Banger's Ride: Insurgents Motorcycle Club (Insurgents MC Romance Book 5) (24 page)

Banger nodded, his hands on her hips. “I understand. I don’t like it, but I get it.” He tugged her to him and kissed her deep and wet. Pulling back, he took her chin between his callused fingers and pinched it lightly. “I’ll call you.” He kissed her forehead then walked to his SUV. She watched the red taillights until they disappeared into the night.

L
eaning back in
his office chair, hands behind his head and feet on top of the desk, the buzz that had been vibrating in him since he’d seen Belle at the chili cook-off continued to electrify him. Having Belle back in his life made everything seem brighter, happier, and just plain fucking good. A couple of weeks before, the club had found out that the Deadly Demons weren’t involved in snagging the arms deal out from under the Insurgents. It seemed that whoever struck the deal had covered themselves in several layers of brokers, and Hawk continued to work on piercing the veil. Once the club found out where the leak had come from, blood would flow, and Banger couldn’t wait to be the one to draw the first drop.

He’d wanted to call Belle the moment he’d found out the Deadly Demons hadn’t been involved, but the image of the fucker’s body crushed against hers stopped him. She’d lied to him, and Banger had doubted her lame excuse for the deceit. Night after night, he’d stared at his phone, rereading her texts, listening to her voice messages, wishing he could purge the image of Belle and Scorpion. But he couldn’t, so he turned off his phone, watched too much television, drank too much Jack, and hung out too much at Dream House, watching the dancers shake their asses and tits—always seeing Belle’s face instead of theirs.

When Ruthie told him that Scorpion had been forcing himself onto Belle when Banger saw them, he’d felt like a fucking fool. He’d been so quick to judge her, but there was something about her that made his blood boil whenever any man looked at her. He’d been protective of Grace, but not like he was with Belle. He couldn’t understand it. He’d wanted to call her, but he hadn’t. Then, after Ruthie had told him he was a “stubborn old man who didn’t know a good woman when he saw one,” she’d let him know that Belle would be at the chili cook-off. He chuckled at the memory.

When he’d seen Belle dishing out chili, her long hair swishing, her sweater tight around her fantastic tits, he’d decided he needed her in his life. It had been hell for him during the month they hadn’t seen each other. Back in with her, he wasn’t surprised she was putting up defenses. She wanted him to jump through hoops for her, and he’d gladly do it. Hell, he’d jump over fucking canyons for her—she was worth it.

A knock on the door drew Banger out of his reverie. “Come in.”

Tug poked his head in. “Badge is here to see you.”

Banger raised his eyebrows. “What the fuck for?”

Tug shrugged. “He didn’t say. Said he wanted to talk to you ‘bout something. You want me to tell him to get the fuck outta our club?”

“Nah. Tell him to come in.”

Detective Sanders entered the office, and Banger eyed him suspiciously. He hated badges, and he didn’t need any of them sticking their noses around his club. Maybe this was a new transfer who wanted to show his boss he was on top of crime, so he came snooping around the one-percenter club.
Fuck that.

“I’m Detective Sanders with the Lakeview Police Department. I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

Banger stared at him, his face stony. An awkward pause ensued. “Do you mind if I sit down?” Sanders asked, as he plunked down on the leather chair in front of the club president’s desk. Banger still stared without saying a word.

“Do you know a Belle Dermot?

Fuck, I didn’t expect
that. “Why do you wanna know?”

“I just need to ask you some questions about her. How long have you known her?”

“I didn’t tell you I knew her.”

The detective sighed, then took out a tissue and wiped his nose. “Damn cold,” he offered. “Do you know Belle Dermot?”

“Again, why you asking?”

“Our department is looking into her husband’s death as a possible homicide.”

Banger stared at the middle-aged man impassively.
Damn, she may have offed her hubby? She’s got a lot of fuckin’ spunk.
“I don’t know shit.”

“But you do know her?”

“What I know is this ‘conversation’ is fuckin’ over.” Banger jerked his chin at the door. “Don’t slam it on your way out.”

Detective Sanders stared at Banger, and the president could see the pulse beating away on the badge’s neck. Silence engulfed them as they sat, staring at each other, neither giving an inch. Finally, the detective looked down at his notepad. “If you’re protecting her in any way, I’d suggest you rethink it.”

“I’d suggest you get the fuck outta my office. You’re wasting my time with this bullshit. Do you need me to call one of the brothers to show you the way out?” A flat smile curled around his lips.

Slowly, Sanders stood up, taking his time to put away his notepad and pen. He threw his card on the desk, and Banger picked it up, throwing it in the trash while his narrowed eyes never left the detective’s face. Sanders walked out, slamming the door behind him.

I wonder if she eliminated her old man.
He chuckled.
Fuck, I better not cheat on her.
He appreciated that she didn’t take any shit from any man. Even though he was dying to be back in her pussy, he liked that she hadn’t taken him back in her bed. She was a challenge.

He grabbed his phone.

Banger:
I’m coming to the diner for dinner.

Belle:
The special is fried chicken.

Banger:
Fuck, it’s my lucky night. Two of my favorite things, you and fried chicken.

Belle:
Sweet. :) Gotta go. Later.

*     *     *

When he entered
the diner, the scent of freshly baked sweet berry pie wrapped around him. He waved at Ruthie, who was chatting up a customer at the counter, as he headed for the kitchen. The first thing he saw when he walked in was Belle’s shapely legs and rounded ass as she bent over, flouring a mountain of chicken legs. Sneaking up behind her, he circled his arms around her waist and kissed her damp neck.

“Oh!” she squealed, whirling around.

“Hey, beautiful.” He leaned in for a kiss but she backed away, her butt bumping into the prep table.

“Not now. I’m coated in flour, corn meal, and oil.” She wrinkled her nose.

“Those are some of my favorite flavors.” He licked the base of her neck.

“You’re crazy,” she said, her eyes glowing.

“‘Bout you.” He peppered her neck with feather-light kisses.

Laughing, she nudged him away. “I have to finish flouring the chicken. I was hoping you’d come in for dinner. I had you in mind when I planned tonight’s special.” She placed several drumsticks on the large cookie sheet, rolling them in the flour and cornmeal mixture. “I’ll come out and see you for a bit after I get things under control.” She gave him a quick peck on his cheek then began cracking eggs into a large bowl.

“See you in a bit.” Banger smacked her ass then rubbed it lightly, before he headed out to snag a table.

Stella, a new waitress who wore her uniform tight around her bust, placed a steaming plate of fried chicken, mashed potatoes, buttered corn, and green beans with crumbled bacon. He sank his teeth into the crispy, coated chicken, and his stomach sang.
Damn, she’s a good cook!
The explosion of flavor and texture had Banger on a high as his taste buds hummed. As he was finishing the last morsels on his plate, Belle slid into the booth, opposite him.

“Best fuckin’ fried chicken I’ve ever had, woman.” He licked his fingers then tore open a packet of wipes and cleaned his hands. He pushed his empty plate to the side, sipped his coffee, and took her hands in his. Clearing his throat, he looked her in the eyes and said, “I acted like a fuckin’ asshole in not calling you. When I saw that fucker’s body against yours, I exploded.”

“But it wasn’t—”

“Let me finish. I acted before I asked. I have a habit of doing that. Hell, I’ve been using my fists and might most of my life, so asking first never occurs to me. Grace used to accuse me of that.” He shook his head, a smile skating across his lips as memories filtered in. “Anyway, what I’m saying is that I’d understand if you kicked me in the balls and told me to never come back. ‘Course, I wouldn’t listen, but I’d get it if you did that.”

She raised her eyebrows and cocked her head. “I should do that. A whole month without hearing from you? Do you know how fucking pissed I was? And you didn’t even return
my
calls or texts. You’ve just got too damn much machismo. Male pride does it every time. And, for your information, I never had anything with Scorpion. I was trying to push him off me.”

Banger’s eyes twinkled. “I know that. I admit I was a fuckin’ fool, and I don’t do that very often.” Bringing her hands to his lips, he looked at her. “Fuck, woman, you make me do and say shit I’m not used to. I want you back in my life.”

A wide grin spread across Belle’s face. “That’s where I want to be, but no more bullshit. You got a problem, you talk to me. I don’t want this nonsense where you give me the silent treatment, even if it has to do with the club.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, but club business remains with the club. Only the brothers know. Don’t ever ask me about what’s going on with the club, and never make me choose. If you get that part of it, we’ll do all right.”

“I guess I have a lot to learn about your club and how it works.”

“If you wanna be with me, you gotta get to know my world. It’s different from yours. I’m gonna tell you, it’ll be a challenge for both of us ‘cause I never been with a citizen woman before. My Grace came from a biker background, and she knew the score and importance of the club for me. She respected my position as president, and let me do what I had to do.”

“I can’t say that I understand the club because I don’t even know enough about it to tell whether or not I do, but I know I care about you. I get that you’re president of the Insurgents, and I have no intention of interfering in any of your club business. I guess time will tell if we fit in each other’s worlds.”

“Guess you’re right ‘bout that. I know I want to spend time with you and get to know you better. I also want to get to know your kids better too. That means something.”

“It does,” she said softly.

He gazed into Belle’s brimming eyes. “So, we’re good again?”

She nodded.

Stella set a piece of berry pie in front of him and refilled his mug. While he stirred cream into his coffee, he said, “A fuckin’ badge came by to see me today.”

Scrunching her forehead, she said, “Badge?”

“Fuckin’ cop. He was asking questions ‘bout you.” Banger looked intently at her to gauge her reaction.

She grimaced. “Was his name Detective Sanders?” Banger nodded curtly. “Damn. He has some stupid notion that my husband was killed, and that I did it. I mean, he didn’t come out and tell me that, but I can read between the lines. What did you tell him?”

“Nothing. I don’t talk to fuckin’ badges.” He took a forkful of pie in his mouth, savoring the burst of blueberry, strawberry, and raspberry flavors. “Did you?”

Her eyes widened. “Did I what?”

“Kill him.” He said it matter-of-factly. He and killing weren’t strangers; it was as much a part of his world as a nine-to-five job was in the citizens’.

An incredulous stare met his gaze. “No! How could you ask me that?”

“Just wondering. I know you said you’d been cheated on. Deep emotions can make people do all kinds of shit they ordinarily wouldn’t do.” He brought his coffee cup to his lips. “Shit happens.” He took a gulp.

Wiping her now sweaty forehead, Belle looked down at the table. “Well, I didn’t. I could never
do
something like that.” She raised her eyes to meet his. “It’s my bitchy stepdaughter who’s started all this. She’s always hated me, and she thought she’d get a large amount of money when her dad died. At the funeral, she had the nerve to accuse me of spending all the money, then, in the next breath, she accused me of stashing it somewhere. Can you imagine that? I was upset, my kids were devastated over their dad’s death, and she’s yelling at me about money. Incredible.” She rubbed her temples with the tips of her fingers.

“You got a headache?” When she nodded, he took out a couple aspirins from the inside of his leather jacket. He always kept it with him to help ease the chronic back pain he’d sustained in a motorcycle accident when he’d been much younger. “Here you go.” He handed Belle the pills.

After swallowing the aspirin, she said in a low voice, “Harold stole a helluva lot of money from his company, but neither I nor the insurance investigators could ever find it. I can’t imagine what he did with it.”

“Yeah, something’s not right there. Maybe someone
did
kill him, for the money. Seems fucked up that it’s disappeared.”

“Since the detective came to see me, I’ve been thinking the same thing. I can’t imagine someone killing Harold, though. It’s too awful.” Belle then told Banger about her husband’s mistress coming to see her.