I’m awoken by a revving car or truck engine coming from outside. My body aches in new places, spots that I've never felt sore before, reminding me of last night. Viking had taken my body like a man possessed, never getting his fill, and I’m definitely feeling it all over. The sheets smell like us, leather and flowers. I would never have guessed that it would be a good mix.
The mattress beside me moves, and I crack my eyes open to witness his firm, naked ass as he stands, pulling on nothing but the jeans he was wearing the night before. I love the Nordic tattoos he has scattered over his arms, including one the size of my entire hand on his thigh. His entire back is covered in one massive tattoo as well. The details are breathtaking, making the Oath Keepers patch appear more sinister and threatening. The flag being held by the skeleton looks like it’s being ripped from his flesh to wave proudly. It must have taken hours and several sessions to get something that would probably win an award if it were ever put on display. That would never happen; my father wouldn’t approve of such exposure to his club or the surrounding Charters.
My father.
I wonder if what happened last night in the bar has gotten back to him yet. Surely someone must have said something about the dramatic public claiming performed by a notorious Nomad. Hell, it should be the talk of the town and surrounding area with how much people like to gossip.
Fuck my life. I can’t believe I let that happen.
I’m probably going to end up having to move away when this is all said and done. I won’t put my mother through added stress; I do, however, have to complete my mission. The things Viking did to me, made me feel…I’m such a fool to believe I could get through this without any damage to myself.
He would never truly make me an Ol’ Lady, and God knows I couldn’t handle everything that comes with that title in the first place. I’m too much like my mother, an old soul. I want monogamy; I want a husband who comes home to me after work, and I get to cook him dinner every night. I couldn’t deal with having a man that came home when he wished, fucked whomever he wanted and ended up in prison.
I’m not that strong, neither was my mother and she’s taught me plenty. Last night should be enough, and I can keep my distance from Viking in the future. Between him and the Prospect, I don’t think I could do anything else with another member. I know I said before that I would be with a dozen if that’s what it took, but something’s changed.
Viking’s different for me; he’s a game changer. I don’t feel disappointed when I look at him, but the opposite and that scares the fuck out of me. I can’t afford to let myself fall for a biker. I won’t let him break me like my father broke my mother.
The motel door closes quietly on Viking’s way out. I guess he knows who that engine belongs too.
Their voices are loud enough to carry through the poorly built motel and over the rumbling from the exhaust. It’s hard to tell if it’s a friendly visit with the heavy metal music playing amongst everything else. Despite my stomach telling me to stay in bed, that Viking can handle whatever’s outside, my feet hit the matted carpet.
I scoop up the thin sheet, wrapping it around me and make a beeline for the door.
Opening it enough to fit my body through, I lean against the doorjamb, curiosity spurring me on to be brave or stupid. Immediately I notice two of my father’s men, each standing next to a mean looking black beast of a car. The doors are wide open with the windows down, allowing the thumping from the rock music to escape into the parking lot.
Breezing over their cuts, I learn that the driver is my dad’s Enforcer, Cain, and the passenger with the bright Mohawk is the club’s Treasurer, Spin. They notice me immediately. Mohawk guy’s face lighting up as he runs his eyes over my sheet. The other guy stares, his forehead wrinkling slightly like he’s trying to place me from somewhere. He won’t be able to, though, my father’s never introduced me to these guys before.
The driver keeps talking through his curious gaze. “So ‘bout that barbecue, my Ol’ Lady’s cooking and she doesn’t mess around when it comes to food.”
Viking and a few of his brothers stand next to the bike Nightmare was working on yesterday afternoon, listening to my father’s men.
“Aye then, laddie, we’re always up for some good cooking.” A robust, red-haired man beside Viking answers in a Scottish accent. I’ve never seen him before, but he wears the same cut that Viking has, so he must be one of his Nomad brothers as well.
The Enforcer grins, a set of dimples coming out to play that make my stomach flutter a little. Fuck, he’s hot. He doesn’t have the same effect on me as Viking but damn is he nice to look at.
“Bring your Ol’ Ladies too. I know the girls would wanna meet them.” His friendly gaze meets mine causing Viking to glance between the other men and me.
The Treasurer stares openly at me as well, clearly enjoying what he sees and then like an afternoon storm coming out of nowhere, Viking’s irises blaze.
Facing me, his nostrils flare as he breathes deeply, taking in my bedroom attire. He looks upon me with such heat; I can’t stop myself from licking my lips nervously, remembering his taste. He had that same intense fire blazing last night while he took me relentlessly. He’d kissed me until I swore my face would be rubbed raw from his beard.
My fingertips lightly trace over my chin, finding a tender spot at the memory.
Spreading his legs out a little more, he crosses his arms over his chest, his shoulders becoming even wider by the new stance. His magnificent body’s completely imposing, overtaking more space than what should be allowed; it seems like he grows even larger as he commands everyone’s attention and points toward his room. With a deep grumble, coming out more like a growl he demands, “Get in the room.”
Huffing in irritation, my temper flares to life, ready to spit nails if necessary. I open my mouth to protest, and he dutifully cuts me off.
“Now, Cinderella.”
Glancing over to the men, I wait for someone to tell him he's ridiculous, but I notice they’re all staring at me, not him. They’ve got on amused smiles and smirks, entertained at this biker bossing me around. My gaze settles on Viking again.
His eyebrow lifts, almost in challenge. It’s like he’s warning me that he’ll put me in my place if I argue. This man clearly hasn’t seen every side of me; I don’t do well with taking orders. Well, orders that aren’t sexual anyhow.
He’ll learn—the hard way.
Keeping my mouth shut, I spin around and give them my back as my temper takes over. Being one that doesn’t easily relent, I slam the door behind me. Making sure the impact is strong enough that it echoes through the nearly empty room, sounding like a clap of thunder, making the fake art on the walls shake.
The guys outside chuckle loudly at my outburst and the thin walls of the motel allow the sounds to float inside, taunting me, angering me further. Gritting through my sore muscles and my ass that feels like it could be on fire today, I slide on my leather skirt.
Glancing around for my corset, I land on a new package of wife beater tank tops. Those will be much more comfortable than attempting to squish my tits back into my top from last night.
I hated wearing it. Damn thing squished me like crazy, but it was all about the look. Ruger had told me that Viking would for sure be at the bar last night, and I wanted any advantage I could think of to get his attention. I would never have returned to that place had I not known Viking was there along with Bethany, just in case I needed help again. I hate to ever feel dependent on someone like that, but I learned my lesson the first time, going outside alone, barely two nights ago. My arms and back still have the stupid scrapes to remind me of my bad judgment call.
Throwing a tank on, I practically drown in it, so I tie it up at my mid-back, leaving a sliver of skin on my belly visible. I’m probably looking like a hot mess, but I couldn’t care less. I’m making a point to this bossy biker, that he doesn’t give me orders outside the bedroom.
Shit fuck. I like him being such a demanding ass. It’s sexy to meet someone who’s so damn Alpha; at times I worry my panties will catch fire being around him. Oh wait, I’m not wearing panties. Regardless, he doesn’t need to speak to me like that in front of so many men.
Viking had been sweet enough to retrieve my purse from my trunk last night about halfway through our activities, so I snatch that up. Quickly, I shove my corset top inside the oversized bag that should most likely be classified as luggage rather than a purse. Tossing my shoes in also, which Viking admitted he’s a bit obsessed with, I shoulder the wide strap and head back outside, ready to leave.
Bethany’s standing next to Nightmare, this time, clad in his T-shirt and boxers with hair shooting every which way like she just climbed out of bed as well. I wonder if she got to hook up with him after all. When we went home to change she confessed that she was interested in him.
What’s it with these grouchy fucking bikers that pull you to them? Nightmare seems broody and miserable, but she’s still fascinated with him. Who am I to talk though? Viking could be classified as a quiet asshole, yet he has me twisted all over the place for him.
Nose and chin up, I use a dose of fake confidence strutting past the men and call back, “Come on, Bethany, we’re out of here.” Since I’m not in my high shoes and the gravel doesn’t bother my bare feet too badly, I put a little extra swing in my hips making a few of the guys’ mouths pop open.
Viking lets loose a frustrated growl, and it takes everything in me not to shoot him a smug smile in defiance. “Where do you think you’re going?” he demands, but I ignore him.
“I’m coming! Let me grab my stuff,” Bethany answers and runs back into Nightmare’s room.
“Princess!” he shouts. His voice is strong and lethal with a warning ingrained in my name, just by his tone.
Turning to him and propping my hand on my hip, I give him ‘the look,’ “What?”
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“I’m leaving.”
“I’m not done with you.”
Shrugging, I don’t get a chance to respond as Bethany comes running out, yelling that she’s ready.
“Fine. I’ll call you.” He plays it off.
“Sure you will,” I retort, knowing damn well that he doesn’t have my number. He didn’t get it last night and I damn sure didn’t leave it for him.
Bethany and I trek toward the two-lane highway, the guys loud enough I can still easily overhear their conversation.
“Her name’s Princess? Or you call her that?” Cain questions Viking.
“It’s her fucking name. I call her Cinderella. What’s it to you?”
I try to do a sly glance back, but catch Cain openly staring at me, as if he saw a ghost. I don’t think twice about it, though; there’s no way he knows who I am.
“Definitely, bring your Ol’ Ladies with you to the barbecue,” I catch him saying right before we’re too far away to hear anything else.
VIKING
Cain repeats himself, and I almost pop off that she isn’t my Ol’ Lady, but I did claim her last night. Whatever the fuck that means now, I have no idea. I was planning on hashing it all out with her later today, but that plan’s gone to shit with her temper tantrum.
It’s none of his business right now anyhow. I can’t stand Ares, but the rest of the Charter here doesn’t bother me much. Cain, for example, is good people.
At the same time, I don’t want to say she’s not my Ol’ Lady ‘cause if another brother goes after her, I’m liable to scalp them. The bitch was already under my skin, but after last night—getting a real taste—it’s even worse. She makes me feel as if I’ve had my first hit of heroin and I want more.
Fuck! She came outside in a goddamn sheet, and she wants to give me attitude for it? I know these brothers and what goes through their heads. The moment they saw her dressed like that, there’s no doubt that they were picturing the fucking fabric falling.
That’s my fucking property; I own that body and the only time I want her seen in so little is right beside me. At this rate, she’ll end up on the back of my bike permanently, and I’m not so sure that description fits with being a Nomad.
The chicks speed off, Bethany waving and smiling as they pass by. Princess stares straight ahead like we’re not over here, still pissy I reckon. Good thing I remembered to use her phone to send myself a text message with her number once she had passed out. I doubt she’d have given it to me today.
“All right bro, we’re smashing. Don’t forget—three p.m. next Saturday.” Cain fist bumps each of us, Spin doing the same before climbing back into the midnight black Hellcat. I’m not much for cars, but that’s one badass vehicle.
The car creeps through the parking lot, and we all admire the impressive machine, throwing up a few fingers in a friendly wave.
Spin leans forward, cranking the music up as the car hits the highway and Cain romps on the gas. The powerful horsepower of the Hellcat sends Spin flying back into his seat, and we all chuckle. You know Cain did that shit on purpose since the brother touched his radio. I’d probably do the same.
“Fuck, I wanna drive that car!” Ruger wistfully declares, watching it speed away.
Saint claps him on the back, nodding, “Bet it’s one hell of a pussy magnet.” He turns toward Sinner. “We need one, man. Both of us in it, I bet bitches would be throwing themselves on the hood.”
Sinner chuckles, shaking his head.
Nightmare snorts and rolls his eyes. “Whatever, I’m going back to bed.”
The brothers agree and head back to their rooms. I won’t sleep, though. I hardly got any rest last night, and I can’t stop wondering what Princess is up to today.
Sitting on the picnic table, I light a cigarette and pull out my phone, turning on the screen. She’s my new background, sleeping peacefully—fully naked—and absolutely fucking beautiful.
Spider takes a seat next to me, getting a peek at my device.
“Hmm?” Grumbling, I flash an annoyed glance his way for not minding his own business.
“She sure stormed off quickly.”
“No shit.”
“Do you wanna talk about it?”
“Of course not, why would I?”
“Look, man, you’re the one clearly pissed about it and thinking of her; I’m just lending an ear if you need it. What’s so fascinating about this one anyhow?”
“Fuck,” escapes with a sigh. This guy likes to chatter all of a sudden. He’s been so quiet up until recently, and we’ve gotten along just fine. “Hell if I know.”
“You’re too picky.”
“Excuse me?” My eyebrows wrinkle as I take a pull off my smoke.
“We all see you sift through which bitches you allow to suck your cock and the few you fuck. This latest one, you took her in a bar and then all night, I’d guess by the whimpers and moans I heard through the wall. You can’t shake her because you don’t just fuck anyone. I wouldn’t even call that just fuckin’ either. I heard you being all sweet and shit when she got upset. You care about her, enough to console her.”
“You’ve all seen me fuck in public,” I defend.
“Yep, we’ve seen you fuck on the side of a building and in a field at a party, but brother you claimed her in front of a room full of people. You mounted her in front of the brothers and everyone else in the middle of a bar, just so another man wouldn’t touch her.” He breathes deeply and mutters, “You’re royally fucked, bro.”
Shrugging, I glance up, watching the clouds filter over the sun. “Doesn’t matter. She was pissed and left. I’ll probably never see her again.” Leaning back on the table with my elbows, they prop me up enough so I can stretch my legs out in front of me.
“Do you wanna?”
His question catches me off guard. Do I want to?
Squeezing my eyes closed tightly, I admit the truth, muttering, “Fuckin’ A.”
“Let me see your phone.”
My eyes fly back open as I face him. “Why?”
I don’t want him staring at Princess’ picture; it’s all mine.
“Because I’d bet five hundred bucks she gave you her number or you took it.”
“You’re not calling her.” I take one last puff and throw the rest in the rusted coffee tin. I need to quit that shit; the road hides most of the smell, but I still know it’s there.
He grins, his face appearing younger with the lightness. “No, but do you want to know how to find her?”
“You can do that?” I reply, sitting back up, my interest suddenly peaked.
“Seriously, think about who you’re talking to right now.” He places his palm in front of me, waiting for me to hand over the phone.
“Let me change something.”
“I already saw the picture; I won’t yank my dick to it, I swear.”
I shoot him a brief glare, then give in, nodding and hand over my phone. My eyes never leave the device as he illuminates the screen. He quickly flips to the apps section and pulls up some tech shit about the phone. Spider loses me from that point on. I have no idea how he can know so much shit about technology, but if it finds her, I’ll be grateful.
He chants, “Come on, come on, come on,” quietly to himself, tapping his thumb against his jeans as he waits for something to happen on the screen. After a beat, he lets out a cocky chuckle full of triumph.
“How do you find her?” I’m assuming it must’ve worked by the grin he’s back to wearing.
“I installed a program that works like Key Logger.”
My expression mirrors my thoughts, becoming more puzzled.
He tilts his head and tries to explain again. “It’s like the Key Logger program you install to monitor someone’s computer activity.”
I remain quiet, not having a clue what the fuck he’s talking about. We didn’t have money like that, for useless shit such as computers when I was growing up. It was hard enough to eat when I was fucking hungry.
Huffing, he simplifies, “It’s an app that’s going to track where she goes.”
“She’ll blow the fuck up knowing I’m tracking her.”
“It’s a ghost program; she won’t be able to tell you’re tracking her. Even a decent phone tech wouldn’t know about it. You’d have to be a programmer or app builder to know where to begin looking.”
Cocking my eyebrow in disbelief, he rolls his eyes.
“Look, man, I give you my word. Princess won’t find this shit. Besides, your phone is an unlocked burner; she’d have no idea who it belonged to unless she knows your number. Does she?”
“No. I haven’t contacted her.”
“Yet.” He mumbles, causing me to scowl. “Okay, it’s finished.” He holds the phone so I can see everything also. “Click apps. The box with a crown as the photo is her, click it.”
Multiple options appear such as find, log, points of interest, home, listen, disable, and the last—delete program.
He hands me my phone. “The question mark next to each word will tell you what the option does, otherwise, just click on the words, follow the prompts, and it’ll take you where you want.”
Nodding, I mutter, “Appreciate it,” while my eyes stay trained on the words, curious what they’ll each do.
“I’m your brother, Vike. I’ll always have your back.”
My gaze meets Spider’s as he stands and I fist-bump him, giving him the respect he deserves. It’s easy to forget that these men are my allies, and they support me. I was surrounded by snakes for so long, that it’s been hard to let go of the shit I dealt with in the past. Never again—these men are different, respectful, and loyal.
We tap knuckles, and he heads toward the office while I pull the app up again.
I start off by clicking the question mark next to the word ‘find.’ It’s labeled in red, so I guess that one’s the most important. A small white cloud pops up with a paragraph inside explaining that you use that option to find the person that’s connected to the tracker.
Let’s see if this shit works or not.
Holding my breath, I press the red lettered option. Google Maps opens up and hones in on a street view, showing me the last recorded image of the area. Below the picture, an address appears in white.
Let’s see just how accurate this thing is.
Nodding to myself, I stride over to my bike and dig out my Bluetooth piece from my saddlebag so I can hear the directions my phone gives me. Once it’s securely in my ear and I’ve clicked ‘go’ on the phone, I toss the cell into my saddlebag.
Mounting my ride, I quickly tie a bandana around my head and place my half shell helmet on securely. With a loud rumbling engine, I steer my way through the gravel lot, hitting the highway, a man on a mission.