Two seconds later, the door slams in my face, and again I’m standing in the weed-infested parking lot with my jeans falling off my hips.
This time, I bang my fist against the door. “This is fuckin’ bullshit,” I yell through the splintered wood.
I wait, and nothing. Not even the soft sound of her crying. Sure, I could still boot the door, but I’ve never had to beg for it, and I sure ain’t starting now. No matter how soft her skin or how her body melded to mine, or how those needy, tender moans shot straight to my dick and then to my heart.
Ahhh, fuck, my heart? No way, the only reason I had sex with her anyway was ‘cause I thought it would get me the clubhouse. I let her use me thinking then she’d give in, but no. Shit!
I trudge over the cracked cement, fling the rubber into the weeds, then zip up my jeans and fasten my belt. Pissed off, with a half-hard dick, and totally confused. Confused at her reaction and pissed off that I let her get to me, and that I didn’t get what I wanted. I swore to myself I wouldn’t have sex with her, and yet— What the fuck is wrong with me? Once again I let a woman and my demanding dick stand between me and the Kings.
Well, no more. From now on, I’m playing hardball. She doesn’t wanna sell The End, then fuck her. My devious brain is already working, and once I put it in motion, she’ll have no alternative but to give it up.
I also make a pact with myself to keep whatever this is to myself. No sense in my brothers finding out I dipped my dick in the wrong pussy again, then came out empty-handed.
Nope, from now on, things are going my way, and my brunette beauty—I still didn’t know her fuckin’ name—better be prepared, ‘cause this outlaw wasn’t giving up. Not even close.
Chapter Eight
SAMMIE
I listen at the door with every fiber of my body—my spine rigid, my heart pounding. When his fist bangs the door, I gasp, then my heart leaps hard against my ribs. I keep my eyes riveted on the door, praying with everything in my soul that Deuce doesn’t just boot the flimsy splintered wood because if he came back, it would be all over. No way could I resist him again, and then everything would fall to shit.
We’d have crazy, out-of-control, sheet-ripping sex, then, when he demanded to know the truth, I’d be too weak to resist him. A truth I wasn’t about to divulge, least of all to an outlaw biker with the same code and mentality as the guy who got me into this mess.
After a long few seconds, his boots crunch over the pitted lot and fade away, then there’s the rev and throttle of his Harley. I run to the slatted wood over the front window just in time to see him wheel out of the lot. My breath catches in a way it shouldn’t, and I curse myself for my moment of weakness.
The way he handled Viper impressed me in a way I hadn’t expected. Not since my mother died had I felt protected, andeven then, she’d been so sick, I ended up being her advocate, her main source of support.
Deuce’s presence exuded authority and control that came from within. I sensed it immediately, and Viper definitely got the message. No false bravado, no fronting. Deuce was the real deal, which made him impossible to resist. All the past men in my life, from my father, to my traitorous boyfriend, Bullet, never had my back. Yet, a man who didn’t even know my name came to my rescue and, yes, dumb move to have sex with this outlaw, but being constantly strong is exhausting.
I’d realized my mistake too late, but hopefully, I’d hurt his male pride, and he wouldn’t be back. I knew men like him all too well, and they didn’t like to be told no. They also didn’t like their ego damaged. I’d pray he’d tell himself I was a bitch not worth his time, and in a way, he’d be right.
When I’m sure Deuce is gone and not coming back, I move away from the window and busy myself cleaning up the broken glass from our . . . sex? Such a bland word for what I experienced. I try to lose myself in the mechanical chore of sweeping, but my mind won’t let me rest or make sense out of what just happened. Then I congratulate myself on not telling him my name.
Which makes today’s incredible stupidity all the more dangerous. My life and my secrets have to be kept under wraps. My not selling The End has nothing to do with pride or sentiment, and everything to do with my survival. Finding the flash drive my father hid in this dump would give me leverage against Viper. Concealing the information and using it as a tool to keep him in his place. Until then, I’m a prisoner, and The End is my jail in more ways than one.
DEUCE
My head pounded from all the bourbon I slugged earlier, then that headache joined my sex hangover. The fact I didn’tget a second go with my mystery woman had my dick throbbing along with my head. Bottom line, I felt like absolute shit.
“Here.” Maggie shoves four Advil and a bottle of beer in front of me.
“Thanks.” I wash them down with the beer and hope for the best.
“I still don’t understand how you think this plan of yours will work.” She joins me at her kitchen table and uncaps her own beer.
“I take my tools out of your garage, then drive your pickup over to Home Depot, and buy the shit I need to start fixing up The End.”
“Without her selling you the place?”
“Once we get the place fixed up, she’s not gonna have a choice unless she wants to share her space with a bunch of rowdy bikers.” I put the beer bottle to my lips. “She’s gonna have two choices. Don’t sell to us, and we take over for free, or sell it to us and walk away with a profit.”
“What if she calls the cops for trespassing or some shit, and they haul your ass back to jail?”
“Not gonna happen.” I shake my head. “She’s hiding something for sure. I don’t know what, but that bitch is definitely hiding something. Plus, when I got there earlier, Viper was there giving her shit. So, if she knows Viper, she’s no innocent and definitely not gonna involve any cops.”
“Viper?” Maggie’s eyes widen. “What the hell was he doin’ there?”
“The Dogs are trying to stir shit up, and her and him were fighting about her selling the club to him.”
