Joel looked over the haul with approval. This was their biggest score yet and, with the market hungry after the dry spell of winter, it was sure to go for big bucks after they smuggled it across state lines. It had been an easy job, easier than some of the gang’s past hits where trucks had gone so far as to have armed guards to protect their cargo. He felt a twinge of guilt as he thought of Viper. The last job had gotten him a hole through his arm and he’d been pissed that Joel had kept him sidelined for this job. But as VP of the Dirty Cruisers, his orders had weight and when Carrigan, their president, backed his decision, Viper didn’t have a choice.
He knew it hadn’t been his fault, but when his men got hurt, he took it personally. He was the lead out on these jobs, and they were his responsibility. The thought had his gaze swinging once more to the delicious looking creature still planted exactly where he’d put her half an hour ago. She hadn’t move a single step, keeping true to her word, and something about that had warmth firing through him. He was dominant, always had been, always would be, and there was something about the girl that had all his cylinders firing. He wasn’t sure if it was the submissive way she followed his orders, or the strength that constantly shone in her sapphire blue eyes, even despite the fear she let show in the way her hands had trembled in his.
He shook it off and turned his attention back to the task at hand, but it was damn hard. Harder than it should have been. But even still, he could see her, that long, mink colored hair tied back in a braid, with soft tendrils floating loose to frame her face, a perfect oval. The freckles that danced across her pale skin, like soldiers marching from one cheek, across her straight nose, to the other. Dark brows arched above those eyes, so blue he’d been lost for a moment when he’d first swung open the door to the truck, and felt the fear in them hit him like a sucker punch to the gut.
Joel might have been the youngest VP ever of the Dirty Cruisers biker gang, and was known for his ruthlessness and no holds barred attitude, but he couldn’t stand the thought of someone hurting a woman. The idea of someone beating up a woman just because they could, of hurting someone weaker than them, made him clench his fists in rage. He would give women pleasure, give them the ride of their life, and then leave the next day without a second glance, but he made damn sure they both knew the score from the first.
There had been a few instances when he’d first joined, rising through the ranks quickly, when a few of the members had thought to get a little too rough with their ladies. Joel had put an end to that quickly and mercilessly, leaving one man in the hospital, but the rest of the gang had gotten the picture real quick. He wouldn’t stand for that shit, and despite their rough reputation, most of the men in the gang felt the same way. They had their own moral code, and they lived by it. It was the only way it worked, the only way they could survive.
“Hey, Joel, we’ve got everything tagged and bagged. We’re almost ready to head out,” Tucker’s voice pulled him from his thoughts and Joel looked up at the big man as he approached, his step slow and measured, just like everything else about him. He was a giant, at six foot seven he was taller than Joel even, and about twice as wide, he’d had to rip the sleeves from his leather just to wear it and the vest still pulled tight across his wide frame. He wasn’t fat, not by any means, just big. He’d grown up self-conscious about his size, and he’d learned to be cautious with his movements, as well as his words, thinking through everything before acting. It was a rare trait in the biker gang world, where most were fueled more by instinct that reason, and it was why he was Joel’s second hand man. He trusted Tucker implicitly.
“Okay. Good. I don’t want to spend any more fucking time here. It’s too open. Anyone could drive by.”
Tucker nodded once, moving as if to turn back to the truck but then stopped and gestured with his head in the direction of the girl, who still hadn’t moved.
“What about her?”
“What about her?” Joel asked, repeating Tucker’s question and the man just shrugged his massive shoulders.
“Are we just gonna leave her out here, all by herself?” Despite his looks, Tucker was about as soft hearted as they come and Joel just clapped him on the side of his arm. It was like hitting a rock wall.
“Don’t worry. Someone will come by and she’ll be able to hitchhike back.” Tucker eyed him dubiously and he sighed, “Don’t worry, Tuck. I’ll take care of it.”
Satisfied, Tucker turned around and walked ponderously back to the truck to oversee that last bit of inventory and then lock the truck up again after storing his bike inside. Tucker would drive the shipment to the clubhouse that was tucked away on a secluded stretch of highway that wound around the mountain range surrounding Denver. He didn’t trust anyone else to do it, because even thought Tucker was a softy when it came to some things, Joel wouldn’t bet against him in a fight. Tucker could throw a punch with the best of them and Joel had seen him drop a two hundred and fifty pound man with a single blow.
Joel watched as the truck pulled away, shooting gravel out behind it as it pulled out onto the road, surrounded by a convoy of bikers to make sure it arrived safe and sound to the clubhouse. Excitement pumped through him. It was a bigger score than even he had hoped for and it would bring a pretty penny in for the gang.
As the sound of the bike’s engines faded to a distant drone, he walked over to where his bike was parked--the only one left--and swung a leg over.
“Hey! Hey, you!” a feminine voice called out and it tugged at him, pulling him towards her despite himself. He rode the bike slowly over to where she was still standing, still unmoved, and that strange heat fired through him again. Joel wondered if she would behave as well in the bedroom and the thought had an image rising in his mind instantly. An image of her body, all curves and softness, naked and wrapped around him as he told her to bend over, as he commanded her body to bring them both pleasure.
“Hey, guy!” she yelled again, and he could see the nerves in her blue gaze, the uncertainty in the way her shoulders hunched, making her tiny frame seem even smaller, even more delicate.
“It’s not ‘guy’,” he snorted as he pulled the bike up short in front of her. He held out one hand, and she stared at it in confusion. Joel jutted his hand towards her again and arched a dark brow at her questioning look. “Give me your phone.”
“What? Why?” she said, stammering slightly at his command and his body tightened, every muscle tense and his brain calling out to show her, to teach her how to follow his demands without question, to give her a punishment that would leave them both out of breath and full of pleasure. A punishment she would enjoy. He felt his body harden painfully at the thought and cursed under his breath, reigning in his instinct, trying to get himself back in control. There was just something about the curvy brunette that had his dominant side going wild. He wasn’t sure if it was those big blue eyes that looked innocent, and at the same time challenging, or the lush pout of her lips, slightly open and just begging for a taste of something sweet. Joel barely held back the groan. What the hell? He was acting like a randy teenager with his first lay.
He was usually more in control than this. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d reacted to a woman so intensely. It wasn’t that he didn’t get action. He got plenty. Because of his looks, or his position in the club, there was always a woman or two willing to get between the sheets with him. Or against the wall. Or, his personal favorite, in the special harness he’d fabricated that gave him total access while keeping his willing victim restrained.
The picture of this girl tied up and open, dripping her honey on his hand and begging for him to fuck her exploded in his mind and he took a shaky breath. Shit.
Get a hold of yourself, Joel.
The feel of her tentative touch brought him crashing back and it took him a moment to remember that he’d asked for her phone. She placed it in his hand like an animal wary of a trap. Oh, she had no idea.
“What’s your name?” he asked roughly as he took the phone and opened it. There wasn’t a passcode or anything on it and the screen came to life as he scrolled to her contacts.
“Carla,” she whispered, her blue eyes so big they seemed to drown out the rest of her features and he had to tear his gaze away and back to the phone as he punched in his name and number, and hit save before tossing it back. She caught it in fumbling hands and stared at him again with the look of a lost child. He shook his head, knowing that he shouldn’t, but he was unable to stop the words from spilling out of his mouth.
“Listen, Carla, if you want some sort of compensation for your part in this little shindig, our clubhouse is thirty miles down the road. I’ll be there.” That was all he said before he revved the engine of his bike to life, the black steel gleaming in the sunlight, and took off in the same direction as the truck. The whole ride back he was haunted by a pair of piercing, sapphire blue eyes.
*
Compensation. What the hell was that supposed to mean? she thought to herself. She’d tried to ask the question out loud, but the overpowering roar of the engine had drowned out her words, and her chance to find any more answers was lost in a cloud of gravel and dust as the motorcycle, and its enigmatic driver, rode way.
What the fuck am I supposed to do now? Carla looked around the deserted road and wrapped her arms around herself as she stood there, still for some reason reluctant to move from the spot she’d sworn to stay.
I’m being ridiculous, she scoffed silently, but it took more willpower than she cared to admit to get her feet moving, first one, and then the other.
Resigned, she started walking back in the direction of the farm and prayed that some kind Samaritan would pass by, otherwise she had a hell of a long walk in front of her. Carla held her phone up, already dialing Elle’s number and held it to her ear. It rang, and rang, and rang some more and Carla cursed as the call went to voicemail.
“Hi, Elle, it’s me, Carla. You’re not going to believe this, honestly I don’t really believe it, but I was driving a shipment from the farm and got robbed by this gang of…I don’t know, motorcycle riders. Anyways, I’m stuck on the side of route twenty, trying to get back to the farm and I didn’t know who else to call. I know you’re at work right now, but I could really use a ride, they stole the truck and everything in it.” She didn’t need to specify, Elle knew--and disapproved--of her job at the marijuana farm. “Listen, just…just call me when you get this, okay?”
She hung up the phone and picked up her pace. It looked like she would be walking after all. Like she’d said to Elle in the message, she really didn’t have anyone else to call. All of her family was back in the Midwest and Elle was her closest friend here. She glanced at the phone still clutched in her hand and quickly scrolled through her contacts, woefully few, and immediately found the new number saved there. After the number was a single name: Joel.
Joel, she thought to herself, picturing the too handsome man that was the obvious leader, at least on this job. Everyone had naturally deferred to him, even her. Especially her. Carla remembered the way he had commanded her so effortlessly, the way her body had responded instinctively to his.
She shook her head, trying to clear her mind. She shouldn’t be thinking about him, she should be thinking about what the hell she was going to say to Maurice. He was going to be furious, and now she had no choice but to go back to the farm.
The sound of wheels on the pavement made her look up just in time to see a small beige sedan approach and she stuck out her thumb with a prayer. A second later, an elderly woman slowed and pulled the car over next to her.
“You all right, sweetie?” the woman asked kindly and Carla shook her head, overwhelmed suddenly by everything that had happened. She savagely fought the tears that pricked painfully at the corner of each eye.
“I need a ride. My…car was stolen,” she said, barely catching herself before telling the truth.
“Oh my. Get in, dear. Get in. Where are you going?”
“Thank you so much!” Carla said in relief as she climbed into the passenger seat, “Just up the road. To Honey Bud Farms.”