Lay It Down: Bastards MC Series Boxed Set (50 page)

I tensed a little when I realized we were headed into the part of the city Will and our college friends had called Glocksbury. I couldn’t remember ever being here—it was supposed to be scary as hell. The apartment buildings were nice though, not at all what I expected, and as we drove, they started to disappear, replaced by businesses and warehouses that got farther and farther apart. The property on my left was huge, but I couldn’t see much more than a building or two through the privacy fence surrounding it. Cris slowed suddenly and put on her blinker.

“Where are we?”

She turned into a paved driveway and stopped at a camera that sat outside the fence. Opening her window and reaching out, she finally replied, “The clubhouse.”

There was a loud beep, then the gate swung inward. I glanced around, trying to take it all in. It was a large parking lot, with one huge building and two smaller ones. Between the smaller buildings was a giant playground and a picnic/grill area with deep green grass that seemed out of place amidst all the asphalt.

She parked in a space near the large red building and sighed. “I forgot you haven’t been here.” She glanced around the lot then nodded. “You’ll be fine. There aren’t that many people here.”

“I can’t go in!” I exclaimed, shocked.

I stared at the sign that took up most of the wall in front of me. It matched the back of the Bastards’ jackets. A silver Itus held two blood-red swords in his hands, ready to viciously slay anyone who threatened those he protected. “Bastards MC” arched above him in bold red print, and “Boston” curled below him in the same red letters. It was intimidating as hell.

“I’m all sweaty and gross.”

She opened her door and pointed at me. “Out. Now. If I have to face him, you do too.”

I glared at her but got out.

“This used to be an elementary school,” she explained as we walked toward the door. “The city sold it when they upgraded. Perfect place for the club. Tons of space for everything they want or need, and easy to get to.”

It was dark once the door closed behind us, and my eyes needed a minute to adjust. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear we were in a bar. The room was decent-sized but full with at least twenty-five high tables, each surrounded by three or four black padded bar stools. In the corner to my left were four black leather couches and a couple of chairs set up in a large square. In the corner to my right were four pool tables. At the end of the room, a long wooden counter came off the wall in a U. Behind it were hundreds of bottles of liquor and a stainless steel refrigerator. Above them, stretching the length of the bar, was a sign that proclaimed to the world, “GOD FORGIVES. BASTARDS DON’T.”

The bottoms of the walls were wood, the tops painted a light silver. Everywhere I looked, the Bastards insignia seemed to be present. The walls held framed newspaper clippings, pictures, and framed leather jackets. Every inch of the space was colored in black, red, silver, or polished wood.

“Wow.”

Cris gave me a disgusted look and rolled her eyes. “I need a fuckin’ drink.” She strode behind the bar and grabbed a glass. “You want?”

“It’s two in the afternoon!”

“Exactly!”

I shook my head in exasperation, promising myself I wouldn’t say anything else, and took a seat, leaning onto the counter. “Water?”

She grabbed me a bottle from the fridge then downed her shot. Bracing her arms on the counter, she leaned forward and gave me a wry smile. “I better go back. Stay here. I won’t be long.”

I nodded. She walked back around the bar and down a hallway that I hadn’t noticed earlier. I wondered what was down it, half tempted to go exploring. I turned in my chair, awed by not only the size but by how nice this room was. There were two closed doors: one right behind the bar and one by the pool tables. She’d told me to stay here, but I wasn’t really leaving if I just peeked in them, right?

I slid off my stool just as a man walked out of the hallway. He had a glass tumbler in one hand and held a phone up to his ear with the other as he talked loudly. He slowed and gave me a curious look. I smiled and offered a pathetic wave. He smiled back then walked toward the couches. I turned back to the bar, feeling like an idiot. I stood, tapping my foot and sipping my water as I replayed everything I’d learned earlier, trying not to listen to his conversation.

“Babe? I said I need a refill.”

I jumped when a hand touched my arm, my other hand flying to my chest.

His eyes followed the movement and lingered on my breasts as he smiled sarcastically and held up the empty glass. “My glass is empty.”

“Oh!” I laughed at my jumpiness and tried to ignore his scrutiny. “I’m sure they won’t mind if you get yourself another drink.” I gestured at the bar and turned back to my water.

He chuckled, a low deep sound, and stepped closer. “First time heah?”

I nodded, turning slightly to make eye contact. He practically oozed “Bad Boy Biker,” from the way he leaned his beefy frame confidently against the counter to the intense and dangerous look in his hazel eyes.

“Yeah. I’m waiting for Rocker,” I said.

He pulled out a pack of Marlboro Reds and held it out to me. I declined, and he shook one out and lit up. I took the opportunity to scan him. Next to Tiny, this mystery man was the biggest Bastard—if he was a member of the club—I’d met. His arms were veiny, as if he spent every second he could working out. His plain black T-shirt was tight, showing a wide and muscular torso, but it was tucked into a pair of baggy blue jeans that looked as if they hadn’t fit him right in years. The thick belt he wore was barely keeping them up. I stared at his buckle a second too long, trying to figure out what was on the large bronze circle. It was Itus. The man wasn’t wearing a vest or jacket, but I doubted he’d be able to wear the symbol if he wasn’t a member.

When my eyes moved back to his face, I realized that he was giving me the same kind of once-over I’d just given him. I shifted, uncomfortable.

“I thank God every damn day for the man who invented yoga pants,” he mumbled to himself more than to me.

Feeling extremely self-conscious, I slid away from him a little. Nothing about him scared me, but better safe than sorry. “You don’t have to wait with me. I’m good.”

I gulped another sip of water and, aware of his eyes glued to my ass, turned around, backing into the bar. It was the wrong move. He seemed to take it as an invitation. Instead of moving away, he stubbed out his cigarette and stepped in front of me, boxing me in with his arms.

“I’m sure Rocker will be out to get me any minute.” I tried to mask the irritation in my voice but knew he heard it.

He only smiled, leaning down and invading my space, moving his head to my ear. “Naw, babe. He’s got his hands full right now. Won’t be out for owahs.”

I pushed against him but would have had better luck moving a boulder. He acted as if he didn’t even notice my hands on his chest.

“I, on the othah hand, have the whole fuckin’ afternoon free.” He lifted his left hand and ran a thick knuckle down my cheek. “I bet we could think of somethin’ that would fill the time.”

I moved quickly, squeezing out from under him. The slap that followed didn’t hurt that much, but it made me yelp and jump, moving my hand to my ass as I whirled on him. I rubbed the spot gently, trying to numb away the sting. “What the fuck was that?”

I got a glimpse of teeth that were so white they looked out of place as he grinned at me mischievously. “Babe, rule numbah one—if you’ah gonna have it on display heah, it’s gonna get touched.” He twisted his lips and took a step toward me. “Why don’t we go back to my room and you give me a sneak peek before you go audition for Rockah?”

I stepped back, trying to find a way to tell him to go to hell without causing trouble. Not taking the hint at all, he reached his hand out, and without giving it too much thought, I knocked it away. Deciding that retreat was my best option, I turned quickly, but a hand wrapped around my left wrist, pulling me back and spinning me around. I didn’t think, just balled my hand into a fist like Nick had shown me, and stepped my weight into the punch.

I aimed for the throat, as instructed, but the brute in front of me lowered his chin when he saw the hit coming. I didn’t know who was more surprised when my fist actually connected. He grabbed my right wrist as I tried to back away, amusement, not anger, filling his eyes. Yanking me flush against him, he laughed and ran his other hand over his jaw.

“You’ah a feisty bitch, aintchya?” The hazel eyes twinkled. “That’s not somethin’ we see too often in heah. It’s fuckin’ sexy as hell.” His voice was low and rough. Moving his hand from his chin to my backside, he rubbed the spot he’d slapped earlier and ground his front into me so I could feel just how much of a turn-on he thought it was—he was hard as a rock. “Don’t worry, sweethaht, I give just as good as I get. If this is youah idea of foreplay, I’m all for it.”

Lifting my face to his to show him I wasn’t afraid, I glared at him. “Back off, buddy.” I shoved at him again, but his arms were too strong. If he didn’t let me go soon, I was going to murder him with my bare hands.

“Faahk, you ahh hot!” he muttered absently and buried his face in the side of my neck, closing his teeth over the bottom of my ear.

I narrowly avoided the urge to gouge out his eyes.

“Mmm. I want to taste every inch of this body.” He picked his head up, licking his lips as he starred at mine. “My ol’ lady won’t be back ‘til tomorrow. Give me the word, and I’m youahs for the night. Let me be your first Bastahd.” His voice held a pleading tone.

I couldn’t fight the look of disgust. He thought I was a club whore! Not just that—this jackass had a girlfriend, or wife, he was going to cheat on. “I don’t fuckin’ think so.” I sneered, “Let me go.”

His hold started to loosen, but the sound of catcalls and whoops had us both looking across the bar. A handful of bikers, all wearing Bastard jackets, were watching us as if we were putting on one hell of a show. He swore and turned us so his back was to them, sheltering me from their view, and pushed my head down into his chest.

“Fuck off,” he barked. I couldn’t hear their replies because his thick hand was over my ear, but a few seconds later, he startled me by roaring, “Now!”

A few minutes later, his arms released me and he stepped back, but enormous hands cupped my cheeks and tipped my face toward his. “Sorry about that. Fuckin’ prospects,” he admonished, obviously annoyed. “You okay?”

I gaped at him. In the last few minutes, this man had spanked me, manhandled me, propositioned me, and implied I was a slut. Now he was worried about how I’d handle a bunch of obnoxious men staring at me? I giggled at the absurdity of the situation.

He shook me slightly, as if trying to get me to focus. “Babe?”

I couldn’t answer, the giggles turning into breath-stealing, side-hurting laughter. Then his mouth was on mine. I reacted instantly, laughter gone, recoiling violently and slapping him hard across his face.

He grinned. “Theah you ahh.”

He stepped toward me, but I held up my finger. “Don’t you fuckin’ come near me again.”

“Hooolllyyy fuuuuck!” The words came out in a slow, surprised drawl, stopping both the moose and I dead in our tracks.

Chapter 17

Jo

I snapped my head toward the door. A man stood in the shadows, watching us. All I could see of him was a thick dark beard and wide shoulders.

My companion had turned too, nodding a hello. “Got it undah control, Bear.”

Bear shook his head, “The hell you do!” In just a few steps, he was in front of me, inserting himself between the giant and me, gently grabbing my chin between his thumb and finger and pushing my head back. “You okay, ma’am?”

The familiar face and low voice made distant memories filter through my mind. “Ian?”

He looked as if he’d aged ten years in the last few months. I knew he was almost young enough to be my son, but the innocent twinkle in his eyes had been replaced by a cautious wariness that he shouldn’t have for years, and dark black smudges underlined his eyes. He smiled in surprise, and for a second, I could see the handsome kid he’d been.

“I wasn’t sure I’d see you again, Joey.”

It had only been for a few hours one night last summer, but the time I’d spent with this young man had touched me. I’d been out with Matty and the Bastards when a brawl broke out, Cris and I smack-dab in the middle of it. Ian had put himself between danger and me, carried me outside, taken me home, and spent the night trying to keep my mind off Matty. He was brilliant and insightful and sweet. He’d entertained me with stories of his girlfriend, Ellie.

Then only a few weeks later, he and Ellie had been viciously attacked. I’d often wondered what had happened to him and, until this second, didn’t even know he was still a Bastard. Thinking about it made my heart ache. Not just for him and Ellie, but for Matty and me. That had been the worst weekend of my life—the one where Matty walked away, breaking me.

I took a deep, shaking breath, fighting tears.