Halligan To My Axe (The Heroes of The Dixie Wardens MC Book 2) (21 page)

I smiled at each and every one of them while we walked down the hallway towards the rooms I’d seen earlier when I’d helped Baylee with replacing sheets, cleaning and straightening.

Some of the men gave head nods, others gave pats on the back, but every single one of them gave silent support, showing that they cared.

I was humbled.

I’d seen the camaraderie over the last few months, but this was a whole new level of trust. Friendship.

Love.

Once we were in the room, I stripped Kettle’s smoke filled clothes from his body and walked with him, hand in hand, to the shower where I washed his body and hair with shampoo, and then did the same for myself.

Once we were done, I walked with him to the bed, and tossed him a pair of underwear that had miraculously appeared. They were lying beside a plate of food for us both.

As I ate in silence, I could feel Kettle sinking more and more into himself. He was going back to where I didn’t want him to be, so in an attempt to pull him out of it, to bring him back to me, I took the plate of uneaten food out of his hand, placed it on the nightstand, and pushed him to his back.

Then I made love to him.

It was all about him.

I started at his collarbones. Pressing soft kisses along his neck, and then down to his chest. One over his heart where an angel was inked into his skin. Then to his ribs, and down further to the hard muscles of his belly.

That’s when I started using my tongue. Trailing it down over each deep ridge of his abdomen, causing his stomach to quiver in anticipation.

Then my lips met the trail of hair that started just below his belly button. I followed it down with my lips until I reached the gray elastic band of his Fruit of The Loom boxer briefs.

The hard ridge of his cock was pushed down, held down tightly to his right upper thigh by the tight elasticity of his underwear.

I could see it pulse with each beat of his heart, and my mouth watered to take his length into my mouth.

“Please,” Kettle rasped as I lingered too long at the waistband of his underwear. “Take ‘em off.”

I ignored him, instead letting the tip of my nose trail down onto the soft cotton of his briefs until I reached the base of his hard dick. His smell was musky and warm, all hard and horny male.

Pressing a kiss to the hard column of his cock, I trailed my lips down the length of him. My lips met the skin of his thigh, and the tip of his cock that was still covered by the material.

Opening my mouth over the head of his cock, I let my breath fan out and warm his length. His hard cock jumped with the different sensation, and I used my nose to nudge up the leg of his underwear until the very tip of his cock was uncovered.

My hands, which had been idle at my side before now, started moving up the outside of his thighs until they came to rest on the notched edges of muscle that formed the V on his lower abdomen.

As I flicked my tongue over the tip of his cock, I stroked my fingers along those ridged muscles, teasing him with my just barely there touches.

His tummy, which had been sculpted but pliable before the touching had begun, now resembled a slab of stone.

I could make out even more muscle now than there had been before, and it was a tossup on what I wanted to lick. There were just too many options to choose from.

In the end, he was the one who decided for me.

With one hand in my hair, he yanked me back, making my flicking tongue, which had been circling the head of his dick and running around the crown, lose its plaything as he roughly threw me back to the bed.

The low throb that had been pulsing softly before now started to burn with need. Warm slickness started seeping out of my channel, lubricating my entrance for him.

I hit with a soft bounce and watched as he shucked his underwear, moved in between my legs, pushed my panties aside, and thrust his hard cock deep inside of me. Bottoming out before withdrawing and slamming home once more.

The hard thrusts were not nice. They were jagged. Unbreakable. Desperate thrusts that showed just a hint of what Kettle was feeling right then.

His breath sawed in and out of him in ragged gasps.

The panties that were bunched at the base of his cock rubbed against my clit coarsely but, strangely, it worked for me.

The rough lace felt so foreign, so utterly wrong, that it was surprising that it would also make my pleasure all the more intriguing.

“God, yes,” I panted as one particular thrust had my head smacking into the headboard.

Normally, Kettle would’ve backed off, moved me to the end of the bed so I would be in no way uncomfortable, but Kettle was gone. In his place was a ravaged man who needed me to take him away from the horrid things that happened that night.

Which was why I was letting him use my body as an outlet. He was fueling our coupling with the rage and hurt he was feeling. Punishing both of our bodies.

“Hold on,” he said coarsely, before abruptly pulling out of me and roughly flipping me over until I was on my belly. “Get your knees up under you. Keep your shoulders and face on the bed.”

I did as I was told, following his directions implicitly.

Once in the desired position, he got a hold on my hair again, pulled it back roughly, and slammed his length back inside of me.

“Fuck,” we both hissed.

He was fucking me so hard now that I practically felt it in my throat.

His huge length was tunneling inside of me so hard that our flesh was making a loud smack each time our hips met.

Then the hand that was not busy pulling back on my hair went to the cheek of my ass and squeezed. Hard.

He took his thumb and ran it along the seam of my sex. Gathering my wetness on his finger, and then he thrummed the very tip of my clit, making my orgasm crash through me.

It wasn’t until his thumb, coated in my juices, found the hole of my ass and pushed inside that I realized what his goal was.

The feeling, so very, very foreign, made that orgasm that had previously been a ten on the Richter scale, smash through the fuckin’ charts, blowing every other orgasm I’d had before to smithereens. My eyes squeezed tightly shut, so hard my head hurt. My mouth turned and closed on the fleshy part of Kettle’s wrist, biting down roughly to withhold the scream that threatened the very structure of the room we were in.

My head moved forward until the sting in my scalp went to a burn, and my heat clamped down hard on the raging cock that was pummeling it, squeezing it like a fist.

He groaned low in his throat, and with three more sharp thrusts, he came. Pushing into me so hard that my knees went out from under me and I collapsed onto the bed.

Our hearts were pounding, and the rise and fall of our chests were rapidly diminishing the amount of oxygen in the room.

However, neither one of us spoke.

Kettle just disengaged from my body and pulled me into his side.

I could tell he was still upset. He was still in his head. But he was holding me.

I had
him
, and that was all that mattered right then.

Life’s a bitch and then you die.

-Silas to Kettle

Kettle

Two days later

2:49 P.M.

“You good?” Sebastian asked me as we got off our bikes in front of the old warehouse the club owned.

I shrugged. No, I wasn’t good, but I’d deal. It was harder than hell to leave Adeline earlier, and knowing I’d go home to her with blood staining my hands, made my chest tight.

I’d do it anyway, though. That sadistic bastard had killed my baby sister. The one who I’d promised to look after forever and always. The one who would never see motherhood. Never walk down the aisle. Never bear a child. Never again give me a call in the middle of the night telling me she needed a ride home from another douchebag’s place.

Gustavo Amadeus had some explaining and atoning to do, and I was just the make to make sure he received it.

We were meeting at the warehouse that Sebastian, Loki, and I all had offices at. Where we also held parties at that were too big for our clubhouse to handle.

Today, we were meeting all the members of the Dixie Wardens at the warehouse before going in for a little discussion. My hope was that we were going to raid Gustavo’s front business, take every single one of his crew, and hopefully, lure Gustavo out in the process. Then, I could show him the business end of my fist. Repeatedly.

However, Trance and Loki showed us the error of our ways, giving us a better option that would take out every single member of Gustavo’s crew without making The Dixie Wardens have to kill over one hundred people in the process.

I must’ve taken too long to answer because suddenly Sebastian was in my face, grabbing each side with his mitts and glaring at me. “Are. You. Good?”

I glared right back at him, but nodded. I was as good as I was going to get.

“Alright, let’s get this meeting taken care of. I want to eat some leftovers.” Sebastian said dismissively.

The tone of Sebastian’s voice might have come out sounding blasé, but I knew the man was a live wire, just like me. Sebastian may not have liked Shannon very much, but she was family, and the Dixie Wardens protected their own. God help anybody who fucks with something of ours.

We might be 99% law abiding, but we didn’t condone disrespect. And we sure as fuck didn’t tolerate a murder of another brother’s blood sister. Not without one hell of a retaliation.

“Let’s do it.” I agreed.

***

3:15 P.M.

Adeline

“Hello?” I answered my phone.

“Ummm, hi. This is Ray Platt from The Bayou Funeral Home. I’m the one in charge of getting a Ms. Shannon Spada’s funeral planned. I was given this number by your husband, Mr. Tiago Spada? Is that correct?”

My heart leapt at the mention of being Kettle’s wife, but fell just as quickly when I realized just why he was calling.

“Yes, that’s me. How can I help you, Mr. Platt?” I asked softly, looking at my toes that were in serious need of a coat of polish.

“This is quite unusual, but I contacted Mr. Spada since he’s the primary contact. However, we have the deceased’s parents here trying to plan the funeral, and since Mr. Spada advised us to speak with you on the matter, since he was otherwise occupied, I’m calling to see just what you would like us to do. He said, and I quote, ‘
Tell her she’s got full sway. Make it pretty, baby
.’ Now, what would you like us to do?” Mr. Platt asked.

I wiggled my toes in the 70’s carpet in the clubhouse’s bedroom that Kettle and I’d stayed the night in, and came to a decision.

“I’ll be there in less than thirty minutes. Can you stall them?” I asked him.

“Certainly, Mrs. Spada, I’ll see you momentarily.” He said primly before hanging up.

I growled in frustration. What kind of parents would disown their own daughter, and then show up to plan her funeral? What sick bastards they must be.

Then I was shoving my feet into socks, followed by my boots. I made sure to tuck in the pleats of my pants so the boots looked smooth where they met my jeans, and stood. I pulled another piece of borrowed clothing on, this one donated by Trance, much to Kettle’s vexation, and then shrugged my beautiful vest that declared me ‘Kettle’s Property’ over that.

By the time I exited the bedroom where I was reading my book after a large leftover-filled lunch, I was feeling mean.

I wanted to kick Kettle’s parents’ asses. Although it was more like I’d probably just yell at them.

I was sadly deflated when I made it into the clubhouse’s main room only to find Tunnel, the prospect who was such a sweet man that I still couldn’t see how he fit into this group of bad asses.

That’s not to say that he probably couldn’t be badass, he just didn’t act like one each and every time I’d been in his company. I was also sure that Kettle’s parents wouldn’t be too intimidated by the man. He was like a sweet, baby cop who’d hesitate on doing anything that might harm someone. However, I had a feeling I could probably convince him to go with me...or at least let me out.

“Tunnel?” I asked sweetly, stopping just short of batting my eyelashes at him just in case he noticed my ruse.

He turned around quickly from where he was shoving a fat piece of ham into his mouth the size of a small horse and cocked his head slightly. “Yes?”

“Uhh,” I hesitated. “I’m in need of a favor.”

Life has a way of being…tragic.

A mistake, by definition, is something you do that is misguided or wrong.

Going to that funeral home was a mistake.

I should’ve known better. Should have listened to that inner voice begging me to listen to what Kettle had commanded that morning before leaving.

Don’t go anywhere. No matter what. It’s not safe.

Why didn’t I listen?

***

3:55 P.M.

Kettle

“Why, out of all the places in the world he could use as a front business, did he choose a funeral parlor?” Dixie asked as he shook his head.

“You got me.” I murmured.

“Nobody’s going to check out a hearse and coffin for drugs. Hell, most people down here pull the fuck over for a hearse. Some even have police escorts. What better way than that? The man’s a relative genius. I can’t believe I’ve never even thought about that before.” Trance said shaking his head.

“We doing this in plain sight, or are we going in through the back as not to draw so much attention?”

I snorted and got off my bike. The bike’s engine ticked as it cooled down from our hard ride over from the warehouse district, making me take a second glance at it and then at the area surrounding us.

“Fifteen bikers just pulled up in downtown Benton in the middle of the afternoon. It’s safe to say we were noticed.” Silas drawled dryly. “Which was the point, wasn’t it?”

I ignored them and started to head into the funeral home. Then came to an abrupt halt when a familiar license plate that read 0SPADA0 in a handicapped parking spot near the front of the door caught my eye.

Mother. Fucker.