“Did he?” I lift her chin with my fingers. I need to see her eyes.
“No. No one hurts me. I told you, I can take care of myself. But he hurt others and he was… not right. Not to mention he—”
“Jesus.” Paul’s trailer door pounds open with so much force the small glass window in the door shatters.
“Holy Christ.” Axel and Ox stumble out the back of the trailer, the smell of death traveling like the grim reaper himself.
My arm goes around Eve as I move in front of her. “Stay.” She doesn’t move, her eyes huge. I see Edge move to her right.
“The motherfucker’s dead. And from the looks and smell of him I’d say by a couple days.” Ox spits on the dirt. Eve gags. My eyes search her pale face.
“Ox, get this place closed down.” I look around at the carnival—it’s in full swing. Thankfully the funhouse is in front of Paul’s trailer, pumping out Guns N’ Roses’ “Sweet Child O’ Mine.”
“With this stench, people are gonna call the cops.” I step into the putrid trailer with Axel.
“Edge, stay with Eve.” I look over my shoulder at her. Her long golden hair blows in the wind.
She shakes her head, backing up like she’s getting ready to bolt.
“I… I can’t leave. Wait… Paul’s dead? I need to talk to the police. You can’t take me—it’s called kidnapping.” She looks fragile, her arms wrapped around her as she shivers in the night. My head is starting to pound. She’s right, though we need to get the hell out of here. But first, I want to make sure this piece of shit is actually Paul.
“Edge, fucking hold her.” She goes to run, but he grabs her and muffles her screams with his hand.
“Let’s get this over with.” Entering the trailer, I notice the fluorescent light is on. I don’t know what I was expecting but not Paul sitting on the couch, his head bashed in with what looks like someone took a baseball bat to him.
“I take it there are no drugs or money?” I glance at Axel.
He shakes his head. “I bet Benny did it. He wanted the drugs and the money and didn’t want to share.” He shakes his dark head. “Fuck, he stinks, huh? I haven’t smelled this harsh of a stench since Afghanistan.”
My eyes scan the trailer. Everything is in order. Whoever killed Paul knew him. Axel’s probably right about Benny.
I nod. “Put James someplace where he can get some care. I’ll pay for it.”
I jump down the steps, slamming the door after Axel. With the window broken, he’ll be found soon. We need to haul ass.
He grins at me, his head shaking, a big-ass stupid smile across his face.
“What?” I snap.
“Nothing. You’re full of surprises tonight. First claiming Eve. Now I’m getting James Smith care. You sure you didn’t taste that pussy a couple years ago?”
“Fuck you.” Not bothering to say more, I jerk a screaming Eve into my arms and give her a hard shake. Her head snaps back and our eyes lock.
“You’re an insane maniac. I’ll scream, and then I’ll turn your whole crew in. You… you criminal.” She pants and her eyes sparkle with blue fire. Again, my cock hardens, and if we didn’t need to get the hell out of here, I would have her kneel and shove it down her throat. With all my brothers watching. Because as much as I admire her fire, she needs to learn her place.
“Listen to me, Angel.” I squeeze her bicep tight and she cries out in pain.
“You ever disrespect me or threaten me again, and I’ll take your father out to the desert and shoot him in the head.”
Her big, innocent eyes widen. “What is wrong with you?”
“Nothing is wrong with me. I’m in control and you will either please me or I’ll give you to my club. So instead of hating me, I’d get to loving me. Unless you like ten to fifteen guys fucking you a night.
“That… you don’t really allow that, do you?”
“Sass me again in public and you’ll find out.” Her pale face actually gets paler.
“Blade… I don’t… that is I haven’t… oh God.” She leans in the other direction and pukes in the dirt. It splatters all over since the dirt is dry.
“Goddammit.” I roll my eyes and hold her hair, wondering why I claimed this foul-mouthed gypsy. Sure, she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, but big deal. Sometimes a warm mouth and hot hole are all a man needs. This woman is trouble. Still I find myself rubbing her back.
She sways as she raises her head, exhaustion and pain stamped all over her pretty face. Suddenly I’m as tired as she is. I’ve been on the road most of the day, and the two weeks I was in Orange County dismantling an MC that claimed they were the Disciples was a fucking mess. Not to mention they had about twenty good men who actually thought they were a part of us. I had to vet and haze them. All I want is a hot shower, a beer, and Crystal’s warm mouth on my cock. Not this wildcat spitting venom and vengeance. Christ, she’d probably try to bite my dick off if I shoved it down her throat. I adjust myself because the visual of Eve’s lips on my rod is hot.
“Just shut up and obey. You don’t have to worry about your father. I’m going to have him put in a place to take care of him. Maybe if you’re a good girl, I’ll take you to visit him.” I dangle the carrot and know I’ve won. Her whole face lights up. She looks at me for a way too brief second like I’m her hero, not scum.
“I… you would get him medical treatment?” Her lips quiver and I almost lean over and capture them.
“Because that’s what he needs.” Her hands reach for me. “With proper care he could live for so much longer.” Her voice is hopeful and so naïve. James is dying, but if it makes Eve chill the fuck out thinking that I’m helping him, I’ll take it.
“Good. So, you’re coming of your own free will?”
She hesitates. “No, I mean I’m doing this for my father. Otherwise being your whore would be the last thing I’d do.”
I chuckle. “Relax. You might like it and I don’t force women. I have plenty more willing to take your place. The last thing I like is a frigid bitch.”
She gasps. “So, if I say no, I don’t have to fuck you?” Her gaze is wary.
I snort as I sit on my bike.
“And no one but you can touch me?” She’s sucking on her puffy bottom lip again and I almost smile as I can hear her thoughts race in her head.
“Nope. You’re mine. I’m the only one who can touch you. That’s why I marked you. Now get the fuck on the back of my bike.”
This time she doesn’t hesitate and wraps her long legs around mine. Her arms snake around my stomach tightly. I wonder if I haven’t made a huge mistake bringing her.
EVE
I hold on tight. My body follows every move Blade makes. He leans forward; I lean with him.
This isn’t the first time I’ve been on a bike. My dad and Benny had one, and I used to love to ride with them. There’s something wild and free about a motorcycle—an adrenaline rush that someone like me needs. And this guy can handle a bike. His strong legs grip it like it’s his lover, and my body tingles uncomfortably.
I don’t consider myself a normal girl. Meaning, I’m not a slut. All the girls and women I’ve been around were sluts. I used to blush hearing the women who ran the ticket booth talk about how wet they would get or all the dirty things they liked to do. It never appealed to me. Also, Benny and my dad made it clear that I was to be left alone. Only one man ever tried to do anything with me. That was Paul.
He cornered me once and shoved his rancid tongue in my mouth. Then his hands went straight to my crotch. But I took care of him. I moaned like I liked it, then kneed him in the balls. As he cried like a bitch, I took out my knife and told him if he ever dared touch me again, I’d cut off his penis.
I hug Blade tighter, rubbing my face on the back of his soft leather vest—or what the club calls a cut. One large warm hand wraps around my locked cold ones. I don’t care about leaving the carnival. It was time. I’m happy Paul is dead. It might make me crazy, but some people need to b
e put down and Paul was one of them. I breathe in Blade’s scent and close my eyes. The wind kisses my face and I hold on to this man. Although he acts as if he doesn’t want me, I think he does—all men do. He might play king, but he’s still a man. Blade’s promised to get my dad real medical help, like put him in a place with nurses, and maybe he’ll get better. I always have guilt thinking of my wonderful father suffering because we are so poor. It’s why I was trying to save. It was why I let Benny talk me into coming back to this area for the drugs. The plan was sell the drugs, give the Disciples their cut, and use the rest for Dad.
As I look out at the inky blackness of the road, it’s not cold, but I shiver. Frigid! That’s what he called me. My mind whirls. I guess I should be pissed. But he’s right: I am. I’m completely satisfied with having no sex. My finger works just fine. And living with my dad and brother makes that difficult anyway.
This guy is hot. Like movie star hot. I bet he’s nasty too. He looks it. The bike slows down to a low rumble as we stop at a red light.
“You okay?” He gives me his perfect profile.
“Um… Yeah. I love riding.” I yell the last part as his whole crew rumbles up next to him. The road trembles. The bikes seem to heat up the pavement, the vibrations going straight to my sensitive core. “God,” I whisper, clenching my knees tighter on his ass and thighs.
His big warm hand reaches back and rubs my thigh. “Angel, unless you’re going to unzip my pants and jerk me off, you’re going to have to raise your hands.”
Heat floods my cheeks. I raise my hands up to his chest.
“Sorry.”
He grabs one and brings it back to the hardness between his legs, using my hand to do a couple of rough rubs, then places it back with the other as he shifts and we take off.
He wants me, and for some reason that makes me breathless. One more turn and all I see is blackness. The smell of citrus envelops me. Up ahead is a large long house with a shitload of bikes parked out front. It’s still pretty dark, but loud music thumps out and screams along with laughter inside.
I stay quiet. Again, I need him to keep his word. As soon as he turns off his bike, the large door opens and the whole yard lights up. It must have a motion detector. A couple of bikers come out as the others arrive. Curious looks are thrown my way, but nobody approaches me. I realize I’m still clutching Blade and reluctantly let go. He gives my thigh a slap and scoops me off his bike. I nearly sink to the ground, which would suck because it’s all gravel. As I try to steady myself, he holds me and laces his fingers with mine, laughing as we walk toward the house and the obnoxious music.
Everyone in the large living room stops as we enter. Blade doesn’t seem fazed, yet I can’t help but cringe and stare at his back. His cut has the large logo of the cross and wings along with numerous patches. We walk up the stairs and I risk a quick glance downward and wish I hadn’t. What was I thinking? These people are a group, a family. I’m a carnival rat, a gypsy, and I don’t belong. Never have. The women seem to sense it.
Well, it’s not like I have a choice, so until I can somehow support my father and pay off my brother’s debt, I’m kind of stuck here. As we reach the top of the stairs, the talking starts again. My throat is on fire where he branded me and I swallow. Wait a fucking minute. This son of a bitch branded me like I’m cattle. Or a piece of meat, like he owns me. What the hell am I thinking?
“What, babe?” His voice sounds tired as he opens the last door on this floor—it’s black and thick.
“You branded me!” I almost stutter. I wave my hand at my neck, positive it looks as bad as it feels. “It fucking hurts.”
He pulls me in, flips on the light, and grabs my chin. I try to jerk away but his grip is like a pit bull’s.
I’m panting because… well, I don’t know why. This guy does this to me. He makes me breathless, gives me false hope. Deceives me with his incredible looks. I mean how can anyone who looks like him be bad, right?
Also, I like the way he smells. Clean even though he’s covered in dirt and grime. Spicy, smoky. God, I’m losing it. My face burns. Either that or I have a fever. I have to stop myself from bursting into tears. And I never cry. Well, almost never.
He sighs, like I exhaust him. “Go take a shower.”
I lick my dry, parched lips nervously as I glance around this room. It’s the biggest bedroom I’ve seen in my whole life. Huge in fact—probably the size of two trailers. The walls are the color of putty and huge, thick-glassed windows face what I assume is the backyard.
His bed is giant-sized with some sort of comforter that makes me want to steal it. And holy shit, I snort in fascination at the hideous art or whatever this is called.
On top of his bed is a huge wooden-framed velvet painting of a naked redhead sitting on an old Harley Davidson, her wild red hair and large breasts on display. Her private area is thankfully concealed by the seat.
I swirl around to face him, but he is texting on his phone. I continue to look at his walls. Turning to the one closest to me, I notice it has a bunch of old black-and-white photos of Harleys and a poster of another redhead. This one is in panties and what looks like Blade’s cut on her. Her fake boobs are spilling out. It’s signed,
To Blade,
I love you today, I love you tomorrow,
I love you forever
Crystal
My eyes snap to his. “Are you married?”
“Go take a shower. Last time I say it.” He raises a brow at me.
“Fine, I need to get away from all this anyway.” I point at the picture. I can’t help but take a quick glance at the rest of his room. He has a pool table. A pool table. And a huge black couch that looks so comfortable I want to curl up like a cat and never leave.
I don’t have time to see more as I lock myself in his bathroom, turn on the light, and almost snort. It’s big of course, but it has a massive Jacuzzi big enough to hold at least three people. “Typical,” I mumble. He probably has threesomes in here.
Oh my God, is that what he wants me for? To share me with his wife, the redhead? Didn’t he say he had someone who takes care of him? It must be the redhead.
Turning on his glass-encased shower, I look enviously at the tub. I have never actually taken a bath. Living in a trailer, I took showers in what consisted of a small box with lukewarm water.
I barely have my filthy clothes off when I realize I have no fresh panties. I can’t stand the idea of putting anything dirty on after being able to take what looks like the most amazing shower. But I also can’t go without panties. Grabbing the black thong, I bring it into the shower with me. I’ll hand wash it. The thong is a tiny bit of material and it’ll dry fast. I don’t wear thongs to be sexy. I wear them because they are the easiest thing to steal. Half the time, I simply wad them in my hand and walk out of the store. Steam billows out of the shower. I’m so used to having to wait for hot water that I almost burn myself testing it. Obviously he has good plumbing. Whatever, he’s a thug, a drug dealer. So, this is the nicest place I’ve ever been in. Doesn’t mean I’m impressed or anything.
Complete bliss takes over my body and I sigh. The hot water pelts down on me, and even my throbbing wound can’t make me not enjoy this. The delicious water caresses my skin. It feels so clean. Maybe this place has a different water source. The faucet is a giant circle spouting water that looks like rain. Touching the rock walls that tile his shower, I turn to let the hot water pelt my back. I mean, there’s no other way to describe it. Each tile is blueish gray, like rocks in a cave or something. I close my eyes and enjoy this moment because this could all go away so fast.
Reaching for some shampoo, I see that he has only AXE shampoo for men sitting in the large hollowed-out space of the rock wall. This spot could hold all kinds of things: shower gels, nice shampoos, high-end conditioners. I love all that stuff. It’s my go-to shoplifting priority.
I pick up a green bar of soap and smell it: Irish Spring. That’s weird. He can’t be married. There is nothing
at all that indicates a woman lives in his room. Except that it’s super clean. Housework was never my strong suit, and since my dad and Benny were pigs, I got sick of being their maid.
Benny. My heart does a painful thud as I think about my brother. I blame that freak Paul for everything. Benny never would have ended up hooked on drugs if Paul hadn’t arrived on the scene.
I turn off the shower, reluctantly step out, and wrap myself in a black fluffy towel. Yeah, he can’t be married. What woman would allow black towels? Unless he shares another room with her? Or maybe a house? Who cares. I wince as I gently pat my wound dry. It feels bad. And that reminds me that I hate him. He’s the enemy; he took me away. Although as I look around, it’s starting to feel like he rescued me and that’s not an option.
BLADE/JASON
She peeks her head out of the bathroom door, her hair brushed off her face, steam billowing around her like fog.
“Um… do you have a T-shirt I could borrow? My clothes are dirty.”
She’s truly beautiful. I’ve seen a lot of women in my life and none compare to her.
“Here.” I pull open a drawer and toss her a white cotton tee. It falls a few feet shy of her feet.
Her eyes dart to it like she’s trying to be a Jedi knight and have the force bring it to her.
Jesus, she’s eighteen and has been a carnival rat since the day she was born. Her shy and innocent act is getting on my nerves. I’m used to women prancing around naked. So her death grip on the towel like it’s a protective blanket is a bit ridiculous.
I almost tell her that she can stare at the T-shirt all night and it’s not going to get any closer, but she straightens her shoulders, steps out, and in one graceful swoop, picks it up. I watch fascinated at how her body movements are a thing of beauty. The more I see her move, the more it becomes a thing for me. The black towel hangs low against the creamy skin of her back. Not one tattoo is on this body. I almost feel guilty for putting my mark on her. Almost.
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