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  Shit, I really don’t want to tell him. Because once he knows it won’t stop at that. I saw how intense he gets firsthand with that whole claiming incident outside the clubhouse yesterday.

  We still haven’t had that out yet, but we will. I’m not something to be claimed or owned. I’ve been saving that for when I’m not in a clubhouse full of angry, dangerous men. Better discussion to have on my own turf. Neil might think that I’m stupid or crazed for running my mouth off. But, the truth is, I usually do know when to save it for another time. That thing with Grit, though, I might have lost my temper…just a little. The guy came at me, no warning or anything, making threats. Was I really going to stand for that? Cower? Hell, no. I can’t show weakness, especially not to a bunch of guys who are used to looking at women as nothing but weak. I’m in business with their President. I had to show strength and, unfortunately, that had me pissing off that hulk of a man in the process. Damn savage.

  No, Neil will want to know every damn detail of what happened with Skinner. And that’s something I won’t give. I barely ever let myself think about it as it is. Repressing works best.

  “It doesn’t matter,” I tell him, swinging my legs over the bed.

  He lunges at me and the next thing I know, he’s straddling me in all his naked glory. I can feel his hard dick pressed up against my stomach. Mmm.

  “Really, Neil? Again? I thought I wore you out last night.”

  As I look up at him glaring down at me, it’s clear he’s not amused. “Tell me.”

  Shit.

  I roll my hips.

  He grunts. “Uh uh. Won’t work this time, babe.” But he moves off me anyway, back onto his side of the bed. Yeah, it worked all right, but he’s choosing to fight it this time.

  “You know what he did. He skinned me with a blade. Okay? What else do you wanna know? I don’t…I can’t relive it. Stop it.”

  I scramble off the bed. I need to get out of here. Clothes. Where are my clothes?

  “Mine’s a tattoo that was removed.”

  I stop in my tracks. Is he…opening up? “What? You mean via laser or something, right?” Even as I ask the question, I already know the answer.

  “No, Rox. That ain’t what I mean.”

  I turn around and see him sitting up in bed, looking at me. The look in his eyes tells me that this is the last thing he wants to talk about. It’s clearly a painful memory he doesn’t want to dredge up. But he’s doing it for me; to take the focus off mine. And just like that, he’s reached through every damn barrier I’ve erected over the years and…touched me.

  I sit down on the foot of the bed. I reach for the duvet to shield my nakedness, but it’s stuck beneath his weight. A small smile forms on his face and he tugs hard, giving me enough to cover myself with.

  “Why…why was it…removed?” I ask.

  There’s a faraway look in his eyes as he points to the horrific scar and says, “Was a club tattoo. I left and when you leave, you can’t walk away with nothing that’s got a link to it. Patches, bike and, yeah, tats. I refused to get it removed. Thought I could walk away with it. I was wrong and they took it off me.”

  “How?”

  He shakes his head. “Best if I don’t fill your head with shit like that, yeah?”

  Oh my God. All I can do is nod. Silence falls between us, before I ask, “Why did you leave?”

  He rubs his face roughly. “Rox, you’re naked in my bed. My dick’s been hard since I woke up. No more talking, babe.”

  Before I can protest, he lunges at me, pulling me into the middle of the bed. He straddles me and then inches his way down my body slowly, his fingers skimming my boobs, my stomach, until they come to a stop at my thighs. He takes them in a bruising grip, making me gasp from the shock of it. He looks up at me with a mischievous smirk.

  And then he buries his face between my legs.

  “Ah! Shit, Neil! Yes!” I cry as his rough tongue licks the length of my pussy.

  “Yeah, babe. That’s right. Scream my fucking name.”

  The vibrations of his words against my sensitive flesh have me writhing beneath him.

  He chuckles and devours me with his talented mouth. Lips, tongue and teeth. Holy shit. He’s too good. Too fucking good.

  He slides a finger inside me and pumps back and forth at an easy rhythm while his tongue never leaves my pussy. I jerk suddenly as I feel pressure at my asshole. A second later, I feel him slide a finger in there too. His tongue teases me to the brink of insanity.

  And then he suddenly stills his fingers. “Oh God, Neil. Don’t stop,” I whimper.

  His eyes flash. “Beg me.”

  “Please. Do it. Fuck me with your fingers. Please! Please! Please!” I cry, desperately.

  He chuckles, enjoying my state of absolute desperation. He likes me at his mercy. And right now, I don’t care. I just need his talented fingers…and tongue.

  “Good girl.”

  His fingers start to move, fucking me hard, right as he sucks my clit into his mouth. Oh shit. It’s incredible. I can feel him everywhere. It’s so intense that all I can do is scream.

  And scream and scream.

  Chapter 19

  ~Ax~

  “Heard you claimed the biker princess,” Runner says, as we head down the hall for church.

  “You guys are like a bunch of gossiping old bitches.”

  “Sure you know what you’re doing, man?”

  My eyes narrow at him. “What you talking ‘bout?”

  “She’s a wild one. You can’t tame her. She’ll never be Old Lady material.”

  “She’s mine. End of story.”

  “Is it?” he challenges.

  What the fuck? I don’t get the chance to answer him as Grit comes ‘round the corner.

  “Ax,” he says gruffly.

  “You calmed down now?” Runner asks him. “Fucking maniac. Taking your hands to a tiny little woman.”

  “Bitch had it coming. And she ain’t helpless like the submissive little bitches you’re used to screwing around with, dumbass. You don’t even know.” He eyes me. “Yeah, Ax? I hope you know what you’re doing.”

  “I do,” I growl, getting sick of these damn warnings from all of ‘em.

  “You’re playing with fire. Bitch is like a fucking volcano. Dormant now, but she don’t like what you’re saying or doing and she’ll erupt all right. And you’ll end up like this.” He gestures to his scar.

  “She did that cuz you attacked her.”

  “She wouldn’t back down. And, to be clear: she threw the first punch.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah, think ‘bout that. Watch your fucking back with her,” he says, before he pushes through the door into church.

  “Shit,” Runner comments.

  “He’s just emotional.”

  “I guess.”

  I hear the uncertainty in his voice. “What?”

  “Just…she is Dealer’s daughter.”

  “What the fuck does that mean?”

  “You know what he was like. Could be hereditary.”

  I fist my hands in his cut and slam him against the wall. “Yeah? And does that go for me too? Skinner being my old man and all? Is his shit hereditary?”

  “No, man. That’s different. I—”

  “Ax!” Trig bellows. “My office! Now!”

  Shit. I let go of Runner roughly and turn to see Trig standing there, glaring at me, his arms folded across his chest.

  “Now!”

  Fuck. I start walking down the hall. He turns and I follow after him into his office.

  “Shut the door,” he commands as he slumps down at his desk.

  I kick it shut.

  “Sit,” he orders.

  What the hell crawled up his ass? I sit down in one of the two leather chairs opposite him. “Thought we had church.”

  “Right now, we’re here in my office, asshole.”

  He flicks back his greasy white hair and then runs his fingers through his bushy beard. The guy l
ooks like fucking Santa Claus. Completely misleading, cuz he’s a ruthless bastard. Has to be as Prez. He got the nickname, Trigger, cuz of his rep of shooting first and asking questions later—if at all. He used to react without thinking and didn’t give a shit ‘bout the body count he was racking up. He’s calmed down a hell of a lot these last few years. Probably guilt catching up with him. The boys think he’s going soft; losing his edge. Guess we’re gonna see today when he makes a decision ‘bout the Mavs issue.

  “We got a problem here, Trig? Why’d you call me in here?”

  He leans across the desk and growls, “You understand the difference between VP and Prez, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Not sure you do, Ax.”

  “What you getting at?”

  “As Prez, I decide whether to sit on information and shit for the good of the club. I make the major calls. Not you. You don’t decide what I need to know and what I don’t. You don’t fucking withhold shit from me! You beating on two prospects leading to Broker coming at you with a warning from Skinner?”

  He knows? Only two people knew what went down in Brockford. Smiter and Rox. I know Smiter. He’d never sell me out. But Rox? Yeah, she don’t get club politics. She probably told Trig what’d been going down when she met with him earlier when she was tryin’ to explain shit to him. I don’t doubt it was accidental. She ain’t got no reason to screw me over. But shit.

  “Didn’t tell you cuz I wanna deal with that piece of shit.”

  “Broker is nothing! Just Skinner’s lap dog, Ax! Come on!”

  “That fucker is mine to deal with. You owe me that!

  He shoots outta his chair and stalks ‘round his desk. “What the fuck you say to me?”

  I rise to my feet and step up to him. My eyes bore into his. Neither of us gives any ground. “Said, you owe me, old man.”

  His fist smashes into the side of my face so fucking brutally that it knocks me back. I stumble into the chair behind me and thrust my hand out against the wall to steady myself. Goddamn, the old bastard can throw a punch. And he’s got ‘round fifty pounds on me.

  But he ain’t done.

  And the worst part is, I can’t retaliate. Mouthing off to my president is bad enough, but actually landing a blow…no, that’s a complete no-go. Frustrating as hell right now.

  He lands another hard blow, this one splitting my lip wide open. I taste the coppery tang of blood and waver on my feet.

  That’s when he throws a bitch of a right hook, finally knocking me on my ass. I grunt as I grab at the wall for support, to haul myself back to my feet.

  “You never let me go after Skinner. Instead, you gave the order to Broker to fuck me up. Put me in a coma for two weeks,” I seethe as I spit blood out onto the dirty old hardwood floor. “And even when it came out ‘bout Broker’s involvement, his betrayal, you still made me stand down. I want both of ‘em in the ground, Trig. They were both there that day—they both murdered my fucking mom! Fucking owe me that.”

  He stands over me, breathing heavily, his nostrils flaring with rage. “Had to put you down. You wouldn’t fucking listen. Too fucking angry. You were putting the whole goddamn club in danger, Ax. Had no choice.”

  I make it to my feet and shake out my t-shirt and cut. “And now?” I demand, wiping blood outta the corner of my mouth with the back of my hand.

  “We gotta play it safe.”

  “Fuck!” I roar. “Fuck that!”

  He fists his hands in my cut and shoves me against the wall, jarring my entire body with the force of it. “Listen to me, you little shit. I brought you back in and made you VP for one fucking reason. To bury Skinner. It won’t come back on the club cuz it’ll be chalked up to the family shit between you two. Going after Broker will come right back on all of us.”

  I rip my cut from his hold. “Me killing Skinner ain’t gonna be enough. We gotta take out Broker too or the club will still continue under his leadership. We gotta go to war with the Mavs.”

  “We ain’t going for the throat unless we got no alternative, Ax. Too much blood will be spilled. We’re trying to stay legit here, running the bars and clubs around Reirdon Falls. Waging war against the Mavs will shit all over that. You need to get a fucking grip and just follow my goddamn orders.”

  Fuck him. “The Mavs are moving into Brockford already, Trig. Looks to me like the time for going for the throat is right fucking upon us now.”

  He shakes his head. “Roxana has given us half her business. All the places the Mavs have been threatening and trying to take from her protection. We’re gonna move in there on the down low and we’ll be on the defense. Mavs should get the message to back the hell off. Cuz she’s handed it to us on a platter, there’s no waiting. We can move right on in and take over. By the time the Mavs realize, we’ll already be there, forming a goddamn defensive wall that they’d be fools to try to tear down.”

  She did what? Rox made that kinda deal with him? That’s a mother lode of influence she’s giving us in her city. For someone so hell bent on keeping club shit outta her city it’s fucking shocking she’d make this deal, hand over so much territory to us.

  “In exchange for what?”

  “Most of her guys were massacred—about two thirds. That’s where we come in. Provide her with favors when it comes to the Mavs situation. We take the lead there.”

  “Gotta be a catch.” I know her. Has to be.

  “She maintains final say over everything in Brockford.”

  “She stays as top dog?”

  “Yeah. Can’t just take her out anyway. She’s got a hell of a lot of power and influence over the whole damn place. She’s more than her muscle.”

  “I know she is.” Yeah, she’s a hell of a lot more than that. I blow out a breath and pinch the bridge of my nose. “Won’t be enough. The Mavs want that territory and they’ll fight for it. Do what you ain’t prepared to do. We gotta take ‘em out now.”

  He slams his fist into the wall. “No! We’re not going to war! Fucking accept it!”

  That’s it! I storm to the door and haul it open, almost ripping the damn thing off its hinges.

  “Where you going? We got church!”

  I don’t answer him. I can’t. I’m too pissed. He’s making a mistake. His approach is too damn soft and it’s gonna cost all of us. It’s just sending a message to the Mavs that we’re weak, that we ain’t prepared to fight for shit. Argh!

  Fuck him. Fuck his orders and fuck church right now.

  I go in there this worked up and I’m gonna end up causing a fucking mutiny. The guys are already pissed that he’s fucking ‘round with this situation. If I sit there and say what’s on mind—unleash all the shit I’m really thinking—it’d just rile ‘em up more.

  I storm to my room, trying my damnedest to calm down at least a little before I get back to Rox. I asked her to wait for me while I was in church. Yeah, asked. That’s a first for me. Normally, I don’t ask; I demand. But with her…shit, there ain’t no way. My girl wouldn’t stand for that. That fiery attitude of hers turns me the fuck on, but it also tries my patience at the same damn time.

  I can’t believe I’m making compromises for her. She’s changing me here. And I dunno how to feel ‘bout that yet. What I do know is I’m willing to find out cuz I want her in my life. Ain’t no one like her. Like me, she don’t take shit from no one. Never apologizes for nothing either. She’s got a reckless edge to her that gets my dick hard. She sure ain’t predictable; that’s for sure. The woman’s a ball of fire and I’m enjoying the burn.

  She’s under my skin. And I can’t get enough of her.

  I push open the door. She ain’t here. I glance through the open bathroom door. Nothing. She took off? I scan the room quickly. That’s when I see a folded piece of paper on my pillow. My name’s scrawled on it. I pick it up and read:

  Needed to get back to the city. You can reach me at the number below.

  Rox.

  PS. It’s not a burner—my personal cell.
r />   I smile to myself. This is a big deal for her; giving me her real number. I understand enough ‘bout her already to know this is her trusting me; one small step at a time. She’s letting me in, dropping her guard.

  But the fact she ain’t here right now don’t sit well with me. Ain’t ready for her to be gone. I add her number into my phone and then I snatch up my keys from the bedside table and make my way outta the clubhouse. I don’t wanna be here. Screw Trig.

  I’m heading back to Brockford. I could really use the ride to clear my goddamn head. It always helps. I’ll get one of the prospects to hook me up with some painkillers for my damn shoulder so I can actually ride the distance this time without stopping. I don’t wanna stop. I just wanna ride hard. Relieve some pent up rage and stress from the last few days.

  Chapter 20

  ~Roxana~

  I chug my second beer and slam it down on the bar and gesture for the bartender to give me another. Wow, it’s really hitting me hard already. Just two beers and I’m light-headed; everything around me hazy. It’s been years since I’ve touched a drop of alcohol. It’s not that I was ever an alcoholic. I just used to use it as a bit of a crutch for a while and it led to bad things and getting mixed up in bad situations.

  But right now I need something to take the edge off, to numb all the crap that’s happened over the last few days: the massacre of my guys, having to make that deal with Black Thorns, the Mavs trying to usurp me and…Neil. Shit, that’s as unnerving as the rest of it. He’s breaking down my defenses so quickly that I can’t seem to keep up. And, worse? I don’t really want to.

  He’s drawing me in. Making me want him. Making me care about him. What scares me, though, is getting to the point of actually needing him. That, I’m not sure I could do. It’s risky to need anyone. I guess the only person who comes close to that is Ralph. He’s been my right hand for so many years. He’s like a brother to me. Hell, he might as well be. That’s how close we are.

  Or were. Right now we’re more distanced than we’ve ever been, since he pulled out of our business. After I told him the truth about my real reason behind striking back at the Mavs, we’re on speaking terms. I didn’t lose him like I would have if I’d let him go on thinking that I was really doing it for power. No, it was about trying to take down Skinner; to neutralize his threat once and for all.