Biker's Bride: A Bad Boy Romance (Demons MC) (Includes bonus novel Kinged!) (5 page)

There was a general murmur. I caught the eye of the guy named Spoil from the night before, who just looked disgusted. I followed Ford to an empty table in the back.

“What’s going on?” I asked him.

“Looks like Larkin called in the boys.”

“Why?”

He grinned at me. “Because of you.”

I stared around me. These terrifying men were all gathered together because of me?

“But I thought he approved the claim.”

“He did,” Ford said. “But that don’t mean anyone wants a war. My guess is we’re here to hash out what the hell we’re supposed to do with you.”

I felt a cold drop of terror fall through my chest and into my stomach. The men had mostly all looked away and gone back to their conversations, but I could feel their eyes keep coming back to me.

And they didn’t look happy.

I’d never been in a room full of pissed-off bikers before, with only one man on my side. True, he was big and imposing, terrifying in his own way, but still only one man.

Maybe I really had bitten off a little more than I could chew.

Ford noticed the nervous look on my face. “Don’t worry,” he said, grinning at me. “You’re fine. You’re mine now.”

That sent chills of excitement all through my body. I wasn’t sure if I was reassured or simply attracted to him.

Before I could say any more, a man walked out from the back room and stood in front of everyone, close to the bar.

“Larkin,” Ford whispered to me.

I nodded at him. I recognized the man from the night before. Graying hair, longer and thinning, but muscular and covered in tattoos. He wore thin-rimmed glasses that somehow made him look even more menacing. He surveyed the room impassively, neither smiling nor frowning, just basically looking.

“Shut up,” he barked finally, and the room went silent. “You all know why we’re here.”

“Yeah,” the man named Spoil said, “that bitch.”

All eyes snapped to me.

“Yes,” Larkin said. “The girl. And Ford.”

Ford grinned. “You got me there, prez.”

“But not just them,” Larkin continued, drawing the stares away. “We’ve grown fat and fucking happy, haven’t we boys?”

Murmurs of agreement.

“Been nice, being at peace,” Larkin continued. “Been fucking nice reaping the rewards of our blood, sweat, and fucking piss.”

More agreement from the crowd. I could instantly see why Larkin was their leader. He seemed tough, but he sure as hell seemed to know how to control a room.

“But here’s the thing, boys,” he said. “There are those out there that want what we fucking got. The Mezcals been pushing up from Mexico, the Rebels been fucking with our western territory for months now, and I’ve heard whispers of the Snake Spit coming in from Dallas.”

More murmurs, but this time angry, annoyed. I looked at Ford and he gave me a small smile. “More to us than just biker jerks, eh?” he said softly.

I looked back at Larkin.

“I chose to let Ford lay claim to the girl,” Larkin said. “I made that choice for a reason. We been fucked with too many times. We need to begin to protect our own, to show that we can’t have any killings on our fucking territory without our say-so.” He stared down all of the men, especially Clutch and Spoil. “And so here’s the deal: We’re going to hunt down the fucks that done the killing, and we’re going to put lead in them.”

A general cheer of agreement came from the men. I couldn’t help but get swept up by it.

“Ford made his choice with the girl, and that’s his damn ass. We all know what it means to lay claim to a woman, and he did it freely. So that’s on you, Ford, but also on me.” He stared out at the men again. “Nobody questions the girl or Ford, because the truth is, we were already at war well before that girl came to us for help.” Another long pause. “Prepare yourselves, boys. Blood is coming.”

Another cheer, this time louder. Men stood up and banged on tables, and I saw the first smile from Larkin. It was a terrifying thing, full of menace.

I looked around at the men, surprised and a bit terrified. Why were they really cheering? Worse, what had I started?

“Isn’t war bad?” I asked Ford.

He shook his head. “Not necessarily. War brings more money, more territory. Plus, the boys will be boys.”

“But what about the guys from last night?”

“Well,” Ford said, “some guys don’t want it. Can’t pretend like we’re of one mind on all things.” He looked at me seriously. “But if the club asks them to die, they’ll die. That’s how it is.”

A voice cutting through the commotion drew my attention. I looked across the room.

“Caralee,” Larkin called out. “Come with me.”

Fear iced my guts.

“Better go,” Ford said.

I stood. “You sure?” I said to him.

“Go. You’re fine.”

I gave him one last look, that gorgeous asshole, and walked across the room. The guys were all still cheering, and some were already drinking. Larkin nodded and led me through the commotion and into his back room.

Four years ago

H
ours after I dropped Caralee off at her place, I could still feel the damn tingle in my cock where she had rubbed herself crazy. We’d made sure her dad was passed out before she went inside, and I’d made her promise to come to my place if things got bad.

Otherwise, I had the worst damn blue balls of my fucking life. After getting off like that, she’d collapsed back down onto the bench, and we’d spent the next hour or two talking about our lives.

I’d never done that before. Normally, if she were any other slut, I would have bent her over that fucking bench and ravaged her stupid. Instead, I found myself talking about my mom and dad, about her drunk ass, about growing up in a fucked-up home.

And she told me her own sob story, which wasn’t too far off from mine. Difference was, I could defend myself, but she never could.

I clenched my jaw, pissed as all hell thinking about her dad beating her up like that. The bastard didn’t know what was right or wrong, but he got away with it because he was a fucking cop.

I showered and dressed, glancing at the clock. I had to be at my uncle’s auto body shop in an hour if I was going to make it in time for my shift. I figured I might as well skip sleep for the time being. I’d probably just wake up with a pillow between my legs and Caralee’s fucking sexy-as-hell body in my brain.

I made some coffee and checked on my mother. Passed out drunk as always, which was fine with me. Better than driving drunk or trying to beat on me, though she’d stopped trying that a while ago.

I chugged the black stuff, ate some food quick, and then went outside. I hopped on my bike and began the ride out toward my uncle’s.

Once there, I clocked in and got to work. It wasn’t pretty work, but it was honest and paid pretty good. My mom wasn’t much into working, and we needed to feed ourselves, so it was up to me to put groceries on the table. Mom spent her welfare check on fucking booze and pills, so there was that.

They showed up halfway through my damn shift.

The bastards just strolled in. Didn’t read me my rights, didn’t say nothing. Just flashed their badges, threw me in cuffs, and hauled my ass off.

I’d never thought the cops were evil. I’d never hated them. They were just men doing their damn jobs, and you had to respect that. But after they arrested me for a crime I didn’t commit, I hated the police, fucking hated them with a passion.

I’d done time before. Nothing major, nothing more than a couple of months in juvenile detention, but they were serious this time, said I’d robbed some house a few blocks from where I lived.

The judge barely even looked at me. He said my name, read the charges, and said guilty. I’d never gone through the system so damn fast.

––––––––

T
he day after I knocked a cop on his ass and nearly fucked his daughter, I ended up in prison for six months.

In some ways, that was the worst thing that had ever happened to me. It’s demeaning to be locked up for something you didn’t do, locked up because you pissed off the wrong cop. Worse, I knew I’d lost Caralee, knew I could never go back to her, never face her again. As far as the fucking world knew, I was just another dumbass criminal kid, and that was all I’d ever be.

But in other ways, it was the best.

It happened one day a week into my stay. I’d just sat down with my food in the mess hall, eating like my life depended on it.

“New kid,” some fat guy said from behind me. “Give me your fucking pudding, son.”

I looked back at him. “Fuck off.”

Some guys laughed and he grinned. “I’ll ask again. Pudding. Now.”

I shook my head and went back to eating.

He grabbed the back of my hair and slammed my face into my tray. Hurt like a fucking bitch and sent stars swimming across my vision. 

But I was up on my feet in a second. The fat guy was strong for his size, but I was stronger. I flipped my tray up and smashed it down onto his skull. He tried to tackle me, but I stepped aside, letting him sprawl out onto the ground. I got a few good kicks in before the guards came and threw me in solitary.

The Demons came for me the day I got out. I was in the yard, minding my own damn business, when he walked right up to me. Big fucker with a missing tooth.

“You fight pretty good, son,” he said to me.

“I’m not anybody’s son.”

“You ride motorcycles, kid?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Why? Wanna become friends and talk about them?”

He laughed. “You hate the world, huh? That’s okay.”

“Don’t hate the world. Just hate this fucking place.”

“True. Can’t fault that.” He leaned up against the wall next to me. “You ever heard of the Demons Motorcycle Club?”

I hadn’t, of course. Maybe whispers, but I never really knew much about it. That day, that man recruited me, made me into a pledge. When I got out, the brothers brought me to the clubhouse, made me go through the whole pledge hazing shit, and eventually turned me into a brother.

That was how it all started. That fight, that guy, that prison. Another guy, another prison, and maybe I never would have joined the Demons MC. Maybe I would have met a nice girl, got married, had kids.

Probably not, though.

After that, I’d think about Caralee sometimes. I’d think about her fondly.

But as soon as I got too fond of her memory, I’d find some club slut to suck my cock for me until I couldn’t think of anything else.

That was my life. Blood, cum, the fucking club.

I never thought I needed anything else.

“S
it,” Larkin said. We were in an office, a pretty normal-looking office all things considered. I sat down in a chair, and he sat down behind the desk.

He eyed me quietly for a few minutes, and I shifted in my chair nervously.

“Uh,” I said finally, breaking the silence, “thank you. For helping me.”

“Don’t thank me,” he said. “Thank Ford.”

“I did that.”

“Good.” He stared at me some more.

I’d never been so uncomfortable, so afraid in my whole life. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed a shotgun leaning against the wall, and I wondered how many people it had killed.

“What do you know about the Rebel club?” Larkin asked me finally.

“Nothing,” I said. “Rod was a member, but that’s it.”

He nodded. “We confirmed that. Your friend, Rod, was a member.”

“You talked to them?”

“We have phones.” He looked down at his desk. “Cops found his body this morning. Any chance you’ll be connected?”

“I don’t know,” I said.

“Touch anything? Leave anything behind?”

“I touched his bike.”

“You wear gloves when you go for rides?”

I nodded. “Yeah. I had gloves on.”

“Probably fine then.” He sighed, looking at me again. “You’re a real pain in the ass, you know that?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why would Ford speak up for you?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know.”

“Don’t lie to me, girl. I’ve seen more than you could even guess at, and I know a lie when I hear it.”

“We knew each other. When we were kids.”