I skim through the list of unanswered messages from her.

  Niki at 7:25 p.m.- Gunz!

  7:29 p.m.- I need your big, beautiful cock, baby. Please don’t make me wait much longer.

  I snicker.

  8:03 p.m.- Gunz, I’m so horny.

  8:14 p.m.- How much longer?

  8:33 p.m.- It’s been two hours. This isn’t funny.

  8:40 p.m.- My wrists are starting to hurt.

  8:45 p.m.- God, I hate you!

  8:49 p.m.- I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. Please come back soon. I’ll suck your piercing as long as you want. Please!

  9:05 p.m.- Goddammit!

  9:12 p.m.- Asdfhasdfasdfasdfojasdfladfh!!!!!

  Unable to help myself, I laugh out loud, not caring where I am. This woman ain’t happy with me. Too bad my dick loves that way too much. He’s perkin’ right up at the thought of her red-faced, texting with one hand as she squirms to get loose. I’ve got issues.

  9:14 p.m.- In case you couldn’t understand that. It says I hate you.

  Yeah. Gathered that.

  9:35 p.m.- Please. If you care for me at all, send someone to take care of my pussy. It’s been three hours. I can’t take another. It’s too much.

  Knowing I gotta answer now, rather than later, ’cause it’s been a few hours, my thumbs get busy.

  Me: You’re fine. I’ll be there whenever I choose to be. You’ll wait because I said you’ll wait.

  Niki’s gonna hate that, but she knows how I roll.

  Niki: Oh. Thank. God. You finally replied! What if I don’t want to wait, baby?

  Me: You already know the answer to that.

  Niki: Refresh my memory.

  Head shaking at her games, I snort.

  Me: If you can’t wait, then you can call one of your club whores to set you loose. If you do, you know the consequences.

  Niki: The you won’t touch me for a month rule?

  Bingo.

  Me: That’s the one. I don’t play games. If I didn’t want you spread out for me, ready and willing, then I wouldn’t have tied you up in the first place. The club always comes first. I’m not gonna explain myself. You stay, your choice. You leave, your choice.

  Niki: Will it be much longer?

  Ugh. More with the questions.

  Someone’s cruisin’ for a reddened ass tonight. Cherry. Fucking. Red.

  Keeping my patience in check, I give it to her straight.

  Me: You know I won’t answer that. You’re either willing to wait as long as it takes for me to handle club biz to get my dick, or you’re not. Time isn’t a factor.

  Then I click off the message, ’cause I refuse to answer another. I’m not on her leash. She doesn’t control this.

  To see what the fat fuck’s doin’, I glance up from my screen. He’s the same as before. However, he has balled his fists above his head. They weren’t that tight before. Think he’s sweating more, too. The rug of curly chest and stomach hair covering his overhung belly is wet as fuck. Droplets are making a small mess on the concrete floor.

  I waggle a brow to see if he’s gonna engage or not. It’s a battle of the wills. Who’s gonna break first?

  Ignoring me for a beat, Remy’s bitch glances over to his buddy, who’s not lookin’ so hot. His skin’s gone from clammy and pale to a sickly gray. Bet ya a dollar, he’ll be dead before I leave the basement. Whoever’s left standing will have the honor of enduring the last of Big Dick’s wrath. I should feel sorry for him, but I don’t. Empathy’s wasted on those who prey on the defenseless. Screw ‘em.

  I return to the task at hand.

  Spotting who else texted, my face breaks into the biggest grin. It’s our girl. Warmth lights up my heart just thinking of her and my grandbaby. I’ve never loved anything so much in my whole life. Don’t think I ever could. If I wasn’t here, handling club biz, I could be with them right now. After what went down yesterday, that’s where I’d rather be, camped out on the floor outside her bedroom, for her protection and my peace of mind.

  Bink: Just put Harley down. Hope everything’s okay there. Haven’t heard from Big.

  Not wanting to wake her, I check the time stamp on the message before replying. It was sent less than an hour ago, which means she’s likely awake.

  Me: Handling stuff. Big’s gonna be fine. He’s sleeping here tonight. Don’t worry.

  Bink: Okay. How’s the clubhouse coming along?

  Me: We’ve got it covered. Now go watch a movie with Tati and get some rest.

  Tati is Bink’s latest project. A teen who was caught up in Remy’s sex ring. Her big, bleeding heart couldn’t let the girl leave. Now we’ve got ourselves a second survivor of the sex trade living on the compound. A single mother named Janie and her lil one, Dom, live with me. Another long story I don’t wanna delve into right now. Life’s complicated. How’s that for an explanation?

  “You talkin’ to your bitch?” the fat man snarls.

  Stowing my cell, I widen my stance and crack my knuckles, slow and deliberate, as I stare the fucker down, my lips sealed.

  “I asked you a question, dickhead!”

  On the inside, I’m jonesing to let ’er rip. On the outside, I appear bored. To push his buttons a lil more, I yawn, then snicker, when Fatty yanks on his restraints, testing their strength. When they give a little, he steps closer in challenge. I’m not gonna play into whatever pissing contest he thinks he just threw down. We’ve got the upper hand, and I have no desire to deal with false bravado bullshit. He’s old enough to know better.

  I fiddle with the heavy SS ring on my index finger and wait for him to make the next move.

  I don’t gotta wait long.

  A sticky spray of spit varnishes my face. If this were Big, he’d lose it. Me, I pretend it didn’t happen. Nice try, asshole. It takes a fuckuva lot more to get me riled up.

  “Let me loose! I want a fair fight!”

  I snort.

  “Motherfucker! I said I want a fair fight! You a coward? Think I’ll waste you? Come on. Untie me. Let’s do this!”

  Biting my bottom lip, I stave off a pleased smile. This guy’s got guts, I’ll give him that. Might’ve gotten his wish had Big been the one to come say hello.

  When Fatty doesn’t get his desired response, he loses his shit. Gripping the thick chains in his fists, he yanks and twists them to no avail, attempting to get closer. Not giving up, he kicks out and fails to connect with anything but air. Still, I remain in place as he has the adult equivalent of a toddler’s temper tantrum, cursing like a biker, floppin’ his blubber and puny cock every which way. It don’t take long for him to breathe heavily. The police-grade cuffs dig into his wrists, trickling blood down his forearms.

  “Argh! Come on! Let’s fight!”

  Unimpressed by his antics, I pull a small knife from my front pocket, flick it open with my thumb, and stab it into his left pec. When it hits bone, I keep going. Fatty Trafficker screams in surprise, then tries to scurry backward, but the chains don’t let him get far. I drive forward, burying steel to the hilt. Eyes roll into the back of his skull before he passes out from the pain. Don’t worry, I didn’t kill him. No major vessels have been nicked. Close, but no dice. That’s Big’s MO, and I’m not about to steal it from him. This should shut the fuckwad up for a while. Maybe collapse his lung. No biggy. He’ll survive long enough to die later.

  Not wanting to inflict further damage, I extract the blade, toss it in the corner for Malcolm to clean later, and climb the steps back to the main floor.

  The prospect is waiting on me like a good bitch at the top. “So?”

  The door clicks shut behind me before I speak. “Make sure Big gets his time with the fat one in the next hour, two tops. If he wants to end the other’s life, he’d better do it now. The guy might be dead already.”

  “Dead? Big said not to let either of them die on my watch.” Malcolm trembles, hands shaking down at his sides.

  I shrug. “Not my problem.”

  “Gunz, he’s gonna kill me.” His voice cracks.

  “Naw.” I pat the probies back. “He won’t kill ya. Just rough ya up a bit.” Leaving the prospect to deal, I navigate the halls ‘til I reach the steel door of my bedroom.

  Fishing the loose key from my pocket, I let myself in, ready to get my fuck on.

  Sure enough, there Niki lies all trussed up with those lovely, bare tits ripe for the sucking as dark hair spills over the pillow. Her lean legs are spread eagle, thanks to the padded restraints cuffed around each ankle. Her wrists, done up the same. Gorgeous. Absolutely gorgeous. My favorite way to be greeted—cunt ready and willing. This is my idea of a perfect night.

  “Gunz!” my favorite club whore gasps. A giant smile she reserves just for me steals across that beautiful face.

  I lean a shoulder against the doorjamb, leaving it open for anyone who might wanna watch or join in. We’re not shy. “Hey.” I adjust my erection to keep it from pinching. One look, and he’s rarin’ to go. Whoever said ED happens to us fifty-somethings hasn’t met me.

  Niki wriggles on the bed, excited to get started. “Please.”

  “Please what?” I smirk, stroking my gray goatee as I indulge in Niki’s palpable need. It’s sweet, like fresh cherries and whipped cream.

  Eager for touch, she tugs on the restraints, those eyes begging me to do naughty, naughty things to that body. “Fuck me. Dear God, fuck me! I need it.”

  “You need my cock?”

  “Yes! God! Yes!”

  Satisfied by her reaction, I push off the frame, stride to the bed, and stuff two fingers into her sopping wet cunt. Niki squeals in delight, her back arching off the mattress, tits jiggling. Adorable pink polished toes curl as her mouth drops open in the sexiest moan. Bet half the brothers hear her over the music.

  ’Cause I love her slick walls, I fuck her on my hand ‘til she’s writhing, ready to lose her goddamn mind. It doesn’t take long. The girl comes like a champ.

  “Gunz! Please!” She’s on the precipice, but I’ve got other plans.

  Withdrawing my fingers, I unfasten my SS buckle and jeans. My cock forces his way out of my boxers through the slit, eager for sex. Damn, my piercing is already coated in precum. I swipe the dew away with my thumb. Niki watches it all, her gaze hungry for action.

  “You want this?” I show her the bead on the pad of my finger.

  That sweet, sweet whore plays right along, licking her lips, nodding like an overeager bobblehead. “Please,” she rasps.

  The nice guy I usually am wants to give in to her desires. The bad one that comes out to play in the bedroom refuses to be good. Eyes on hers, I suck the precum into my mouth and moan, savoring the taste on my tongue. It never gets old.

  Niki glares as I continue to relish the tang.

  “Gunz!” That pouty bottom lip begs for attention. Nope, I’m not giving in. My favorite little whore might be hotter than a high-class hooker, but she can wait. I’ll gorge on her splayed beauty and do whatever I want, whenever I want, however I fuckin’ want.

  To give her a better view, I shimmy my boxers and jeans down enough to expose every bit I’ve got to offer. I wrap a fist around my erection and jack myself slowly. More precum oozes from the pierced slit. I use it as lube and smear the rest into the skull tattoo above my dick, where pubes no longer exist. If you want whores to suck you off on a regular, you gotta keep the playground trimmed. I wax. It makes life easier. Call me Metro, but I bet you’d be the first to get on your knees to lick these smooth balls.

  Niki attempts to scissor her thighs together for friction. They don’t touch, not even a little. I laugh when she gets frustrated, trying to make it work.

  “Havin’ problems, babe?”

  She yanks hard on the restraints, rocking herself on the mattress. It squeaks in protest. “Touch me. Touch me. Goddammit, put that thing inside me!” Niki’s chest heaves, desperation clinging to every inch of her form.

  That’s it, sweetheart, get ready. Nice and ready.

  Someone clears their throat behind me. Not concerned about the intrusion, I don’t stop gettin’ myself off.

  Niki’s the first to address our visitor. “Hey, Viper,” she purrs, battin’ those long lashes. “Wanna give me some dick? Gunz is bein’ stingy.”

  This greedy bitch has no patience. She’s crusin’ for a bruised ass tonight. If she keeps it up, she won’t be able to sit tomorrow. Not that either of us will mind. Niki gets off on anything I wanna do to her.

  I continue to stroke myself and turn to face my fellow brother.

  Looking from Niki to me, Viper smiles like the deviant he was born to be. “You want me to take over?” His eyebrows bounce suggestively.

  Like hell, he can. I didn’t warm Niki up for him to work out her pussy by himself. “Take over? Why would I want you to take over when you could join?” Now get your mind outta the gutter. We share whores ‘round here. It’s a thing. Look it up. There’s no shame in our game. We fuck what we want, with whoever we want. Swords cross, but don’t touch…much. Watchin’ a chick come apart on two cocks is a thing of beauty. You should try it sometime.

  Viper shrugs off his cut and lays it on my dresser. Next goes the Harley t-shirt, exposing an impressive eight-pack and an array of ink. “No can do, bro,” he says. “There’s some bitch goin’ off on Dallas and Blimp at the gate. Says she knows you. That you need to talk.”

  You’ve gotta be shitting me. Now? When I could tag team Niki with Viper?

  Fuck.

  “Seriously?” I growl, tucking myself back into my pants and zippin’ up as Viper drops trowel, knowin’ damn well I won’t leave Niki hanging when she’s been such a good whore. If she wants biker cock, she’ll get biker cock. From the looks of Viper’s rod, he’s down to take my place. Can’t say I’m not salty about it, ’cause I am, but I’ve got business to handle. The club comes first.

  “As a heart attack,” he states, kicking off his leather boots, giving the room a front-row view of his bare backside. Niki whistles in appreciation. “She rode up in a lifted pickup ‘bout fifteen minutes ago. Won’t leave, and the brothers don’t wanna hurt her. Figured you can work it out since we know she ain’t armed.”

  This had better be life or death.

  Ready to get this over with so I can join the tail end of the epic fucktacular, I don’t bother saying goodbye when Viper climbs on the end of the bed and gives Niki a fresh lick from ass to clit. The bastard gets to have all the fun when I’m stuck bein’ the responsible one.

  Sexually frustrated doesn’t begin to cover how I feel as I power through the halls on a mission, bypassing brothers and club whores alike. I punch the door to the common room open. More brothers mill about, cleaning up yesterday’s mess like we ordered them to do. From the looks of it, they’re about done. They propped a fresh door and frame against the wall, ready to be installed come sunrise. Beer bottles line the bar top as Buckcherry thunders through the jukebox. Jizz is gettin’ a blowie from a whore on the couch. I give ‘em a wide berth and beeline it to the hole we call an exit, where the double glass doors used to be. Bulletproof my ass. Those machine guns tore ‘em up.

  Standing at the mangled gate up ahead, lit by motorcycle headlights, are White Boy, Blimp, and Dallas. They step to the wayside as they see me approach.

  I don’t notice the chick on the opposite side of the steel until I’m upon them. That’s when I hear her smooth, articulate voice first, givin’ Blimp hell, before I get an eyeful of an inked-out, purple-haired woman with average tits and wide hips. Who, upon closer inspection, must be in her late thirties.

  I stop next to White Boy, who looks like he could use some shut-eye.

  “Can I help you?” I give her a second once-over. She’s hot. A smidge older than I usually screw, but fuckable. Bet she’d look sexy trussed up in my bed.

  The woman’s arms cross beneath her breasts, her hip cocked. “You sure can. You can take care of your son. The asshole got himself locked up again for the second time.”

  Excuse me?

  This lady is on something if she thinks I got a kid.

  I glance at my brothers. They’re snickering—the fucks.

  To make sure I didn’t misunderstand what she said, I cup a hand around my ear. “Come again?” It’s a dick move, I know.

  Unamused, her jaw tightens. “You deaf? I said take care of your stupid son.”

  Okay, so I heard her right the first time. This is a prank, it’s gotta be… or a giant misunderstanding.

  Trying to take the high road and be diplomatic, I take a step closer to the gate, to see each other more clearly. She mimics my movement, swallowing the last couple of inches. I rest a hand on a bar. It’s chilly to the touch. “I caught that part. Sorry, lady, I dunno who you are, but I ain’t got a son.”

  “Yes, you do. That’s what I’m saying, and you’re not listening. None of you are.” Her angry gaze flicks to my brothers accusatorily before returning to me.

  I peek over at Dallas. “Is that what she told you guys?”

  Picking his teeth with a toothpick, he shakes his head. “Nope. She said she needed to speak to you and wouldn’t leave when we asked her to, repeatedly.”

  All right, so she’s belligerent, stubborn, and drives a yellow truck on steroids—if the one parked behind her is hers. She also has a son in jail and dresses like a biker chick with ripped jeans and a Metallica t-shirt. Her shoes are plain ole flip-flops. She’s ballsy enough to show up to a Sacred Sinners compound after sundown. Can’t say she looks all that threatening. Though, I’m convinced she’s batshit crazy. As a female, you don’t roll up this time of night unless you want one of two things—to get dick, or you’re lookin’ for trouble.