Wed to the Bad Boy (30 page)

“I… I dunno.”

“Almost none.  It’s the same with the club, Lala.  We don’t get to ride into the sunset with our women at our back.  Not really.  Every man in there.  They ride until they are too old and broken to continue, or they die.”

“But—”

He was beyond listening.  Beyond all hope.  He threw me against the wall again and pressed his body against mine.  I had to take him as he was or let him go.

Any protests I might have had faded when I slipped my hand down his pants and felt him.  His cock was hard and throbbing.  With my fingers around the thick of it, I realized I couldn’t completely close my fist.  It was amazing how much he wanted me.  I released him, sliding my fingers along the thick length of him as I did.  Taunting him.

Hand free, I secured both around the back of his neck and licked my lips, nice and slow.  I wasn’t that sweet little girl he used to know.  I was a woman with my own baggage.  My own danger.  My own desire.

“Layla,” he groaned into my ear.  “Please.”

He was deliberate in his use of the words.  Layla.  Not Lala.

No, I wasn’t that girl anymore.  He saw me.

He was supposed to be my biggest protector, but right now it was a close tie which of us was the predator.  Was it him? Was it me? Or was it the crowd of men out there? The ones I had to be “claimed” from?

It didn’t matter.  To me, Cullen was the most dangerous person in the world.

Not the men who killed my brother.  Not the men who killed my father.  Not the President.

Cullen.  Because he was the one I wanted.

He slipped his hands up my shirt, cupping my breasts.  His strength was present in every move he took.

My body betrayed me, the heat of my own arousal spreading beneath my skin, overwhelming me and pulling me down into the under-toe that was Cullen.  I was caught up in him, my fingers threading through the hair at his nape.

He made me so damn crazy.  Throwing caution to the wind, I pulled him closer and deepened the kiss.  All of these forbidden kisses that just kept happening again and again.  It was like I couldn’t avoid them.  They took ahold of me and shook me to my core.  I felt like we were meant to be here.  Like this.  Like we had always been.

So when he pulled away from me, I was shocked.

“We can’t do this, Layla.”

“Do -
what
?”

“This push-and-pull shit.  I can’t handle it.  You’re too much like a fucking drug.  Either I’ve got you and you’re mine, or we’re nothing.”

I sputtered, “I thought you didn’t trust me.”

He shook his head, trying to clear it.  “I don’t.  But that doesn’t mean I don’t want you.  Look, I got business in the morning.  Got another important ride.  I need you off my fucking mind.”

“I –” That stung.  “So don’t think about me.”

“It’s not that easy.”

I wasn’t ready to give in to him, not yet.  I needed to fight it—fight him—or I was going to fold.  I was afraid I would become just another one of the MC girls, hovering in the sidelines.  I couldn’t be that.  Not with Cullen. 

“I’ll have Mick or Donna take me home,” I said quietly.  “You stay at the club.  You’re right.  You need a clear mind, and I need to get the fuck out of here before this place strangles me.” Before it swallowed me whole.  I could feel the pull of it, the pull of the entire world sucking me in.

I knew if I stayed much longer I wasn’t going to be able to resist him, or the hell that called my name.

Fuck.  I was already lost to it.

Chapter 7

Cullen

I gripped the handlebars of the bike as they vibrated in my hands, a feeling that coursed through my entire body as the tires ground the pavement and the wind whipped all around us.

Altogether, we formed a wing of men and rumbling metal.

Snake led the pack with Bones and then me just behind him.  When we rode like this, one after another, we had to be careful.  We watched every single move the others made and kept our focus on the task at hand.  If we didn’t, we could do more than just kill ourselves—we could wipe out every other man around us and few of the steel cages too.  That was why the most experienced rode in front.

For this group, that was old Snake.  I didn’t dare call him anything but Snake, and certainly not his given name—that was a right reserved for his closest club associates.

And we weren’t them.  Our alliance was starting, but it was tentative, and there was no way I was going to jeopardize it.  That was why Bones brought me and Thrash along.  We didn’t use, we didn’t act foolish, and we were all about our business.  Something that he couldn’t guarantee in the others.

I eyed Snake as he rode, no helmet, just his hard, leathered skin and his cut to protect him.  Realized I wouldn’t mind becoming a leader like him one day.  Bones was quick, meticulous, admirable for his ability to formulate a plan.  But I had grown beyond what he could teach me. 

To me, Snake embodied that perfect balance of leadership.  Aged whisky. 

I got why his men followed him.  He was tough, confident.  He had to be in his sixties, but he still rode like a man in his prime, taking the corners hard and with ease.

Bones, in comparison, was nothing like Snake.  He was weaker on the bike, but still a formidable man.  We didn’t always agree, we didn’t always get along, but he was the Prez now and he’d earned it.  There was nothing we could do to change that.  Still, when paired with Snake, it was clear who the alpha really was.

Not even Bones dared question him.

We knew our job.  Funnel drugs to a part of town that I wouldn’t affect the Serpents’ territory, a territory Snake could control and earn off.

Sure, drugs would leak in, but they did that from everywhere.  At least if you had your hand in the pot, you knew exactly where it was coming from.  Snake brought one of his dealers with him.

It made sense, and it was good business.

The dealer rode just behind us.  He was skilled with a bike, even though he wasn’t in an MC.  He rode close, but like he’d been doing it for a long time.

Snake trusted him, said he was good for it.  He wasn’t a Fed anyway.  Could’ve been worse.

On the Pennsylvania highway, the biggest worry we had weren’t the cops coming to hound our shit.  A lot of them were weekend warriors.  No, what we worried about was the fucking road itself.

It was more potholes than pavement.  We had to watch every fucking bump and crater.  After that you had to keep your group away from the soccer moms.  The kind in their vans with no awareness of what was going on around them.  Potholes and oblivious drivers, they could bring death quicker than any shootout or turf war.  Not to mention the fucking old people everywhere, driving like the max speed of their cars was thirty-five.

But when I hit a stretch I knew was going to be empty, that was when it felt good to just let loose.  I relished those moments.  They were the ones that kept me coming back to the countryside.  Whether it was to feel the wind against my skin and just look out over the empty fields, or on a ride like today, for business.  It reminded me of what I was doing in this brotherhood.  The freedom of the open road.

I tried to keep my mind on that, on what was happening right that moment.  About the mission.  Instead, my thoughts kept leaping back to Layla.  To that kiss.  The way she’d touched me, the way she’d looked at me.  Her face was in my mind, reminding me of her at each and every junction, each and every curve.  My hands were hot on the handles of the bike, remembering the feel of her.  It wasn’t something I wanted to have happen.  Hell, it was the last thing I needed, but it was there.  She was there.  In my mind.

Flooding my thoughts.  I crushed them down.  I had to focus. 

As we entered the town, I took a good look around.  The place wasn’t close to any interstate, and it wasn’t a large, booming center.  There was one grocery store, one discount store, and two gas stations.  It was small, unassuming, and completely run down.  Once it had served as a capitol of industry.  Now it was just an old oil town that had seen much better days..

I was surprised to realized that wouldn’t have minded growing up in a place like this.  Nothing bad really happened in places like this.  Yeah, there was crime, but where anyone doing dirt was so quiet that no one had to know about it if they didn’t want to.

If they weren’t coming to seek them out the way I was.

We turned off of Route Eight and down a little side street, making our way to a plaza that must’ve been constructed forty or fifty years ago.  On one end was the only grocery store, and on the other was a shitty little diner.  It wasn’t much more than a tiny window space and a few chairs.  The sort of place that all the old men went into in the morning to get their cheap breakfast and their coffee, sitting and gossiping like biddies.

Braddock didn’t have any of those kinds of places left.  Not anymore.  That sort of thing had long since gone.

This place was run down, but it wasn’t that bad.  Hell, a kid could grow up here to be something other than a slinger or a banger here.  Maybe find some peace…

We parked and turned off our bikes.

“This the place?” I asked Snake.

“This is it.  Marty said he’d meet us inside.  If he likes the look of us, he’ll show us the stash.”

Just like that.  Dude was dumb enough to get himself killed.  If he caved that quickly to us, what would he do if the DEA or the FBI came along snooping?

I shook my head.

This next part, though, was the most dangerous of all.  Men like this, like Snake and Marty, they made snap decisions before they even got to know you.  Just from looking someone in the eye, they decided if you were trustworthy or not.  Sometimes it was a good indicator, but sometimes it got people killed.

Especially if the Prez didn’t like what he saw.  No questions asked.

I spat on the ground and straightened out my jacket and my cut, and then ran my hand through my hair.

It was good enough.  I wasn’t trying to win any damn beauty pageants.  We had a supplier to win over, one way or the other.

Shit wasn’t going to be fun, or easy.

Fuck.

“Howdy.” Marty was a tall, abnormally skinny man.  Looked like he might’ve been sampling his own product a bit too long.  Those were always the most volatile men, the ones who blurred the line between business and pleasure until they couldn’t see a way out of either.

It left me unsettled, but I followed Snake and Bones.  They sat across from him.  I grabbed a chair and pulled it up. 

Thrash and the others kept watch.  Not much in this town.  Couldn’t see no one there to come get us, but it was better safe than sorry.

And if there was one thing we’d learned after Sean, it was that we needed to stay alert.   Let your guard down for a second, someone would put a bullet in it.

“Shit, nice day we’re having.” Marty eyed Snake.

“Easy ridin’, that’s for damn sure.” Snake wasn’t the kind of man who made small talk.  He just took command of situations.  Didn’t need to win them over with conversation.

“Yer interested in business.  Why?”

“I’m sick of this shit getting in my district.  If I could control the trade, it’d be a better deal for me, and it would be a hell of a lot safer than if you keep selling to your current clients.  I imagine if you keep working with them, you’ll lose out one way or another.”

They were talking out in the open, but doing it smart.  Not using any kind of words that could incriminate them in anything.  Hell, for all anyone knew, they could be talking about stone, gravel, kids bikes.  It didn’t matter.  It was vague enough that no one listening could raise an eyebrow.

He knew who Snake was talking about.  “Knew shit was going to start blowing my way with them.  Motherfuckers are as sketchy as hell.  Won’t lie, I’m eager to get something a bit more steady and a bit more profitable, if you know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I do.  I can guarantee that.  My guys, they need a good supply.  Steady.”

“So why aren’t they here?”

“I act as a middle man, of sorts.  Keep it out of my district, funnel it to the right place, and keep both of us from getting any kind of notice.” Now Snake was hushed, his eyes hard as he sized Marty up.

Marty was doing the same.  I just listened.

“I can get down with that.  As long as I get paid and you get it where it needs to go, I don’t give a shit about who buys.”

Marty was sharp, real sharp.  Maybe he was just skinny and not tweaking.  I didn’t know for sure.  What I did know was that he was the kind of man who would make the deals that were best for him, even if it meant turning on a former business partner.

It made me nervous.

Still, that shouldn’t have mattered to me.  I wasn’t going to be the one dealing.  I wasn’t even going to be the one muling.  I was just the muscle in these talks.

Extra insurance.

So I did my best to look like the kind of man who could back Snake up.

“Shit, you wanna come see what I got to sell?” The approval.  It was a good sign.  I let out a low breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding.

“Was wondering when you’d say that,” Snake said, smiling for the first time.  Apparently they’d assessed each other and felt they could do business.

It was some kind of progress.

We paid the bill and tipped a hell of a lot more than that waitress had probably ever seen.  Standing up, we exited one by one until we were back on our bikes, following this man in his cage.

He led us through a maze of roads until they broke away from the small town and dissolved into open farms and forest, patches of each alternating.

We turned onto a dirt road and gave Marty space, following him down it.  If a rider had never ridden on dirt before, it could be a challenge.  The shifting ground isn’t like paved, even with potholes.  You’re at the mercy of the road, riding with it instead of against it, steering into the bumps, grooves, and gravel, and giving the bike what it wants instead of fighting it for control.

We weren’t two miles down the road when the baby of the group, one of the men Snake brought, wiped out.  It was a quick slide on his bike and he skid right in the ditch, bike first.  We all stopped slowly, waiting.

When he crawled out and gave us the thumbs up, there were chuckles.  A few of the men at the back hopped off their bikes and went to help him right his.  Hopefully it would drive, or they’d have to send someone up to get it.

I eyed Thrash as I hopped off my bike and he smirked.  He didn’t need to say the words.  We were both thinking it.  That biker was a total dumbass.

Yeah, that was how we coped when someone took a bite of pavement or dirt.  We mocked them.  Because if it happened to them for being dumbasses, it certainly couldn’t happen to us.  We were smarter, stronger, more adept.  We were invulnerable.

It may not have been the truth, but it felt a hell of a lot better than worrying if we could be next.  If we were going to be the ones to kill ourselves on a bike.

It was part of the experience.

We watched them for a second and then moved on.  We had business to conduct, and we didn’t have time to piss away.

We pulled into the driveway,  and up to the set of trailers.  Three of Marty’s men were situated on the property, hidden behind a large line of trees.

It had the perfect amount of privacy to keep prying eyes out, but it was secure enough and easy enough to get to that they could perform the work they needed.

Meth was one hell of a drug.  Addictive as hell with disastrous consequences, but for those willing to cook it up, it could mean one hell of a profit, too.

Our MC didn’t deal in drugs—at least, not really.  Just this.  Removing supply from Hound’s Breath was our goal.  It was part of the strategy.  Cut their cash flow and then take them for everything they had.

“Let’s talk numbers.” Marty lit up a cigarette on his porch, grabbing a seat on a couch that was clearly meant for the living room, but had long since been abandoned to the elements.

The place was a big, doublewide trailer with a custom-built roof and porch.  But here, ‘custom’ didn’t mean quality.  This shithole was about as safe as a meth lab, if not worse, and I worried it was going to cave in under our weight.

Still, I didn’t want to fuck around and piss him off, so when Marty offered us a mocking wave of welcome, I sat on the step.  I preferred to look up at all of them as they lounged on the porch.  It gave me a better view of their faces.  And they were less likely to pay attention to me.  A couple of Marty’s buddies were already outside smoking or tweaking, and he looked at home with all of this.

“Shit, numbers? How much you running to Hound’s Breath now?”