9. Izzy
9
IZZY
I knock on the door that I can only guess is the right one.
If I was nervous before, I’m holding back from a panic attack.
I didn’t think I’d end up facing Hawk so soon after…well, the man’s seen my whole ass naked body. But sneaking into the Hellfire Riders was never a real ambition of mine. Oh, if my father or Reynolds could see me now.
It takes a moment, and I reach to knock again, but when I raise my hand, the heavy door creaks open and there he is, leaning a forearm against the door handle, no shirt and baggy worn jeans that hang on his hips.
He eyes me for a moment.
“There you are.”
“H-hey,” I manage. Jesus, my voice is shaky.
He steps back, motioning for me to enter. I walk past him, my heart pounding against my rib cage.
“Close the door,” he mutters.
I do as I’m told, my spine tingling from his hot stare.
It takes a few moments for my brain to figure out where I’m standing. It must be his workshop. The air is thick, tinged with the unmistakable tang of molten metal and the acrid bite of smoke.
The walls are lined with an assortment of tools like hammers, tongs, and pliers all hanging from hooks above shelves with metal scraps.
If there’s evidence linking him to the Puppeteer, I bet it’d be in here. Here or that basement.
He’d be too smart to leave evidence out in the open, on the workbench displaying his current projects—metal sculptures, knives, some jewelry.
“Vance said you wanted to talk?” I start.
He nods, walking over to his sink and washing his hands. He tosses the damp towel over his shoulder, settling on the edge of the workbench. He folds his arms over his chest, the muscle under his tanned skin ripples with each minor motion.
“I’m a little confused,” he starts.
“About what?”
He rubs a hand over his stubble, his bicep flexing.
“You show up here saying we’re the only group of guys that you think can protect you from your ex-boyfriend.”
I nod slowly. This again. Are they really that worked up about my heading home? Didn’t they want me to find that damn doll leg stuffed in my mailbox.
“But then you took off?”
“You left me standing there, naked in your apartment. What was I supposed to do?”
“Sure as hell not run off in the night, where your ex-boyfriend might find you”
My pulse quickens. Shit. I need to tread carefully. He stares me down, his features softening. Goddamn him and his intense eyes.
For a beat, I consider spilling my guts about the shitstorm I’d landed myself in. But I don’t think he’ll take too kindly to the fact that work with and for the police.
“I wasn’t thinking, not after-”
“What? Your little dance for me?”
His eyes caress my body with the same possession he did before. Heat rushes my cheeks and I cross my arms over my chest.
“I panicked, okay? I’m sorry.”
His expression shifts, the earlier cold tension morphing into something else entirely.
“So, then you’re smart enough to understand the predicament that you’re in.” He smirks, wiping away the vulnerability. He tosses the towel on the table and walks toward me, grasping my neck lightly.
“What’s your boyfriend’s name?”
“He’s my ex.”
“Answer the question.”
My mind scrambles to rifle through my memory for any names I might recall that we have on Dead Demons.
“Maverick,” I stutter.
“Where are their headquarters?”
“In the mountains, off the highway a bit.”
A deep line of silence sits between us, and there’s no emotion on his features for me to read, to sense whether or not he believes me.
“I should punish you, Izzy,” he finally says then.
“Punish me? For what?”
“Running off.”
“I went home.”
Delicately, he slides the strands of hair behind my ear. This close to him I make out the long lashes lining his blue eyes.
“It still doesn’t change the fact you left the property without a word, not saying where or when you’d be back. That leaves us with few concerns. Either your little ex-boyfriend, Maverick, found you and beat you up pretty bad, or you had other plans that we aren’t privy to.”
“Jesus Christ. I went home.”
He raises his brows, amused.
“Oh? And I’m supposed to just believe you?”
“Yeah. You are.”
“For someone who's new here, you’re sure asking quite a lot, and that’s not how things work around here.”
I swallow hard. I need to take control of this situation; I’m losing time and my pride. “Alright then. Punish me. Or don’t. See if I care.”
“Fuck, you’re a bad liar.” His amused expression fades, and his jaw tightens with a sharp inhale.
“I’m not lying.”
“Oh. You care. Or you don’t know what you’re asking for.”
“Do you want me on my knees? Or over the table?” I tilt my head and take a step forward. “Or how about another little dance? You seem to like those.”
His expression darkens, grabbing my hips roughly, and I yelp. “You think you can just waltz in here with your smart mouth and take charge?”
“You don’t scare me,” I mutter.
“Then why is your heart beating so fast?”
Fear courses through my veins but I remain defiant, glaring up at him. I’m already in trouble. He’s onto me, and I don’t know how much longer I can keep any of this up. I just need to buy enough time to find out what the hell is in that basement.
I glare up at him. “Is this all women are to you? Things to fuck?”
He clenches his jaw.
“Who said anything about fucking you?” A cruel, wicked smile dances over his full lips. His hand catches my chin, squeezing hard and pulling my chin upward. “That’s what you want isn't it, Izzy? You need to be fucked, hard.”
His thumb runs over my lips, slipping into my mouth.
Without thought, my tongue presses against it.
“Oh, I can tell you’re a little slut. So thirsty for it.” He leans into my ear, his voice a menacing growl. “But I don’t just fuck girls like you. I break them.” His words a whispered threat against my ear as his grip tightens on my shirt hard enough to tear, his other hand fisted in my hair, tilting my head back.
His lips brush against mine, and so full of wanting. I want him to kiss me. My mouth opens for his, and I lean to him. He pulls back right before they touch, laughing to himself.
Then in one swift motion, he grabs me, spinning me around. His hands force my wrists over my head, pinning them against the wall.
“I just said I should punish you.” He chuckles, leaning in close. “You’re the one who brought up fucking.”
I breathe out, can't help but arch my back against him, feeling a rush of arousal I didn't know I was capable of.
His heavy breaths fall down on me while he keeps me pinned against the hall. I hear the buckle of the belt fall away as he tugs it from the loops with his free hand.
“Tell me what you want.” He snaps the belt.
“I don't know what y-you're talking about.” I stutter, losing my breath.
He takes a thick leather belt and swiftly wraps it around my wrists, pulling them tight. He then hooks the belt onto a metal hook in the ceiling, forcing my arms to stay stretched and raised above me.
A growl reverberates through his chest at my defiance. His lips press against my ear, “I can be more than you bargained for.”
I can feel the anger in every single touch and yet, a part of me craves it...heat pooling between my thighs, as every part of me turns to liquid.
Tell him to get away, Izzy, I tell myself, but that’s not true. My whole body is light, buzzing with need. It is a feeling that may be impossible to escape.
I swallow.
“I-I want...”
“What do you want, Izzy? I can't hear you,” he whispers, his lips so close to my ear.
His hand trails up my shirt, fingernails barely grazing my stomach, sending goosebumps over my skin. His hand stops at my breast, squeezing roughly, delicious pain shuddering down my spine.
I can't stop my moan.
I hate myself for wanting this, but somehow must know it, he’s figured my weaknesses oh so well.
“That's a good girl. “Do you want me to touch you more?” His voice is a dark growl in my ear.
I shake my head, but my traitorous body betrays me, pressing against him.
“I...”
He smirks, leaning in until his lips are mere centimeters away.
Some part of me breaks through, taking control, and I can’t take it anymore. I want him. Now.
My lips find his, and I let myself taste him again.
My heart thuds wildly in my chest, hard and heavy to the point I think it might explode.
He groans, deep and possessive. His grip tightens on me, making me gasp, before his lips are crashing into mine. He kisses me like he owns me, like I’m his, and I moan into him.
I can feel his hardness against my thigh, proof he wasn't as unaffected as he'd like me to believe.
“Is this what you wanted, darling?” he mutters against my lips before sucking on my bottom lip roughly.
I nod into him. Yes. Yes, God yes, I want more.
He growls again, and I swear I feel it in the very core of my being.
My legs tremble as he wraps an arm around my waist, lifting me up. My fingers curl around the belt, keeping my arms tied up. All the while, his tongue presses against mine.
This is dangerous. Wild. But I don’t want to care. Not now.
The moment I met these men, they’ve invaded my mind, consumed me, and all I can do is beg for some sort of relief from the heat they’ve set within me.
I don’t care if it kills me.
The way he maneuvers me against the wall, my hips right against the hard length of him, makes me arch into him unconsciously, grinding with fervent, endless need.
He slides down my yoga pants, causing my heart rate to double. Triple. My breaths come out in pants as I stare into his eyes which are locked onto mine.
His fingers find my panties, slipping underneath them, feeling the wetness.
“I knew it,” he whispers against my ear, his voice low and dark, like the night before the storm. “You‘re wet for me, so fucking wet.” He sticks his fingers into my mouth. “Suck.”
And I do, wrapping my lips around his middle and ring finger. He slides them in deep then out, to dip them inside of me. I moan loudly against his lips, biting my bottom lip to muffle the sound.
His fingers stroke me and my back arches back in wanting.
He drops to his knees then yanks my pants down to my ankles with my underwear. He pushes my legs open, slipping them onto his shoulders and starts to kiss my inner thigh, gently moving closer.
I don’t know if I’m going to survive this, but I don’t want it to stop.
“Tell me you want me,” he growls lowly, right before his tongue glides over my clit. “Tell me you want me to taste your sweet cunt.”
Breathless, and hardly able to find my voice, I creak out, “Yes. I want you.”
He pushes his tongue inside me.
I can’t breathe. I’m going to combust right here all at once.
His hands grip my ass, and he pulls me closer to him, his tongue invading me more. He sucks and licks. I writhe and press myself against his face as the yearning rises through me.
My orgasm is building fast, and it’s terrifying how quickly he takes me to the brink. His mouth is warm on my throbbing pussy, and his fingers continue to thrust in and out of me.
“Oh—f-fuck, Hawk—I’m?—“
He pulls away, right as I’m about to fall over the edge. What is he doing? He can’t stop. Not right now. I’m going to break, shatter and splinter into hundreds of pieces like embers falling from flames.
I whine, my eyes wild with lust and need.
“What—“ I gasp, trying to free myself.
Without a word, he undoes his belt, and my arms fall to either side. He turns from me and returns to the blade he was working on when I first arrived as though this interaction never happened. I’m dizzy, head spinning and completely out of breath.
Yet, he appears unfazed.
“Is something wrong?” I choke out finally.
“Don’t run off again, Izzy.”
“But I—don’t you…”
“Nothing that a cold shower won’t fix,” he says dryly, not turning around.
My cheeks burn with humiliation and arousal. What just happened? Am I really trying to get him to turn around and finish me? I chew on my cheek as reality returns like some sort of demented post nut clarity, except, my blood is still boiling hot and I’m riled up.
I pull my pants back up and smooth my hair.
“Stay in my apartment tonight, okay? Vance and Tank already know, you’ll be there. The door’s unlocked.”
A thousand different names to call him flash across my mind, but I bite my tongue. I can’t look at him right now, can’t even stand being in the same room as this fucking asshole.
But then I see them on his workbench, tucked in the corner, laying there inconspicuously.
A set of keys.
There are too many eyes. Too many of these goddamn bikers scattered about this place.
I need to find out what’s in the basement.
I weave my way through the bar and up the stairs to Hawk’s apartment.
Either way, this will be a good place to start.
The more I’m with them, the less I feel like Laina was right about them being connected to the Puppeteer,
They don’t seem like killers. Dangerous, manipulative, evil - yes. But some part of me can’t believe that they’re kidnapping and murdering women right off the street. It’s too risky.
Or maybe I’m being naive. So many people have no idea the person they’re living with is a killer. Ted Bundy managed to fool his wife.
I push that thought away. Self-doubt will kill me. Literally.
I open the door to his apartment and lock it behind me, falling backwards against it and sliding to the floor. The whole place smells like him - like whiskey and leather. The space is silent though which gives me some room to think.
I take a few minutes gathering my head into my hands.
My whole body is still tingling from what he did to me. I stifle a groan, holding myself tightly.
Get it together. I was riled all turned on, and this is like a whole new level of torture.
After three long breaths, I push myself up off the floor and don’t waste any time.
I rifle through drawers but find nothing. It’s too clean for someone who's all danger and motor oil. There are two other bedrooms, similar in appearance. Based on the massive size of clothes in the closet of one, I can only assume it’s Tank. The other, I guess is Vance? Though it’s hard to tell.
Of course, they all live up here together.
Where the hell am I supposed to sleep? The thought of being in bed with any of them sends a wave of nerves and excitement through me.
I search the couch cushions and under their mattresses but it's like they’ve got nothing to hide. What kind of biker doesn't have anything incriminating in their room?
One that’s not stupid.
The worst thing I find is a stash of weed in Tank’s dresser. I roll my eyes and slam the dresser door shut. No other set of keys, no photos, or evidence to be found. I sink down on Hawk’s bed, running my hands through my hair.
God. It smells good. Warm and with his rich scent.
The door handle shakes for a moment, then the lock clicks as someone fusses with the key.
I jerk upright as though I’ve just been caught red handed. My eyes dart around the room. I was sure to put everything back the way I’d found it. Nothing was out of place; they’d never know I tore through their things.
“Hello?” I shout sheepishly.
Vance’s steel, silver eyes settle on me as he appears in the doorway.
“Well, look at you,” he murmurs. “Making yourself at home?”
I swallow hard, heat coating my cheeks despite myself.
“I…um, I um…it’s been a crazy few days. Just tired, I guess.” I get off the bed as though it’s on fire.
“Relax, love.” He smirks and starts to unzip his leather vest, the muscles in his arms rippling as he does so. He tosses it over the chair, followed by his boots. “You sound like you’ve been up to trouble.”
“Trouble?” I repeat dumbly.
A smirk tugs at his lips. “You tell me, Izzy.”
“Hawk told me to stay up here.”
He rubs the back of his neck, looking around the apartment then back at me.
“I meant with that ex of yours.” A curved eyebrow raises, and he watches me out of the corner of his eye.
“Oh…” I trail off, face flaming. “I don’t think he’ll be much trouble now that I’m here with you guys.”
Vance nods, but his eyes tell a different story. Something dark and knowing flashes in them for a moment, like he knows I‘m hiding something. He chuckles then, low. Did Hawk already tell them what I said and did?
He walks toward me, leaning one elbow on the tall dresser.
“I’m not one for bull shit.”
My heart wedges itself into my throat. What does he know?
“I don’t know what you’re-‘
He steps close enough that our chests practically touch, his scent of leather and pine envelopes me, overwhelming my senses.
“Don’t lie to me. Say what you want to the others, but not me.” His silver eyes narrow. “We don’t need to talk about it today, but I know you’re up to something Izzy, and I fucking hope you know what lines you never cross.”
All I ever do is cross lines.
“Are you threatening me?” I ask in the most innocent sounding voice I can create. It works on him, because he closes his eyes and takes a long deep breath. “God this isn’t fair.”
“What?”
“That Hawk’s claimed you as his girl.” His jaw clenches tightly.
“Yeah, Tank brought that up earlier,” I say, looking down at my hands.
His eyes widen, filled with a heat and hunger that I can’t quite explain. “And it’s gonna fucking kill me to watch him put his hands on you.” More of that liquid heat pools into my stomach and between my legs.
Maybe it’s from Hawk leaving me on edge or the storm brewing in Vance’s eyes, but knees are weak again and my breath hitches. Please. Give me a break before I rip at my seams.
“You’re the only girl he’s wanted back at the clubhouse in four years, Izzy. It means something. It’s in his nature to protect what is his. You came here and asked for something. There are no free favors when it comes to the Hellfire Riders. Besides, you should know how this works, right?”
They’re all testing me, I realize. All pressing for my history to figure out what I’m after.
“Anyway, I’ll bring you some food in a bit. I imagine you’ve got to be pretty hungry.”
“I’m not sure I have much of an appetite right now.”
“Too bad. You need to keep your strength up, alright? Have anything in particular you like?”
“No. I’m not too picky,” I say.
“I guess you did agree to Tank’s cooking,” he smiles and the warmth of it relaxes me a touch. “Are you from around here?” The sudden switch in conversation throws me.
“Yeah. Born and raised.”
“So how the hell did a young woman, clearly well educated, end up with the Dead Demons.”
“Fate, I suppose. Life just moves along and sometimes you can lose track. Why do you think I’m educated?”
He frowns. “Well, you just answered my question with a very vague and philosophical response. Not really typical. Most girls around here got in trouble when they were young, fell in love with the wrong guy, some shit like that. But not you.”
“You want my life story or something?” I ask sharply.
“Lay it on me.”
“I mean, come on, I’m not going to just air out all my dirty laundry to you. You have to tell me something about yourself first!”
He laughs, finding this all rather amusing.
“You’re an expert at trying to take the focus off you. I’ve got some bad news for you, darling. We’re all fucking watching you. We’ll find out what’s going on sooner or later. We always do.”
With that he stalks off like he didn’t just flip my entire world upside down. That motherfucker. All of them, tiptoeing around the inevitable truth that I’m lying, leading me with bread crumbs in case I slip up.
Before he exits, he stops.
“And, Izzy, if I were you. I wouldn’t be sniffing around for things that I don’t fully understand. You might not like what you find.”
The door shuts behind him. Another warning. Another threat.