Chapter 18
Big John
Chaos. In a heartbeat, screams, shouts, people scrambling for cover, a stampede toward the door to escape, as more gunfire sounded. Covacks’ men were suddenly everywhere, their weapons drawn as they tried to identify the shooter. I saw two rival MC’s, the Sinners and the Disciples pointing guns at each other and firing blindly as they backed up and ran for cover. Everyone close to them had fanned out in every direction, hoping to avoid being shot.
Other MC’s began brawling, caught up in the situation, and suddenly the whole fucking room resembled one big ring.
I didn’t have time to look for my brothers. I had my own situation to deal with, and now that shit was going down there was no reason to worry about consequences. Shooter hesitated a second too long, his reflexes having slowed over his years in prison, giving me the chance to swing around and grab his gun arm. I twisted it away from me and chopped down on his wrist at the same time. His gun dropped to the ground, someone in the crowd kicked it away as they rushed toward the door, and then we were in a full-out brawl.
We went at each other like rabid animals, both of us realizing that this was going to play out until the end and there could be only one winner. I planned on being that winner, for the club. I owed it to my brothers to end this shit. We crashed together with enough force to do bodily damage, fists flying. I pounded the hell out of his lower torso, he went for my face. Grunts, spit, blood went flying. Shooter had lost weight in prison, his age was showing, but he’d gained strength and a will to survive. Still, I was big and mean and didn’t show any mercy with my punches.
Shooter slammed his fist into my jaw, knocking my head to the side. I came back and clipped him in the eye, my skull ring cutting him open above the brow. He had on rings, too, and every time the fucker hit me, the bulky steel cut into my flesh. I pulled my arm back and punched him hard in the nose, breaking it and sending a spray of blood airborne. Another hit sent him crashing to the floor. I stood panting above him, blood and sweat running down my face. He glared up at me through the eye that wasn’t swollen shut, and then my arms were grabbed by two of his men.
I jerked my arm loose and delivered a hard hit to the face of one of the men, knocking him back. As he danced backward to remain on his feet, I glanced up to see Whistler making his way through the chaos. At the same time, Jumper and Cooper were coming up behind him, held back by the sea of panic. I yanked my other arm loose and hit the second man, just as the other two men in cuts jumped me. They got in a few good hits, giving Shooter time to get to his feet. As I was seized between two Trouble Makers, with a third one jamming a gun into my back, I watched Shooter reach for something in his back pocket.
He wiped the blood off his mouth with the back of his hand. His face looked like it had gone through a meat grinder. “Gonna make this quick. It’s more than you deserve.” The switchblade in his hand looked as long and lethal as I’d known it would be. He lunged.
I took advantage of the two men holding me, and picked up my feet to kick Shooter in the chest. The impact sent him flying back into the crowd, knocking people down with him as he went, while buying me some time. The gun was pressed into my back with bruising force, but a moment later an explosion went off close to my ear and I turned to see the Trouble Maker falling to the floor with a bullet hole to the side of his head. Jumper and Cooper had reached us, and they had made quick work of taking out Shooter’s men.
I looked around for Whistler before turning my attention back to Shooter, who was coming at me with the switchblade. He charged at me recklessly and I jerked to the side, the blade missing me by a couple of inches. The next time, he swung for my gut. Quick reflexes allowed me to grasp his wrist to halt the lethal direction of his intent. In a rapid fast move, I brought his arm up and back, burying the blade deeply into the side of his neck. His eyes opened wide with shock and disbelief, and he staggered backwards, yanking the knife out. Once the plug was removed, blood spurted out like a fucking fountain and I knew that his jugular had been severed.
“It’s over,” I snarled, breathing heavily, watching the blood drain from his face.
He slowly crumbled to his knees, and then to his side, blood pooling out around him.
“We need to get out of here,” Clay said, looking down at Shooter. “Covacks’ men aren’t asking questions first.”
I could see that. “Whistler?” I asked, scanning the crowd. Where the fuck had he gone?
“One of Covacks’ men took care of him.”
My gaze snapped to Jumper. “You sure?” I didn’t want to worry about Whistler coming after me later. He nodded firmly.
“Let’s go.”
We headed outside into the darkness. Any other time we would have taken care of the bodies and cleaned up the mess, confiscated their bikes, but with chaos going on around us, and Covacks’ mercenaries knocking heads together and doing whatever the fuck they had to to gain control of the situation, it was best to just get the fuck out of there. They could deal with shit. By the time everyone was gone there would be more than one body left for them to dispose of. We hadn’t started the trouble, so the fallout wouldn’t land on Phantom Riders.
“We stopping anywhere for the night?
Clay snorted. “You need your beauty sleep, brother?” he joked, giving Cooper a shoulder bump.
“Fuck you,” Cooper responded.
“We need to put distance between here and us,” I said, thinking that it would be a good idea just in case some scared idiot had phoned the cops. Everyone there knew the strict rules Covacks had in place, knew that the fighting was illegal, but when faced with personal fear and danger people tended to react first and think later. “See you brothers back at the clubhouse.”
I headed to the truck, ignoring the aches that were beginning to set in to my body, fucking glad that this shit was over and that it hadn’t happened anywhere near Solon. It could have been. Ending Shooter had been necessary. I didn’t know what it would mean for Trouble Makers, they’d lost their president today, and I didn’t give a fuck. All I had on my mind now was getting home.
Getting back to Daisy. I wanted her. I didn’t deserve her, but I was a selfish fuck and I was going to claim her anyway.
I intended to make that clear the next time I saw her.
Daisy
A persistent pounding at the door downstairs woke me. I rolled over and glanced at the clock, blinking several times to focus my eyes, and I groaned when I saw that it was only two in the morning. As I tried to clear the fog from my brain, the knocking continued. I released a tired breath, wondering if I should just ignore it, call the police, or go downstairs. Ethel Danders had left her hand-painted Italian scarf earlier in the day, but I doubted seriously that she’d made the trip here at two o’clock in the morning to retrieve it.
I pulled back the covers and padded downstairs in my stockinged feet. I left the light off, but as I neared the door I could make out the huge shadow on the other side. Big John. My heart jerked with recognition, and, perhaps, with a little bit of anticipation. I couldn’t help it. My body, and all my senses reacted to him in an instant and palpable way. It was as if I’d touched a livewire and the pulse thrumming through me was spiked with little jolts that stimulated me. The knocking stopped, so I assumed that he’d seen me.
I turned the lock and opened the door. “It’s late,” I rasped tiredly, moving back so that he could enter. I expected him to walk right on past me, but he paused and pulled me into his arms. I caught my breath, suddenly wide awake. “Big John?” I asked softly, wondering if something was wrong.
“It’s early,” he countered.
Well, I supposed it depended on how you looked at it, so I didn’t argue with him. I was wearing a long, flannel nightgown, and his hands spread over my bottom.
“What are you doing here?” I shivered when he buried his face into the side of my neck.
He chuckled deep, rubbing his nose up and down my skin. “You have to ask?”
“I thought you were out of town.”
“Got done earlier than planned.” His hands began to smooth over my rump. “Couldn’t get you off my fucking mind all the way home.”
His admission made me smile. “Oh, yeah?” He squeezed me, drawing a moan out of me. I closed my eyes against the sensual heat that was sucking me under when he began to lick and kiss my neck. The spikes shooting through me heated my blood to the boiling point. I brought my arms up and wrapped them around his neck. “I thought about you all day, too,” I said softly.
His kisses trailed along the curve of my jaw, and I turned my face, trying to capture his mouth. I felt his grin against me. “Kiss me, Big John,” I finally said out of frustration.
When his mouth covered mine I melted against him, whimpering. He kissed me long and deep, owning my mouth, and when he was ready to move on he slipped his tongue between my lips. Our tongues tasted and explored, the smoky flavor of Big John exploded on my taste buds, turning me a little wild. The big hands massaging my butt turned harder with need, he was practically lifting me off my feet. There seemed to be an urgent energy running through him that was governing his actions. I buried my hands in his hair, holding him firmly to me.
He started pulling my gown up at the back of my legs. “What the fuck do you have on, babe?” he grumbled with growing frustration. “There’s no end to it.”
I laughed. “My flannel nightgown. It keeps me warm.” It was big and baggy and fell to the floor.
“Well, I need to get to your skin. Let’s get upstairs and get you out of this.” He reached for the door and turned the lock, and then surprised me by picking me up.
“I can walk.”
“I like carrying you.”
We went directly to my bedroom, where Big John set me down on my feet. In one brisk move he reached for the hem of my gown, pulled it up and over my head, and tossed it aside. I was naked underneath. The intense look smoldering in his eyes made a shiver run through me that had nothing to do with the cold. It was dark in my room, except for the moonlight that filtered through the open window. I couldn’t see his expression clearly, but the silence surrounding us was filled with sexual electricity.
“Better?” I teased huskily.
“Sweet Jesus,” he rasped, pushing me back onto my bed and dropping to his knees. I gasped, anticipation making me wet between my legs. I spread them willingly, feeling Big John’s breath right there on my pelvis, making my belly quiver. “I can smell your arousal,” he growled, kissing the spot above my mound.
Moaning, I instinctively lifted my hips. “More.”
That was all it took. His whole mouth covered my pussy, the heat intense with wet fire. I felt his tongue lap at my pussy lips, part the folds and spear inside. I was so sensitive, so primed for a thorough fucking. The fact that Big John was focused on seeing to my needs before his made me appreciate the big man even more for his consideration. He may have been rough around the edges, a little frightening in intensity, but he knew how to make me feel like a desirable woman. I felt his fingers at my pussy as he spread the folds wide, and then his face was there.
My hips left the bed when the scrape of his whiskers brushed against my labia, driving me insane. I reached down, tangling my fingers in his hair and pressing him tighter. He used his tongue like a cock, thrusting it in and out, in and out, and lavishing attention on my clit. Soon two fingers were sinking inside me, curling against the bundle of sensitive nerves that were somehow connected to my clit. What he was doing to me felt like the sweetest torture, and I twisted and raised my hips, flip flopping between wanting to pull away and straining further into him. It all became too much, but his powerful hands clamped down on my thighs and he easily held me in place while his tongue fucked my pussy.
“Big John!” I was going to come, twisting my fingers into the sheets beneath me as control began to slip.
He ignored my desperate plea, sucking and licking on my clit without mercy. “Don’t move,” he demanded, releasing one of his hands. His fingers returned to my pussy, sinking in deeply, hooking again over the soft patch of nerves located in my upper walls. With his focus there and on my clit, I exploded with a scream of pure bliss. I gasped for breath, digging my nails into his scalp and throwing my head back against the bed. I bowed tightly, shuddering with fiery release.
Big John barely waited for me to finish before he got to his feet and quickly removed his clothes. I could hear his breathing, feel his gaze on me the whole time, suddenly glad that the room was cloaked in semi-darkness. The only man I’d ever lain in bed and displayed myself to like this was Paul, and he’d always found something nasty to say about me. I realized now that it had been his insecurities at work, but it didn’t disguise the fact I wasn’t a slim-hipped, small-breasted woman. I was a size fourteen, and only five feet two inches tall. Some of my curves had curves. Well, maybe that was a mild exaggeration.
“Do you mind if I get a shower?” he surprised me by asking.
“Not at all.”
After he left the room I scooted up the bed and pulled the blankets over me. Soon I heard the shower running and wondered what he’d do if I were to surprise him like he’d done to me at the clubhouse, but then I recalled how that little episode had ended. I didn’t care to have a repeat, so I remained in bed, listening to the muted sound of the running water in my otherwise silent apartment.
I closed my eyes and waited for him to come back.