6. Prius - I get 50 mpg, what do you get?
Camaro - Laid.
“How’s the girl?” Torch asks as I take a seat in the clubhouse. Rock music plays quietly in the background, drifting in from the bar.
We’re sprawled out on leather ebony couches positioned in a square around a low, polished wood table. Nearly everyone’s chilling over here, so I figured what the hell. I’m already the newest member of this charter—practically an outsider and I need to break through that label. Chicago was my home, but I can never go back unless I want to find my head cut off by the damn mob.
I’m determined to make Texas a place for me; otherwise, I’ll have to go out on my own. You know what it’s like to be a lone rider? It sucks because you have fuck all to watch your back and shit to make money on. Most lone riders don’t survive unless they’re a paid killer. I don’t have any strife with killing; I just want to have the decision on who I’m killing, so the paid hitman option isn’t for me either.
I grunt in response to Torch’s question.
“Any more Iron Fists show up or sniff around?” Viking’s gaze falls to me.
“None that I’ve come across, Prez. It’s pretty quiet around there when there aren’t any races going on.”
He nods and sips his whiskey.
“Chevelle let you take her out yet?” Odin asks with an amused grin.
I answer with a glower, and he hoots out a loud laugh. “Told you, brother. She’s got that pussy locked up tight.” The resemblance between him and Viking is a bit unnerving. You’d almost think O is the Prez’s son rather than his younger brother. Both of them are tall with blond hair and Nordic tattoos covering them in various spots. Odin has less, but I’m sure it won’t be that way for much longer.
Saint snickers, always looking to stir up a little drama from what I’ve seen so far. “How about we place a few bets if our new brother can even get into her pants.”
“I’ve got fifty bucks on two months,” Chaos calls from the bar. We must be loud for him to hear us over the low music and being in another room. He’s the oldest brother around here and an ex pro football player. I couldn’t believe it when he rolled up to get me in Chicago, and I came face to face with an NFL star clad in an Oath Keepers vest. I’m sure he has one hell of a story to bring him to an MC.
Sinner scoffs, his charcoal eyes staring down Saint. The two of them are near opposites, one with dark features, black hair, and stormy irises; the other one light, with ashy-blond hair and gray irises that appear nearly clear. “No way in hell he’s that patient. I give him three weeks or else I say he gives up. I’d put fifty on it.”
Hearing him and Saint on this is like sandpaper. Those two recently laid claim to the first woman I was interested in when I got here. Jude’s beautiful, young, and somewhat innocent; she’s a man’s wet dream. Chevelle catching my attention is a good thing to distract me from Jude alone, or it could stir up shit with the brothers.
Odin pipes up again. “I don’t know. He’s persistent, more than any of you fuckers. I’ve got fifty on a week.”
“No fucking way,” Viking grumbles. “Chevelle is stubborn as hell. I say five weeks.”
I scoff as Prez’s woman, Princess, comes up to sit on his lap. “Chevelle?” she asks, smitten and territorial staring at the Nordic Viking looking man she has wrapped around her finger.
“She runs The Pit,” I supply.
“Oh.” She nods and beams a perfect bright white smile in my direction. “Yeah, she’s a tough cookie; I’ve got fifty it takes you four weeks.”
I nearly sputter in surprise. I can’t believe she’s betting with these assholes.
“I’ll take three weeks,” Blaze cuts in.
“What the hell? You have no faith in a brother?” I grumble and a few chuckle.
The Prez shakes his head. “Just be glad Ruger isn’t here, or you’d have some competition. You got a bet, Night?” He turns to Nightmare, back from his mini vacation with his ol’ lady and son. He helped pick up the Fists from The Pit, but I haven’t seen him since then.
“Daydream?” He flicks his dark gaze to his woman, seeking her input. Not only is she his ol’ lady, but she’s Princess’ best friend as well.
“We don’t know if she even likes him.” She winks. I’ve heard about how Nightmare had to fight with his Daydream, also known as Bethany, to get her to finally admit she wanted him.
He hums in agreement. “We’ve got fifty on it never happens.” He smirks, and brothers around him grin.
“I’ll prove you all wrong, and when it happens, I get fifty bucks from each of you.”
“Done.” Prez agrees, and Blaze shakes his head at us, catching snippets of our conversation as he carries various cases, helping Chaos restock the bar.
It’s just another day belonging to an MC. People hear all the crazy horror stories about us because we’re a bit rougher around the edges than most, but what they tend to leave out is days like today. We’re normal people who like to razz each other and talk shit. In that same respect, I won’t think twice to help them bury a body. Does that make us better friends to have? I’d like to think so.
“What time frame are you thinking, brother?” Odin asks.
“It can happen any day.” I shrug nonchalantly, and the guys holler in disagreement. Our ribbing is broken up by the club phone ringing. We quiet down once we catch wind of Chaos telling the caller on the other end to calm down, make sure the doors are locked, and that someone would be right over.
He pops his head into the room we’re in and gestures for Prez. Each of us stares as Viking listens to him, huffing at parts and eventually heads back over to us.
“Prez?” Torch’s brow furrows.
“You’re not going to believe this shit,” he begins, running his hand over his face exasperated and meets my gaze. “Mercenary, you need to head back to The Pit. You were there yesterday, right?”
I nod.
“Well someone must be watching you because Chevelle said when she looked outside a biker was sitting out front, looking like he’s waiting for something.”
“That was her?”
He nods.
“Is she all right?”
He nods again. “Yeah, but apparently the dipshit hasn’t left his post since she first saw him out there. It’s been hours according to her. She didn’t want to call but recognized the familiar colors on his vest as Iron Fist.”
“Fuck! They’re like cockroaches,” Odin grumbles and shakes his head.
“Mercenary, I want you to head back over and stay the night. I need to know first thing if anymore pop up. Torch and O, you two ride with him in case anyone’s paying attention. Take the back road and go inside through the loading dock. Chevelle will be waiting for you there, and you can hide your bike inside. Odin and Torch, you two can come back to wait for word from Merc. I don’t want Chevelle there alone in case this asshole tries to break in. She’s a feisty bitch who knows her shit, but it only takes a second for a gunshot to hit someone and change everything.”
I couldn’t agree more. She can defend herself, but if someone shoots her ass, she won’t be strong enough to subdue them like she normally would. She’s tiny and uses momentum to make her moves, where as if one of us gets shot first it takes more to knock us down since we’re huge and built differently.
“She won’t like me being there to protect her.”
“I know that, but Chevelle is also aware that I don’t give a shit what anyone else thinks. She’ll let you stick around because she cares about The Pit too much to let the Fists take it from her.”
“And if more show up?”
“You call or text us immediately, and I’ll send backup.”
“Bet,” I agree and down the rest of the cold beer in my hand. I’ll sweat the one beer out before I get ten minutes down the road, so I’m not worried. Hell, as shitty as it is to drive drunk, if Chevelle needed me and I’d had ten beers, I’d still go. I’d have to drive a hell of a lot slower, but I’d make it eventually. I won’t let any of these assholes harm her.
I don’t know when that feeling of protectiveness planted itself in me so deep, but it’s there now, and it has my insides twisting with the need for me to get there and make sure she’s okay. If I had to guess when it happened, I’d say probably when those Fists lunged at her in her office; it was like a barrier for me was crossed. I’ve seen someone want to actually hurt her and that’s a hard limit for me. She’s a bitch to most, but no one deserves to be physically harmed because they have a damn attitude and they appear weaker than you. The woman’s going to end up being the death of me, I can sense it.
“You have everything you need?” Vike asks as I get to my feet, Torch and Odin mirroring my movements.
“I’m going to grab my Glock and an extra clip; otherwise I’m good to roll.”
“Ride safe, brothers,” he replies, and fist bumps the three of us. The others repeat his words, and then I’m hurrying to get my shit and load up.
Chevelle barely tolerated me in her space yesterday, and that was with me helping her perform maintenance on her cars. Not that I enjoy doing free labor, but if it keeps her calm and I can help her out, then hopefully she has something else to keep us busy with today as well.
I’m throwing my leg over my seat loading up on my bike when Odin rolls his over to mine. “We ride for ten then hang a left on old road one-nineteen. It swings right behind The Pit. Homeboy out front will hear our bikes, but hopefully, he won’t realize they’re coming from the back side since the dome’s so damn big.”
“Got it.”
“We’ll wait until you’re in the bay and then pop smoke back to the compound.”
“Appreciate it.”
He nods and walks his motorcycle a few steps then cranks her on. Torch and I follow suit, our engines purring to life and then we’re on our way, the wind and road calling to us like an old friend.
Chevelle’s waiting for me as promised, and when I arrive, she pulls the bay door up, closing and locking it after I’ve walked my motorcycle inside. “’Sup Chevy,” I greet with a wink.
She snorts and rolls her eyes. “Real nice, cupcake, and you haven’t earned the right to call me that.”
“But Ace has?” I ask and kick my kickstand in place, letting my bike rest on the stand as I follow her down the hallway to the staircase. It pisses me off inside that she lets him give her a nickname and I can’t use it as well. I’ve been a bit of the jealous type in the past when it comes to women. Not obsessive, but I like to know the whys and facts when it comes to a chick I’m interested in. If they can’t give me answers, then it raises red flags.
“Ace has stuck around through my shit since I took over here.”
“And you haven’t fucked him?”
She sends me a pissed off glare. “Not that it’s any of your business, but no.”
“Not your type?”
“What’s with all of the questions?”
I shrug. “Just figuring out what makes you tick and weed out any possible competition.”
“How do you know I’d give you a chance if there wasn’t anyone else in the picture?”
The craving to touch her is too great, that when she opens the door leading out of the hall, I cage her in with my arms on each side of her body. I don’t come in contact with her skin though. I learned the first time if you don’t give her any warning, she’ll flip you.
With a gruff rasp, my gaze lands on her mouth. “You forget I had that mouth around my finger yesterday.” I’d like to have it on my cock next.
“And?”
“If there wasn’t a trace of attraction to me, you never would’ve done it. You’re not used to dealing with men on your level. I’m right up there with you, and I know what I’m doing. If I want something, I get it.”
“And that’s why you don’t have a chance, biker. I’m not a thing to possess.” With that, she ducks under my arm and continues on.
I grab her hand, light enough to get her to spin my way, eyebrow cocked, and I get to finish my thought. “Trust me; I know you’re not a thing. You’re a woman—one who should be worshiped.”
She swallows, her eyes widening for a moment before she brushes it off with a laugh. She turns away, and I let go of her hand to keep following. She a strong woman no doubt, but she reminds me a lot of a scared animal, attacking when she’s cornered. With every fiber of my being, I want to take control of her, own her, but she won’t let me if I go full steam ahead, so I’ll be smart about it. I’ll make her believe that she’s coming to me all on her own, but every move I make will be put in place to get her exactly where I want her.
Owned. By me.