Calming the Riot

by Karen Renee

  Calming the Riot

  A Riot MC Novel

  Copyright © 2019 Karen Renee

  All Rights Reserved.

  License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return to Smashwords.com or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Cover by 100Covers.com

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  Playlist

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Epilogue

  Sneak Peek at Foolish Riot

  Other Books by Karen Renee

  About Karen Renee

  Connect with Karen Renee

  Dedication

  For Barbara M.

  Thanks for all of your support. You’re the best mother-in-law a girl could ask for!

  Acknowledgments

  Thank you to my readers! None of this would be possible without you, for that I’ll always be grateful!

  A heartfelt thank you to my beta-readers, you ladies are the best. Your continued support means so much to me. Thanks to Jenn H. for insisting that Stolen Dance remain on the playlist…you were right!

  Amber K., I hope you appreciate a certain character who comes into the story two-thirds of the way in…sorry, I couldn’t work her in sooner!

  Thanks to Jenny for your enthusiastic editing skills.

  Thank you to my husband, son, and all of my family. Putting up with me and my writing schedule means more than you’ll ever know.

  Playlist

  HANDS ALL OVER by Maroon 5

  I’LL BE THERE (70’S DELIGHT VERSION) by Seductive Souls

  BARITA by VORTEX

  THE SUMMER (Original) [Featuring Ceppa Luv] by DJ Pippi & Tuccillo

  HIPPIE CHICK by Soho

  FAIRYTALE by Milky Chance

  NOTHING HOLDING ME BACK by Shawn Mendes

  VOODOO by Godsmack

  NOBODY CRIES ALONE by Michael Franti

  BOB ROSS REMIXED: THIS IS YOUR WORLD by John D. Boswell

  CHOUPIQUE TWO STEP by The Balfa Brothers

  STOLEN DANCE by Milky Chance

  CHAPTER ONE

  Liar

  Jim "Liar" Huntley pulled into a tiny parking lot of a nondescript building. It was almost too nondescript for his tastes. It was an errand for his brother, Vamp. Liar was a member of the Riot MC, and he was patched in just two days prior. Luckily the hangover was finally gone, but damn that had been a good party. Normally this was something a prospect would have handled, but Liar was willing to do Vamp a solid since the massage office in Orange Park was on his way to another errand he needed to handle in Fleming Island.

  Liar swung off of his Harley and walked up a narrow sidewalk to the front of the business building. The doors were all glass fronted with Venetian blinds. He found the door for Warm Vibes massage and walked inside. An incredibly strong smell of lavender with a possible hint of mint invaded his sinuses upon entry. The aroma immediately reminded Liar of his mother, who died when he was five. A woman, who Liar assumed was the massage therapist, was standing in a corner with her back to him and she was wearing lavender scrubs as if she was a hygienist. Her dark hair was gleaming down her back in waves. Her ass was out toward him as she wrestled with a folded chair-like contraption used for massages. The sight of her ass caused all thoughts of his mother to vanish. If her ass was any indicator of the rest of her, Liar expected her to be phenomenal. When she turned around, he was not disappointed.

  She finally managed to stow the chair in the corner of the reception area, and she turned around smiling at him. Looking into eyes of onyx, Liar had to think of anything to keep himself from hardening. He didn't remember any chick having such an instant impact on him — not even cheerleaders at his high school when he was a very horny teenager.

  Everything about her was top notch. Full lips, minimal make-up, gleaming white teeth, and clear pale skin. Her tits might have been fake, but he damn sure didn't care. They were large, and he wanted to touch them. His hands were bigger than other men's hands, and Liar struggled to find a decent woman whose tits would fit his hands. The club skanks had very large tits, which were nearly always fake, but none of those women were the least bit decent. Fake or real, Liar was practically certain this chick had the tits for him. The problem was he couldn't go there.

  He couldn't go there for two reasons. First, she was stratospherically out of his league. Secondly, he was here because of his club. Specifically, because the old lady of his club's President had recommended this woman's services to his brother Vamp. He heard Jackie talk about how good her friend was at massage. It wouldn't go over well for him to piss off Jackie, and by extension Volt, because he hit on her phenomenally top-notch friend. The problem for Liar was that this wasn't going to be a quick trip. Vamp had always had a diabolical way of making him eat shit as a prospect. Now that he'd earned his patch, Liar had thought that would no longer happen. He thought wrong because unknowingly Vamp had made this worse for Liar. Vamp insisted that Liar ask for a tour of the facility as well as buy a one hundred dollar gift certificate for massage services. Liar did not want to spend any more time with this hot, hot woman. He damn sure needed to get away from the sickly-sweet smell of lavender that all but hung in the air. Liar always hated to be reminded of what he couldn't have, and that damn lavender scent brought to mind two women he would never have.

  ***

  Late that afternoon, Liar made his way to the room where the Riot MC held their weekly sessions of church. He was ten minutes early because he needed to give Vamp the gift certificate. Then he could stop thinking about that damn woman. He hoped.

  Once Vamp sat down at the table, Liar slid the certificate his way.

  “Set up okay, man?” Vamp asked.

  “Yeah,” Liar grunted.

  Volt strolled in and saw the certificate. “That to Andrea’s place?” Liar and Vamp nodded. Volt speared Vamp with a look. “Of course the set up’s okay. She’s good people. Why’d you send Liar in there to bust her chops?”

  Other brothers were trickling into the room, but Liar chuckled. “Figured it was one last prospect rite of passage. Harder on me than it was on her, I’m sure.”

  “Got hard, huh?” Rage asked sitting down next to Liar.

  Before Liar could respond, Cal boomed, “Enough jackin’ your jaws and bustin’ balls.”

  Volt sat at the head of the oval table. “All right. First, welcome to your first session of church, Liar and Razor. The first order of business pertains to the Leathernecks. Seems Prank’s
been makin’ noise about Bush’s death. He’s been hassling the Sheriff’s office about it being a set up against Marco.”

  Razor was seated across from Liar, but he looked to Volt. “Ain’t no way they’re givin’ a guy like Prank the time of day, are they?”

  Volt settled back in his chair. “Don’t know that, but the point is you two, in particular, better stay sharp. Would not surprise me if Prank came after one or both of you. Cops got jobs to do, so either one of you might find yourself being questioned is my guess.”

  Liar slung an arm over the back of his chair. “Bring it on, I say. Only gun I own is a hunting rifle.”

  Major was sitting to Razor’s left, and his eyes bulged at Liar. “Don’t tell me a hot piece moved through the Hock pawn shop.”

  Rage muttered, “Only hot piece to move through there was Melissa and she’s been gone a long damn time now.”

  Tension filled the air at the mention of the former club slut, Melissa.

  Patch spoke up. “Aren’t the ’Necks out for blood on Bush’s behalf?”

  “Word on the street is that they aren’t. ‘Course, that word comes from some of their club skanks, so I’m not convinced. We should all stay sharp,” Blood said in his gravelly voice.

  Volt changed the topic. “We’re still trying to grow membership. Got a request from a brother in the Biloxi chapter to join us. Liar, hear you know him. He’s some sort of Beast?”

  Jim gave Volt a side eye. “Beast’s called that the same way I’m called Liar. He makes PB over there look like an ugly-ass mug.”

  “Didn’t know you swung that way, Liar.” Rage put in.

  “Fuck off, cocksucker,” Jim muttered.

  Andrea

  I stood up after fighting with the folding massage chair. I really needed to get a new one or find a different place to stow it. This was ridiculous because it took me a good ten to twenty minutes to put the damn thing away every time I went to a health fair or anywhere else to garner new business. I turned around knowing someone had come in because the security chime had dinged.

  I was a little surprised because not ten minutes ago I returned from a local health fair at the YMCA. It wasn’t unusual for me to get the occasional walk-in, but for it to happen so soon after I unlocked my shop was strange. I wanted to gasp when I set eyes on someone who made me need to knead. It only took one look at this gorgeous man for me to know down to my bones that I desperately wanted to run my hands all over his well-toned physique. I was completely taken by his muscles. They looked taut even though his arms were just hanging by his side. My eyes wandered down to his hands. Those hands seemed muscled too with veins standing in stark relief. His fingers were thick, and it reminded me of my Dad’s hands and fingers. It also reminded me of some exercises we did in massage therapy school. Massage of hands could be very therapeutic and sensual. I really wanted to work on his hands.

  My covetous thoughts were interrupted when he said, “Never thought I’d say this, but eyes up here.”

  Oh hell! My eyes darted to his, and I realized his face was just as appealing as the rest of him. The hair on his head was a deep shade of auburn and appeared to be growing out from a severe military haircut. His eyes were a warm shade of brown under his russet eyebrows. With such angular bone structure, his cheeks seemed almost hollow, but even though he was fair skinned, I could tell he spent a fair amount of time outdoors. The smirk curving his lips told me he thought I was eying his groin. This was not the best way to deal with a prospective customer.

  “Is there something I can help you with?”

  He looked around my small lobby area and back to me. “Need a gift certificate for a hundred bucks.” He hesitated a beat and added, “And, I’m gonna need a tour of your facility.”

  I didn’t have a good feeling about a ‘tour.’ Most people asking for gift certificates knew what they were doing.

  “A tour?” I asked.

  “Yeah. See your set up. What kind of environment a chick will be in when she gets her massage.”

  A chick. Well, that was typical. A guy like him would certainly have someone special in his life. No smart, red-blooded woman would let a guy like him slip through her fingers. Nothing for it, I decided to go fishing for information.

  “Okay. Are you paying by cash, check or cred—”

  His thick index and middle fingers held a folded Benjamin directly in my line of sight. It was borderline rude the way he did it. With a fair amount of concentration, I grasped the bill without grazing his fingers with mine. I looked into his eyes and smiled. Pulling open the top drawer on my desk, I filled out one of my fancy, heavy card-stock lavender gift certificates.

  “Uh, will this woman in your life want—”

  “She’s not in my life.”

  I furrowed my eyebrows at him. He exhaled, and it sounded annoyed. “It’s my brother’s woman who’ll be comin’ in here.”

  “Oh. All right, well, does she want just a massage or will she want a hot stone massage? A hundred dollars covers a variety of services here.”

  Suddenly, I saw the insides of those lovely hands since he held them palms out to me. “I don’t know, lady. I just need the certificate and to see your place.”

  I quickly scrawled a note in the certificate stating it was good for any form of massage but excluded body wraps. Those jokers were time-consuming, messy, and therefore expensive.

  I closed my desk drawer. “I’m sorry, but I’m not set up right now.”

  He sighed and ran his hand through his red hair. “How long’s it take for you to get set up?”

  His irritation was becoming infectious. I took a deep breath to keep myself calm. “Not too long. Ten minutes tops.”

  “Do it,” he demanded.

  I fought against narrowing my eyes at him, and I moved into my massage room to set up.

  Five minutes later, I opened the door to the man. I had dimmed the lights and closed all the blinds in the room. I wasn’t burning my incense because I didn’t like to waste it, and it wasn’t pertinent to him seeing my place. He looked my way, and I swept my right hand in a low arc to point behind me.

  “Right this way, sir.”

  After one step into the room, he grumbled, “You gonna chant ‘ohm’ or some shit?”

  That was pushing it too far. “What’s your name?” I asked.

  “Liar.”

  Excuse me? My right eyebrow threatened to take over my entire vision with confusion. “I’m not lying and besides, how can a question be a lie?”

  He chuckled with only a hint of humor. “My name is, Liar.”

  I took in the leather vest he was wearing and thought of my dear friend Jackie. We hadn’t spoken in a few weeks. I knew she was pregnant and knew she was physically miserable but very excited about the baby. She was married to a biker, who wore a leather vest, except his, had more patches on the front, seeing as he was President of his club. I didn’t have time to dwell on whether this guy was here because Jackie referred him or not. He was irritating me, and if I wasn’t mistaken, he was making fun of my room. Talking about chanting “‘ohm’ or some shit.”

  “Fine. Liar, I’m not going to chant ‘ohm’ during someone’s massage. This room is set up to encourage maximum relaxation and to shut out the outside world. Especially thoughts of the outside world, which is why the music is always full of relaxing sounds, and it typically plays on a loop. However, if I’m doing my job well, then my clients don’t notice that loop in the span of their one-hour appointment. If those are all the questions you have, I’ll leave you in this room to inspect it. The certificate is on my desk, if this ‘set up’ is not what you have in mind, then I’ll gladly give you back your money.”

  A few minutes later Liar stepped out of my studio. He snatched the certificate off the desk. “Thanks for your time. Appreciate it.”

  “You’re more than welcome. Sorry if I was snippy. I just don’t like people making assumptions.”

  “No worries, babe. Have a good day.”

 
He turned to my door, and I was grateful he was wearing the leather vest over his t-shirt. His derriere filled out his jeans in such a manner; I itched to squeeze the globes of his gluteus maximus. He gently closed the door behind him, and I struggled to remain behind the desk. I wanted to see this man climbing astride his bike. I wanted to see what kind of bike this man rode. Then it hit me with startling clarity. What I wanted was something I hadn’t wanted in a damn long time. I had plenty of wants, as most people do. But this one was different. This want was a need. This need was a man named Liar. God help me, because not only was I gonna need the Big Man’s help, but my gut said this was one need I couldn’t fulfill.

  ***

  Aside from the health fair and Liar’s visit, my day was a slow one. I decided to close up shop at four-fifteen. I shared office space with a psychologist next door and above my suite was Tyler Coalfax, a Certified Public Accountant. Ordinarily, he left everyday at four. Today, he must have been running late because he came down the stairs just as I locked my door.

  “You want a ride home, Andrea?” Tyler asked.

  Tyler was in his late forties and was thick through his waist. His wife was a phenomenal cook from what I could tell. Every December she dropped by with fancy Spritz cookies she made from scratch. I suspected her cooking prowess contributed to his waistline.

  I smiled. “No, but thanks for the offer, Tyler. The heat is finally letting up, so I’ll just walk.”

  His chin tilted to the side. “It’s right on my way, Andrea.”

  “It’s also just across the street. Basically,” I said.

  Lots of people liked to imply that I had a cush job. I always resented that, because it takes a shitload of hustle to make ends meet when one is self-employed. What I would admit was I had a cushy set-up. I lived in a two-bedroom, two-bathroom condo within a block of my office. I set my own hours. I worked five days, typically Tuesday through Saturday, and at least four days per week I walked to work. I was adamant about minimizing my carbon footprint. When I told people I wanted to protect the environment in any way I possibly could, they looked at me like I was completely crazy. I got used to that. Or, more accurately, I didn’t care about that. Making sure the earth was inhabitable when I was old and gray and beyond was far more important than whether anybody thought I was crazy or not.