over the rope-like muscles of my stomach.

  “Jesus.” Sadie’s bright blue eyes darkened. They followed the path of my roaming fingers, and she licked her upper lip.

  I teased her, dropping the shirt back in place. A wicked half curl lifted my lips as my eyelids lowered half-mast. When she leaned forward, staring unblinkingly, I raised the black shirt all the way up and off. I tossed it aside, dancing to the gritty, dirty beat. The song was all about getting it on, pleasing my girl. The feminine sounds of a woman receiving a nice long fuck filled the background to the lyrics.

  My cock, painfully erect, beat against the incredibly tight leather pants. I prowled toward Sadie. Standing in front of her, I popped the buttons at the waist. Flipping open the front, I gave her a peek of pubes, and she whimpered low in her throat.

  Standing in front of her, I dragged my hand and up and down my cock. The full rod stretched against the leather, and standing next to her chair, I reached for the back of her head. I pulled Sadie’s face, her lips to my cock.

  She didn’t disappoint. Licking and sucking, she twirled her tongue over the swollen leather-encased knob.

  I jerked away. The tease too much, my body too sensitive. Guiding her head back, I licked the long warm path of her neck ending at her lips. Another hot moan from the song joined the one Sadie emitted. She stretched up and connected our mouths and we were kissing, plundering, feasting on each other’s lips.