Saving Belle (A Category 5 Knights MC Romance Book 2) (2 page)

W
hen Chaser
and I get back from our set of Canadian runs on Thursday, we find out that three old ladies have decided to throw a big party. Everything's already planned, and it's going down on Friday night. Entire town's invited. It's apparently their way of thanking us and helping us to grow some roots here, like Chaser wanted. It'll be good for the kids, help them find a way to fit in around here. Chaser and I could write books about being outcasts.

Since I handled the driving for the last leg of the trip, I'm pretty much dead on my feet by the time we get back and I crash out right away. Chaser's got enough wind back in his sails to check on his girl, though. Real funny, considerin' she ain't his girl yet—but my money's on it going through. I've yet to meet a woman who could turn down Chaser once they got to know him properly.

The next day, Chaser strolls into my office in the compound. I look up from the ledgers and straighten up in respect. “Mornin' Chaser.”

“Are you ready?” He sounds excited, but a little doubtful. I sure didn't look ready.

“For the party? Yeah, totally. I'll head over when I'm done with this.” I point to the stacks of receipts and documents piled up on the desk, all left for me by the guys of the club.

“Nah. Move your lazy ass. You're a biker first and a damn accountant second. Anyway, I told that little blonde number that you'd come pick her up when I went to get Holly.”

With a laughing sigh, I lean back in my chair. Chaser's a great President. He always knows just what to say, and how to get things done. More importantly, he's always looking out for his brothers' best interests.

“Alright, alright. Give me a second, damn.” I stand and pull the top down on the roller-top desk and lock it quickly.

On our way out, I snatch a smaller helmet from the hooks by the door and follow him to the town's diner where the girls are waiting for us.

Belle’s shaping up to be the belle of the ball, all dolled up. Her perfume is sweet and alluring, pulling me toward her the second we get close. When she stands, I wrap my arms around her, now well within the delicious warmth of that sweet vanilla and sugar.

“Damn, you smell good enough to eat. Mm.”

She giggles softly as she pulls back, only replying with a nod. Chaser turns on his heel and heads back to the bikes, the girls and I following close behind. Belle slides in behind me as I mount up, Chaser and I both kicking our rides to life.

It's a short enough ride back to the compound. I park up close in the main lot while Chaser continues on to his on-site house. He lives in one of the smaller barns by himself, converted into a damn fine pad. Ever since we relocated, he'd wanted to take a crack at living on his own—or, at least, without me. I'm fine with it. We've been attached at the hip since we were ten, but separate quarters don't separate brothers. We'll always be looking out for one another, and I know that for sure, but some distance is healthy too—especially if there’s a regular girl for him in the picture now.

Belle removes her helmet as I turn the bike off. As she slips off, she bends down completely, shaking her head before straightening up and running her fingers through the voluminous mess of curls. I'll never understand women and their thing about hair. It's nice and everything, but damn. All that fuss over hair?

I decide to keep my mouth shut, and instead grab her hand to show her into the public square area. A lot of the brothers are out with their families today, and Belle's all smiles when they come into view. She strolls up and greets them like she's known them forever, immediately integrating without so much as a thought from the others.

She slides into an empty space next to Raven. The poor girl looks exhausted, a grouchy twin on each arm. Total defeat, in way over her head. Without hesitation, Belle leans over and opens her arms. “Here, lemme help.”

Raven immediately lets Belle take one of the bundled babies. She coos softly down, fussing over it before she picks up one of the two bottles on the table. Seemingly a seasoned pro, she tests the temperature by shaking a few drops out onto her wrist. Satisfied, she situates the bottle, rocking the baby softly as she looks up to Raven, who's in total shock.

So am I, really. She handled it like a total pro. I'd bet she was everyone's favorite babysitter in high school.

“They're not yours, are they?” Belle chuckles softly, knowingly.

This prompts a hard belly laugh from every man within earshot. It's a totally ridiculous question—Raven's the daughter of Thor, one of our senior members. He damn well earned the name, too. Odin might've fit a little better considering how much of a womanizer her was, but he cast a suspicious eye at any man who even looked in Raven's direction.

She's the cutest virgin on the compound. The oldest for damn sure.

Raven shakes her head, grinning almost bashfully. “They're my brothers.”

“Well, aren't you lucky to have such little cuties for brothers?” Belle smiles down at the baby in her arms, now bouncing and soothing him.

“I... suppose they are, yeah.” Raven doesn't sound like she believes it at all, but who could blame her? Thirty seconds ago, they were both screaming terrors.

Belle looks back up to Raven with a little wink. “Don't you worry, honey. For some women, babies are just an acquired taste. I haven't always loved the little bundles of fun, you know.”

There's no doubt in my mind that she does now. But playing with and fussing over babies isn't nearly what I had in mind tonight. Still, she seems to be having such a good time that it'd be a damn shame to interrupt her. I leave her at the table to play with the little man, headed off to grab some drinks.

From the bar, I watch her as she chats it up with some of the old ladies. It's nice to know that if we were to click on something long term that she'd fit right in. I grab a couple beers and make my way back to Belle. Not as if I could go anywhere else. That woman calls to me.

All I need to now is get to know her a little better, maybe figure out if she's really more than a quick lay. There might be something to the two of us.

C
haser looks
haggard as he hauls himself up into our truck on Sunday night.

His eyes barely seemed to focus as he stared at the map I'd haphazardly spread over the steering wheel, leaning over it. “You're sure you don't mind driving?”

I shake my head and straighten out the map again. “I'm sure.” I growl lowly, retroactively trying to make it seem like I'm pissed off at the map. I've had plenty of time to rest, and I'm sure as hell not gonna take out my case of blue balls on him. Not sure I've ever been this frustrated over a fuck, or lack thereof.

Chaser recognizes the tone well enough, and knows better than to ask me what's wrong when I'm upset. I'm the kind of guy who has to deal with shit on my own. If he opens those floodgates, he's gonna get hit with a tidal wave of stupid. Not like I can help it. Every time, I blow up on whoever asked me instead of chewing out the person who'd gotten me pissed off in the first place.

He straps in, props his feet up on the dashboard, and closes his eyes. “Fine, fine. Wake me up when you want me to take over.” Before I can even get on the road properly, he's out like a light.

I grumble to myself about his selfishness as we pull out to head north on I-95, knowing full well that he's totally gone.

I concentrate hard on the road, but with the traffic flowing fine, I'm left to my stupid thoughts. As of next week, another team will be taking over the runs with another truck. The method works, and we've been lucky so far. After this, we're done. No matter how organized we are, it'd be a stupid move to press our luck any further.

Instead of worrying about getting caught with our precious cargo on the way back over the border, I find my mind completely and totally focused on Belle and those incredible curves of hers.

Miles roll by, and I can't stop trying to figure out what the fuck went wrong. Everything was going just fine—or so I thought. She seemed to be having a hell of a time with the boys. She drank, ate, danced.
We
danced, too. I held her, and she didn't move to pull away. She was all about it, even when my hands slipped down to her ass.

Damn. That ass.

I groan, shifting uncomfortably in the seat, trying to will away the borderline painful hard-on I'm now sporting, straining at the denim of my jeans. I curse her under my breath—or, at least, what I thought was under my breath, but the second I do, Chaser bolts up in his seat.

His eyes go from wide to heavy and sleepy again in a matter of moments, but he turns to me stretching and yawning, obviously not entirely awake. If he was, he wouldn't have asked.

“The hell is wrong with you?”

Predictably, I snap at him with way more venom than I meant to. “Belle. Fucking Belle. I didn't get to fuck, and that's what's wrong with me. Alright?”

He stares at me, his brow high in surprise, mouth slightly open. I probably wore the same one when I realized that Belle found somebody to drive her home from the compound while I was busy breaking up a fight between two of the prospects.

Chaser doesn't even try to hide his amusement. I glare at him for a moment, but before I say anything too insubordinate, I focus my eyes back on the road. He yawns again, letting it out with a loud chuckle. I grow and lean toward the steering wheel, trying my best to ignore him. It's apparently fucking hilarious, because he totally loses it. He can't help himself, so I can't be too pissed, and before long I'm chuckling along with him.

Wiping a tear from his eye, he manages to calm down long enough to ask me what happened. “What, didn't get your piston pumped?”

Not. Fucking. Funny.

Maybe a little.

Goddamnit.

I shake my head. I have no clue what happened. One minute we here hanging out, all sweet and sexy like, and the next she's fucking gone, bumming a ride with one of the townspeople who'd been invited to the party. The
second
I took my eyes off her, she was out.

I shrug in response after a long moment of consideration. “I guess she just wasn't interested after all. No idea what's going on with that, but whatever.” Try as I might to make light of it, I still sound pissed off and bummed out.

What we called “hunting” outside of our territory always comes with the possibility that I come home empty handed, but Belle completely blind-sided me.

“You know, I really thought she was into me.” I sigh, shaking my head. “If she's not, whatever. It's her loss, yeah?”

Chaser nods reassuringly. “Yeah, man. There are more than enough chicks with biker fever who'd like nothin' more than to hop on that piston like a mechanical bull. Don't act like you can't pull chicks. Show 'em your magic.” Another soft chuckle as he leans back in his seat.

Sure, he's right. Sweet butts are a dime a dozen, and I'm more than sure that if I go out looking, I'll find somebody. But yesterday, at the end of the night and despite all my frustration, I didn't feel like taking any of the girls back to my place.

I lean forward to turn on the radio and drown out any future conversation. I can't help but laugh when I hear the song. Another lovelorn ballad about the one who got away.

Real question is, am I seriously gonna let her get away? What am I gonna do about it?

Nothing. Of course. I won't be one of those idiots who start pining after some chick who's not even into it. That ain't me, and it ain't gonna be me. Ever.

“
C
ome on
, Piston! Get off your lazy ass and come with us. We're leaving in an hour whether you're ready or not.”

All I can do is shrug, looking up at Chaser. I'm just not in the mood for any kind of party. We've been away all week, I did damn near all the driving,
and
I've got an accounting nightmare to straighten out. I don't care what Thor says, I'm gonna wait for Raven to finish her training before I let her even
think
about touching my ledgers again.

I motion toward my desk, staring up at Chaser. “You see this? Someone dropped a bomb on our fucking sheets. Raven's got my documents all misfiled, everything is fucked up and out of order. Getting nothing done while we were out would've been better. So, no. No can do.”

I'm probably being a jackass, but there's no way I'm gonna be able to concentrate on anything else until the mess is taken care of. Besides, swimming in a sea of numbers is about as far away from the nagging memory of Belle as I can get.

He shakes his head hard, leaning over and placing his palm on the stack of papers I'm sorting. “Nope. Need you with me. We're meeting with the VP of the Iron Tornadoes.”

“What? Just... out of the blue? They wanna meet? That... doesn't sound too good.”

Chaser grins as he straightens back up. “It's not out of the blue. Ice called the day we got back, but you've got your head so far up your own ass that nobody can stand talking to you unless they have to. You've been irritable as fuck.”

Just as I open my mouth to protest, I think better of it. I might say that I'm the most even-tempered one here, and just about any other time, that would be totally true. But I know he's right. I've been snapping at people way too much. Maybe it's not Belle. Maybe I'm just pissed off about the mess Raven left for me. Looks like an
actual
tornado blew through my office.

I work up the courage and nod. “Yeah. Fine, I'll be there.”

“Of course you will. Because Prez says so.” He bursts into a full, toothy smile. He loves using that line when he gets his way. He might as well be setting off fireworks and waving victory flags every time I hear it.

I return the smile as well as I can considering my foul mood, and slide back from my desk. I'm damn near cross-eyed after staring down at the books all day. A nice ride'll do me a hell of a lot of good, and a little action—
real
action—will do me some good. Hopefully things don't go sour, but if they do, I'm ready to black an eye or two. Iron Tornadoes might end up the Fleshy Punching bags by the time we're through.

I grab my jacket and slip it on quickly. “Well? What's the plan? Where's the meet?”

“I didn't want to go to Point Lookout, so they agreed to come here. Gonna be meeting up at Florida Moon.”

I nod my approval. Florida Moon's a good spot. Good music, Friday night. No chance of anyone dropping in on our conversation.

“You remember what they're into, yeah?” Arguably, this is my favorite part of the job. I'm the go-to guy for knowledge on the other MCs. I'm always ready with the facts about anybody Chaser wants the dish on. Unfortunately, he seems to have a pretty good handle on it, deflating my hopes of rambling on about them.

“Yeah, you told me before. A strip club, a straight up sex club, a private investigator agency, and... shit, I don't remember.” He snaps his fingers.

I grin as we head outside. Most of the Iron Tornadoes activity is legit, so I'm not surprised that the more conventional ones didn't stick in his mind. He only ever remembers the stuff immediately necessary for him. I, on the other hand, soak up every piece of information I can get my hands on. Information is power, and as VP, I gotta be the muscle.

Hell, if you gave him a globe, he'd probably struggle to name the continents because he doesn't have any use for it. America and Canada, that's all he needs. But ask him for the best route with the least static between two cities, and he'll give you every bit of information he's got—enough to make even the most careless greenhorn smuggler a success.

As we make our way out of the office, I walk just behind him. “So, who else is riding with us?”

“Dragon and the big prospect.” Chaser's flat, unaffected tone kinda bugs me today, but I know I'm just looking for something to be pissed about.

“The big... fuck, you mean that kid Peanut, don't you?” I blurt out the name, unable to stop myself.

“Yes, Peanut. I know you think it's stupid, but that's probably what he's got in that skull of his. He ain't smart enough to give a damn what his name is, either. I could call him Betty and he'd probably think it was cool.” A short scoff, shaking his head.

“He's a good kid though. Just needs some time.”

That’s what I keep saying but I know better. His age isn't the problem. He's probably as mature as he's ever going to get, but there's definitely something wrong with him. Maybe his parents dropped him on his head tent times too many. He's like a giant puppy who breaks
everything
within a five foot radius of him in his enthusiasm and glee. Of course, I have a soft spot for the kid. I don't want him along on such an important trip for more than a few reasons, but mostly I just don't want him hurt if the meeting goes sour. He's a devoted prospect, and as far as I'm concerned he's just as much family as any full-patch member. I don't care if he stays a prospect forever. Long as my word means something here, Peanut's here to stay.