Bad Boys of Romance - a Biker Anthology (60 page)

Guilty

Opening the door to my hotel room, I found Emery just were I’d left her this morning. She breathed steadily, her chest rising and falling. Clean and sutured up, she looked just as beautiful as when she walked into the bar. I sat on the bed beside her and caressed her wrist, studying my handy work, thinking about how my life might have been different if I hadn’t been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Could I have been a surgeon or something else, someone who could meet a woman like Emery and really make her forget about her husband, make a life with her. Who knows what possibilities my life could have held before Satan found me. No, I wasn’t possessed by the devil but his sons had ruined any hope I had of a normal life.

Just like me, Emery was now in the wrong place at the wrong time. The difference between her and I was she’d wanted to die. I’d never wanted to die. She needed to wake up and get the hell out of my life or she might just get her wish, I thought sourly. Her eyes fluttered awkwardly, and suddenly I knew she’d been playing possum. My head snapped around, taking in the food I’d left her on the table, gone, and then more importantly to my bag, the one I took from the bar’s safe so I could sew up her wrist. It lay open at the bottom of the bed, spilling out all of its contents. I snatched her upper arms so she couldn’t get away. “Snooping bitch. Thanks I get for saving your life.”

Her eyes flew open. “Who the fuck said I wanted to be saved you fucking idiot. I slit my wrist, I wanted to die,” She spewed hatefully before she started to cry.

Pulling the covers off her with a jerk, I found she was just as naked as I’d left her after I’d washed and trashed her bloody clothes. Last night, I’d dunked her in the tub and cleaned all the blood out of her hair and from under her nails and everywhere else. “If you wanted to die, why do you keep failing at it?” Tiny, slender cuts like the one she put in her wrist covered her body. She yanked the sheet back up, hiding herself. Clutching her wrist, I turned it over, showing her what she’d done. “You’re doing it all wrong if you really want to die. You need to go vertical rather than horizontal. You’re just scarring up your body, not going deep enough.”

“Then you do it. Kill me. I’ll pay you.”

“What?” This bitch was crazy. I stood, backing away from her and began piling my shit back in my bag. “What makes you think I’d do something like that?”

“You’re a hired gun, of some sort. Guns, a silencer, lots of cash. A paper trail.”

I glared at her.

“In your bag. You’re following someone, a Mr. Amun, planning something. And you didn’t call me an ambulance. Plus your vest says Nomad, I looked it up, means you’re an enforcer for one of those outlaw motorcycle gangs.”

“Motherfucker!” Scanning the room, I found a white smartphone plugged into the wall beside her open purse. I threw it to the ground and destroyed it with one stomp of my boot. Those things were a hazard. Sure, you could get the best deal on a cheap hotel room in the blink of an eye but you could also be tracked a little too easy for my taste. I shoved my cut and everything else back into my bag, zipping it up tight. Emery could blow my cover. Inhaling to calm down, I finally asked. “Who’d you call?”

“No one. Don’t worry. I don’t want to be found.”

“No, you don’t worry. No one’s going to find you,” I warned in my meanest tone.

She didn’t back down but jutted out her chin. “So, I’m right. You’re a killer. I have money if that’s what you’re looking for. Lots of money.”

Shaking my head as my hands balled into fists, I stepped toward her. First of all, this bitch went through my shit. She’s right about me. I am a killer, and I should kill her right now but it’s not that simple. I don’t even know her. I’m not as dumb as some other thugs or even as dumb as some of my brothers. She could be somebody. She’s white and she’s not poor. That’s enough for me to fry. Besides, it was a shameful fact, I’ve never been able to kill a woman. I closed my eyes trying to stop the haunting memory from resurfacing. I blocked out the black, long hair, dripping with blood, the scream and the silence that followed it.

“If you don’t help me, I’ll go to the cops. Tell them about your plans to off this Amun guy.”

Tightening my fist before I relaxed it, I slapped her square in her proud jaw. Spitting blood, she howled, cradling her chin. Emery cowed before me, shocked. I laughed. I was being nice; I should have whooped her up one side and down the other. Women outside of the club were all the same, all surprised and shit when you backhanded them. They never knew what they were getting into fooling with the likes of me, thinking I was a normal man, a good man. Deep down, they always thought I was a good man, but they were dead wrong. “Really, you want to die? I don’t think you could take the pain, honey.”

Emery wiped at her bloody lip and the tears forming in her eyes again. “That’s why I want to hire you. I want it to be quick and painless, and I don’t want to know when it’s coming. I just want it to be… successful. Fifty thousand, it’s all I have and it’s all yours.”

It was as if she could see into my mind and knew exactly how much more I needed. With the help of the Miami Mutherfukers, I’d taken over Bob’s Shark Bait Bar as Johnny Stevens. The real Johnny Stevens, a loner, died before his old man died and left him the bar. The Mutherfukers knew that because they’d killed them both. I’d cashed in a favor for intel and got one better. Johnny and I, we’d looked enough alike, so I’d assumed his identity for this gig and no one was the wiser. All this time, I’ve been watching Amun, coming up with my plan. You couldn’t kill someone like him without a plan, and I didn’t plan to leave a trail. Killing Harrow Amun would pay fifty grand. It wasn’t nearly enough for the risk,
but I was desperate. Besides, I owed Shirley a favor. Amun was a son of a bitch, small potatoes mob boss who pissed off the wrong woman. Shirley was too smart to kill him herself and bring heat onto her own. He deserved to die and the world would thank me for it, but after all that, I’d still need another fifty grand to pay off the Sons of Satan.

A hundred grand and the SOS would finally give in. I’d tried everything else, lost brothers fighting and burned too many bridges to count. A Nomad, one of the most distinguished titles in the Asphalt Gods MC, I was nothing but a killer now, dispensed whenever the Gods needed to clean up a mess. Truth was my brothers had grown tired of fighting my battle and didn’t want me around. I always seemed to be the last one picked for anything. I was starting to feel like the God’s little fat kid. Tired of it, I decided to go off on my own. If the General wasn’t my adopted daddy, they’d stripped me long ago. If they knew I made a deal with the devil himself, the President of the Sons of Satan, they’d shred me of my Nomad status right quick, no matter what the General said. He’d skin me of my ink himself and piss on my hide.

Her words echoed in my head. “Fifty thousand, it’s all I have and it’s all yours.” When I didn’t answer her, she went on. “So, do we have a deal?”

“Where’s the money?”

She talked quick, desperation shaking her voice. “Safe. I’ll tell you everything you need to know to retrieve it.”

“So, you go missing, dead, and I go looking for your money, no thanks sweetheart. What is this, some sort of set up?” As I said it out loud, it all sunk in. This could be a fucking set up, and I’d almost been taken down by a set of tits.

“I can get it for you today,” She insisted.

“And why would a pretty thing like you want to die so bad?”

“That’s none of your business.”

I slipped
my balisong from my pocket, flipping it open. “Sweetheart, I am a killer. You’re right about me. But I don’t need your money,” I lied, just in case something was afoot here. This pretty thing ends up in my bed, begging me to kill her for the exact amount I need to get what I’ve wanted for as long as I can remember. She was the fucking pot at the end of the goddamn rainbow of shit that’s been my life. It just didn’t sit right with me. My luck had never been so good. She could be a plant, ATF or another Fed. Someone sent from the Miami Mutherfukers, they knew where I was or maybe they alerted the SOS, fuck, even my own brothers.

She blinked, letting another tear fall and for a second I thought I saw real fear in her eyes. A pretty face and a smoking body wouldn’t fool me. “Money, it’s all I have,” she whispered, almost dropping the sheet.

I looked at her sideways, wondering if I could believe a word that came out of her mouth. Crocodile tears, I told myself as she dabbed her wet eyes again. Putting my hand on her knee, I had to shake her up and get the truth. “Last night, cleaning you up, I saw all you have to offer. I’ll tell you what. I’ll take your money but that’s not enough.” She squinted, her face unsure, not yet realizing what I meant. “Maybe I want to have some fun first, like we were about to last night. Then I’ll kill you on my own terms.” I grinned like a jackass eating cactus, as if I liked the thought of killing her. “So until then, sugar, you do as I say. Anything, I say.”

Outraged for a moment, her mouth opened and closed but nothing came out as she finally took in my meaning. “Is that all you want?” She fluttered her eyelashes in jest and ran her hands seductively over her perky plump mounds.

I nodded my head.

“Then you’ll kill me. You promise.” Her voice became steady. “Okay. Fifty grand and some fun first. Do we have a deal?”

“No sugar, anything I want, and I haven’t decided what all I want yet. However, I would like to sample the goods. Have some fun, right here and now.”

Resolved, she dropped the sheet, revealing her bare chest, her pink nipples hardening. “I’m willing to let you have some fun first.”

I sat down beside her again, laying my blade flat against her titty, the tip pressing into her delicate nipple. She seemed conflicted, as she swallowed hard. Goddamn it, I needed to kill her now. My brothers knew I couldn’t kill a woman. Fuck, I know word gets around. Someone was taunting me. This bitch came to fuck me over one way or another. “If you really want to die, quick and painless, you won’t mind being my whore for a while.” Under the sheet, I ran my hand up her leg and my finger over her warm, naked mound. Shutting it, I laid my butterfly knife on the bedside table.

With me no longer threatening her, she didn’t move away but her voice got louder and higher. “I’m paying fifty grand for you to do what I can’t. I have no plans on living much longer, with your help or not. If you are not agreeing to kill me, remove your hand. You touch me, we have a deal. You can’t have your cake and eat it too.”

“Oh, no sweetie. I’ll have you, and eat you too and I’ll kill you when I’ve had my fill.” I captured the back of her neck to keep her still even though she wasn’t fighting. “I’d do it right now for free, but why should I pass up a load of cash. And if you give me any trouble, I’ll drag it out, make it really painful.” I stuck a finger inside her hard, trying to hurt her but in a good way. Emery’s breath hitched like she’d enjoyed it, and I felt desire jolt through me, hardening my cock. “See, you know too much about me. I have to kill you now, whether you want to die or not, but you’re going to give me your money first. You aren’t going anywhere. You’re my whore now.”

“I’m not your whore.”

“Whores don’t get a say.” Just to prove my point I slung off my belt with my free hand and secured it around her neck, pulling it tight against her neck but not chocking her, yet. “If I were you, I’d look at it like this, you’ll get what you want in the end, so you’re better off just playing along.”

“So, we have a deal?” she breathed.

“Deal,” I agreed reluctantly. Who in the hell wants to die? Would pay fifty grand for it? Fuck, if I had fifty grand to spend, I’d be buried in room service and pussy. Speaking of being buried in pussy, keeping a hold of the belt, I tore the sheet off her so I could watch her writhe. Scars decorated Emery’s body, another fucking slap in my face if my brothers sent her. Yeah, no tats or brands and a pussy too tight to be any club’s whore. This bitch was ATF or the real deal, a broken, suicidal wackjob.

I pressed my thumb against her clit, and she exhaled, relaxing, giving into the pleasure. Her face wet with tears with red eyes, now held a hunger. “If you’re not my whore, why is your pussy so wet for me already?” Spreading her legs farther, I wanted a good look at her pretty pink lips, my fingers, surrounded by
her sweet fluids, opening her up. Working in another, I began twirling them and pumping in and out. Biting her bottom lip, Emery transformed from victim to predator, a tiger who could eat me alive. Suicidal my ass, this girl had some fire in her. If I watched her face any longer, I’d cum in my pants.

I removed my fingers, Emery’s eyes following them to my lips as I slowly licked them clean. Our eyes fixed on one another. “By the way, my name’s Scar. You’ll need to know that soon.”

“Why?” She quivered from fear or anticipation, I didn’t know and at this point, I didn’t care. Her legs were still spread eagle, that’s what mattered. This ATF bitch was about to the get the fuck of her life.

I couldn’t believe I was about to fuck a Fed. and she was just going to have to let me so she wouldn’t blow her cover. Too fucking hot! Unbuttoning my shirt, I exposed my own scar, a big jagged bubbly snake, running from my left nipple to my navel, marring my otherwise cut chest and six pack abs. The women I fucked were about the only ones to see it, because it’s just too weird to fuck with my shirt on. “You’re going to need to know it when I have you screaming it.” I unzipped my pants and pulled out my eight-inch cock. I’ve seen bigger but most women go wild over the size of my dick. Size does matter, I couldn’t imagine whipping out a six-inch wiener. Stroking it in front of her, I watched her eyes grow even wider as it became even thicker. Harder than a rock, I was ready to dive into her juicy cave. I wouldn’t bother with a condom, I could tell this bitch was clean, and I didn’t worry about knocking her up. One way or other, she’d be dead soon.