Bitter Kind of Love: Prairie Devils MC Romance (Outlaw Love) (13 page)

Saffron laughed and then leaned across the bar, wanting to tell me something more quietly. Not that she needed to be discreet – Blaze was still laying into Reb like a fucking volcano erupting across the room.

“What's up?” I said, leaning in.

“I don't know how or why, but you're going to see her again. You just have to give it time. When you do, if you can shake this crap, you've got a chance. Give her a man, Sting. Not a jumpy dude who drinks by himself.”

Fucking shit. Everybody was handing out wisdom I never asked for. I shrugged and started to walk, heading out behind Moose as fast as I could.

“Whatever. Thanks for the coffee.” That was as close as I was gonna get to letting her know I'd heard her shit and taken it to heart.

Missoula's winters had nothing on Dickinson. Moose and I both spent plenty of time in the North Dakota charter before Throttle sent us west, suffering through some real Antarctic shit before we headed for big sky country. Still, the cold crept up on a man when he spent time in it.

My fingers were totally numb after a couple hours. I gave a couple bikes oil changes while Moose ripped more apart, inspecting the nitty-gritty. We made small talk while I cleaned the guns. I hoped he'd be satisfied with my half-assed answers.

No such luck. Moose had a good twenty years on me, pushing his early fifties, and he was arguably the oldest and wisest brother in the club. He'd been there since the MC started back in North Dakota, one of the original crew with Throttle's father, Voodoo.

“Let me ask you something, brother.” He wasn't really asking. “We both know Santa Claus is on his way and you're looking at another long cold night in the dark, drunk off your ass.”

My eyebrows furrowed. Fuck, was that what he thought? Had I really lost that much respect?

Knowing he was completely right made it pretty damned hard to sass back.

“That's my business,” I growled, wiping grease off my hands after snapping a rifle together. “Somebody's gotta hold down this fort during the holidays. I'm volunteering for the job. Don't worry. I can't keep this place tight if I'm not sober.”

Well, mostly. Truth was, I planned to repeat the night before on Christmas Eve, running the bottle dry into the big day.

Moose dropped his wrench. It clattered loudly on the ground, echo reverberating through the cold garage.

“Don't bullshit me, VP. I see what's going on here. I've seen it a hundred times before with Blaze and Tank and a ton of other brothers in different charters and different times.” He paused, a grin spreading beneath his beard. “You're in love.”

I almost choked. I sprang up, locking the rifle in place inside the huge gun vault.

“And you're full of shit. Look, brother, you know I respect you, but we both know where I stand. I fucking let her go. It's done – and there was never anything started in the first place. Blaze told me to lay the fuck off, and I'm gonna listen to the Prez this time. I'm leaving her alone, wherever the hell she went, to rebuild her life. I'll survive and get my dick wet someplace else.”

“Yeah?” He took a step closer to me, smoothing his cut down his portly belly. “Leaving the whores alone for months isn't exactly what I call getting over it. Funny how a prickly little thing like her buried cupid's arrow so deep in your ass, bro. Never thought you were the type to fall so hard.”

I snorted at the silly imagery. “Whatever, dude. What do you want me to do? I don't get where this shit's going.”

Moose laid a thick hand on my shoulder, giving it a good squeeze. With his frosted, graying beard and the warm light in his eyes, he'd make a damned fine Santa Claus himself.

“All I'm saying is, while you're getting over this shit, you shouldn't spend the holiday alone. You're welcome at the table with Connie and my girl anytime. Becky'd love to have you around too. She's doing a project on motorcycle clubs for her smarty-pants English class. Says it's an ethno-graph-y or something like that.”

I shrugged. Part of me wanted to tell him to fuck off and then hit the bar, assuming Blaze was done stalking the clubhouse and laying into brothers who'd partied their asses off the night before. But Moose did care about me the way a brother should.

I wasn't that far gone. The club had always been around freedom and brotherhood more than anything else. I patted his hand and stepped away, shaking my head.

“I'd love to help your daughter some other time, Moose. Appreciate the invite too, but I want some time to reflect this holiday. I'm not gonna be the third wheel with a stick up his ass around you and your family. Not gonna get between Tank and Blaze or their old ladies neither.”

He gave me a slow nod. “Offer's open all the way 'til the holiday, brother, in case you change your mind.”

I watched him walk over to the toolbox and grab his thermos. He drank right outta the top instead of pouring himself a cup of that coffee and Bailey's shit he liked to slug down in the winter for warmth, a bad habit Connie would no doubt give him hell about.

“Oh,” he wiped his mouth, turning back to me. “Whatever you decide, you shouldn't be alone. If you're not gonna hang out with me, that's fine. I'm a big boy and it won't hurt my feelings. But you ought to consider taking a trip west, then, and spending it with somebody else.”

My eyes lit up and then narrowed. I wasn't sure if he was yanking my chain or if he was really gonna feed me something useful. I threw the rag I'd been using to wipe my hands down and walked toward him.

“You telling me you know where Alice is?”

“Yeah, I do.” He raised his hands. “I know what Blaze said too. But I don't see how keeping it from you is for the good of this club. If you wanna track her down for a visit, maybe a drink or a cup of coffee –“

I snorted again. We both knew I had a helluva lot more than that on my mind. But shit, for a chance at seeing Alice again, I'd sit down to a tea party if that's what it took.

“She's in Coeur d'Alene.” I sucked in a deep breath and exhaled slowly when he said the words.

“I talk to the Dakota boys when they come through here with their shipments before heading west, especially Bolt,” Moose continued. “They're not supposed to be making many stops in Grizzlies territory despite the truce, but you know how that goes. Those trips are long and the brothers like to wet their whistles, sometimes catch a show or two...”

He winked. Adrenaline shot through my chest when I realized where he was going.

No. No fucking way. He wasn't seriously implying my poor girl was dancing in one of those shitty Grizzlies owned joints, was he?

“Last shipment a couple weeks ago, Bolt told me the main club in town got a new dancer in. She's all the rage. Grizzlies had to step up security just to keep dudes from climbing the stage and getting frisky. Dark hair, snow white skin, full curves stacked on a softer frame...fits the bill just perfect. The pic he showed me on his phone sealed the deal. It's her, all right.”

I shook once as the lightning hit me. Unbe-fucking-lievable.

My brain boiled with hot red fire, bringing back the pain of that fucking hangover again. I wasn't sure whether to be overjoyed that he'd told me where she was, or snarling mad that Alice had to resort to dancing for money, showing her beautiful body off to hundreds of assholes when I hadn't even seen her naked and beautiful...

My cock woke from his slumber, straining in my pants. It was wrong, so wrong, terribly fucking wrong, but it didn't matter one bit. My dick jerked and twitched each time I thought about her up on stage, swinging her sweet ass around a pole, same pretty ass I wanted to haul on my lap and hold onto while I fucked her 'til I couldn't move.

And my heart throbbed too, beat like a pendulum coming apart in my chest. Pure killer bloodlust shot into my veins when I imagined
any
little prick putting his grubby hands on her but me.

The only one seeing her, touching her, kissing her while she was stripped bare ought to be me
,
me, and only
me
. Alice didn't know it yet, but I'd claimed her without even speaking the words 'old lady' out loud. If I had to tunnel my way straight through the fucking Idaho mountains to make her realize it, then I would.

“Stinger? You okay, VP?” Moose cocked his head.

“Yeah,” I said, loosening my tight fucking jaw just enough to answer. “Thank you, brother.”

I meant it. I gave Moose a quick, strong manly hug and then headed inside.

Blaze and Saffron were heading out. The Prez eyeballed me when he walked past, as if to say,
you'd better not fuck up again, bro. This is your second chance and you don't get three strikes.

Little did he know I was about to risk my VP patch. My mind was made up. When the clubhouse was clear and lonely come Christmas Eve, I was saddling up and heading for Coeur d'Alene, and I wasn't gonna stop 'til I had her in my arms.

The whole fucking world paled in comparison to feeling Alice hanging around my neck, having my lips on hers, cupping her little ass and shoving her into me, right where she belonged. Blaze was a fearsome badass, yeah, but he didn't promise half the scary fucking threats my screwed up brain was whispering if I failed to follow through on this.

When most of the brothers were gone, I left the clubhouse, heading for my apartment. Stopped at the liquor store to grab more beer and whiskey. I'd need to sober up for the trip, but the next few days I needed it to keep my head on straight.

The dreams were worse than they'd been for years. Drinking was all I had to suppress that shit, the vicious reminder that chasing Alice was about more than how hard she got my dick.

I couldn't face Beth's memory. Didn't fucking matter if years passed by. The guilt would only slow me down. So I resorted to drink, closing myself off in my apartment and staring at my black TV, waiting for the fire alcohol sent into my guts to rush up and bathe my brain in forgetful bliss.

At home, I was about to start on my second beer and Jim mix when I stopped. Outside on my balcony, the snow was coming down, pale white flakes frosting everything below. It looked just like that night when my life went off the rails for good.

Same damned night when the kid everybody called Luke died and I became a man.

God damn it.
I gritted my teeth, pushing the shit in my glass away. Wasn't that good if I was really honest about it, and it wasn't doing its job lately either. Probably because I'd soaked myself stupid so many times my tolerance was spiking.

Fuck sobering up tomorrow. You'd better start now. If taking a fucked up trip down memory lane is the price of going after her, then that's the way it's gotta be.

Yeah. Right.

Too bad facing that shit with a clear head and a broken fucking heart was vastly easier said than done. And it didn't help one damned bit that today was the anniversary, the day I got my heart ripped out and my tail glued between my legs forever.

Eighteen years. Eighteen bitter, awful years since fate picked my ass up and dropped me on my head, dragging me into this life of chasing pussy and killing for my brothers.

Eighteen fucking years since that night when I stopped caring...'til Alice.

Eighteen Years Ago

I
t was a snowy night on the North Dakota plains, when the state was still wild and towns were tiny, before the great oil boom was more than a twinkle in some prospector's eye.

Eric wasn't my dad, regardless of what the marriage certificate said. He was a drunken, violent, filthy piece of shit my Ma married when I was ten. They shacked up on nothing more than pure desperation and a couple hookups.

Of course, if I wanted to be brutally honest, the real reason they got together was because the asshole had a steady supply of ice from his buddies, all Ma really cared about.

“Luke? You in there?” She pushed my door open and the sharp squeak in the worn hinges woke me up.

“Beth.” I threw my legs onto the floor, gawky as all hell at fourteen. Then I looked up and saw her face in the low light streaming through the window. “Holy fucking shit!”

She was my stepsister, the only good thing to come outta that fucked up marriage, just one year younger than me. And always,
always
taking the punishment that sonofabitch doled out when he was high or just plain pissed.

Tonight was no exception. She started to cry when I touched the big red mark blooming on her cheek.

“When did the fucker do this? Before I got home?” I regretted coming in late from detention.

I'd been screwing around later than I should've there with Prowl, the biggest badass in school. Dude was a Senior, but he easily could've passed for twenty-five. The prospect cut he wore for the Prairie Devils gave him some serious fucking bragging rights too, and he drew younger kids with a chip on their shoulders to him like dizzy moths to flame.

I wanted everything he had. None of the town's good old farm boys ever fucked with him, and pussy came flying into his arms like those patches were fucking magic or something.

Still, I knew I'd fucked up when I saw what I was sacrificing to chase my new friendship. Hanging out too long left Beth alone with the jackoff pretending to be our dad.

I shouldn't have left her alone. Eric hit the crystal harder when winter hit, sucking it up his nostrils every second he wasn't fucking Ma or getting stinking drunk.

“No, it just happened,” she said, shaking in my arms. “I plowed out the road, just like he showed me. But I accidentally hit the mailbox...I wasn't thinking. I should've waited for you to come home and do it, Luke, but he wouldn't let me. He wanted it now, so he could go to the liquor store later.”

“Fuck! You shouldn't have come clean, sis. Should've buried that fucking mailbox in the snow. He's too blasted outta his mind to notice.” Poor girl. No matter how many times we went over how to avoid pissing off her dad's psycho ass, she still came clean with him, too damned honest for her own good.

“You've got to lie to him,” I growled. “You break anything, you let me know about it. I'll fix it or hide the shit so
this
doesn't happen. Come on. Let's go get you cleaned up.”