Blood and Tears: A Biker Erotic Romance (Free Guns MC) (2 page)

Turning her back on him, Kat walked to her bedroom and was about to close the door when a rigid, hot male body hit her back, strong around wrapping around her instantly. In that moment, Kat realized her mistake. She’d thought Solomon was piss drunk, and he’d certainly played it that way, but the man had barely a hint of alcohol on his breath.

“Do you think I killed Jamison, Kit-Kat?” Solomon’s breath was hot on Kat’s ear, but he made no move to take her towel or feel her up.

Gritting her teeth at her own stupidity, Kat tried to move her gun hand, but found it trapped at her side. Best she could do was shoot him in the foot, and that was only if her aim was perfect, otherwise, she’d be the one with one less toe.

Kat weighed her options. She could scream and call for help, but if the club ever found out they’d label her weak, a prime example of her sex, and Solomon would be the next president and get everything he wanted. She could try to fight, but given Solomon’s size Kat was pretty sure she’d lose in a heartbeat. Weapons were her only friend and even they were useless at the moment. Her only consolation was that if Solomon had wanted to rape or kill her, he could have done it already.

“Did you?” Kat asked, still wracking her brain for a way out of her predicament.

Solomon nuzzled at her neck and she felt the pressure around her from his arms ease up a tiny bit. “That’s the question of the day, isn't it?”

Taking a huge risk, Kat relaxed her body and fell to her knees, rolling away from Solomon and lifting her gun up as she did so. “I'm not here for games, Solomon. I want answers.”

Turning his head, Solomon appraised her like she was a new species, and from the look he was giving her, he liked what he saw. Too late, Kat realized that in her mad tumble, the towel had slipped off.

Damn!
Kat cursed herself as she kept the gun trained at him but gained her feet. Being naked didn’t bother her, but being nude around Solomon did. The man drove her crazy and turned her into a woman that she never thought she’d be--a woman who wanted a man so desperately that she still slept with him even when she thought he was a murderer.

My life is so fucked up,
she groaned in her mind as she remembered the handcuffs in the drawer next to her bed.

“Go to the bed,” Kat instructed and clocked the gun for good measure. “There are handcuffs in the top dresser drawer on the right.”

Solomon cocked a brow at her, but followed her instructions. “I’m not into bondage, Kit-Kat. But for you…” he’s blue eyes heated as the traveled up the length of her body. “...I’m willing to make an exception.”

Snorting, Kat waved the gun at him. She trusted Solomon as far as she could throw him, and, truth be told, she probably couldn’t even pick him up.
Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice…

She let the thought trail off as Solomon reached for the first drawer, and Kat’s eyes went as round as saucers. “I said the--”

“Oh. Been missing me, have you?” Solomon purred as he wagged her purple silicone dildo at her.

Shaking her head, Kat tisked softly and motioned to the dresser again. “I’d hate to shoot you, Solomon, my aim's a little bad so I could miss and hit something--” she narrowed her eyes at the large bulge in his pants and redirected her gun. “--important.”

Long seconds passed as he finally got the handcuffs out of the correct drawer and secured himself to the bed. It took all her power not to smile at him and call him an idiot. While the sex had been good, Kat had decided sometime in between leaving the bar and him breaking into her apartment that the Free Guns were her family, and she wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize them. Even if that meant she’d have to give up great sex with a man who could give as good as he got, she’d deal with it.

Families stayed together. Lovers split apart.

Once Kat was sure Solomon was firmly in place she turned and walked over to her closet, laying her gun on a shelf as she did so. “Are you going to tell me you killed Jamison? If you’re honest with me now, I can help you out with the club--make sure they don’t kill you.”

Grabbing a pair of underwear, Kat was just slipping them on when she heard a creak from the bed and then felt Solomon push her deeper into her closet in to her hanging clothes. “How did you--?”

Solomon's hand tightened around her shoulder. “Doesn't matter what I say, does it, Kit-Kat? You’ve already made up your mind. I could say that I did it and you believe me, I could say I didn’t and you think I’m lying. So what does it matter?”

Kat knew Solomon was right. And for a second she realized how correct his statement was. It wasn’t as if Solomon hadn’t made his intentions known from the start. He’s wanted Jamison’s position from day one, wanted to turn the Free Guns into something they weren’t.

It wouldn’t make sense to kill Jamison if everyone was going to suspect you anyway, she thought. So if Solomon didn’t--

Hard lips crushed against hers, stealing Kat’s reasoning. She'd forgotten how vulnerable she was, naked in front of a man she wanted to fuck. It didn’t make sense that she’d forget that blaring fact, or that Solomon breaking into her house and kissing her wasn’t creepy and dangerous. The man was dangerous, and yet strangely, she didn’t feel scared.

It wasn’t that Solomon couldn’t hurt her, he had the power both emotionally and physically to do so, but his actions weren’t the actions of a crazy, dangerous man, but a desperate man. Solomon knew the moment that everyone had stopped thinking of Jamison’s incident as an accident and instead murder, all eyes would turn to him.

Solomon Parker was a dead man walking, and everyone knew it. They were all just waiting for someone to call him out on it, someone powerful, in control--their leader. The club wanted to see her to label Solomon a murderer and put him down.

Kat felt the silk of Solomon’s tongue as the kissed, felt the heat of his hands on her naked body as they touched. Everything felt rawer, like this kiss or that touch could be the last. Desperate, it felt desperate.

Ripping her mouth away from his, Kat put aside her reservations and gave them both what they wanted. She knew that after this night, that was it. She’d go into the bar tomorrow, talk with people she considered friends and family, and if the majority thought it was Solomon there was only one thing she could do, would do.

“Raw,” Kat growled as she turned and braced her hands on her closet wall. “Give it to me raw. I don’t want to forget a single second.”

Solomon Parker was everything Kat had been told to stay away from. The man was known to hang out with drug lords, pick fights with anyone who looked at him twice, and use women like napkins. He had a sheet longer than her legs, and was the very definition of tall, dark and dangerous. Kat had never been attracted to men that she knew would only hurt her, but with Solomon it seemed like it had all been inevitable.

In the next instant, Solomon was in her, his cock so hard, so thick, that it drove her up the wall and onto her tiptoes. Clenching tight around him, Kat pushed back and rotated her hips, giving as good as she got. She gave herself over, let her voice out, and got lost in his smell, his hands, everything that was Solomon Parker, because she knew the next day she might very well be his murderer.

***

Reaching towards the poker table, Kat picked up one of the cigarette cartons one of the guys had left and pulled out a smoke. Reaching for a matching lighter, she took a drag and blew the smoke out, along with a deep breath she’d been holding in since morning.

“Three years smoke free, and now look at me,” Kat mumbled as she took another drag and leaned further back in her chair.

The bar was quiet, only a few regulars crowding around the TV with mugs of beer in their hands. It was still early morning, much earlier than Kat usually woke up, but there she was. And it was all because of Solomon Parker.

How many times had they danced around each other? Smiled, flirted, suggested, but never actually got around to the actual fucking? Probably too many times for Kat to count. But then Jamison died and suddenly they couldn’t keep their hands off each other, because they knew that everything was about to go to hell.

“What to do? What to do?” Kat thought aloud as she finished her cigarette and crushed it in an ashtray.

Mindy had called her sometime during the night, after Solomon had passed out on her bed and told Kat that she suspected the biker was her husband's murderer. No, surprise there. Things only got worse as texts and calls came through, all saying the same thing, all coming to her. It was obvious who the new president was going to be, but even more obvious what the new president would have to do.

Hours, that was all the time Solomon Parker had left. The Free Guns would track him down, and tonight at their rally accusations would fly, and unless Solomon had some evidence that he didn’t do it, or evidence that someone else did, the man was dead.

“You alright over there, Kat?” Billy, one of the recent hires, called out to her from behind the bar. The kid barely looked old enough to drive a car, but here he was serving alcohol.

“I’m alright, kid,” Kat called back, resisting the urge to go over and run her fingers through his black curls as she got up and stretch, every muscle in her body sore from overuse. It was a nice soreness, but on the back of a bike, it felt like shit.

Throwing some cash on the table, Kat pulled out her phone and checked her messages.

@ Woods 10. Got S.

Balling her hand into a fist, Kat texted a confirmation and walked straight out of the bar, got on her bike, and rode till all she could hear was the blood in her ears and the wind rushing by.

***

Moonbeams bounced off the seductive crimson paint on the side of Kat’s bike as she rolled into the clearing and saw the Free Gun’s assembles, most of the members wearing grim faces. A tiny cluster of men stood off to the side, looking like they were circling someone. Kat didn’t have to guess who that someone was.

Rolling to a stop, Kat set her kickstand and climbed off her bike. All eyes turned to her as she took off her helmet and set it on her motorcycle. Faces that she’d known for years, girl friends and father figures, all watching her with respect and trust.

“Let’s get on with it then.” Kat nodded to the circle of men and moved towards the group, her boots digging into the soft grass.

Cigarettes fell to the forest floor and were crushed beneath boot heels as the members stepped away from their bikes and gathered closer. Kat felt their eyes bore into her back, assessing her, sizing her up, and determining if she was really the new president they wanted. The election was more like a popularity contest that Kat knew she would win hands down any day of the week, but tonight was just her cementing her role.

“Glad you could make it, Kat. Hopefully this won’t take too long,” A man named Ryan said as patted her on the shoulder.

Kat nodded, knowing that he was among the many who believed Solomon was guilty. Perhaps sex was clouding her brain, but Kat didn’t think Solomon was guilty anymore. If anything his continual silence made her think he was trying to protect someone.

Still, if push came to shove, she’d stay beside the Free Guns and honor their wishes, even if those wishes left stains on her soul. She was already stained, one more wouldn’t hurt.

Stopping in front of Solomon, Kat tried to look at him objectively, like the criminal everyone saw him as. Bruised and bloody, but still smiling, the man was on his knees, one eye swollen shut and a cut lip. Kat had no doubt there were more bruises and if the slightly darker stains on his navy t-shirt told her anything, there was probably more blood as well.

“Solomon,” Kat greeted the man, her tone ice cold reflecting none of the warmth from only a few hours ago. Even at that moment Kat could still smell him on her skin, feel his hands running through her hair, his nails digging into her hips as he thrust into her body with such vehemence she thought he might actually break her.

But then again, he’d been right. A part of her desired him so fiercely that she didn’t care if he broke her.