Chapter FOUR
HUNTER
I flopped down next to Em, trying to make my brain work again.
I’d come in my pants like a f*cking kid.
Yeah. If the brothers saw this, they’d crucify me.
“You’re gonna kill me,” I muttered, reaching over to tuck a strand of her hair behind one of those perfect little ears. Her crystal-blue eyes looked up at me, dazed, and not entirely homicidal. Damn, I liked that way too much.
Damn, she was pretty. Smelled good, too.
“No, it’s Dad who’ll kill you,” she said quietly. Thoughtfully. Great, because thinking wasn’t going to make this any better on her end. “Liam—wait, what the hell is your name, anyway?”
“It’s Liam. Hunter is my road name.”
A shadow crossed her face.
“Are you really one of them?”
I didn’t pretend not to understand.
“Yeah, I’m a Devil’s Jack. Nomad. Been my job to keep tabs on you and your sister for a while. Among other things.”
“Why?” she asked, her face genuinely confused. “We’re not important.”
I laughed, wondering how she could be so impossibly naive.
“You’re pretty f*ckin’ important, babe,” I told her. “That club loves you, even more than your sister because you stayed in Coeur d’Alene. Half the guys consider you their daughter and the other half want to bang you. All of ’em are scared of your dad. Still can’t quite figure out why he’s not national president. When Atlas retired last year, we figured he’d step up for sure.”
“He’s not interested,” she said absently. Then she leaned up on one arm, studying me. I kept my eyes on her face, because clearly she’d forgotten that corset thing was wide open and showing off her tits. Not my place to remind her . . . Fortunately, her puffy lips provided a nice distraction. I kept picturing them wrapped around my cock. “Tell me the truth, Liam. Was there ever anything real between us?”
I should tell her it was all real. Tell her it was love at first sight, that we were Romeo and Juliet and I’d defy my club to be her one and only.
But for once I was just f*cking sick and tired of lying.
“I have no idea what’s between us,” I said, not even sure that was true. The first time I’d seen Em, it’d felt like a gut punch. I’d wanted to nail her on the spot. That hadn’t changed, but now that I had her laid out on a bed, for some reason making her feel better was more important than sticking my dick in her. Go figure.
“Not sure I know what real is,” I said. “But I don’t believe in love, babe. I believe in gettin’ laid.”
“That’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.”
I shrugged, feeling almost philosophical about the situation. There’s a certain freedom in being totally screwed—and that was definitely what this was shaping up to be. Clusterf*ck all around.
“Well, I do know I’ve got come all over my pants, and that’s not something that happens every day,” I told her. “You’re f*cking hot, babe. No matter what other stories you tell yourself, don’t doubt it for a minute. I can’t remember the last time I blew like that. Not sure what it means, but that part’s sure as shit real.”
“Heh,” she said, then rolled onto her back and looked at the ceiling. “Am I gonna end up dead?”
I considered the question seriously, rolling it through my mind. I felt certain about one thing. I’d kill myself before I hurt her—well, hurt her physically. I was relatively sure I’d already done serious damage emotionally. But so long as I needed her making phone calls to Daddy, I couldn’t afford to let her feel safe. Those calls needed to motivate him, and that required fear.
Crap.
I didn’t like this feeling, I decided. I didn’t like feeling at all. Half the guys in the Jacks thought I was some kind of killing machine, and they were probably right. Give me a target, I’d neutralize it. But that usually involved guns or knives . . . or on one very memorable occasion a particularly sharp deer antler. Sometimes you just have to improvise. I tended not to talk to my victims much, let alone try to comfort them.
But for reasons I didn’t care to consider, I wanted to make her feel better.
“I don’t want anything bad to happen to you,” I finally said, compromising. “I’ll do everything in my power to keep you safe.”
“What about Sophie?”
“I got nothing against her, either. All I want is my brother back. Alive.”
Silence fell again. I could almost hear her thinking.
“What would you do for Kit?” I asked her abruptly.
“What do you mean?”
“How far would you go to save her life?”
Would she make the connection? Understand why I had to fight for my brother?
“I’d do anything I had to,” she replied softly, and I heard a hint of despair in her voice. Yup, she was starting to get it. Somehow that was even worse. “I’d steal. I’d lie . . . I’d kill. Anything.”
Silence fell again, heavy between us. Shit. I pushed up suddenly, rolling off the bed. Her eyes followed me as I walked across the room to the closet, opening it to find my bag and pull out a clean pair of briefs. I thought she gave a little gasp as I slid down my pants and kicked them off, but that could’ve been wishful thinking. I pulled up the fresh ones, then tugged my shirt over my head.
Her eyes went wide as she watched me come back toward her. I wanted to believe my body impressed her, but hell—she was probably just looking over my tats to decide which one she hated most. I didn’t have a back patch with my full club colors on it, but there were a few DJMC symbols here and there.
“You should put on some clothes,” she said.
“Need some f*ckin’ sleep. Might as well get comfortable,” I told her, and that part was the truth. Apparently I’d shot all my adrenaline out through my dick, and while a second round would finish things off nicely, I didn’t think she was up to it. I leaned down over the bed and swung her up, setting her on her feet. Then I reached for the snap of her jeans, figuring she’d be more comfortable without them, but also pretty sure she wouldn’t take them off herself.
That’s when she punched me in the stomach, and it wasn’t a girly punch, either.
Christ.
It f*cking hurt.
Em glared at me, backing away slowly. She had her fists up and was balanced lightly on her toes, clearly ready to defend herself. Cute. But if she was a martial arts specialist of some kind, I hadn’t seen any evidence over the past six months.
Jesus, you sound like a f*cking stalker, a*shole.
I suppose I was.
“Glad you didn’t go for my nuts,” I commented, taking in the sight of her. Boobs out, pink nipples all hard, teasing me. Shit. Maybe a second round wasn’t out of the question?
“Next time I’ll rip your dick off,” she muttered, eyes narrowing. Okay, so round two was definitely out for now. Noted. Still, fearsome Em was f*ckin’ adorable. Kind of like a really angry baby mouse.
“What were you trying to do, anyway?” she demanded.
“I want to sleep,” I told her. “You need sleep, too, and it’s more comfortable without jeans. That’s it, babe, no big, evil plan to get you out of your clothes. It’s gonna be a long haul, you should rest while you can. God knows what’ll happen tomorrow.”
“My dad’s killing you tomorrow,” she muttered, but she didn’t sound entirely happy about it. Interesting.
“You sound almost sad,” I said. “Don’t tell me you’ve decided I should live after all?”
“F*ck you.”
“That an invitation?”
She turned away from me and started doing up her corset-thingy, which was a damned shame. Then I caught a glimpse of the bandage and sobered.
“You in any pain?”
“It’s fine,” she muttered. “You aren’t sleeping in here, are you?”
“Yeah,” I told her. “Don’t worry, I’ll share the covers with you.”
Em cocked her head at me.
“Why don’t you put me in with Sophie?” she asked. “I’ll bet she’s scared.”
“Are you?”
“Am I what?”
“Scared?”
“That’s a dick question, under the circumstances,” she muttered. “I guess it was all a lie between us, but please don’t think that because I was stupid enough to fall for your shit once means I’m actually stupid, okay? I’m not going to talk this out with you and give you more information, or let you play with me for your own entertainment.”
Now that was a shame. My cock liked the idea of playing with her quite a bit . . . But she was right—this wasn’t a game, we weren’t friends, and I shouldn’t f*ck with her head any more than I had to.
Had to respect her for that.
“Okay, lie down,” I told her bluntly. “I’m going to cuff your wrist to the bed. Then I’m going to sleep and so are you. Don’t fight with me and I won’t play games. This isn’t a negotiation.”
I saw something cross her face . . . Disappointment? Maybe. Or resignation.
Either way, I knew I’d just broken her a little more.
Like so much that’d happened tonight, I didn’t know what to think of that.
? ? ?
An hour later I was still wide awake.
I don’t know what I was smoking, thinking I’d fall asleep with Em in my arms. She dropped off pretty quick, which kind of surprised me. I mean, I knew she was safe with me—at least physically—but she didn’t.
She’d refused to take off her clothes, but I still felt every inch of that beautiful body up against mine and it was fantastic. Of course I knew guys with old ladies, and they seemed to enjoy being around them. I’d never understood it, but if it was anything like this, maybe it wasn’t so crazy.
I decided to play a little game. I’d lie in the dark, holding her, and pretend she was my old lady for a while. Pretend we lived in a world where I could have something as beautiful as her. That I didn’t owe the Jacks everything, or that she wasn’t a Reaper.
Then I caught myself, because what the f*ck?
Christ, I didn’t want an old lady—or at least one like Em, who could think for herself. I’d signed on for someone who’d do what she was told and be thankful for it. That’d been the plan, and now it was blown to shit. If I was gonna pretend, a better fantasy would be rolling her over and screwing her brains out. Nice . . . Imagining myself inside her was fun for a while, but then my cock started getting pretty pissed off that we weren’t screwing her brains out for real. Considering I’d only brought a couple changes of clothing with me and I’d already soaked one pair of pants, seemed like a good idea to get some space.
I managed to get out of bed without waking her and headed downstairs to find Skid in the living room, playing Halo. An energy drink sat next to him, right next to a dusting of white powder. Guess I wasn’t the only one pulling an all-nighter.
He set down the controller and raised a brow.
“So, what kind of game you playing, bro?” he asked me. “Because something feels off to me. This bitch is your means to an end. That’s it, right?”
“I’m aware,” I said, my tone dry. “Believe me.”
“Just don’t forget whose team we’re playing for. I heard from Kelsey. Grass is stable. She says it’s not as bad as they thought when he first came in.”
“No word on Clutch?”
“Nope,” he answered.
“Em says Toke’s gone rogue. Reapers have lost control of him. If it’s the truth, we’re f*cked.”
“Think she’s messin’ with you?”
I considered the question.
“I think there’s a good chance he’s off the reservation,” I replied. “None of this makes sense. We’ve got a truce, the Reapers voted on it. Shit with Gracie happened a long time ago—if this was a club hit, I don’t think they’d have bothered talking truce in the first place. Retribution’s worthless if you don’t claim it.”
“A*shole couldn’t have f*cked Burke over better if we’d planned it out with him,” Skid said, sighing. “We don’t shut this down, it could take him out. All of us f*cked then.”
I didn’t bother responding, because it was the simple truth. We had one shot at revolution in the club. Mason had already given Burke the heads-up—his cancer was spreading. The national president of the Devil’s Jacks MC was on his way out. He wouldn’t be able to hide it much longer, which meant Burke had to make his move soon or it was all over.
This was our chance to take the Devil’s Jacks back, make the club back into what it’d been created to be. A brotherhood of riders. Not a bunch of cheap thugs looking to line their own pockets. We’d hoped for more time to consolidate our position, but if the truce held, we’d have the votes we needed. The charters down south were desperate for help keeping out the cartel—help we couldn’t give them if we had to fight a two-front war with the Reapers.
“Hey, bro?” Skid asked.
“What?”
“Call me crazy, but I’m pretty sure even if we manage to pull some kind of peace out of the fire, you won’t get to keep your pretty toy upstairs.”
“Yeah,” I muttered, letting myself fall back into a chair. I scratched my stomach and eyed his can of Monster. I needed some of that shit. “It’s f*cked.”
Silence fell between us.
“That’s all you have to say for yourself?” he asked. “‘It’s f*cked’? Where’s the big plan? You’re the one always thinkin’ things through, telling us we need a strategy.”
“The plan isn’t coming together this time,” I said. “Do you still think we can pull it off?”
“Pull off what? Surviving tomorrow? I give us sixty-forty. Feelin’ optimistic.”
I laughed, because he was probably right. I’d get Em through it, though. No way that pretty girl was gettin’ caught in the crossfire. I wasn’t quite sure why I felt so strongly about keeping her safe, but I did.
“Tomorrow I’m going to meet with Hayes,” I said. “Burke’s checking out his story, maybe our sources down south can say whether it’s true he doesn’t know where Toke is. Based on Em’s reaction, I think there’s a pretty good chance he’s gone rogue.”
“How do you know she’s not spouting the party line?” Skid said. “I think we’ve established your dick’s doing the thinking when it comes to her.”
“You’re probably right there,” I admitted. “But I believe she’s telling the truth. According to her, he’s been on the run for a full week. He sliced her up at a party last weekend. She’s got a knife wound—someone cut her.”
That caught Skid’s attention.
“Damn,” he muttered. “What the hell is going on in that club? Hayes is serious as shit about his girls, no way he’ll let that stand.”
“Exactly,” I replied. “That’s why I’m not ready to give up on the truce just yet. If she’s telling the truth, they want his head as bad as we do. But what the f*ck do I know? She could be setting me up.”
Skid laughed.
“There’s karma for you . . . You at least get laid up there?”
“I’m not gonna answer that.”
Skid started laughing so hard he choked on his drink.
“You f*cking p-ssy,” he muttered finally. “She’s got your balls in her pocket already. When’s the last time you got some ass? Haven’t seen any coming out of your room lately.”
“I’m not gonna answer that, either.”
“You think Princess Emmy’s got a bike?” he asked me, an unholy gleam in his eyes.
“No idea.”
“Better find out. You’ll look cute riding bitch.”
I considered tackling him, but it seemed like too much work. I flipped him off instead, then reached for a game controller.
“Wanna play?”
“Sure.”
It felt good to zone out, and for a little while I was able to pretend we were back at our house and this was just like any other Friday night. Well, except for being f*ckin’ sober and having two girls cuffed to the beds upstairs.
Well, except for being f*ckin’ sober. Heh.
After a while Skid spoke, not bothering to look at me.
“Just remember you can’t keep her.”
“I know.”
“Just checkin’, bro.”
“No worries. I got my orders.”
“Don’t forget—Jacks first. You really like her?”
“Jesus. What is this, Oprah?”
“If you give a shit about her at all, you’ll hurt her bad. Make her give up on you now. Burke wanted her to fall for you, but with this kidnapping shit nobody’ll think twice about her hating your guts after it’s over.”
I snorted.
“Considering she’s cuffed to a bed after being lied to, you really think I need to go out of my way to hurt Em more? Seems like overkill.”
“You got scratches on your back, dickwad. They don’t look like defensive wounds to me, so no, it’s not overkill. You need to hurt her so much she never looks back.”
I considered his words and sighed.
“You’re probably right.”
We played a few minutes more, and then I turned on him and shot his character point-blank. Animated blood spattered the TV screen.
Skid started laughing again.
“You got anger issues, bro. Or maybe just blue balls. Not my fault you’re a p-ssy.”
“Eat shit and die.”
“Maybe tomorrow. Tonight I’m gonna eat a pizza pocket. You want one?”
I considered the question carefully.
“Yeah, sounds good.”
? ? ?
I climbed back upstairs around five in the morning.
Skid had camped out on the couch, still playing games and bitching that he’d given up a perfectly good bed so Sophie could have her beauty sleep. A bed that had more than enough room for him and her . . .
I pointed out that if I couldn’t have Em, he couldn’t have Sophie.
He pointed out that I could’ve had Em. I reminded him that Burke wanted peace, which probably wouldn’t happen if I screwed Emmy Lou Hayes while she was prisoner handcuffed to a bed frame. We settled the argument by calling each other a*sholes and glaring at each other for a while, which seemed to do the trick.
Now I found myself back upstairs, looking down at the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. Before I left this room, I’d make her cry.
I couldn’t take my eyes off her.
She’d rolled onto her stomach, kicking off the covers. One leg was cocked to the side, which curved her ass perfectly, nicely set off by the fact that her low-rise jeans didn’t quite cover the top of a red thong.
And there, right in the center of her back, was a f*ckin’ tramp stamp.
I looked closer, trying to figure out what the hell it might be. Some kind of Chinese symbol surrounded by angel wings. Pretty goddamn awful. Cliche as shit.
I loved it.
It made me think of every porno I’d ever watched, and because I’m an evil bastard my dick got so hard I felt my heartbeat pulse through it. I wanted to pull off those jeans and f*ck her p-ssy, then hit her ass. I’d finish up blowing my wad right in the center of that tat.
Shit.
Yeah. She wouldn’t be down for that.
I slid into bed with her anyway, because she hadn’t been through enough. I tugged her into my body, wrapping my arm around her. Her corset had ridden up, leaving a thin strip of flesh across her stomach. I found myself stroking it, wondering what it would feel like to run my cockhead across that smooth skin. Em squirmed, stretching forward in her sleep. This pushed her ass back into my crotch, which was both the best and worst sensation I’d ever experienced in my life.
Then she stiffened and I heard her breathing change.
“Good morning,” I said quietly.
“Crap, this really happened, didn’t it?” she asked, and her voice sounded small and soft. She was only a few years younger than me, but that softness reminded me just how different our lives had been. Compared to her, I was an old man.
“Yeah, it really happened,” I told her, sniffing her hair. Flowers. “I’ll meet with your dad today, see if he’s found Toke. Maybe end this whole thing before it gets any worse.”
She made a little noise, a sort of hopeless moan that she immediately cut off. Shit. She hadn’t faked that. Either Toke really was in the wind, or she knew the Reapers wouldn’t give him up, even to save a couple of their women. If the whole club decided to take a stand, probably wasn’t much Hayes would be able to do.
I rubbed her stomach again, and she shifted back into me restlessly. Very nice. Skid’s warning that I needed to hurt her ran through my head, but maybe I could touch her just a little more, first. I promised myself I wouldn’t actually f*ck her, which made it okay, right?
It wasn’t because I have morals. Hell, it wasn’t even because I knew she deserved better. I just wasn’t sure I’d be able to give her up once I’d felt that tight cunt squeezing down around my dick. Wars have been fought for less, and now I understood why. But seeing as we’d already fooled around once, I figured a little more playtime wouldn’t really change much in the long run . . . In fact, it would make the betrayal even worse. I’d be doing it for her own good.
I slid my fingers under the top button of her jeans.
“What are you doing?” she murmured, her voice sleepy.
“Makin’ you feel better.”
Em muttered something, but I couldn’t tell what it was and she didn’t try to stop me when I popped open the button. Then my fingers slid down the zipper and my hand slipped inside.
She was wet already.
Nice.
Had she been dreaming about me? Hell, maybe she’d been dreaming about someone else. If so, I needed to kill the motherf*cker ASAP. She shifted her legs as my fingers found her *, sliding past it to dip inside and collect some of that sweet moisture. Then I found that sensitive spot again and circled it, teasing.
“I hate you.”
“I know you do, babe,” I whispered. “If it makes you feel better, you can pretend you have a choice.”
“Do I?”
I considered the question.
“We always have a choice,” I said finally, and for some crazy reason my foster father’s face popped into my head—the way it’d looked right before I’d killed him.
The f*ck?
“Are we going to have sex?” she asked, breaking through my twisted thoughts.
“Do you want to?”
It satisfied the hell out of me that she had to think about it. Then she shook her head.
“No, I want someone better than you for my first,” she said firmly. Fair enough.
“Let’s compromise,” I replied. “How ’bout I get you off. I can feel how much you want it.”
I circled her * again for emphasis, and Em shuddered.
“Unlock me and take off your pants,” she demanded.
I burst out laughing.
“You’re supposed to be a little more subtle about seducing me into letting you go.”
“I’m not really good with subtle,” she said. “How’s this . . . You want to get me off, right?”
“That’s the plan.”
“Do you want my hand on your dick while you do it?”
I swallowed.
“What do you think?”
“Here’s the thing . . .” she whispered. “I won’t pretend that getting away from here isn’t a high priority. But you can feel for yourself how wet I am for you.”
My finger twitched on her * and she shivered.
“So,” she continued. “It’s your call—is it worth the risk to find out whether I’m messing with you? I’m sure a big, bad biker man like you is more than capable of defending himself from me. You’ve already proven how much stronger you are.”
She wiggled her butt as she spoke, cradling my cock between those tight cheeks. Hell yeah, it was worth the risk—and you’ll be shocked to learn the little head made that particular call. I’m not an idiot—I knew she was playing games with me.
I just didn’t care.
I stood up and stripped quickly. Em watched at first, then turned her eyes away as I reached for my briefs. I considered leaving them on to make her more comfortable. Yeah, f*ck that. I pulled them down, then crawled across the bed and lay over her, lowering my face down to hers, catching her lips with mine.
I didn’t bother with the sweet kisses. My cock had been hard for a hell of a long time and the idea of her touching it was almost more than I could handle. Probably a good thing she still had her clothing on.
Otherwise I might just lose control and push deep inside.
I knew damned well that would be a huge mistake for any number of reasons. Not least of these was the fact that most people would consider it rape. Picnic Hayes would probably be among those people and he had enough reason to kill me already.
Fear of her father wasn’t why I was determined to hold back, though. Some small, rational part of me didn’t want her looking back and rewriting what happened between us, to believe I forced her. Since when did I give a shit about a woman’s regrets? I figured it was better not to consider that too carefully.
Em pulled free after a minute and nuzzled my neck.
“Unlock me,” she whispered.
F*ck it.
I reached up and unlocked her, bracing myself for an attack. Instead I felt her arms come around me, their delicious warmth tracing along my back toward my ass.
Shit, that felt good.
I kissed down her neck and then started unhooking that goddamned corset. It must’ve had thirty little fasteners. I’d always thought these things were hot as f*ck, but my interest in them was fading fast.
“Let me,” she said softly. I looked into her eyes and they were all soft and full of need. “Roll off for a minute, okay?”
I rolled off her and she blushed, then turned away.
“I’ve already seen your tits, babe.”
“It’s a lot, Liam,” she said softly. “Just give me a sec, okay?”
“Okay,” I said, letting my eyes trail down her back. I really loved that little tramp stamp of hers. Tacky as hell, but I’d always been a sucker for them.
Nice to have a target.
“What does your tat say?”
She sighed heavily.
“It’s supposed to say ‘Forever,’” she said. “My sister and I got them one night not long after our mom died, that’s why the angel wings. We wanted it to be a memorial to her. I have to admit, we were a little drunk when we came up with it . . . It was a bad time in our lives. But the guy who did it was a f*cking idiot. It actually means ‘squirrel.’”
“Shit,” I said, trying to hold back a snort of laughter. Thou shalt not laugh at the naked girl when she’s about to touch your cock. “Well, I guess nobody looking at it would know. How’d you find out?”
“When I went to college,” she said. “I did a semester over in Seattle. My roommate was Chinese, so she filled me in.”
“That sucks.”
“Not as much as my mom dying,” she muttered. She seemed to be struggling with the corset, and I was just about to ask her if she was okay when she rolled back and clocked me over the head with a heavy, hardback book.
Well f*ck.
Really shouldn’t have let my little head do all the thinking.