Breaking It All: A Hellfire Riders MC Romance (The Motorcycle Clubs) (27 page)

If Gunner thinks that, he’s not good enough for
me
.

Awkwardly, Grace shifts her weight between her feet and tucks her fingers into her pockets. “So what’s Zachary like?”

“He’s an asshole.” And I’m the stupid idiot who fell in love with him. “Just a giant, soul-sucking asshole.”

“So he’s just like his brothers?”

Despite my devastated heart—or maybe because of it—I can’t stop my laugh. But it only lasts a second, and my throat is thick when I nod and say, “He apparently is.”

Her face softens, and she tilts her head toward the barn. “Let’s forget Zachary Asshole Cooper for now. The farm closes down this week, which means we’re going to be swamped with people coming in to pick out their turkeys and their pumpkin pies. My girl Shari is minding the register, but she’s a little overwhelmed right now.” She slants me a wry look. “She’s an engineer, which I’m sure Marian wants you to know—and also Benjamin’s wife.”

Muncher. Who I just watched go down on another woman. Having his breakfast while his wife works in the store.

I don’t know if knowing that makes me more sick or angry—but I’m leaning toward angry. It’s a lot easier to deal with.

“I can be useful in a store,” I tell her.

“Good.” Catching my hand, she pulls me toward the barn entrance. “Watch out for the lemonade. It’s crazy addicting. I’m pretty sure that if the boys are into dealing crack, at least some of it ends up in there.”

I purse my lips. “It’s probably Mama Cooper’s way of keeping people coming back.”

Grace laughs. “Honestly? I wouldn’t put it past her.”

Gunner

Before the hour is out, I’m introduced to the others at the clubhouse and patched in as a member of the Notorious Few.

Patching in doesn’t happen that fast in any other club. With the Hellfire Riders, I busted my ass as a prospect for the better part of a year before officially getting my colors. I
earned
that vest. Anyone who’s not a Cooper earns his Notorious Few kutte in the same way, and they have to wait for a club meeting with everyone present, too. But my brothers skipped right over that for me because—as Adam said to the others while he was sliding the kutte into place over my shoulders—I was literally born to wear it.

Maybe I
was
born into it. But it just feels like a vest. The Hellfire Riders’ kutte feels like my skin.

What I’ve been born with and what I’ve earned—I know which one I’d prefer to define me. Just like I’ve got the brothers I was born to, and the brothers I’ve earned, and I know which I’d rather spend my time with.

As soon as the backslapping peters out, Strawman asks how I want to celebrate. I know they’re thinking I want to fuck and drink, but I don’t want either of those. Instead I want to do what a motorcycle club is supposed to do: go for a goddamn ride on a roaring hog.

The air tastes better as soon we hit the highway. Five hours south at a beachside diner, I toss some poor fucker out of his seat to make room for Adam. Two dozen of the Few sit and eat and make assholes of ourselves before heading back up the coast highway. Before turning east toward home, we stop at a beach and stand around a couple of burning barrels, beers in hand.

And I finally get a chance to learn more about the Iron Blood. By unspoken arrangement, only the Coopers are standing at this barrel. Strawman’s standing with me, Six-Point’s getting his dick sucked on the other side of the fire, and somewhere up on the grassy dune behind us, Muncher and Adam are fucking the club pussy they brought along. I guess ten hours without getting off is about their limit.

I take a sip of my beer—just nursing one, because I’ve got no intention of staying overnight at the clubhouse or at the farm, and Anna will be riding back to the hotel behind me.

Remembering the feel of her arms around my waist gets my dick stirring more than the slurping moans coming from Six-Point’s girl ever could. And thinking about the taste of her? Jesus. My cock is practically spring loaded.

Eyeing Strawman, I ask, “So you going to tell me about the Iron Blood or am I going to have to knock it out of you?”

“You’re wearing that kutte. That pussy isn’t.” He gestures to the girl on her knees.

I look to Six-Point. “Take that somewhere else, brother.”

But he’s already coming, gripping her hair tight until she swallows, then patting her head before pushing her off. “That was real nice, darling. Now go and warm up one of the brothers for me. Chipmunk over there looks pretty damn lonely.”

“So does our little brother here,” Strawman says, smirking as he eyes the bulge of my stiffened cock behind my zipper. “Looks like watching that show got you pretty damn excited. You sure you don’t want to use her first?”

“I’m sure.” I’m only hard because I was thinking about Anna holding onto me, then about the sweet taste of her pussy, and she’s the only one I ever want to relieve this need. “How’d you run into the Iron Blood?”

“They ran into us.” Suddenly his tone is all business. “Came looking for a favor.”

“A favor?” If he’d said they’d rolled up in a Scooby Doo van, I’d have been less surprised. Asking a favor from a friendly club is pretty damn rare. Asking a club that’s a stranger to yours? Almost fucking unheard of. Because asking a favor carries a heavy obligation to pay it back—and you
always
pay up, no matter what the other club asks in return.

Strawman nods. “A couple of years ago. They come to us because they have a patch in the prison upstate—the same pen Adam was in. That patch caught the attention of some wetback gangbanger, and the Iron Blood want Adam to take out the gangbanger from inside, so they can get him off their boy’s back.”

So that’s why they asked a favor from an unknown. There’s no other connection between the clubs, so no one knows the Iron Blood set up the hit, and they don’t stir up any shit on the outside.

“You weren’t worried about it coming back on the Few?”

With a shrug, Strawman says, “The firstborn did it quiet. Don’t think they ever figured who took the bastard out. All that mattered was Adam timed it so the Iron Blood patch wasn’t anywhere near, and no one ever looked at him for doing it. And the patch was out a year later.”

I don’t give a fuck about the patch. “You still got your favor coming?”

Because this will be real easy if he does. We’ll just ask for Stone back.

Taking a drink, he shakes his head. Yeah, it being that easy was probably too damn much to hope for.

“We heard some chatter about MCs escorting different cargo around the region—doing it in relays. You provide security for one leg of the route, pass the cargo off to another MC, then pick up a hefty paycheck. And Six-Point heard from skinhead trash in the Eighty-Eight that the Iron Blood was a part of that network. So my favor in return was letting the Few pick up some of those relays, earn a place in the network.”

Skinhead trash.
He says that without a hint of irony, even though the Notorious Few can’t claim to be any better.

“You escort anything yet?”

“Not yet.” He tips his bottle at Six-Point. “As our fucking loudmouthed brother shouted out this morning, we’ve got our first run coming up. That’s why I was in Arizona last weekend—finalizing the details. We had to be cleared through their higher-ups first, and the Blood’ll be riding with us on our leg. That first time, anyway.”

Shit. That’s not much of a connection to pull information from. “But they mentioned the Cage—and warned that anyone who wins a fight on the circuit might be grabbed?”

Strawman gives a slow nod. “They did.”

“You think you can follow up on that?”

“I can.”

“Who gave you the warning?”

He sucks on his teeth for a second, eyeing me. “You going to jump the gun on this?”

And go beat the answers out of the bastard? No. If that was an option, I would already have had Chef’s head in a meatgrinder. But I can’t risk the assholes running the Cage to pack up their toys—and Stone—and vanish.

I shake my head. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“It was a fucker named Paladin. The same patch Adam helped out inside.”

The same fox-faced fucker Stone fought that night.

But that’s damn good news. Because that means he might feel a personal obligation to the Notorious Few—it’s probably why Paladin gave him that warning to begin with. And if there’s a personal obligation, Strawman has a better chance of getting more out of him the next time.

Muncher trudges in out of the dark, fastening his pants. Six-Point tosses him a beer and he twists off the top, looking expectantly at Strawman. “You ask him yet?”

“Not yet,” Six-Point says. “It’s been all real boring shit. But you better ask now before the firstborn finishes.”

Beer poised at my lips, I realize some shit’s about to go down. “You asking
me
something?”

“We want you to take Adam out of commission,” Strawman says bluntly. “He’s no good for the Few.”

I stare at them. What the fuck is this? Some test of my loyalty? “You’re fucking with me.”

“No,” Muncher says. Dead serious.

“His temper’s dangerous,” Strawman says. “He’s got no control. You see how many of the Few are gone today? Some had their jobs to be at. But some, he already laid out on their backs—or worse. Our secretary is out with a broken jaw for touching the girl Adam was going to fuck next. We’ve got a good prospect with a busted wrist because he spilled a beer that he was bringing to Adam. The beer didn’t even spill
on
him. And you saw him with your girl. He loses his shit for the stupidest reasons.”

“And that’s just a few days outside a cell and spending most of his time in the clubhouse,” Six-Point says. “He starts throwing that tantrum shit around other MCs? Out in public? We’re going to have every biker and gangbanger gunning for us.”

They’re not wrong. Jesus. Some club presidents can pull shit like that—but only if they’re the biggest MC in a region. And even then, the prez would have to watch his back.

“Adam never led the Few before he went to prison,” Strawman says. “Not for one fucking day. I always told Prophet he didn’t have the head for it, but our father put him up as his second anyway. Maybe with more time, Prophet would have seen Adam wasn’t suited to be president—”

“Or maybe he wouldn’t have seen it,” Six-Point puts in dryly. “Because Mama sees the firstborn through the magic filter that makes him look perfect to her. Maybe Prophet had one of those filters, too.”

“Or maybe Prophet just didn’t get that time,” Strawman says, his voice sharp as a knife’s edge and tossing a warning look at Six-Point—but before I left, words like against our father would have earned Six-Point a beating that wouldn’t stop until he was pissing blood. “So now the firstborn has taken the place Prophet gave him, and if he continues like this, he’ll bring the Few down. Unless you take him down first, little brother.”

I won’t argue with their reasoning. It’s the last thing I expected, but they’re right. I just don’t know why the hell I was picked for it. Not because of the fight today. I beat Adam’s ass, but together they could do it. And Strawman’s smart enough to come out on top if he took the firstborn on alone.

“Why you looking to tap me for it?” I look to Strawman. “Seems like it’d be your place, as VP.”

“Mama,” they all say in unison.

Strawman goes on, “You’re the baby, you just came back, and you look just like David. So you’re the only one she’d forgive for it. And we’re not talking killing him. Just making sure he can’t ride again.”

Because if he can’t ride, he can’t lead the MC. Even Mama couldn’t argue with that.

But this is a hell of a thing to drop on me. And I still don’t trust it. “So what is this?” I ask, eyeing each of them in turn. “Is this what it’s really going to cost me to get Stone back?”

“You earned that help when you put on your kutte.” Eyes unblinking as a shark’s, Strawman’s gaze doesn’t waver from mine. “You do this, we’ll run interference with Mama and put Anna in your house as your bride.”

Everything in me goes utterly still. Anna. In my house. In my bed.

Mine.

Just the thought burns through me like an electric shock, tightening every muscle, prickling my skin, stiffening my dick.

But I don’t show any reaction. Because I still don’t trust this. They’ve been pushing hard, trying to make me admit I feel something for Anna. For all I know, this is Mama’s idea.

And even if it’s genuine, I’d cut off my balls before moving Anna permanently to the farm. A few days around this shit? She’ll be all right. But there’s no way in hell I’d let her live in a home where everyone around her thinks she’s not pure enough to be there.

“There’s nothing like that between Anna and me,” I say evenly.

Strawman smirks, but it’s Six-Point who answers. “We figure you and David are more alike to each other than all the rest of us—and not just because you’re twins. You both got that ‘one woman’ shit locked down tight. So if you do this for us, we’ll do that for you. We’ll protect her from Mama.”

Right. I huff out a laugh, shake my head. “Let’s just focus on that run with the Iron Blood. If I get information that points me to Stone, maybe I’ll do something about Adam.
Only
for the good of the Few,” I stress. “Not to get Anna.”

Laughing, Muncher starts, “All right, brother, if that’s how you want to play it—”

His abruptly stops talking like he never started, tipping his beer up for a swallow.

Adam comes out of the dark, arms spread, breathing deep. “Ah, that fucking sea air. It’s damn good to smell it again.”

“The smell of freedom, brother,” Strawman says and bumps his fist.

Six-Point draws in an exaggerated breath, lets it out. “Freedom smells like pussy.”

“That’s because you’re standing downwind of Muncher,” I tell him.

Six-Point crows out a laugh. “True that.”

Adam grins, then rolls his shoulders, cracks his neck. “I’m ready to ride again. So let’s get the hell home. We’ve got brides who need fucking.” His gaze lands on me. “And you’ve got one to break in.”

* * *

Fucking goddamn hell.

I’d forgotten about the girl. I never forgot that Mama hopes to hook me up with some woman of her choosing, but I’d forgotten that Strawman told me she already had one picked out. That means the woman is working at the farm, living in my bride’s house, being groomed to become my wife.

And knowing Mama—if she thinks there’s any chance that the relationship between Anna and me isn’t what we say it is, she’ll parade that girl in front of Anna all goddamn day, hoping to break her heart.

The Anna who is just Stone’s sister wouldn’t care. The Anna who’s just my friend might not, either. And that’s where she is now—calling herself my friend, because she still doesn’t know me well enough to love me.

If that’s all there was, I wouldn’t be riding toward the house with this sick dread festering in my chest.

That’s not all there is, though. Because this morning, Anna kissed me like she could never get enough. She spread her sleek thighs for me and came on my tongue. This morning was the sweetest gift anyone’s ever given me.

But after Mama walks her intended bride out in front of Anna, what’s she going to think this morning meant to me? By now Anna must have met all the wives. She’ll know my brothers were screwing and eating club pussy and those girls didn’t mean a thing to them. She’ll think I’m no different than Muncher laying the brunette out for breakfast while his wife works up at the farm.

If Anna thinks she knows this about me, that’s it. She’ll be done. No chance she’ll ever love me. I know how she feels about the Riders who cheat on their wives. She thinks they’re pure fucking trash.