Biker Chicks: Volume 2 Page 6

  “Always has before.”

  I flipped the coin. It winked at me as it spun through the air. I caught it and slapped it into the back of my hand.

  “Tails,” I said.

  Jake glanced down the road to the right. “That way it is,” he said.

  I fired up my Harley, the stuttering chug of the engine every inch a balm for my soul as any childhood lullaby. “Your turn to lead,” I said over the noise.

  “First thing’s first,” he said, and leaned over for a kiss. We never went half measures in such moments; we always kissed like it was the last time, made love like it was the last time. In our life, it very well might be. I didn’t take him for granted; I just loved him. When he peeled out I followed him, his silhouette blending with the afternoon sun but never disappearing.

  As a child, my mother had promised me that someday we’d have a house with a yard for me to play in. The vagaries of the tough life had kept her from making that promise real, so I’d had to do it. My home was my Harley, and my yard was anywhere and everywhere it would take me. The world didn’t approve and it loved to force the issue; society was always shouting ‘my way or the highway’ in everybody’s ear. We had our own answer, my man and I.

  We took the highway...and we never looked back.

  Soundtrack

  “Sign of the Gypsy Queen” performed by April Wine

  “Midnight Rider” performed by the Allman Brothers Band

  “All Right Now” performed by Free

  “I Will Not be Broken” performed by Bonnie Raitt

  “One Good Man” performed by Saffire – The Uppity Blues Women

  “Sabotage” performed by the Beastie Boys

  “Roulette” performed by Bon Jovi

  “Can’t You See” performed by the Marshall Tucker Band

  “Scene of a Perfect Crime” performed by Concrete Blonde

  “About to Make Me Leave Home” performed by Bonnie Raitt

  “Born to Run” performed by Bruce Springsteen

  “Don’t Fear the Reaper” performed by Blue Oyster Cult

  “Easy Livin’” performed by Uriah Heep

  Born and raised in the San Juan Islands, Eric Plume is a lifelong resident of Washington State. He has worked in a variety of fields ranging from construction to casino security. As the author of Margin Play, he currently divides his time between his job as a timber framer and writing Amber Eckart's next adventure. He lives near Bellingham, Washington with his girlfriend Jacquelyn in a house full of cats and computers. This is his first foray into romance.

  Sweet Surrender

  Sapphire Knight

  Chapter 1

  Introductions

  “Why did I let you talk me into this?” I grumble at my friend London. We recently reconnected; we were good friends in high school. I didn’t care much for her best friend at the time—Emily—so we grew apart and lost touch.

  “Because, chickadee, what better way to spend a Friday night than at a biker Christmas party?”

  Adjusting myself on the small bar stool, my leather pants dig into my stomach. No fretting though, a few drinks will easily cure that ache. London dragged me here, so the least she can do is let me crash on her couch if I can’t ride my bike home.

  Nodding, I keep quiet. Her old man—Cain—keeps swaggering by, laying kisses on her periodically like he’s in heat. I’ll admit it’s gotten me slightly turned on a few times.

  I’m kind of surprised I was allowed to come onto the Oath Keepers MC compound in the first place. They aren’t exactly known to be friendly. In fact, a few of the guys that roam through town wearing the colors have some pretty sketchy horror stories that accompany them.

  I’ve gone to enough little hole-in-the-wall bars to hear the stories. I’ve even been to one that a few of the NOMADS frequent. They are some scary motherfuckers. After all that, I still let London talk me into coming. I couldn’t help it, though. When she mentioned the Oath Keepers, my curiosity got the best of me. They may be mean, but I’ve seen their faces and the majority of them are hot as fuck.

  “Shots?” She makes it sound like a question, even though she’s already lining up three tequila shots in front of me. Fuck, this is going to hurt tomorrow.

  “Let’s do it!”

  Her bright blue eyes sparkle as she smiles widely, “To boats and hoes!”

  “Really? Another “Stepbrothers” toast?” She can quote that damn movie like it’s nothing.

  She giggles and shrugs.

  “To boats and hoes and weird-ass friends!”

  “Yes!” she replies, tinking my shot glass with hers and then it’s down the hatch.

  “Oh, the burn.” Fuck my life; tequila gives me heartburn.

  “Come on, Lydia, I thought you were a bad bitch. Suck it up, buttercup, and take another.”

  “You’re holding my fucking hair, that’s all I gotta say.”

  “Deal. Now next toast—to big dicks!” she shouts just as the music goes quiet and a bunch of the brothers chuckle. I’m sure they expect it coming from London. She’s like biker royalty around here being the Old Lady to the Enforcer.

  I’m not used to it, though, and I feel my face heat up. I’ll blame the alcohol; yep, good excuse to why my cheeks currently match my bright red hair.

  She clinks the new shot glass again and I throw the gold liquid back. It goes down a little smoother this time, but burns something fierce when it hits my stomach.

  “Oh my gawd, we need like a twenty second break. How can you drink this shit so fast?”

  “Humph...I’m married to Cain, remember? My old man hooked me by doing body shots off me in front of the entire club—laying claim. It’s sorta our thing.”

  “Lucky bitch.” She knows it too. She deserves to be happy; she’s cool people.

  “I’ll be back in a few; I’m going to call my house to check on Jamison and the baby.”

  “All right, I’ll be right here guarding the bar.”

  “Good plan.” She chuckles and walks off, digging out her cell.

  Jamison is her little boy. Really cute kid—full of mischief though. She’s going to go crazy when he’s a teenager if he turns out anything like his parents. London was always up to shit in high school. The entire sheriff’s department knew her by name.

  “Ready for another?” I’m drawn in by a gravelly voice. Glancing up from my beer bottle I was nursing, I’m met with stormy eyes, a dark scruffy face, and a whiff of cologne that smells so good I could possibly orgasm just from that alone.

  “Nope, this one’s doing the job.”

  “You’ve been workin’ on it for a whole minute; I bet it’s got to be warm by now.” He ends on a smirk and I can’t help but imagine what that mouth would feel like all over me. That’s definitely the tequila kicking in.

  Shrugging, I turn to gaze off into the club. The bar is big and festively decorated with a tree and tinsel everywhere. It screams London’s doing. I’m sure she had a field day sprinkling sparkles all over this biker place.

  “Okay, fine. How about I get a shot and we kill that other one you have left?”

  He’s still here? He couldn’t take the hint to leave me be? I don’t want to wake up with a drunken mistake tomorrow and he’s got one-night stand written all over him.

  “What is it with you wanting me to drink?” I can’t be too snotty; after all, he is a biker and this is his club. I trail my eyes over his cut—he’s shirtless underneath. His patches say prospect and Snake.

  He ignores the question and steps away to pour himself a shot and I get a flash of abs. After he fills up a small tumbler with tequila and makes his way back over to me, I catch a huge, gnarly tattooed scar on his stomach.

  “Hey, is that your name? Snake? That’s a little creepy.”

  His eyes flash and something scary alters his expression briefly before he paints on an exaggerated smile. He opens his cut so I can get a better look at his tight stomach. He has a huge scar running over his abs in a squiggly line. Tattooed on
top of the scar is an array of colors in black, yellow, and red making the imperfection look like a massive snake slithering over his body. After a second he turns and I’m able to see that the tattoo carries onto his back, looking like it’s wrapped around him.

  “Wow, that’s some serious ink you have.” Ugh, guess I’m just captain obvious tonight.

  “Yup, goes with the name and all.” He flashes his dimples and I’m floored. Not because of his sexy bad boy manner, but because I know him!

  Well, I don’t exactly know him, but I remember him from freaking high school. He wasn’t like this back then though—rough around the edges. He had played in sports against our school a few times. He was such a pretty boy athlete back then.

  Brently, yes that was his name, Mr. Popular. Brently obviously has his reasons for looking like this now, so I won’t mention it yet that I know who he is.

  I wonder if London remembers him too. I’ll have to ask her about it later.

  “Okay, Snake, let’s do this shot. What are we toasting to?”

  “To familiar faces. Sometimes you just need to see the right one for things to finally make sense.”

  It hits me that he recognizes me too; at least we’re on the same page with that. I’m not sure about his cryptic toast, but at least he didn’t pop off a movie quote.

  ***

  I wake with a splitting headache. It feels as if someone had jumped on my head the night before. This is why I don’t normally drink tequila, but it was a Christmas celebration, so why not. I can’t even remember anything past the eighth shot.

  Eventually Snake had come around the bar to sit next to me, bringing a whole bottle along with him. We did a few shots by ourselves, and then at some point, I remember London doing body shots on top of the bar.

  Oh God. I was doing fucking body shots too. It’s blurry but I recall informing Snake that I wanted his tongue on me. Just wonderful.

  A door opens and Snake comes wandering out, freshly showered and completely naked.

  “Wow, balls!” I jump up, covering my mouth. I can’t seem to say the right thing in front of him whether I’m drunk or sober. Stop staring at his package for heaven’s sake.

  “Shit! Sorry, my head hurts badly.” I wince and rub my forehead. I wish I had some orange juice right about now to help me feel better.

  He chuckles, snatching up his jeans laying on a chair next to the bathroom door. “It’s all good, Lydia.”

  “I should go. Thanks for letting me crash. Umm...am I in your clothes?” Glancing down I’m in a pair of dark green boxers and a grey wife beater shirt. No bra, oh god, no panties either. Shit, shit, shit!

  “Yes, you are, and no need to thank me; you were very grateful last night. Do you need a ride home? I didn’t see any vehicles out front.”

  “No, I ride. But what the hell do you mean I was really thankful? We didn’t...you know...do anything, right?”

  His dimples deepen with his smirk and he saunters over, stopping about three inches away from my body.

  “No, Peppermint, trust me...you would know it if I’d been there,” he finishes, softly running his fingers over the juncture between my thighs.

  I draw in a gasp to stop me from moaning loudly and return his caress by kneeing him in the groin.

  He shoots forward, bending over, clutching his balls, groaning; “Fucking bitch! What was that for?”

  “Don’t call me Peppermint. My name’s Lydia, and don’t fucking touch me unless you’re invited.” I scan over the disarray of the room and don’t see my clothes anywhere. “I’m keeping these.” I pluck the tank with my thumb and pointer finger.

  “Whatever, take them,” Brently mutters, clearly still in pain.

  Without another word, I leave the clubhouse, making my way out to the parking area where my black and gold Hayabusa rests. I know it’s a really heavy street bike for a chick, but I absolutely love it.

  Thank god December in Texas is fairly warm or I’d freeze my ass off right now. She starts easily, purring happily that she’s going for a spin. I’ll get a little chilly, but I’ll live. The cool breeze will feel great on my hot skin and pounding head.

  I buckle my helmet, and give her a little juice.

  I was made for riding. My older brother taught me when I was fourteen and he had a little dirt bike. I absolutely loved it and have been riding ever since. My parents have always hated it and used to throw massive fits. Mikey joined the Army, was deployed, and never came back. Now they don’t mind if I ride; they’re just happy that one of their children is still alive.

  Thinking of Mikey makes me accelerate even faster—the wind blowing in my hair and fluttering over my skin reminds me of being around him. We were always laughing and out having fun.

  The sweet serenity is broken by the loud rumble of pipes coming up quick.

  No one ahead, so I peek in my side mirror, and, sure as shit, there’s a big bike behind me, rumbling like it’s pissed to be up this early. Driving the massive thing is an irritated looking Brently. He flashes his light and points for me to pull over.

  I’m not keen on wrecking, so I ease off the gas and slow down, carefully pulling over. He may have found my clothes for me; those leathers I had on were not cheap.

  I set my girl on her stand, remove my helmet and rest it behind me. His bike quiets after a beat and he climbs off.

  “Where’s your helmet?” I yell angrily. Is he an idiot? You can get seriously messed up, even if you’re not going fast and wreck on a bike. Not enough people have respect for bikers; we’re out here on our own.

  “It’s at the club.”

  “Dumbass.”

  He quickly approaches, determination written all over his face.

  “Can I help you with something? Why’d you pull me over?”

  “So this is your crotch rocket?”

  “Faster than that ancient bike back there.”

  “It’s a Harley, and I doubt it. You can help me, matter a fact.” He stops beside me, his big hand thrusting into my hair and pulling my face to his. He whispers against my mouth, “Next time you fucking leave me, you fucking kiss me, whether you kick me in the nuts or not.”

  He ends on a growl and then takes my mouth, completely consuming me, Holy shit, am I glad he’s strong or I’d dump my bike right now and with a kiss this mean I can’t promise I would even regret it.

  Clawing at his chest, I fight myself from pulling his clothes off right here on the side of the highway. God, do I want to, but if this is going to happen, it won’t be a quick fuck on the side of the road that he’d easily forget on the ride home. If there comes a time where it’s my turn to be in his bed, I won’t be another one so easily brushed off like the hordes of club girls that were at the party last night.

  With a gasp, I pull away, dazed as I stare into his eyes brewing with a new storm, this time not with anger, but raw need.

  “I have to go.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  “Yes, I have to go home and get ready for work.” It’s a bold-faced lie, and, with the look he flashes me, he knows it too. Instead of calling me out on it, he nods shortly, and steps back. He gives my thigh one last strong squeeze before he heads back to his Harley.

  I pop my helmet back on, kick my stand up, and get back on the road as quickly as possible. I have to be fast; I don’t trust myself to not turn around and follow him if I don’t get as far away as possible.

  I need to be honest with myself; I’d wanted him even back in high school. He was a completely different person and way out of my league, but no matter when, I’ve always felt drawn to him. He’s turned into a bad boy now and I don’t know if I can handle the heartache he’s sure to bring if I decide to give in to his suggestions.

  Inhaling deeply, I hit the blue tooth button for my helmet and AC/DC ‘Thunderstruck’ blares through the built-in speakers. Good tunes for the easy ride home.

  I eventually make it back to my tiny house and taking up space in my driveway, is my douche bag ex’s jacked-up
Chevy. Ugh, for fuck’s sake, what does he want?

  His bulky frame hops off the porch steps when I climb off my bike.

  “Lids.”

  “Damn it, Bobby, don’t call me that.”

  He grunts, looking sheepish. “Sorry, Lydia. I’m just used to it; that’s been my name for you since before we got together.”

  “Yeah and we’ve been broken up for six months now. I didn’t like it then and I still don’t.”

  “Sorry.” He looks me over. I see it the minute it clicks in his head that I’m in another man’s clothes.

  He huffs angrily, “You already fucking somebody new?”

  “We’ve been broken up for six months! Go home, Bobby.”

  “Why don’t you let me take you out on a date, just one last try?”

  “No. Go home. I’m tired and need to sleep.”

  “All right, you sleep and we’ll talk about this later.”

  “No we won’t talk about it. Ever. Good-bye.”

  I stomp up my porch steps as he angrily slams his truck door. His speakers vibrate the windows once he turns on the truck and all I can do is shake my head. I don’t know what I ever saw in him in the first place; he’s like a giant dumbass.

  Our relationship lasted for two of the most boring months of my life, and since we broke up, he’s been back once a week asking me to try again with him. No matter how many chances I could give him, he would never be what I want. It’s not fair to let him hold out any hope, but yet he still comes back like a lost puppy.

  Heaven appears in the form of my old comfy bed and I don’t hesitate making my way to it. I don’t even stop to waste time changing. I leave Snake’s clothes on, because, let’s face it, that kiss was fucking scorching and I want to dream of that naked body I saw earlier.

  My head hits the pillow and I’m out.

  Chapter 2

  Time to Play

  A month passes without seeing Snake. Not that he isn’t on my mind, ’cause he has been a lot. I’ve just been busy with work. My father runs his own mechanic and parts shop that I help with almost daily. He came down with pneumonia a few weeks ago so I’ve taken over all of his work so he can rest and get better.