Taming The Biker - A MC Biker Romantic Suspense Story

 

By

 

Cassie Alexandra

 

 


Copyright ©2015 by Cassie Alexandra/K.L. Middleton

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without express written permission of the author.

This book is purely fiction. Any resemblances to names, characters, and places are coincidental. The reproduction of this work is forbidden without written consent from the author.

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Prologue

 

 

 

It was just after nine o’clock p.m. when Jessica Winters walked out of
Twenty-Four Hour Fitness
, dropped her gym bag into the trunk of her car, and drove to her two-bedroom apartment in Iowa City. She pulled into the underground garage, grabbed her things, and headed toward the elevator, relieved that her roommate, Kellie, was out of town. She’d have the place to herself for a couple of days, which meant that she wouldn’t have to listen to the sound of Kellie and her boyfriend, Jack, going at it in the other room all hours of the night. She had to admit, listening to Kellie when she was having those ‘mind-blowing orgasms’, as she so fondly called them, was hell. Especially for someone who’d decided not to have sex until she met the ‘one’. ‘The
one’
who seemed to be taking his damn sweet time in finding her. 

“You should get yourself a vibrator,” said Kellie after Jessica had confronted her about keeping the noise down the previous weekend. “Maybe you wouldn’t be so weird about it.”

“If not wanting to listen to other people having sex is being weird then I certainly don’t want to be whatever it is you consider normal.”

“God, you take everything so damn seriously. I’m just giving you shit. Although,” she’d smirked, “you have to admit, you’re way too uptight about sex. You’re twenty years old, for God’s sake. You need to get your freak on, Jessica, like the rest of us.”

“I’m not uptight and I don’t need to ‘get my freak on’. I’m just tired from not getting any sleep,” she’d shot back angrily. “I mean, come on –
four
in the morning? You’d be pissed, too, if you had classes at seven and were up all night, trying to block out the howling in the next room. If you could at least keep it down. That’s all I ask.”

“Honey, you can’t keep good sex down. If you had it, you’d know what I mean.”

“Whatever. At least turn up the damn music.”

“Fine.”

The truth was that they fought about more than just the obnoxious grunting and moaning coming from Kellie’s room. They argued about groceries, cable and electric bills, or where things belonged in the apartment. It certainly wasn’t fun going home at night, and Jessica pretty much knew what she had to do – find herself a new roommate or… move back in with her mother, Frannie. At least she’d get more sleep and not have to put up with Kellie’s bullshit. Unfortunately, that meant she’d also have to move in with Slammer, her mom’s biker fiancé. Not only was he intimidating, but he was the president of the Gold Vipers, a motorcycle club in Jensen, which Jessica wanted absolutely no part of. Admittedly, she actually liked Slammer and he was not at all what she’d expected, with his easy-going manner and funny stories. Sure, every other word was ‘fuck’ and he smoked like a chimney, but he treated Frannie, his ‘Old Lady” as he liked to call her, like a queen
and
he was even considerate to Jessica. But, as far as she was concerned, he was still in a gang and his way of living wasn’t the kind she wanted for her mother. She’d even tried talking Frannie out of seeing Slammer several times, but apparently the two of them had already fallen “hopelessly in love”, so it was like talking to a wall. Even when Jessica mentioned the fact that bikers in clubs like his were always breaking the law and ending up in prison, she’d come back with – “Slammer says that the Gold Vipers aren’t like other MC clubs. They’re more like a band of brothers who look out for each other and their families. Everything they are involved with is totally legit.”

Yeah, right.

Frannie was so gullible, it was frustrating. Jessica could only cross her fingers and hope that Slammer would keep her out of anything illegal. If he did try to involve her mother in any way, and she got word of it, Slammer would find his ass in jail faster than he could light his next Camel. Her mother meant everything to her and there was no way she’d sit back quietly or turn the other cheek. Frannie was close to retirement and she didn’t want her mother spending any part of it in prison.  

Looking forward to a quiet night, Jessica pushed the thoughts of her future stepdad away, and took the elevator to the third floor. Humming to herself, she walked down the hallway to her apartment, unlocked the door, and slipped inside. As she was about to turn the kitchen light on, someone grabbed her from behind, his arm locking around her like a steel vice. She tried to scream but it was immediately cut off by a gloved hand clamping over her mouth. The smell of leather and gasoline made her gag.

“Hello, darlin’,” the man growled into her. He began groping her breasts. “Oh, these are nice.”

Sobbing, she tried struggling, but it only made him laugh. Desperate to get away, she tried biting his hand through the glove.

“Bitch,” he snarled, squeezing her mouth so hard, her jaw ached. “Fight me and you die. Understand?”

Whimpering, Jessica ignored his threat and slammed her elbow into his stomach, remembering the self-defense class she’d taken before college. The instructor had said to fight for your life at any cost. Scream, kick, do whatever it took to get away, or the chances of surviving were slim to none.

The man grunted, but instead of releasing her, he grabbed her by the throat and began to squeeze. “You think you have a chance against me, bitch? You keep fighting, and I’ll snap your neck. Don’t you dare fucking test me!”

“Please… can’t… breathe…” she begged hoarsely.

He loosened his hold slightly. “You gonna behave?”

Her mind was whirling as she tried to think of another way of escape. The kitchen knives were too far out of reach and he was so strong. She’d never make it.

“Answer me, bitch!” he hissed, pulling her hair back cruelly in his fist.

“Yes!” she cried.

“Okay then,” he whispered, pushing her toward the bedroom. “Now, let’s go have us some fun.”

 

 

***

 

 

An hour later, Jessica heard him leave the apartment. Bloody and bruised, she staggered back to the kitchen, locking the door. Then, she grabbed her cell phone and called nine-one-one.

“I’ve been attacked. Raped,” she sobbed into the phone, her entire body shaking. She slid down to the floor, glancing at the doorway in terror, worried he’d bust it down and kill her. “Please… help me. I’m afraid he’ll come back.”

“We’re sending someone right away,” the woman promised, trying to calm her down. “You are sure that the assailant has left?”

“Yes,” she replied, staring down at the bruises on her thighs where he’d dug his fingers into her flesh. Between that and the burning pain between her legs, she wanted to die. She wanted
him
to die.

“Okay. The police should be there soon,” reminded the operator. “I’ll stay on the phone with you until they arrive. Did you get a good look at the assailant?”

“He... he wore a mask. A black one.”

“Did you recognize his voice?”

“No. Nobody I know would do this!”

“Okay. Try to calm down, Ms. Winters. Someone is coming.”

As Jessica waited for help to arrive, she closed her eyes and began crying all over again. The woman on the phone tried soothing her, but all she could think about was the rapist’s gloating brown eyes. She’d never forget them or his dry, cracked lips. He’d made her stare up at him while he did the unspeakable. It seemed to get him off.

“You see me?” he’d growled several times.

Jessica had seen him clearly. He was the devil. He even wore a patch on his vest that proved it.

Chapter One

 

Jensen, Iowa

 

 

“You ready for this?” asked Krystal, turning off the engine of her ’76 Monte Carlo. We’d just pulled into the parking lot of Griffin’s, a strip club on the edge of town. It was her twenty-first birthday and her boyfriend, the owner’s son, had asked us to meet him before we hooked up with the rest of our friends downtown.

I looked at the seedy dive, with its flashing lights and line of shiny motorcycles parked on the side. I’d never been inside, but everyone knew the place was bad news. I couldn’t even imagine the look on my mother’s face if she knew I was even considering going inside. She’d probably think I’d starting smoking crack.

I shivered. “Seriously? Can’t we just meet him out here, in the parking lot?”

“What’s wrong?” she asked, pulling down the visor. She fluffed out her blond hair and then reached down to adjust her push-up bra, emphasizing the curve of her boobs in the sparkly, black tank she’d managed to cram them into. “You nervous about walking into a biker bar?”

“It’s more than that and you know it.” The place had a bad reputation – gangs, brawls, drug deals, and prostitution. 

“Chill out, girl. Nothing is going to happen inside. You’re with me and everyone knows that
I’m
with the owner’s son.”

I sighed. “Okay.”

“You’re good?”

“Yes. I’m good.”

Krystal smirked. “Liar. Here, take a shot of this,” she said, pulling out a bottle of peach-flavored schnapps from under the seat. “It’ll take the edge off.”

“Schnapps?”

She uncapped the bottle and took a long pull. “Mm… yeah. Here.” She held it out.

“Maybe we should wait until we leave the club.”

“No, babe. We need to get this party rolling.”

“Fine,” I replied, taking the bottle from her. I took a swig and my stomach immediately felt warm and tingly. “Hmm… Not bad. A little sweet but I like it.”

“I’m surprised you’ve never tried it.”

“Actually, I think I did. I had one of those drinks, Sex On The Beach, when we went out for my twenty-first. I think this was in it.”

She took another swig. “I love those and Fuzzy Navels. You’ve got to try one. They’re incredible.”

I wasn’t sure what a Fuzzy Navel was, but if it involved the peach-flavored schnapps, I was definitely in.

“Okay,” she said, capping the bottle. “Let’s go see what the hell Tank wants.”

Tank, her new boyfriend, was six-and-a-half feet tall, with muscles the size of watermelons, and belonged to some biker club called the Gold Vipers. I’d only met him twice and I had to admit, he scared the hell out of me. Not that he’d been anything but cordial. It was just that I could tell he was dangerous.

As in
illegally-scary
, dangerous.

Krystal didn’t seem to see it or else she just didn’t care. Considering her dad took off many years ago and Bonnie, her mom, had never been very influential when it came to
anything
, I guessed it was the latter.

“I wonder if he has something for me?” said Krystal, her blue eyes lighting up. “A present.”

“What, like a ring?” I teased. They’d only gone out a few times, and most of their dates were quick hook-ups.

“Or better yet, a new tongue ring,” she replied. “You have any idea how good a pierced tongue feels between your legs?”

I held up my hand. “Stop, right there. I haven’t had enough to drink to hear about Tank and his tongue.”

She giggled. “Well, it’s certainly not going to be a ring for my finger. Tank told me last weekend that he was never going to get married. That most of the guys in the club have Old Ladies and kids, but they don’t usually go the route of marriage.”

I frowned. “What do you mean by an ‘Old Lady’?”

“I’m talking about the woman they go home to at night. The ones they live with. Take care of them. Have their kids.”

“That’s typically called a ‘wife’,” I said dryly.

“Not in the MC world,” she replied. “They have Old Ladies and,” she then laid the whopper on me, “they have their club whores.” Only she made it sound like “hures.”

My jaw dropped. “Are you serious?”

“As shit,” she said, smiling grimly.

“A club
whore?
  What are you saying? That she hangs out with them and they pay her for sex?”

“I don’t think any of them get paid for it. They hang out and are available to fuck, any time of the day.”

I stared at her wide-eyed. “Wow. So, in other words, she’s like a groupie?”

She laughed. “Guess so. Only these guys ride bikes instead of buses.”

“Does Tank have an Old Lady?”

“No. I mean I don’t think so.” Her jaw set firmly. “At least, I hope to hell not.”

“Well, what are
you
considered?” I asked. “Did he say?”

“He calls me ‘his girl’. Tell you one thing, though, I’m definitely not a club whore. The hell if I’m going to spread my legs for anyone but the man I’m dating. Although,” she smiled wickedly, “Tank has this friend named Raptor who is amazingly hot. I wouldn’t mind doing him.”

“Raptor? What kind of a name is that?” I knew Krystal had mentioned that most bikers went by their road names. All I could think about was the movie
Jurassic Park
when I heard “Raptor.”

She grinned. “Raptor? It’s some kind of bird of prey. I guess you don’t want to piss him off. Tank said that Raptor’s temper is legendary.”

“Huh. He sounds like someone to avoid. I’d stay away from him then, Krystal. No matter how cute his is.”

“You have to see this guy. He’s gorgeous. Blonde hair, blue eyes, built like a Greek god. He’s unbelievably sexy. I almost wish I would have met Raptor, first. I’ve actually caught myself drooling over him. Tank would probably pull out his gun and shoot me in the head if I so much as looked at Raptor the wrong way, though.”

The expression on her face was serious and I shook my head, still in disbelief. The more she told me about Tank, the more he disgusted me. “Jesus. You’re really okay with all of this alpha-male club shit?”

She waved her hand. “Eh, we’re just having fun right now. I mean, I like him a lot, don’t get me wrong. The guy knows how to go down on a girl and I’m not ready to give that up just yet.”

I grunted. “I should have known.”

“It’s true. He’s patient, too. Will stay down there as long as it takes. Anyway, I know it’s not going to last. He might have great fucking skills, but Tank’s too bossy, even for me.”

“God, I hate bossy men. Seriously, Krystal, you shouldn’t put up with guys telling you how to live. No matter what he can do with his tongue.”

“Yeah, but he’s also got this huge dick,” she said, laughing. “You have no idea.” She held up her hands to show me just how large and I had to wince. “Swear to God, he’s hung like a horse.”

“Okay, enough,” I replied, laughing now. “I’m seriously tired of hearing about your sex life.”

“You just need to get laid, Adriana. How long has it been?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know, over a year?”

Maybe two.

Maybe even three?

The truth was, I’d only had sex a few times, and that was mostly in high school, when I’d gone steady with Jimmy Tyler. Now that I was in college, I barely had time for sleep, let alone sex.

“We need to remedy that,” she said, opening the door. “Let’s see what Tank wants, meet the others at the club, and find you a man. One you can take back to the car and get busy with.”

I looked around the parking lot, praying that none of the guys entering this particular place would know she was trying to get me laid. “Krystal,” I whispered loudly. “Don’t announce it here, for God’s sake.”

She giggled. “Fine, but we’re finding you a guy tonight.”

Her eyes were sparkling from the schnapps and I could tell she was already quite buzzed. “I don’t need a man and this party is for
you
. In fact, I’m not drinking much. Maybe a couple of beers. I want you to have fun. It’s your birthday. My birthday has come and gone.”

“And so did your chance with that bouncer.”

I thought about the guy she was talking about. One of the security guards at a nightclub we’d partied at had come on to me, but I’d ignored him. He’d obviously been a player and had probably brought a new girl home every night.

“Tell you what – we’ll work on it
after
your party. This is your night and the only person who needs to have fun and get laid, is you. Now, give me your keys and let the games begin.”

I handed them over. “I guess I really can’t argue with that.”

 

***

 

When we walked into the strip club, I immediately felt like all eyes were on us. It was exactly how I’d pictured it to be, too – dark, musty, and in need of new carpeting, and not just the flooring. Most of the waitresses looked like they could collect social security, although they were dressed like high school girls. The ones from
their
generation.

Krystal giggled. “These ladies know that the eighties have come and gone? Kind of like their looks.”

I smirked. “God, you’re a bitch.”

“Well, I do like it doggy-style,” she joked. “I cannot lie.”

I snorted.

The stage was lit up and the place was packed, although most of the customers looked distracted and uncomfortable, which surprised me. In fact, there was so much tension in the air that I felt like we’d walked into something that was about to turn hostile. Then I noticed there were two groups of men eyeing each other from opposite sides of the room. As I looked closer, I also noticed they had different patches on their vests, or cuts, as Krystal liked to call them. Some said Gold Vipers on the back, while the others said Devil’s Rangers. 

“Where’s Tank?” Krystal asked the bouncer, standing just inside of the door. He was as tall as he was wide, bald, and had a long, bushy red beard.

His eyes dropped to her breasts and he licked his lips. “He’s in the back room. I’ll let him know you’re here. You must be Krystal?”

She nodded. “That’s right.”

“Who’s your friend?” he asked, now leering at me. I was glad I’d worn jeans and a loose sweater, although from the way he was looking at my chest, I could have just as well have been naked.

I forced a smile. “I’m Adriana.”

“Adriana, huh? You’d best be watching Adriana’s back,” he said to Krystal with a smirk, his eyes shifting toward the crowd of men also now gawking at us. “Everyone’s gonna know you’re Tank’s, Krystal, but she’s without protection.”

My eyebrow arched. “Protection?”

“A man. If I were you, I wouldn’t go anywhere in this place without Krystal here. You won’t like it. Or,” he laughed darkly. “Maybe you will.”

“I’ll stick with Krystal,” I mumbled, already feeling dirty.

He pulled out a cell phone and began texting. “Since the Devil’s Rangers are here, I advise that you both go and sit down by the bar. Don’t talk to anyone, except Misty, the bartender. I’d escort you myself, but there’s a meeting in back and I’m not supposed to leave the front door.”

“Okay,” she answered.

I followed Krystal toward the bar right as Bob Seger began singing about Main Street, which confirmed that we were definitely in a biker bar. Growing up, I’d always associated Fat Bob with Harleys, beer, and Tom Cruise dancing in his underwear. Apparently, I’d be adding strippers with dentures to that list.

“Stay close,” said Krystal, looking back at me over her shoulder. “Don’t make eye-contact with anyone.”

“Right.”

The music picked up and everyone’s eyes shifted away from us to a woman with long red hair and enormous boobs, who’d just stepped onto the stage. From the look on her face, I could tell she wasn’t a bubbly, happy stripper. When she tried to smile, it was more of a pucker. As if she’d just licked a lime.

Krystal chuckled. “She should have used the money she spent on her tits on some Botox. At least she’d look a little more relaxed.”

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