“Goddamn, baby,” I cried. There was never any faking with Marcus as I had with college guys back at the University of Arkansas. He knew how to use the head of his cock to push hard against the spongy part of my pussy.

  A finger jabbed into my ass, and I squeezed. Fuck, he was amazing.

  Large hands gripped my hips, tightening before pulling me back hard. When one of those hands broke free, I stilled myself, the hand grabbing my hair, jerking back, cock driving forward, a climax building fast, faster, a short spasm, my hair pulled so hard I was looking up at the ceiling, my mind traveling at the speed of light, chasing an orgasm through my soul only to be emptied from my throbbing pussy. I came hard, screaming, Marcus’s body tensing, his hand pulling harder, his come spreading inside me. He bucked once, twice, three times, the finger in my ass joined by a second finger.

  I dropped to the desk, sweaty and spent. Marcus held my ass up as he sat back into the chair, bringing me with him. My back to his chest, his large arms surrounded me, protected me, told me I was safe in his world, that he would never allow me to leave that safety. I was, after all, his.

  “I’m glad our worlds collided,” he whispered. “The innocent little college girl and the outlaw biker. This shit should never work, but for us it does.” His teeth nibbled my earlobe. “Love you, baby.”

  I turned, not wanting to lose the moment to look into his eyes. “No woman in this world has what I have, Marcus. You always give me the things I’m afraid to ask for. You know me.”

  “To know you is to own you, baby. And we both know you’re mine.”

  A smile worked across my face. “You’ve owned me far longer than you’ve known me, Marcus. What we have is what was always meant to be.” I slipped to my knees, wrapped my arm around his right leg, and rested my head against his knee. He stroked my hair, his fingertips occasionally touching my ear. Most women didn’t want to be owned. I wasn’t like that. I would kneel at the feet of any man who owned me properly. That man was Marcus.

  7

  Trixie

  The shittiest part of my job was the three-hour drive to Fort Smith, Arkansas. When the boss saw the broken nose, the day would get shittier. I enjoyed what I did and worked my ass off to get the assignment. I’d had to suck dick as well, which I only hated once. He was some old asshole way up in the ATF ranks. I spit that shit right back on his cock so he could take it back home to his wife.

  People would ask what made me go to such lengths to be assigned to the Brothers of Chaos. Everyone inside the department knew what I had to do to infiltrate the club. It wasn’t as easy as walking in the door one day and asking if I could join the club. I’d slept with half the officers and fucked in ways I never thought possible. I’d been dp-ed, spit-roasted, gangbanged, and everything in between. Luckily, I’d chosen to do those things with an opportunity to walk anytime.

  I walked into the office wearing a pantsuit, leaving the biker bitch shorts and halter back in Pine Bluff. I looked professional and like I had a stick up my ass. I was good at pretending and even better at fitting in.

  “Fuck, Kelly, who hit you?” Tom Washington said when I entered his office. Tom and I went way back to the academy days together. We entered at the same time and graduated together. “I wish you would drop this assignment.”

  “You know I can’t do that. I need to find out who killed my sister.”

  Tom got up and stared out his window. “You don’t even know if it was that club.”

  “Doesn’t matter. We know it was someone in Pine Bluff wearing a kutte. I have a 50/50 shot at this.” I found a seat in a leather chair and relaxed. “In the meantime, we get information on the guns they’re running. It’s a win for both of us.”

  “Tell me you’re not fucking those assholes.” Tom turned, hurt on his face. He didn’t get it. Kristen, my younger sister, was my best friend. If I had to fuck the entire club to find out what happened to her, I would.

  “I just need a couple of months, Tom. Give me that. If I don’t have any solid information, I’ll back out and leave the club.” Pulling on heartstrings with Tom was a common occurrence with me. I couldn’t help what I needed to do. “Tom.”

  “You’ve got two months, Kelly. That’s it. No more.” He sat on the corner of his desk in front of me. “Understand? The next time may be a bullet to the head instead of a broken nose.” He returned to the leather chair behind the desk. “I care about you and what your family has been through. I don’t want to be the one to tell your parents they have to bury another daughter.”

  “Thanks, Tom.” I left his office and walked down the hall to a rarely used office. Tom hoped I’d give up my hunt for my sister's killer and return to the office. I would eventually, but it was only a temporary landing place.

  At the corner of the desk sat a picture of Kristen and me at Niagara Falls. She’d just graduated from Syracuse and trying to figure out what was next. While trying to figure out life, she took a road trip to Dallas. The trip took her through Arkansas and Pine Bluff. She checked in at a hotel in Pine Bluff and then went out to find dinner. She never made it back to the hotel.

  People in the town were afraid, of course, to say anything. The FBI found one witness who said he saw two men harassing Kristen outside a restaurant. He said the men were bikers wearing kuttes but couldn’t remember the rocker on the kuttes. The man disappeared the next day.

  I left the office under watchful eyes. The other agents knew what I was doing. They knew what I had to do to infiltrate the club. What they didn’t know, it wasn’t a bad gig. Most of the men in the club were hotties. I returned to the club around ten and found that almost everyone had already gone to bed. It wasn’t often that things around the club were calm.

  “You okay, Trixie,” Skittles asked. “How’s the nose?”

  “I’ve been hit harder.” I went behind the bar and poured a glass of bourbon. “You’re friend got in a lucky shot. I won’t let it happen again.”

  “What makes you think it will?”

  “Because I’m not leaving and not backing down.” I poured a second glass of bourbon and slid it over. “I don’t expect Wendy to be back anyway.”

  “You expect wrong.” Skittles chugged the bourbon and placed the glass on the counter. “She’ll be working for the club soon. I suggest you find the man you want soon. Very soon.” She leaned closer to me. “You fuck with anyone I care about, and you’ll have to answer to me. Do you understand?”

  Skittles walked down the hall and disappeared into a room. I didn’t need her or anyone else up my ass. Bringing attention to myself would lead to questions about me and my past.

  I left the bar and sat at one of the tables outside. The stars were out in mass on a clear night. Kristen and I loved to sit out by the pool in the evenings and watch the sky. She believed in aliens. I didn’t. So we sat and waited for one to land in the yard. Of course, it never happened. Of course, we’ll never sit by a pool again. Someone needs to pay. The Brothers of Chaos needed to own what they did. If they didn’t, I would single-handedly take them down.

  8

  Beast

  First thing in the morning, I checked on Mark and found him sleeping. He’d been through hell as a kid, and I was determined to make the rest of his life comfortable. Most would say having a father in the biker's life wasn’t the way to do it. I would say they’re wrong. With me, he would learn brotherhood, loyalty, the importance of relationships, family, and standing up for yourself. Too many people allowed others to push them around. Mark would learn differently from me.

  I found Skittles sitting on the back porch, coffee in one hand, phone in the other. She wore a robe I’d purchased at Victoria’s Secret last week. Silky and cut just above her knee, it was also see-through. I couldn’t help but feel like a lucky man.

  “Everyone get home okay?” I grabbed a coffee and joined her.

  “Yeah. I wasn’t expecting any of the things that happened this past weekend. It’s like everyone lost their collective minds.” A cool breeze found its way onto the porch, and Skittles’ nipples hardened beneath the robe.

  “What happened yesterday when you had to leave?” She finished her coffee, and I poured another cup from the pot she’d brought outside. “You’re way too good to me,” she said.

  “I worry I’m not good enough sometimes.”

  Skittles giggled. “Most women would die to spend one night with you. I get a lifetime.”

  “Rip Ingles has decided to stick his nose into all our business. We either fold or remove his nose.” This is the part I enjoy—putting other clubs in their place. Rip had no issue pressing Chaos. He wanted us out of town so his club could run things. Brothers of Chaos would never let that happen.

  “You’ve got Mark now, Marcus.” I knew where she was going. “Maybe it’s time to let the rest of the club do some of the bad shit.”

  I shook my head. An MC president never deferred to his members. I led by example. I didn’t hide. I wouldn’t be me if I did. “Never going to happen. A weak leader equals a weak club.” I pulled on my boots and kutte. The leather smelled good. “I’ll be out running things most of the day. You mind looking in on Mark?”

  “Yeah. Diesel brought him that laptop and game console. Brainiac’s going to mod the laptop. The little man is set.” Skittles got up and sat in my lap. “The bigger question is, when do I get more dick?”

  “Meet me at the club this afternoon.” I lifted Skittles off my lap and put her on her feet. “What’s your plan for pussy and dick?”

  Skittles loved those words. “Well, Wendy’s going to come back down and start helping me with the girls. She has ideas. Carmen wants to help run dick.” She watched me intently. “I’d really like to run both if you let me.”

  “I don’t see why not. I’ll bring it up to the club and get an official vote.”

  We walked through the house together and stopped in the garage. “I don’t think Gigi will be back,” she said. “Diesel will be pissed.”

  “Give it some time, babe.” I grabbed a handful of ass and squeezed. Skittles moved to her toes, grabbed my dick, and kissed my lips hard. I closed the door behind us. “Whore time?”

  Skittles laughed and reached down my jeans. “It’s whore time anytime we’re in the same room. You know that.”

  I grabbed her by the neck and forced her down to her knees, hair wrapped around my hand. She freed my dick and raised her eyes, a hand massaging my balls.

  “That tight cunt wet?” I asked.

  “Fucking turns me on, you know that, right? When you talk like that.” Skittles moved my dick into her mouth, and the head pressed against her cheek, the skin bowing.

  “Then you’ll be happy to know when I see you this afternoon, I plan to stick my tongue up in that tight little cunt and lick you clean from the orgasm you’re going to have.” I ran my fingers through her hair. “Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “I’ve made myself perfectly clear?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Get on your feet, Goddess.”

  Skittles shoved my cock back into my pants and stood. We played our roles well. “Your desires are my pleasure, Beast.”

  I patted her ass and left the house, my wife and son. I regretted not being there for his diaper years but was glad I had him now.

  “What’s up, Dad?” Cinder waited next to my bike.

  “I like the sound of that, asshole.” I climbed on the bike and glanced at the house. “Shit’s gonna get difficult around the house.”

  We rode away, perfectly unaware of the van sitting down the street, waiting for us to leave. Near the Pine Bluff county line, Cinder and I pulled onto a dirt road and, a mile later, stopped at the club’s farm.

  The farm did two things for the club. One, it was a place for everyone to get away when they needed a break. Unless, of course, guns were stored beneath the barn. Watcher, Big Kentucky, and Slash were waiting outside the barn, the barn doors open, no guns waiting for transport.

  “The fuck is going on,” I asked. I walked past the others and entered the barn. “Where the hell are they?”

  Slash came in and stood across from me, a bad sign. “We got here, and they were gone.”

  “Beast,” Cinder said. He held a phone, and his face looked drained of blood. “Stimpy’s on the phone. Someone dropped off an envelope at the club. Said it was full of hair. Long brunette hair.”

  “Okay. So?”

  “They also dropped off a boy’s backpack.”

  I stood there longer than I should have. There was nothing to process in my brain, but my mind didn’t want to believe what the brain was saying. It was simple. Skittles and Mark were gone.

  “Leave the Prospects here,” Cinder said. “Big Kentucky, Watcher, Slash, you’re with us. Beast?”

  “TexMex and Brainiac to my house. They’ll get there faster. Have the Prospects lockdown the club. Find out where the fuck Diesel is and have him ask around.

  We left the farm with no guns and my mind reeling. Rip was playing a dangerous game, one he would lose. He had to know that. Whoever took Skittles and Mark had to know that.

  When we got to the house, TexMex and Brainiac were waiting outside, gloom and doom on their faces.

  “A note? Anything?” I asked and stormed inside.

  The place was trashed. Another message from whoever was orchestrating this shit thought they were in complete control. It was time to go scorched earth on Pine Bluff. I barreled my way back outside, the club watching me with intensity and trepidation. I would go scorched Earth for any of them.

  “Where we headed?” Big Kentucky asked. “You about to do what I think you’ll do?”

  “Fucking straight, my man,” I said. “My old lady. Any of you can head back to the club if you want. Rip and I need to talk.”

  I climbed on the bike and pulled away from the house, the club following me. I didn’t think anyone would return to the club, but I needed to give that option since we were riding into a gunfight.

  The Hell’s Messengers club sat on the edge of West Pine Bluff. It sat in the middle of a large junkyard. Rip had turned the old warehouse on the property into a nice place for his club. It had all the amenities on the inside, but on the outside, it looked just like his club members—like shit. It was sixty acres of cars, SUVs, trucks, and vans, all in various undrivable conditions. Six rottweilers ran the property, keeping out those foolish enough to try and sneak inside. I stopped at the gate, and an AK-carrying Prospect exited the guardhouse.

  “The fuck do you want?” he asked. Clubs kept up with other clubs, and we generally knew Prospects, but this guy was new.

  “You keep pointing that shit at me, and you’ll find it up your ass,” I said, revving the bike. “Tell Rip Beast is here to talk.”

  The guy’s eyes grew wide. He recognized my name. He wasn’t going to shoot me on purpose, but the way his finger trembled around the trigger, he sure as hell might have done it on accident.

  “Lower the fucking gun, Prospect, or you’ll never see a rocker on that piece of shit vest.”

  “Let him in,” a voice called from an intercom inside the guard house.

  The Prospect lowered his weapon. “Sorry about that.”

  “Open the fucking gate, pussy,” I said, and he did as he was told.

  All the stalling by the Prospect at the gate gave Hell’s Messengers enough time to rally the troops. When we pulled inside, nearly fifty club members surrounded us. There was not going to be a gunfight. The six dogs took up positions around us. Though every man held a weapon, none pointed them.

  Rip came outside, descended a few steps, and cut between two of his men. He wasn’t nearly as big as me, but he looked like he’d been through the ringer a lot more. He had scars along one cheek, his forehead, and both forearms. His nose had obviously taken a beating on a few occasions. At five-nine, he was probably the smallest club president in the country.

  “Stupid as shit rolling up in here like this, Beast,” Rip said. He kept about fifteen feet away. Enough distance that I’d be shot dead if I went after him. “Must have something important to say.”

  I climbed off the bike and stood much bigger than ninety-nine percent of the Hell’s Messengers. “Where is Skittles and my son?” I took a step forward, and every gun raised.

  “Fuck, Beast, I didn’t know you had a kid.” Rip’s surprise seemed genuine. “And why the hell would I take either of them?” He looked around me. “Could take you motherfuckers out right now if I wanted to.”

  “But you won’t.” I took another step, and Rip grew nervous. “Now, where’s my fucking family, Rip. Fucking around like this will bring down a barrel of shit on you and your club. Hand them over.”

  Rip took two steps forward and stopped. He had to. If he didn’t appear to challenge me, he would look weak in front of his club. “I ain’t got your family, Beast. It’s best if you and your club turn around and ride out of here before someone dies.” He came closer, and I looked down at him, playing his game. “You dropped two of my club members dead at my front door. I’m missing two others.”

  “Goddamnit, Rip, where are they?”

  “Not here, Beast.” He motioned toward the Prospect at the gate, and I heard the gate opening. “Get the fuck out of my club.” Outmanned and outgunned, I returned to my bike, glancing at the club’s main building and recognizing the woman watching me from inside. Apparently, Donna was taking a short break before leaving for Cali. She’d hooked up with the wrong man.

  “Something the matter, Beast?” Rip asked, walking toward me, much braver since I was on my bike. He glanced back at the building. “Oh, that.” He chuckled. “Seems you couldn’t make her happy, so she came calling. I hope you find your wife and kid, Beast. Be a shame not to.”

  Calmly pulling on riding gloves, I shrugged. “You let me know how those sloppy seconds go with the come dumpster you’re fucking.”