Their Fierce Love (Motorcycle Clubs Book 10)

by Goode, Ella

  “Who is it?” she asks. “Or is it none of my business?”

  “Course it’s your business. You’re going to live here and you have a right to know what’s going on.” To a certain extent. Some of the club stuff is for members only. “This late? It’s got to be about the club.”

  She looks relieved which tells me that she thought it might be a woman. I chuck her on the chin and then point to the towel on the hook next to the shower. “I’d prefer to be in here, scrubbing you down but I need to see what’s going on. You going to be okay?”

  A lot of heavy emotional stuff just went down and we should be cuddling in the bed instead of getting our leathers on.

  “I’ll be fine. Go on.” She makes a shooing gesture with her hands and draws the shower curtain shut. My dick twitches when I hear her start to hum and I see the shadow of her body start moving under the water but I got no time for this. I give my groin a slap and walk out.

  In the entry, my club president is explaining something that Michigan isn’t taking well. He looks angrier with each passing second.

  “What’s going on?”

  Judge turns to me. “We’ve got a small situation. Your girlfriend’s father has called the police and accused you of kidnapping her. Since she’s in your shower and I assume injury-free, it makes sense for her to go back home tonight and try to work it out with her father. Those charges will get dropped.”

  “No.” Michigan folds his arms across his chest. Has he ever said no to the Prez before? I can’t think of a single time.

  Judge doesn’t take it personally. “The local chief of police has it in for us.”

  “Was that before or after we took a tire iron to his arm and made it mincemeat?” I say. Judge had Michigan and me accompany him when he punished Chief Schmidt for trying to fuck with Pippa and for getting his son put away for three years.

  “Since his head shoved its way out of his momma’s cunt,” Judge replies. “He was born stupid and growing up made him meaner, not smarter. Look, it’s for one night.”

  “I don’t like sending her home to her father.” I rub my chin. “He’s an asshole.”

  “Don’t doubt it, but you guys can be brought up on kidnapping charges and sit in the city jail tonight or Annie can go home, pack her things and move out. Pippa says that Annie’s planning on getting a new apartment anyway. Besides, I need you to go back to Minneapolis. That MC you were checking out for me got in some trouble and I need you to straighten it out.”

  “I don’t like it,” I repeat.

  “No,” says Michigan.

  Judge sighs. “You think he hurts her?”

  Michigan and I exchange a look and then he steps back, exhales and drops his defensive stance. “No.” He shakes his head. “What do you think?” he asks me.

  “I think it’s better that neither one of us is in jail if we want to take care of Annie,” I answer.

  “Then if she’s not in physical danger, she needs to go see her old man and either they’ll work out whatever conflict they have or she tells him to go to hell. By the time you’re back, it’s yesterday’s news and you can go on with,” he waves his hand, “whatever you got going on here. We got trouble back at Minneapolis. I need you to go up there and clean the house. Two of the fools got caught on a weapons charge and according to Junior they've got three safe houses full of stash. Wrecker and Abel will drive the cage. I want you to meet with Junior and then go clean out those houses.”

  “Are we eliminating them?” Michigan asks. He doesn’t care and neither do I. We just want to know what kind of tools to bring.

  “Nah, they don’t know shit about us. It’s Junior whose ass is on the line. I promised his old man I’d watch out for him, not the club.”

  “We bringing all the stuff back here? Is any of that hot?” Michigan asks.

  “Yeah, I don't want any of this near the granary. You guys should take this up to Detroit Lakes.”

  “Fuck, that's like four hours away.” I frown.

  “That going to be a problem?”

  “No, but it would be nice if you and Pip would keep an eye on Annie.”

  “She your girl now?”

  “Yeah. We’ll make our claim during our next church but for now you can spread the word informally. We were trying to keep it on the down low because of who her father is but I guess that’s moot now.”

  “What? Do you mean to tell me that Pastor Bloom isn’t excited about the two of you debauching his precious daughter? Color me surprised.”

  “Speaking of Annie, I think that she will do a good job as your office manager.” If she’s moving out, then she needs a job right now.

  “Are you saying that or is your dick saying that?” He points to my groin.

  “No, he's right,” interjects Michigan. “She’s been working as a church secretary for the last four years. She keeps their books, does all their brochures and shit. Does customer service shit.”

  Judge looks interested. “Yeah, okay, it sounds like she could do the job. I'll touch base with her while you're gone. Have her come over to the office to see if she feels comfortable there and whether there's anything that we got going on that she can't do.”

  “You want to tell her or should I?” I ask Michigan. His eyes darken and I can see him getting angry again. “I’ll do it.”

  He gives me a short nod.

  When I reach the bathroom, Annie’s done showering. It’s mouse quiet in there. I wonder how much, if any, of the conversation she heard. Giving a quick tap of warning, I twist the knob. Annie’s sitting on the toilet wearing her wrinkled tan skirt and a fresh shirt. Her backpack is resting against the sink cabinet.

  “I heard my name. Is something wrong?” Her voice is a little trembly. I curl my hands into fists I’d like to shove into her father’s face.

  “Your old man doesn’t like that you’re here. He’s gone to the police and reported that we kidnapped you.”

  She sucks in a shocked breath and covers her mouth. “Oh no! I’ll leave right away.”

  Everything we built tonight is threatening to fall apart. I grab her pack and shoulder it before she can pick it up. “Baby, it doesn’t matter to us who your old man is or what he does to us. What matters is what we feel for each other. Now you love us, right?”

  She nods miserably, her lashes sparkling in the harsh bathroom light from unshed tears. “We said we love you and I can promise you we haven’t said that to any other woman.”

  “I believe you.” She stands up and rises on her tiptoes to press her lips against my cheek. “I’m going to go home tonight, pack and tell Father I’m moving out.”

  “Good. Michigan and I have to go to Minneapolis so I’m giving you my key. Make yourself at home. Just dump my shit on the floor and we’ll rearrange stuff later.”

  I give her a slight push and follow her as she walks down the hall. My dick stirs in my jeans as I watch the slight sway of her tight ass in the skirt. When we get near Michigan, he releases a deep growl.

  Judge shakes his head. “That answers that.”

  “She’s our woman; we’re claiming her.” Michigan pushes his chin out.

  “Great.” He slaps his hand on Michigan’s shoulder and then mine. “Saddle up and call me when it’s all taken care of.” He points his finger at Annie. “Pippa’s outside and can give you a ride home.”

  “Sorry you had to come here this late,” she mumbles. Her face is a fiery red.

  “It’s no big deal. Club’s a family and we watch after our own. You do your part tonight and we’ll take care of you. I’ll give you guys a few minutes.” Judge walks out.

  “A bunch of fools from that club we were just at in the Cities got into some trouble and we need to run up there and take care of business. We should be back tomorrow night.” I pull the key off my chain I have hooked to my belt loop and press it into her hand.

  Michigan holds her first, burying his head in her hair and squeezing her so tight I’m worried she can’t breathe. “I can’t kiss you,
sweetheart, because if I press my lips against your sweet mouth, I’m not going to stop.”

  He gives her another squeeze and then passes her off to me. I do kiss her, tonguing her deep and long until we’re both panting.

  “Fuck it.” Michigan pulls her back into his arms and plants a hard kiss on her mouth.

  When he releases her, her cherry red lips are smiling.

  “You be in our bed, wearing nothing but our cuffs tomorrow night,” Michigan orders.

  “All right.” She gives us both two more quick pecks against our cheek and then trips out the door to climb into Pippa’s little red car.

  Wrecker and Abel, a prospect, show up about thirty minutes after Judge leaves. Wrecker is Judge’s son and is probably coming along to tell the dumb folks to shut up and stay locked up tight and in three years they’ll be out. Wrecker served three for involuntary manslaughter for defending a local who’d been attacked by a skinhead from a white supremacist biker group from up north. Should’ve been fucking self-defense and no charges but Schmidthead—Chief Schmidt—saw an opportunity to bring pain on the Death Lords MC, Judge specifically, and got the city attorney to bring charges when the county wouldn’t. On advice of counsel, they pled that shit down to involuntary and Wrecker did three years. He came out of it fine and as long as these punks kept their shit locked up tight, they’d be welcome in most any MC around. Loyalty means a lot in the brotherhood. That Abel is being sent with him means that Judge is getting ready to patch him in.

  You don’t trust shit like this to a prospect.

  From the gleam in this serious former Marine’s eyes, he knows it.

  “Ready?” I ask.

  “Always,” he says. We both know we’re talking about more than the trip up to the Cities.

  “Guess we’ll be having a big party one of these days.”

  A new patch is celebrated with liquor and fucking. I nudge Michigan and he gives me a small smile. We are both imagining Annie’s wild-eyed delight at that scene. She’d be hot and wet after the first five minutes. Hell, she’ll probably come from us just telling her about it. Like me, there’s a little part of her that likes to watch. She doesn’t want to show off to any of these assholes, but she doesn’t mind taking it all in. Thirsty and greedy little puss.

  “Hope so,” is all Abel says. He’s a good one, all right.

  “How’d you ever make it as a Marine, Easy?” Wrecker asks as we strap our packs onto the bike. This time we aren’t carrying around extra clothes, assless chaps, and silky lingerie. We’ve got guns, IDs and cash. “Seems to me that if you smile, you’re kicked out.”

  “Don’t judge the entire branch by these two humorless assholes,” I joke. “We’ve got plenty of dumb jokesters like yourself.”

  “This humorless asshole kept you alive, fucker,” Michigan taunts.

  “True story.” I grin and swing one leg over Amber Whiskey. “I’m done gossiping if you are, ladies.”

  “Ride on, brother.” Wrecker knocks his forearm against mine. Michigan climbs onto his bike and we lead the way with Wrecker and Abel following in the truck behind us.

  When we arrive in Minneapolis, we park our bikes at a motel in Eagen and climb into the back of the four-door cab that Wrecker had driven up. Riding our lowriders past a suspected motorcycle club gang is like waving a red flag in front of a bull.

  Might as well hang a sign on the back of our cuts saying “arrest us.” I give Wrecker the instructions to Junior’s crash pad and he takes off.

  “Kind of ingenious to have the clubhouse in the middle of a bunch of run-down college rentals,” Wrecker comments.

  “No doubt. No one can complain here about noise late at night and coming and going of people at all hours.”

  “How’re we playing this?” Wrecker asks. Abel’s silent and won’t likely say a word tonight. This is his last test and he’s determined to pass it.

  “Junior’s in charge. I’m not sure if the two guys that got picked up acted under his orders or whether they’re wild cards trying to gain control after his old man’s death. We got to figure out if Junior’s worth the investment. If he is, then we clean out his stashes and hold them for him, minus a little protection fee.”

  “I never met Junior. How old is he?”

  “About twenty-five.”

  Wrecker shakes his head. “Twenty-five and he’s still Junior?”

  “Once you get a road name, that’s all you’re ever going to be called. Remember that asshole Taco from the Bedlam Butchers?”

  “Yeah, ‘Taco’ sucks. So you guys are seeing Annie Bloom, huh?”

  “Yup. What do you know about her? Didn’t you go to school with her?”

  “She was a year ahead. I don’t know much about her. She didn’t run with my crowd. She was quiet, kept to herself. She’s okay-looking, I guess.”

  “Right, because women who have supermodel bodies are always just okay,” Abel interjects.

  “Why, Abel, are you crushing on our girl?” I say.

  “No, but saying Annie Bloom is okay is like saying a three-week aged steak is ‘good’.”

  “I don’t know,” Wrecker complains. “She’s always wearing shit clothes. How can you even tell what kind of body she has under those big skirts and sweaters?”

  “You keep thinking that, Wrecker,” Michigan scowls. “And just because you’re about to be patched in, Abel, doesn’t mean I can’t and won’t kick the shit out of you if I catch you thinking about Annie without any clothes on.”

  Abel gives a nod of acknowledgment while Wrecker rolls his eyes.

  “You ever heard of Pastor Bloom being weird to her?”

  “Like what?”

  “Hurting her or anything?”

  “No, why?” He swivels around. Abel grabs the wheel as the truck lurches toward the ditch.

  “Glad that a girl getting beat by her old man riles you up but don’t kill us in the process,” Michigan warns.

  “Fuck, sorry.” He straightens out. “I’ve never heard a word about Annie being beaten or something. She lives with her old man so he must not be all bad.”

  Something about him just doesn’t sit right with me, but I’ve got nothing but my gut. There isn’t warning smoke or innuendo or rumor so I’ve just got to settle down.

  “I can’t see a pastor’s kid at one of our mashes,” Wrecker admits.

  “This is where your youth and inexperience shows,” I say wryly. “It is always the quiet ones.”

  Abel and Michigan start laughing which is good because by the time we get to the clubhouse, we’re enjoying ourselves and so when we pass the unmarked cop car four houses down, we look like ordinary guys out for a drive instead of four bikers checking out the scene.

  The house is shut down and there is no activity inside. I call Junior. “We’re here. Let’s meet up.”

  “Thank fuck,” he breathes. He gives me the name of a strip club in Inver Grove Heights, south of the Cities.

  Wrecker turns the cage around. We’re tired and ornery by the time we reach the Diamond Lounge. Wrecker wants to be home with his girl and we want to be back for Annie. Don’t know who Abel’s fucking; don’t really care.

  Everything about the Diamond Lounge but its name is cheap and worn out, from the rotted wooden floors to the old woman dancing on the stage to the sad asses in the chairs in front of the sagging stage.

  “Shit, I got to take a picture of this,” Wrecker exclaims. “Chelsea isn’t going to believe that a place this bad even exists.”

  I spot Junior in the corner and the four of us join him and his friend and get down to business.

  Chapter Eight

  Annie

  “Thanks for driving me home,” I tell Pippa as she pulls up to the parish house.

  “It’s no problem,” she says cheerfully. “I’m happy to do it.”

  “Really?” I raise a skeptical eyebrow. “It’s nearly midnight. Wouldn’t you rather be in bed with Judge?”

  “Really, Annie.” She smiles. “I’m happy
that you’re getting out. Do you need help tomorrow?”

  I shake my head. “No. I don’t have much, but thank you.”

  “Will you have a problem with your dad?”

  I look at the parish house. Every room seems dark but the front room where a lamp beside Father’s reading chair is lit. He’s likely sitting in it, waiting for me. “Yes, but maybe we can work something out. I love him and he loves me, in his own way.”

  “Call me if you need anything.” She reaches over and squeezes my hand.

  I step out of the car and wipe my palms against my skirt. When the entry light turns on and Father appears in the doorway, Pippa waves at me and backs out.

  I run up the stairs of the front porch and turn the knob but the door doesn’t open. Father stares at me through the sidelight.

  “The door is stuck,” I say and jiggle the knob. He doesn’t break his stare not even when he turns the lights off. I still see the shape of him behind the light.

  “Father!” I’m bewildered. He’s standing there. I can see him. He must know the door is locked or jammed. “The door’s stuck. I can’t open it.”

  I dig in my purse and pull out my keys but the key doesn’t fit anymore. I jam the key in but it skids across the shiny metal surface. The very shiny, very new metal surface. I’m frantic and disbelieving so I try key after key until I stick the last one in and it sticks but I can’t turn it. I raise my eyes to the shadowed figure. “Did you change the locks?” I cry. I don’t understand why he’s doing this. I knew he’d be mad, but lock me out of the house?

  The figure is silent, condemning. Long minutes pass as we stare at each other in the dark, through the glass sidelight.

  He finally speaks and despite the barrier I can hear him clearly. He’s always been good at projecting his voice. “You’re behavior suggests you no longer wish to be part of my household; therefore you are no longer allowed access.”

  “But…where will I go tonight?”

  “Why don’t you pray about that and perhaps we can discuss this in the morning.”