Prologue
I ghost my hand along the cherry-red and black custom paint job on my 2000 Heritage. Man, I’ve missed the shit outta my Harley. She’s a beauty, too; the chrome shines like I haven’t been away for the past three years. My brothers did good taking care of her; no doubt the prospects washed her up if there was even a hint of dust showing. I look around the garage on the compound, taking in how good it feels to be back home.
Bear’s tools line one side of the garage walls; several bikes are parked inside, waiting to be worked on, and the stand-up stereo system that usually blares rock music sits along the back side. I walk over to the work bench, pick up a wrench, and twirl it around in my hand before putting it back down. My finger traces over the vice president patch on the right side of my leather cut. The stench of oil and gasoline is strong, but I’m so fuckin’ happy to smell it again. Closing my eyes, I breathe in deeply and think back to that night.
Bear is the last to come out of the warehouse; he looks around at all of us. “Dodger’s down.” He frantically searches around our group before asking, “Where’s Snake?”
When no one answers, his tone rises. “Where the fuck is Snake?”
Bones, President of our Tulsa Chapter, answers, “We don’t know; we haven’t seen him.”
“Did you guys look for him?” Bear’s anger intensifies by the second. I know exactly what he’s thinking—Lil Mama will kill him if something happens to her father.
Bones replies once again. “No, we were waiting for everybody to get out before we started looking.”
Bear doesn’t hesitate. “I’m gonna go get Snake. Someone needs to go get Dodger.” He turns and high-tails it back inside the warehouse, not caring whether any of the Italians were left alive or not. He’s my brother, what choice do I have? I follow right behind him, my pistol in hand.
When we get to the open room, Bear drops to his knees and I kneel beside him. He looks at me and says, “We gotta call an ambulance.”
Staring my brother in the eye, I know I’m about to take a risk, but I have no choice. He can’t be caught here. “No, you need to get out of here. I’ll call, then I’ll get out too, before they come.”
Shaking his head, Bear replies, “No, I have to make sure he’s okay. Lil Mama will hate me if I don’t.”
Putting my hand on his shoulder, I try to make him see reason. “Bear, listen. When I call the ambulance, the police are gonna come. You have Lil Mama and Cub, and you need to be with them. Let me call and you can meet them at the hospital.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. We’re wasting time, now go!” I wait five minutes so I know they’ll be getting close to the bikes if they make a run for them.
“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?” the phone operator asks while I hold the cell up to my ear and stare down at Snake, lying in a pool of his own blood.
“I was passing by an old warehouse a few miles outside of the city and heard gunshots.” I try my best to sound like a concerned citizen.
“Do you know the address, sir?”
“No. I just know it’s a few miles outside of the city. Someone might be hurt, so you might want to hurry.” Quickly hanging up, I run outside, and when I get closer to my bike, I throw down my cell phone and stomp it to pieces. Once I kick it into the high grass, I jump on my Harley and take off.
I watch as police cruisers rush by me, but the next thing I know, red and blues are flashing behind me.
Fuck!
Pulling over on the side of the road, I stay calm as I wait for the cop to walk up.
“Good Evening, sir. Driver’s license and registration.” Grabbing my wallet out of my back pocket and my registration out of my saddlebag, I hand them over.
“Mind telling me why you pulled me over?”
He uses his flashlight to look over my information. “Well, we got a call about gunshots fired and you happen to be coming from the direction of where the incident took place. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that would you…” He looks over my license and adds, “Mr. Williams?”
“No, I don’t know anything about any gunshots. I was just having a ride on this beautiful night.” I feign surprise in my tone.
His flashlight shines in my eyes, I blink from the brightness, then over my cut. “You wouldn’t have any objections to me searching your bike, would you?”
Double fuck! I wasn’t stupid tonight. My pistol stayed in my saddlebag; I used guns the others brought to shed the blood of those filthy cunts.
“Like I said, I’m just out riding. Why would you need to search my bike?”
“Let me put it another way. You either let me search your bike or you wait for the search warrant.” I wish he would get that light out of my fuckin’ eyes!
“Guess I don’t have a choice.”
When I stand to the side of my Harley, he pats me down first, but finds nothing. The first saddlebag is clear, but he finds my pistol in the second one. “You have a permit for this?”
“Nope.”
“It looks like I need to bring you in for more questioning.”
My bike is stranded as he leads me to the back of his cop car. We head the rest of the way into Wichita and then we get to the police station. By this time he’s called me in, he knows about my previous record, and when he pulls me out I’m read my Miranda rights and arrested.
They tried questioning me, but I quickly said I wanted my attorney. They let me make the call and when he showed up, I made sure he notified my mom and told her about my bike. She took it from there, calling the club to let them know.
Three years in the state penitentiary for your club ain’t shit, but it gets real fuckin’ lonely when you don’t have anybody comin’ to see you on visitation days. My mom would make it once every couple months, but that’s about it. When shit went down, my club brothers were advised by my lawyer not to have any contact with me, in case the detectives tried to bring them down as well.
I wouldn’t want that for my brothers, especially since some have met their Ol’ Ladies and began having kids. They did what they had to and stayed away, but they never forgot about me, and my mom let it be known that money was dropped off to her monthly so she could add it to my account at the prison. There was one constant in those three years, the letters I received once a week, every week like clockwork.
My thoughts are interrupted by the sound of her voice. “What’cha doin’?” Turning towards the open door of the garage, my smile broadens at the sight of Chatty. She leans against the doorframe, wearing her black leather pants, black riding boots, and a red and black Sinner’s tank, looking like a goddess with a beer in each hand.
I didn’t recognize her at first when Hanger and I started walking up to the clubhouse because her hair isn’t red anymore—it’s blonde, and sexy as hell on her. She wasn’t dressed like she is now either; earlier when I arrived, she had on a regular t-shirt and a pair of shorts that made her legs look a mile long and fuckin’ fantastic. Every other detail about her is exactly the same: those ice blue eyes, plump lips, sun-kissed skin, those D tits that my mouth begs to suck on, those thick hips I could…
“Gunner?” Chatty cuts me off before I start torturing myself too much with thoughts of what I could do to her. Thoughts of what I would like to do to her. Didn’t stop my cock from tightening against my jeans, making them fuckin’ uncomfortable as the zipper presses into my erection. Three years is a long fuckin’ time without some pussy! It’s never the same with a hand—no matter which way you turn it, it’s still a hand instead of a juicy, wet cunt.
“Yeah?” Finally able to have enough sense to reply, I walk towards her.
“I brought you this.” She holds one of the beers out to me.
“Thanks.” Taking a long pull from the ice-cold bottle, I keep my eyes on her.
“I asked what you were doing.” She comes further into the garage and looks around, much like I did. It’s the first time she’s been back in three years, too.
She left not long before I got locked up because she couldn’t be here anymore. Her husband, Ripper, got killed right outside the clubhouse when the Italians ambushed us and shot up the compound. It was hard on all of us when he died, but Chatty went into a deep, dark depression there for a while. No one, not even Crazy Girl, Hanger’s wife and Chatty’s best friend, could pull her out. So she made the decision to move to where her family lives in Arizona and piece her life back together.
That’s why my situation is so fuckin’ hard. We all loved Ripper; he was one of the best brothers in this club, and so fuckin’ loyal to the Sinners and to Chatty. She was his wife, his Ol’ Lady, and he treated her like a goddamn queen. Problem is, I want my dead brother’s wife. In fact, I’ve wanted her for a long ass time. I’ve wanted her since the day he walked her through the clubhouse doors eight years ago. I never let it be known—I never overstepped my boundaries—but he’s gone now, and time has moved on. Maybe us both returning home is a sign it’s my chance. Hell, I don’t even know if she thinks of me in that sorta way, but I’d like to find out.
Finally answering her question, I tell her, “Lookin’ around. It’s funny. Not much has changed, yet so much has at the same time.” My blue eyes meet hers. “Didn’t know you were comin’ back.”
Her eyes move around the garage as she takes it all in. “Yeah, I had to get my cousin away from Arizona. I needed Tinsley protected, so I brought her here. I know she’ll be safe.” Chatty takes a drink of her beer before bringing her eyes back to me. “I know what you mean about being the same, yet different. New Prospects, new members, marriages, and babies. But…the bar’s the same as I left it—Crazy Girl took care of it for me like I knew she would. Out here’s the same as it’s always been, except for a few new bikes.”
Chatty hangs her head and watches her boot kick at something invisible as she continues, “The room’s the same. When I picked up and left, I didn’t take any of Ripper’s things. I left everything, and it’s still there.” She points at the back wall beside the stereo system and adds, “That’s his bike.”
“I know.” Putting my arm around her shoulders, I pull her close to me and kiss the top of her head. “What’s goin’ on inside?”
“Crazy Girl and her drinking games.” Chatty laughs and it’s a magical fuckin’ feeling I get when I hear that bell-like sound. “Hanger’s gonna have his hands full later.” And that is how Zoey got her name Crazy Girl.
Laughing, I ask, “You remember the night she got her name?”
Chatty laughs with me. “That girl thought she could outdrink some of the guys by playing sixes.”
I add, “She loved playing that game, but she’s the one that ended up shit-faced, puking everywhere in front of everybody.” We both laugh harder.
Chatty bumps my shoulder with hers and finishes, “Hanger called her crazy girl; she gained everyone’s respect that night.” That’s true—and the name stuck with the rest of us, so that’s what she’s been called ever since.
“He always has his hands full with that woman, unless he knocks her up.” I smile as she laughs. If Hanger could, he’d have that poor girl constantly pregnant, but Crazy Girl isn’t gonna go for that. “Hey, you wanna go for a ride?” I can’t wait to start Cherry up, feel that vibration under me, and have her out on the road with the wind blaring against me. True freedom!
“I don’t know, Gunner.” Chatty looks uncertain as she glances between my bike and me.
“It’s just a ride.”
“I haven’t been on the back of a bike since Ripper.” I can tell by that longing expression that she misses the hell out of it.
Grabbing her hand, I lead her over to my Heritage and pull the helmet off the right handle bar. “You miss it, I can tell.” Chatty takes the helmet, pushes it down on her head, and fixes the strap so it’s secure.
She straddles my bike and I stand there for a second, staring. I’ve never had a woman on the back of my bike—that spot’s always been reserved for my Ol’ Lady, if I get one—but Chatty on the back is a sight of perfection. Fuck, I think to myself. Ignoring my once again rising cock, I put one leg over my bike, grab the handlebars, sit her up straight, and turn the key that was waiting for me in the ignition. The Heritage that I like to call Cherry rumbles to life loudly. Chatty wraps her arms around my waist tightly as I sit, and it’s a real good feeling, havin’ her arms around me. We pull out of the garage and hit the open road.
*****
An hour later, we return to the compound, where the prospect tending the gate lets us through, I pull the bike back into the garage and park in the same place it was before we left. Climbing off first, I hold my hand out to help Chatty as she removes my helmet. “Glad to see Cherry rides just as good as the day I left her.” Hittin’ full throttle, having that much power again, feels pretty damn fantastic.
“You named your bike Cherry?” Chatty laughs as she takes my outstretched hand and climbs off the Heritage.
“Sure, I did! She’s the only woman I’ve ever loved besides the one that gave birth to me.” Smiling, I pat the gas tank. “C’mon. Let’s get inside.”
Chatty follows close to my side as we head up to the clubhouse. “I missed riding more than I thought.” Her smile is evidence that it’s a true statement.
Opening the door, I respond while looking into her eyes, “I know. You were made for this life, just like the rest of us.” Placing my hand on Chatty’s lower back, I guide her inside.
The loud music blares throughout the bar, clouds of smoke can be seen through the air, and the party is in full swing. As I look around, I see a few prospects shootin’ pool, money’s thrown down on the table, and winner takes all. A couple of the club whores are dancin’ around, trying to gain the attention of some of the guys. Hang-arounds sit at the tables drinkin’ and bull-shittin’ with each other.
The couches are filled with men getting their dicks sucked, others have a bitch on their lap ridin’ ‘em like there’s no tomorrow, and others have one straddling their face with another on her knees and one beside ‘em spread the fuck open while his fingers push in and out, makin’ her scream like a fuckin’ banshee.
“Some shit never changes.” Chatty shakes her head with a laugh and walks to the bar.
“Hey, Gunner!” Turning my head towards the shouting of my name, I see the ones on the dance floor smiling my way and waving. I tilt my head up—that’s all the acknowledgement they’ll get from me right now. I follow behind Chatty.
“What’s your name again?” Chatty asks the prospect tending bar.
“Drifter. What can I get for you?” He wipes down the bar as he waits, but adds, “Good to have you back, Gunner.”
“Thanks. It’s good to be back. Where’s Hanger?”
Drifter tucks the towel into his back pocket as he replies, “Him and his Ol’ Lady took off towards the rooms a while ago.” No surprise there; even after four years together, marriage, and three little kids, they still fuck every chance they get.
“Give us a six pack of Corona, lime, and that bottle of Jose.” Chatty smiles, then lets it be known, “Tomorrow, I’ll be taking over the bar.”
“Got it.” Drifter grabs everything Chatty asked for, then sets it in front of us. I’m pretty sure his answer was for both of Chatty’s demands.
“Where you wanna go?” I ask as I start grabbin’ the alcohol.
“Let’s hang out in your room.” She turns away from the bar and starts heading towards the bedrooms.
Handing the drinks over to Chatty, I open the door to my room and flip the switch. The light brightens the space as we walk in, then I shut and lock the door behind us.
Chatty looks around and says, “I’ve never been in any of these rooms, except for the one Ripper and I stayed in.”
“I know.” I look around and it’s just as I left it—same as everything else. The different Harley posters with half-naked women cover the light brown walls. My 42-inch flat screen TV sits on top of the wooden dresser along the wall in front of my full-sized bed.
Chatty walks over and puts the alcohol down on my black comforter, then sits down on the bed. She removes her boots and socks then leans against the dark wooden headboard. Walking to the opposite side of my bed, I sit, remove my boots and socks, then mimic her position.
She opens one of the Coronas, takes a sip, then opens the tequila and takes a healthy swig before passing me the bottle. Watchin’ her suck the juice out of her slice of lime has my cock hardening once again. “You gonna stay in the old room since you’re back?” I question, trying to keep my mind off where I’d really like that pretty mouth of hers.
“No, I got my cousin, Tinsley, set up in one of the empty rooms, so I’ll just share with her.” Another shot down and half the beer gone.
“Makes sense.”
A few more shots pass between us, leaving the bottle half empty, and a few more Coronas gone; Chatty’s feelin’ a little tipsy. Not that she tells me so, but with the way she’s laughing, and her eyes have that far-off look, you can tell. I’m feelin’ pretty damn good myself since this is the first drink I’ve had since I got locked up.
I turned the TV on a little while ago to some music station so it wouldn’t be so quiet if we weren’t talkin’. Chatty surprises the shit outta me when a new song comes on. She straddles my lap, then holds a lime close to my mouth. I take it between my teeth as she takes another shot, my eyes glued to the goddess while waiting for her next move. No way in hell am I going to disturb what she has goin’ on; it may ruin the moment. If this is my chance, I’m takin’ it. She might regret it tomorrow, but I’ll deal with that then.
Bringing the bottle down from her lips, she bends closer to me. She takes the lime right out from between my teeth and sucks the juice out. “So good!” Chatty says as her eyes roll and she throws the peel into the small trash can next to my bed. There’s no way she can’t feel my hard, throbbing cock against those tight leather pants.
She hands me the bottle while putting the next slice between her teeth. It sits there, waiting for me like a bad temptation. Never said I was a good guy, so I take the shot and move in close to her. My tongue slides across her bottom lip—the moan is quiet, but I don’t miss the sexy little sound coming from her. Takin’ the lime, I suck the juice out. “So fucking good!” I respond as I watch her eyes slowly open, and when they do, there’s desire and lust in her blue orbs.
Chatty places another piece between my lips and takes a shot, only this time she doesn’t swallow. She leans in close, grabs the lime with her fingers, and puts her lips to mine. Swallowing down the hot liquid she transferred from her mouth to mine, a low growl escapes from deep in my chest. Watching as she squeezes some of the lime juice into her mouth, she holds it in the air a few inches above me. Tilting my head back, I open up, waiting for the tart taste to hit my tongue.
Leveling my eyes with Chatty’s, I know mine are a reflection of hers, showing off our desire and lust. I’m hungry for this little goddess. I’m done playing—and fuck waiting for her next move! I grip the back of her neck roughly and pull her close. With our lips not yet touching, only a breath between us, I demand, “Kiss me, Chat.” Her eyes move down to my mouth and a small gasp leaves her before she moves in the rest of the way.
There’s nothing slow about this kiss—it’s primal, devouring, and control-craving as our tongues duel and we explore each other’s mouths. Chatty is a woman that likes to have control, but I’m a man who takes it.
Her hands work furiously, tuggin’ at my black t-shirt until we break apart and she gets it over my head. Quickly following suit, I pull her tank over her head in a swift motion. They both go flying across the room. With one hand on the back of her head, I bring her lips back to mine. My other hand finds the clasps on her bra, and with ease I undo them as the straps fall around her arms. While the kiss continues, Chatty gets her bra off and throws it off to the side somewhere. I don’t really give a shit where the clothes are going, as long as they keep comin’ off.
My hand buried in her hair, I stop the kiss, pullin’ Chatty’s head back a little. My mouth moves to her neck. Her arms wrap around my neck and her head tilts to the side, allowing me easy access. My free hand cups her tit, massaging gently as I pepper kisses along the side of her neck and shoulder. I then run my tongue lightly along the same spots my lips just were; Chatty shivers, and her breathing becomes heavy.
I bend down a little, sucking her tight rosy nipple into my mouth. My tongue moves in circles around the hard bud before I flick it and bite down some. The sensation makes Chatty cry out louder as she starts moving her hips along my rock hard cock. Her hands move up onto my head as she tries gripping my non-existent hair. It used to be long as fuck on top, with the sides shaved, but in getting locked up, I had to shave it all when they transferred me to the prison. Maybe I need to grow it back?
Moving on to the other tit, I give it the same love and attention as Chatty bends down. Her lips and mouth kiss and suck at my skin—no doubt there’s gonna be a mark. A growl rips free as she bites down roughly, but it’s a huge fuckin’ turn-on, because I love fuckin’ rough. I’m not into the slow, romantic love-making.
Letting go of her nipple with a pop, I tell Chatty, “Stand up, get those sexy fuckin’ pants off, and bend over the bed with your legs spread.”
She scurries off of me and off the bed as I lay there, watching. Finally able to release my cock, I undo my jeans, lift my ass and slide them down my legs. I don’t have to worry about boxers or none of that shit; I’m a commando kinda guy. Pulling my feet free, I stare in pure adoration as she stands before me in all her naked perfection. Gripping my cock in my hand, I give it a few good strokes. Chatty’s lips part and her tongue peeks out licking across her swollen bottom lip. “You’re beautiful, Chat.”
Her lips lift in a slight smile. “Gunner, it’s been a long time since a man has touched me, kissed me, or looked at me the way you are right now. I need you to fuck me. I need it to be hard, rough, and don’t you dare take it easy on me. Make me forget every-fucking-thing. Can you do that?”
“My pleasure.”
Scooting off the bed, I walk behind Chatty and put my arms around her. I run a finger along her pussy, feeling how fuckin’ wet she is for me. Moving my hands up her body, I give one last squeeze to her tits before placing my hands on her back and bending her over. Chatty holds herself up with her hands on my comforter and spreads her thighs wide open. Grabbing a condom out of the nightstand, hoping like hell they aren’t expired, I rip the wrapper with my teeth and roll the latex down over my length.
Placing the tip of my cock at her entrance, I push forward in one swift motion until I’m all the way in. Chatty cries out loudly and tightens her hands around the comforter. It’s been a while for her, so I give her a second to adjust, because let’s face it: I’m not small by any means.
“Move,” she tells me, and I do as she commands.
My hands fingers dig into her hips as I thrust in and out of her tight heat. The quick pace and rhythm I’ve set is controlled and deliberate, making sure to hit the spot that will make a woman go fuckin’ crazy. Pushing in as far as I can, I stop all movement and reach around to find her clit. As I move my middle finger in circles, Chatty’s moans grow louder. Slowly, I start moving again, but it’s rough little pumps, where her feet come up off the ground. “Fuck, you feel good! Your tight little cunt’s so fuckin’ greedy.”
Chatty’s knuckles begin to turn white because of the hold she has on my comforter. Her head flies back and I feel her walls clenching me tighter. “Fuck, I’m close. Don’t stop!” Chatty cries out, and her lips stay parted. I move my finger quicker, push in and out a little faster, but keep that same rough rhythm. “Yes! Right there!” My finger goes even faster, as do my thrusts, then I’m growling out and she’s crying for God.
“I’m coming!” Chatty announces loudly, and I’m right there with her.
Our breathing is fast, our bodies are sweaty, and she’s shaking, still having one hell of an orgasm as her juices soak the latex. I wish it was my cock, but going unprotected wouldn’t have been smart. My cum fills the condom as my legs shake from such a powerful release; I don’t remember it ever being that good.
Chatty falls onto the bed in an orgasmic bliss and I crawl to the other side after disposing of the condom. My breathing finally gets under control and I look towards Chatty. She’s looking at me in a different way now. Fuck, I knew this shit was gonna happen, but I wished it would have come tomorrow.
“What have I done?” Chatty stands, her eyes shining—and not in a good way. I’ve only seen her cry twice in eight years, and that’s when Ripper died and then the day they put him in the ground.
“We didn’t do anything wrong, Chat.” I sit up and scoot to the edge of the bed. I want to grab her, hold her, and comfort her. I want to reassure her, but she’s already grabbing her clothes and putting them back on.
“Speak for yourself.” Chatty walks to the door and opens it.
“Chatty?” She doesn’t look back, just shuts the door behind her as she leaves me lying there, feeling like a complete asshole.