The Biker's Gift (Royal Bastards MC)

by Landis, Nikki

  After that, it all changed. Suraya was never around much and when she was there wasn’t a lot to say. Secrets, lies, and distance were suddenly there between us for the first time.

  Angry and hurt, I was lonely and susceptible to male attention. I flirted, hung out at the Blacktop after they hired me on, and I began dating the bikers that congregated in the evenings for hard liquor and a good time. That was when I became friends with Trish. She’d known Suraya longer, but our friendship reached a deeper level and quickly grew close in my sister’s absence. Since Suraya had once worked at the Blacktop with Trish, I mistakenly thought it was safe.

  Time would prove how wrong that choice had been.

  Trish was the one who introduced me to the Scorpions and their prez Acid, as well as his V.P. Dawg. They weren’t like the other clubs that visited the bar. There was something dirty and downright sinister about that MC. They were ruthless, cold, and didn’t hesitate to start fights almost every night. Trish often asked for my help behind the bar and the two of us would serve up drinks and try to keep the peace. Not once in all that time did my sister return to the Blacktop. Perhaps it might have changed the horrible future if we had been seen together. I couldn’t help but believe it would have saved her life. Few people knew I had an identical twin. At the time, I didn’t see a problem.

  Those lonely months sped by in a blur until I met Zook. He was tall, handsome, and had a swagger that drew my attention whenever he entered the bar. I fell hard and fast for that Scorpion biker. He was hot and sexy, and he knew just how to get me off. It might have continued that way for a lot longer than a few months if Acid hadn’t interfered. One simple night. A single choice. And my entire life changed.

  The truth was a long, miserable, and heartbreaking story . . .

  Glancing in the mirror, I stared at my reflection and the sad smile that hovered over my lips. Tears filled my eyes but didn’t spill over. In the last six months I’d cried so many tears there weren’t any left anymore. The heartache still lingered in my chest and I could feel the horrible loss of my twin with every breath that I took. My sister’s death had left a jagged tear in my heart. The absence of her presence was felt every moment of every single day. I doubted I would ever truly get over the loss.

  Thinking of my sister led my thoughts back to my best friend. I picked up my cell and dialed Trish, anxiously waiting for her to pick up the line. After about six rings, it went to voice mail. I called back three more times and finally left a cryptic message. She would know to call me when she heard my voice but in case anyone was listening, I asked her about her missing dog and to call me right away since I had information. That was our universal code. If we left that message, then one of us was in trouble and needed help. She should return my call soon.

  Another half hour had come and gone before I began to pace anxiously. Where the hell was that biker? What was taking him so long?

  Flopping back on his bed, I stared up at the ceiling and huffed out an impatient breath. If he didn’t show up soon, I would leave this room and I didn’t give a damn about the consequences. He could kiss my ass. I wasn’t a prisoner. They didn’t know anything about me other than the fact that I was Suraya’s sister. There was no reason to think I was in any kind of danger. And I wasn’t going to wait all night with nothing to eat.

  After I had been in the room nearly three hours, I stood up, lifted my chin, and stomped toward the door. My hand was on the handle when it suddenly turned, and the grumpy biker returned. He shoved his way into the room, nearly knocking me over in the process.

  “Where in the fuck are you going?”

  “Nowhere,” I replied with attitude. “Isn’t that obvious?”

  He frowned, slamming the door shut before he leaned against it, his arms rippling with muscle as he crossed them over his chest. My eyes roamed the black ink, loving the reaper, skulls, and other tattoos that covered nearly every inch of space.

  “I told you to stay put.”

  “And I did.”

  “You were leaving when I opened the door,” he pointed out gruffly.

  “So? I wasn’t staying here forever. I’m hungry. You left almost three hours ago.”

  “When I give an order, I expect it to be obeyed.” His voice was a deep growl, like he was used to giving orders and expecting them to be obeyed without question. There was a prideful arrogance and confidence about him that I didn’t like but couldn’t ignore. Despite the fact that he was being irritating, I found the growling sound sexy as it rumbled through his chest.

  “I don’t follow your orders. And anyway, I’m not staying here long.”

  There wasn’t much of a reaction to my words except for the tightening of his jaw and the hard edge that seemed to settle over his shoulders. He pushed off the door and slowly strode forward. The movement was intentionally intimidating but I didn’t move. Standing my ground, I looked up and into his icy blue eyes, daring him to make me do a damn thing.

  “We need to talk,” he finally replied. “And you won’t be going anywhere until I say so.”

  Resisting the urge to roll my eyes, I blew out a breath and sat down on the edge of the bed. “Well, get on with it.” I might as well find out what he wanted. This conversation was nothing more than a pissing contest and he would make sure he won. I might as well pamper his over-inflated ego long enough to find out what was going on.

  “Where’s Trish?” He seemed happy with the fact that I didn’t try to argue but his question caught me off guard.

  “Huh?”

  “Tricia. The blonde bartender that works at the Blacktop. Where is she?”

  “Home?” I asked, shrugging. “How the hell should I know?”

  “No,” he replied slowly. “She’s not.”

  Shit. What did she do? And why the hell were the Royal Bastards interested in Trish? Her relationship with the prez Grim hadn’t ended well. As far as I knew, there hadn’t been any contact since. “Look, I’m not her keeper, okay?”

  “When is the last time you spoke to her?”

  “Outside of the bar, around nine p.m. or so. She said she was going home.”

  The biker scowled. “You’re sure that’s what time you saw her?”

  “Yeah,” I replied testily. “It was my break.” This guy would be hot as hell if he wasn’t so demanding. Those piercing eyes of his were shockingly pretty, not to mention the chiseled line of his jaw and the beard that was long enough to tickle the insides of my thighs. His dark hair fell over his right eye, thick and straight but not too long, just enough to give him a sensual and dangerous edge.

  “How long have you been working at the Blacktop?”

  “Almost a year now.” I didn’t see why this was important. “Does it matter?” I stood up, brushing my hands over my black yoga pants. “Could I speak to your prez? He knew my sister.”

  A snarl ripped from between the biker’s lips as he bolted forward, slamming us both against his bedroom wall. “Why would you need to talk to my prez?”

  Holy fuck. This guy was psycho. And he had a temper. “Listen,” I gulped, realizing I still didn’t know his name. “I just want to ask if I can hang out until I can contact my friend to pick me up. I need food and a place to lay low for a few days. I can’t go back to the Blacktop after what happened.”

  Remember the dead fucking bikers, asshole?

  He blinked, keeping a tight grip on my wrists as they pressed against the cold wall. “Why?” he asked, his voice low and strained. “Why now?”

  I didn’t understand his meaning. “I’m scared,” I admitted. The Scorpions already killed my sister and threatened Trish. If they knew I was alive, they’d kill me too. There was no way I was going back to the Blacktop. I needed to find Tricia and get as far from Tonopah, Nevada as possible.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” he murmured, his head lowering until our eyes locked. “You look just like her, smell just like her. Fuck, you’re her goddamn ghost.”

  My sister? “I don’t –”

 
My sentence was never finished. Warm lips cut off my words as they crashed down on my own, dominating and owning my surrender as he viciously stole my resistance. Heat pooled in my core at the same moment bright bursts of light seemed to explode in front of my eyes. It was cliché as fuck, but this man could kiss me into submission without hardly trying. In all my life, I’d never been so thoroughly ravaged as our tongues tangled and a low moan ripped from my throat.

  I forgot I didn’t know this man. He was a stranger and his motives were unknown. Stupidly, I completely melted in his arms, clutching at the bulging muscles of his forearms until there was a brief knock and he broke the kiss with a muffled curse.

  “Mr. Whitman? Bodie?”

  Eyes wide, I shoved away from the man who stared down at me with a mixture of surprise and remorse, anger and frustration. Above all, there was a guilt that I didn’t comprehend until this exact moment.

  “Your name is Bodie?”

  He nodded, confirming the worst thing that he could have admitted. A sin so deep I couldn’t hide the devastation that wreaked havoc in my brain.

  Bodie Whitman. The man who stole my twin away. The biker Suraya fell in love with. The reason my sister was dead.

  Chapter 7 – Bodie

  Fuck! I had no clue what possessed me to kiss Sasha.

  It was nothing more than a foolish impulse. A fuckin’ mistake.

  When I entered my bedroom after church, I’d been hellbent on finding out everything I could from Sasha Pratt about Tricia, the Blacktop, the Scorpions, and the attack on the bar after I arrived. All of my good intentions flew out the goddamn door the moment I caught a whiff of her scent – the same shampoo that Suraya used, still stashed in my bathroom and the hint of cinnamon that lingered in the air.

  Worse, all I saw was the woman I had loved and lost, her curvy, sexy body in the same black leggings and t-shirts my Suraya loved to wear. The need to run my hands over every square inch of her skin had dominated my brain along with a visceral and intense desire that mingled with forgotten lust. My brain didn’t see Sasha. All I knew was my own reaction. My cock had hardened to near steel and pressed against my jeans, pulsing with the need to be released. I had to taste this woman, had to hold her in my arms, needed to feel her warm body and soft curves as the memories overrode any ability to stop or second guess my impulsiveness.

  That kiss . . .

  I wasn’t a roses and sunshine kind of guy. You couldn’t pin me down as a romantic. Shit, I fucked hard and I came when I wanted, and I didn’t give a shit about which hole I was fucking in a woman until I met Suraya Pratt. Stunned by her beauty and quick wit, I lost my heart to that sexy goddess so fast it nearly gave me whiplash. Her death rocked my fuckin’ world. I hadn’t been the same since and now I was confronted with an identical twin sister – one that I never knew about – who was tearing me apart just by being alive and breathing.

  I couldn’t do this. It was a goddamn mistake to bring Sasha to the Crossroads. My entire body was tense as I fought the urge to pull her close again.

  “You’re Bodie Whitman?”

  Jaw locking in resignation, I met her accusing glare, knowing I hadn’t revealed who I was yet on purpose. A part of me wanted to avoid the devastation that was so apparent on her face as we faced one another, and I knew was inevitable. “Yeah.”

  “You dated my sister,” she whispered. “You were her boyfriend. She told me your name.”

  Well, at least one of us knew about the other. “Right.”

  A brief flash of anger and loathing crossed her beautiful face. “You’re the reason she’s dead.” The words were whispered with such a menacing calm that it took me a few seconds to catch her meaning.

  “What the fuck? I didn’t kill Suraya.”

  “No, but you might as well have put the bullet in her yourself. It was her association with the Royal Bastards that ended her life.”

  Immediately pissed, I shoved away from Sasha before I did something stupid as another knock pounded my door. “What is it?” I snarled, opening it a few inches. I stared down one of the prospects. The kid was tall and lanky with a mop of brown hair on his head and a slight limp in his right leg. He usually kept to himself unless we gave him an order which earned him the nickname Shadow.

  The prospect jumped slightly and swallowed hard. “Mr. Lanford said I should tell you he’s waiting in the chapel and he’s growin’ impatient.”

  Snorting, I resisted the urge to crack a smile. Mr. Lanford. Grim would have Shadow’s ass if he heard him say that out loud. Our prez didn’t like to be addressed by his last name. Neither did I. “Tell Grim I’ll be there in five minutes.” Not sticking around for a reply, I shut the door and spun around, immediately reminded of my current predicament.

  “Take me with you.”

  Lifting a brow, I nearly laughed. Bring her inside the chapel? No fuckin’ way. “That’s not gonna happen, sweetheart.”

  “I want to talk to Grim.”

  Lip curling up in a snarl, I couldn’t stop my reaction. “That’s not how it works. You’re not leaving this room until I talk to my prez. Get used to the idea because I’m dead fuckin’ serious.”

  “You’re an asshole, Bodie Whitman.”

  Hell, I had been called a lot worse. “That the best you can do, darlin’?”

  “And a murderer.”

  “Watch your accusations,” I rumbled as I resisted the impulse to wrap my hand around her long hair and pull tight, right before I shoved her to her knees. She’d be a lot less mouthy if my cock was shoved down her pretty, delicate throat.

  “I call it like I see it,” she replied smugly.

  Taking a threatening step forward, I was impressed when she held her ground and didn’t move. “You better watch that pretty little mouth. I know all kinds of unpleasant things to stick in there if you continue to piss me off.” It wasn’t the first time I issued that threat to her and probably wouldn’t be the last. Visions of her choking and slobbering all over my dick coursed through my wicked brain.

  Briefly, I wondered if she was the kind of girl who spit or swallowed.

  Shit. Now I would be walking around with a hard-on all night.

  She tilted her chin in defiance but didn’t say another word, wisely understanding that pushing me too far wouldn’t go in her favor. The long, sexy column of her throat drew my eye and I swallowed hard at the thought of pressing my lips to her neck and sucking on her creamy skin, leaving my mark on her body. Oddly enough, the thought had nothing to do with Suraya. Sasha was a wild, feisty little thing and I wanted to tame her, bring that little vixen to her knees, and sink my cock deep inside her as she called out my name in submission.

  I had never wanted to fuck and beat a woman so badly at the same time in my life. Sasha was testing all my limits and if she wasn’t careful, she’d find my dick buried deep in her pussy and I didn’t care if she struggled the entire time. Something about the way her nostrils lightly flared, and her knees clenched tightly together told me she was just as turned on as I was. Not to mention the fact that I could smell her greedy little cunt and its desire to be filled.

  My Reaper was incredibly gifted. He didn’t miss much, and his senses were hyperaware. By default, I enjoyed having those same abilities. There wasn’t shit Sasha could hide from me. Her accelerated heartbeat proved she wasn’t telling me the whole truth and the idea of forcing the words from her lips made my cock so hard I growled my next words, clenching my hands into fists.

  “Stay in this room,” I warned, heading toward the door. “Don’t test me any further.”

  As I left and shut the door behind me, I almost wished she would try and then I could find an inventive way to punish her, preferably while getting my dick wet in the process. Yeah, I was a cold motherfucker, but when I wanted something, there was no stopping me. The Reaper who lurked beneath enjoyed my lascivious and dark thoughts, rippling under my skin with a need that matched my own in ferocity.

  Sure, I had initially been attracted to Sasha bec
ause of Suraya’s memory but the longer I spent in her presence, the more it became clear that I was also just as drawn to Sasha. Maybe that was fucked up. I did genuinely mourn Suraya and her death hit me hard. I was still trying to wrap my head around all that had happened, and Sasha’s presence wasn’t making things any easier.

  Before I stole that kiss, all I thought about and wanted was Suraya. Afterward, all I could concentrate on was this feisty brunette and how different she was from Suraya. Although their physical appearance was identical, the two women were nearly opposite in personality. Intrigued, I wanted to keep provoking Sasha until she lost her carefully constructed wall of composure. Maybe a part of me wanted to see if the sexual attraction was as strong as it appeared to be. Maybe I wanted an excuse to get close to her again. Perhaps my dick was just calling the shots. Who knew?

  Walking into chapel, I ticked my head toward Grim who frowned as I sat.

  “Well?”

  “She’s definitely Suraya’s identical twin. Sasha says she doesn’t know where Trish is, but I don’t know if she’s telling the truth. My instincts say she’s hiding something, I can tell you that.”

  “None of this makes sense. Trish hasn’t gone off grid since all that shit went down six months ago. Why now?”

  “I know,” I agreed, “but there’s something else. Sasha said she spoke to Trish and saw her leave the Blacktop at around nine p.m. How is that fuckin’ possible if Tricia’s been missing longer?”

  Grim sank back against his seat. “She must have been hiding from me.” He slammed a fist on the table. “She knows I watch over her. I haven’t kept it a secret. So it doesn’t make a lot of fucking sense that she’d disappear.”

  “Maybe she’s just playing a game with you, brother.”

  Grim stood so fast his chair tipped over. “I don’t think so. None of this is a coincidence, including the Scorpions who showed up at the Blacktop shortly after you arrived. Somebody knows something and I’m betting that sweet little piece of ass in your room has plenty of her own secrets.”