Once I’d finished coming, he willingly unhooked my cuffs. My wrists are still a bit tender but nothing I can’t live with. Since all of that, we’ve laid in bed and discussed the lockdown. A rival MC is threatening us. They were spotted three towns away, loaded down with guns and ammo. They are also the ones causing trouble with the run my daddy and brothers are on. Something about a drop gone south. I know there isn’t much he can tell me in terms of details, although he’s been rather forthcoming with the rest.

  That lengthy conversation concluded and Big dove for my pussy. I think I could get used to this coming everyday kind of thing. Big would or will make a fantastic fuck buddy. Wish I would have thought of it sooner. Even though he won’t stick it to me, for whatever reason. Morality is my guess. I relish in the onslaught of his powerful tongue and deft fingers.

  “Now that it’s past noon, what’s on your agenda today, Prez?” We are both resting on our elbows, facing one another in the bed. I’m naked from the waist down. I took a shower after our talk, and now I’m decked out in one of Big’s newer black Harley shirts. As usual, he’s wearing his cut, a t-shirt, jeans, and black shit-kickers. Lookin’ mighty fine. Although, I’m a bigger fan of him out of his clothes. Not that I’d ever tell him that or anyone else for that matter.

  “Well…” He wickedly grins, tugging on the hem of my shirt. “I was hoping to keep you in bed all day. Seeing as though you are sexy as fuck with your hot pussy always ready for me.”

  “I am not allllwayss ready,” I drawl out with an innocent smile, batting my long eyelashes.

  “Oh yes, you are. I’m startin’ to think you’re wet twenty-four, seven.”

  “Am not.”

  “Are so.”

  I roll my eyes with a dirty grin, whilst Big’s phone begins to ring. Dropping onto his back, he yanks it from his pocket.

  “Fuck,” he snarls, lips curled, baring his teeth as he reads the screen.

  “Big,” Gunz’ distinct voice yells through the locked door, followed by mild knocking. “Big.”

  “What?!” Big Dick barks.

  “You better answer your phone, man. She’s been blowing up mine and your office. You don’t want her comin’ down here,” Gunz explains through the door and leaves.

  “Fuck,” Big grumbles under his breath just as his phone begins to ring once more.

  Scrubbing the prickly stubble on his cheek, he answers the call. “Yeah?” – “No, you are not comin’ here.” – “No, you’re not in any danger.” – “My decision to cut you loose is my own damn business, Linda,” he huffs.

  “Yeah, I get it.” – “Hell no, I’d never claim you. How many times do I gotta tell you this?” – “Ten years. I know.” – “Why wouldn’t I fuck you for that long? You got a pussy, don’tcha?” – “Stop your yellin’, bitch.” – “No, I don’t think I should have to listen to your whiny bullshit.” – “No, you are not comin’ here.” – “Fine, you can go right ahead and try, but you won’t get through the gates. White boy won’t let you.” – “Why am I being an asshole? Are you out of your fuckin’ mind? You crazy whore.”

  The phone blares to life. I can hear her screaming at the top of her lungs. Big just shakes his head, exasperated. I don’t get why he’d listen her to rant. Guess I don’t need to as long as she doesn’t come around here. That’s not a good thing for any of us.

  “Alright, fine. I get it. You’re not a whore. But you are a stupid cunt. Now stop wastin’ my time tryin’ to find some lame ass excuse to get back into my bed. It ain’t happenin’.” – “Yup that is what you are doing. Don’t insult my intelligence, Linda.” – “Yes, she is.” – “That’s none of your fuckin’ business.” – “I’d like to see you try. If she doesn’t kill you herself, I’ll do it for her, or let Gunz, Brew, Steel, Jizz, Viper, Mickey…need I go on?” – “Didn’t think so.” – “Stop cryin’.”

  Big tilts his head back, smashing it harder into the pillow. I scoot to his side and run my hand across his chest and down his abs, which causes him to groan and wrap his big hand over mine, gliding it up and holding it to his heart as he continues his hostile argument with Linda.

  “What can I get ya?” I line up the paper plates along the short kitchen counter in Big’s basement. It’s dinnertime, and I cooked meatloaf with instant mashed potatoes and corn casserole. Now…don’t get all grossed out on me, I know they’re not real potatoes. We’re out, and he doesn’t have a hand mixer anyhow.

  “Don’t you let them boys sit on their behinds like their daddy,” Debbie says from across the room, folding a fresh load of laundry. “Now you boys get up and serve yourself. Bink was kind enough to cook for us,” she finishes, admonishing her strapping boys.

  Jordan’s twelve and every bit of a looker as his dad, with short wavy brown hair and green eyes. Craig, the oldest, is fourteen and a spitting image of Debbie, thin as a rail, great bone structure, and plump lips. Great for kissing all those girls he flirts with, I’m sure. Although I’m leaning toward him having a thing for ladies of the older variety. The boy fits in with all of those depraved bikers that I love dearly, with his boob staring, ass pinching, and I can’t state this for certain…but… I think Dallas, on a night Debbie was caught up in her ‘shows’— there’s a lot of them, anyhow, I think Dallas convinced one of the whores to blow Craig. I wasn’t there, but juicy gossip spreads like wildfire ‘round these parts, and Debbie was fumin’ for a month.

  The boys see themselves to dinner, and I drop onto the couch to take a load off. The first official day of lockdown. I’m not sure which I hate more, the whores complaining all the damn time about one stupid thing or another, or maybe it’s the old ladies at my brother’s house that have called me six different times to ‘help’ them with this or that. Please, it’s like they’ve never seen a dishwasher or a gas stove before. Where in the hell have they been living? Under a rock? Is it really that hard to check the drawers to find a manual can opener? It’s been a fucking nightmare, to say the very least.

  “How’d Big’s go last night?” Jezebel strolls into the room, wearing a zebra printed night gown and plops down onto the couch beside me. “Well?” She suggestively waggles her eyebrows and makes a kissy face.

  Playfully, I bump into her shoulder. “None of your business, nosy,” I tease.

  “Now, you boys eat at the table,” Debbie orders her sons, who are carrying their plates into the living area. It’s not really a ‘living room’ since the kitchen is one long wall behind the living area, complete with a tiny breakfast nook. Or that’s what I’d call it. It’s made up of a petite table and two chairs. The thought of Big even attempting to eat there makes me want to mock him and laugh hysterically. Not even sure if he could sit in them. They’re too small.

  “If I’ve learned anything from that girl,” Debbie joins in on our conversation, humorously shaking a washcloth in Jezebel’s direction. “She is relentless. Some of the crap she pulled out of me last night would make even my old man blush.”

  “See.” Jezebel curves her back into the corner of the couch, hitching her right leg onto the cushion. “Might as well tell me. I’m an obstinate bitch. I always win.”

  Lightheartedly I cross my arms across my chest. “Well…” I exaggeratingly sigh. “Guess, I would have to tell you that I let him…no, I mean I kind of let him go down on me,” I explain nonchalantly.

  “Oooooo, girlfriend, I need details.” Jezebel sits up, rubbing her palms together. This crazy woman is like a crack fiend for a juicy story.

  I offer her the rundown of the night’s festivities and this morning. Adding the bits about Linda’s mood killing bitch fit and Big getting called away on some club emergency. As soon as he left, which was right after Linda’s phone call, I took another shower and spent the rest of the day thinking about his tongue, hands, and most importantly the way his body curled around mine in our own sort of cocoon last night when we slept. That was by far the closest I’ve ever slept with any man in my entire life, but I can’t tell my Sacred Sisters that.

  “That’s it? He didn’t sleep with you? Kinky handcuff foreplay and the man cuddles next to a half-naked woman to sleep? When he could be fuckin’ her? Jesus H’ Christ, I think Bulk should revoke Big’s Man Card. I wouldn’t believe it, if anyone else had told me. Shit, girlfriend that sucks.” Jezebel’s thoughts ring true as her southern accent heightens the meaning of every word.

  I couldn’t agree more. I’ve wanted it since I was in his office. It’s a slow, agonizing torture I don’t think is going to let up anytime soon. Big has made it known that he has no desire to stuff his big fat dick in me. And that causes a kind of sadness or frustration, not sure which, but it’s something I’m unaccustomed to. I don’t have to beg for it - never had to and never thought I would. Seems as though I was wrong about that. I’ll give the man a little credit; he sure knows how to please a woman and control his own urges. The first night he might have beat off when we did, well, you know. Since then, not once. Oh, I know he’s hard. That’s impossible not to notice. Using it or touching it though is nonexistent.

  “Yeah, I would have to agree—” my words are clipped short by the sound of gunfire.

  Debbie’s eyes get huge, and Pixie, along with Candy Cane sprint into the room.

  Without hesitation, I snap into survival mode.

  Another shot is fired. And it’s close. Way too close for comfort.

  I don’t hesitate. I jump off the couch, grab hold of Jezebel with one hand, and haul her pregnant ass behind me down the hall. Debbie scrambles, gathering her sons, and we move swiftly into the master suite.

  “Get in the closet,” I order the women and children.

  Filing one by one into the walk-in closet, I dash to the bed and grab the pillows and blankets then toss them in the closet, before I order them to stay put and be quiet. Afterward, I silently shut their door and run to grab my purse for my gun. They don’t question me; they don’t even utter a single coherent sentence. I know they have to be scared out of their minds. I would be too if I hadn’t seen this shit happen before.

  With my gun in hand, I exit the room, shutting the door tightly. Military style, I’m armed and ready, I shuffle along the side wall toward the door to the stairs. I have two choices. I stay in the basement and protect the women and children down here, or I go upstairs and join whomever is up on the porch.

  More gunfire.

  My phone buzzes in my jeans pocket.

  I ignore it momentarily to reach the steel door that is locked from the inside. Checking to make sure the lock is secure, I take in a deep breath and gather my wits.

  I can do this. I grew up here. This isn’t the first or even the fifth time I’ve heard shots like this go off. I tell myself through calming breaths. Glancing down at my attire I make sure I’m good to go. Guess I dressed for the occasion. Combat boots, black t-shirt, and all. Go figure.

  One more deep cleansing breath, and I fish my phone from my jeans.

  Big: STAY INSIDE! THIS IS NOT A DRILL! DO NOT PLAY SUPERWOMAN! I NEED YOU ALIVE. I NEED THEM ALL ALIVE.

  Yeah, well. I am not a prissy bitch, and I don’t trust some other brother that I hardly know and have never shot with to protect the house.

  Shoving the phone back into my pocket, I unlock the steel door and MacGyver it up the stairs. Placing my ear to the door that opens into the hall, I carefully listen, drowning out the pounding in my ears from my heart racing. No one’s in the house.

  Easing the door open, body perched on the wall, I shuffle around the corner and crouch by the entrance, running my hand across the glass panes on the door, I realize its bullet proof. Big is a smart man.

  My phone buzzes again.

  I sigh, and once more I check my phone.

  Big: I knew it! Get your ass back downstairs! Now!

  How in the hell does he even know where I’m at?

  Me: No! And how in the fuck do you know where I am?

  Big: I have hidden cameras all over my house. I see you by the front door. Don’t you dare unlock it! I fuckin’ mean it.

  Another gunshot rings out, and I ignore him. The truth that he’s probably been watching my every move in his house, which is quite sick, if you ask me. But I ain’t got time to sit around deciphering another one of Big’s weird fuckin’ idiosyncrasies.

  Flipping the first lock open as quietly as I can, my phone vibrates in my pocket, again.

  Yeah, I know, motherfucker I’m not listening. That shouldn’t be surprising. Hello, look who you’re talkin’ to. I’m not an old lady. I don’t follow rules. I make my own. Get over it.

  The next lock goes, and I peel the door open just enough to scurry out the door. Just as I do, a very pissed off Gunz snaps his head over his shoulder, pinning me with a death gaze.

  “Get back in the fuckin’ house, Bink,” Gunz commands in a harsh whisper.

  “No,” I whisper back, standing up and re-locking the door with my key from the outside.

  Walking up to stand beside Gunz, who’s on high alert, scanning the grounds, another shot goes off. It’s coming from the front of the property. The sound waves are breaking off the houses, making it sound closer than it really is.

  “Who is it?” I whisper.

  “None of your business. You are not a brother. Now get back in the damn house before I have to drag you in myself.” Gunz yanks the empty sucker stick from his mouth and drops it on the step, crushing it under the heel of his boot.

  “I’m not going anywhere.” I stand firm, my eyes darting around the openness of the estates, checking for anything out of the ordinary. The stars are muddled under a thick cloud cover. It’s nearly pitch black. The shadows are plentiful. Good thing there isn’t a single way into the property except the front gate or scaling these monstrous walls of thick brick and mortar.

  Gunz’s phone violently vibrates in his pocket, and he pulls it out to answer.

  “Yeah?” he snaps.

  “Yes, I fucking know I told her to go back inside. You of all people should know she won’t leave,” he explains to who I assume is Big on the end of the line.

  “Bink,” Gunz turns toward me. “Go back inside.”

  “No.” I step down to the bottom step to prove a point.

  “I told you,” he speaks to Big. “Sure, here she is.”

  Gunz taps his phone to my shoulder, and I tuck my gun into the back of my jeans and step back onto the porch to ready myself for the severe tongue lashing I’m about to get.

  “Yes,” I calmly answer, pacing the porch.

  Yelling from the front of the compound that echoes through the receiver of the phone. “Listen, you better fucking leave!” Big growls angrily at someone.

  Another gunshot goes off, and Big howls in excruciating agony, dropping his phone to the ground with a scratchy thud.

  I don’t even think. I just act. Barreling at top speed, I drop Gunz’s phone to the porch and shoot down the street. It doesn’t take but a second for me to register heavy boots pounding into the blacktop behind me.

  “Stop!” Gunz yells.

  “Fuck off! Big’s hurt!” I keep running, my breath heaving in and out of my lungs, my arms pumping fast at my sides, feet pounding the pavement.

  “I said stop.” A massive bald man plows into me from behind, like a linebacker. My arms raise up instinctively to protect my face, but I still hit the asphalt, hard. My knees feel like they shattered into a million pieces. My ribs ache, and I cry out in misery. My arms burn like they are on fire. Tiny pieces of gravel dig into my flesh as my body grinds to an agonizing halt.

  “Oh shit, oh fuck.” Gunz lifts off my back and flips me over. His hands fly over his mouth, “Oh shit, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” He stands over me.

  Blood runs down both of my arms. My entire body aches like I’ve been hit by a Mac Truck. Lying flat on my back, I grunt and grind my teeth as the intense pain courses through me, branding me like a hot iron.

  Goddamn this shit hurts so fucking bad.

  Tears sting my eyes, but I take in a deep painful breath and I will them away. I will not cry.

  “Fuck off, Gunz,” I seethe through clenched teeth, extending my forearms outward and resting them on the asphalt, wounds facing up. All the while, praying the inferno that has sprouted across them would dissipate just a fraction. To offer me some sense of relief.

  Gunz reaches out to offer me a hand. I don’t take it. I can’t. Swallowing hard, I wet my dry lips with the tip of my tongue.

  “Fuck off,” I growl.

  “Stop being a pain in the ass, you’re bleedin’. We gotta get you inside.”

  No fucking shit, Sherlock. The anger that flows readily through my throbbing veins has me seeing red. Once more I don’t think, I act. And swiftly kick Gunz right in his dick and balls, immediately dropping him like a sack of potatoes.

  Gathering my internal strength, I haul my own ass off the ground and limp toward the front of the estates. Leaving a whiny, dick-kicked Gunz in my wake. Serves him right!

  The more I walk, the better I feel. The pain dissipates a tiny fraction by the time I reach a group of brothers’ standing around a puddle of fresh blood in the dirt parking lot.

  Then I hear it. The wail of a woman crying profusely. The men don’t even try to hold me back when they part to let me pass. I find a woman restrained and not just any woman. It’s Linda! She is being held by two brothers, and Big sits on the ground, Dallas by his side, applying pressure to a wound in Big’s shoulder.

  The fucking bitch shot him!

  “You!” I boldly point to her, losing my shit. “You fucking shot him!”

  My body moves quicker than my mind. The brothers release her, shoving her toward me, and she scrambles to retreat. No such luck, you stupid whore. I grab hold of her hair, throwing her violently to the ground. My fist slams into her face. And it fucking hurts like hell, as it radiates all the way into my shoulder. I don’t give a shit; I brush it off, and I attack her again. I sock her in the stomach. The weak bitch does nothing to fight back or defend herself. So I let loose. Blow by blow, my aggression and years of pent up anger toward her unleashes in a single instant. My own inner beast arises, and all I see is blood red. My heart thumping wildly in my chest is all I hear, besides the grunts and vile curses of hatred that I expel, with each merciless strike. I don’t know how many times I hit her, slap her, or yank out thick chunks of her hair. But I never stop. Not until a voice cuts through the air and slams overwhelmingly into my heart, taking my breath away.