12. Vance
12
VANCE
“ Y ou fucked her?!” Hawk roars outside. The heavy strong winds fall over the parking lot as Hawk stands over Tank, who is sitting outside smoking a joint. The smoke curls upward under his nose.
Thunder echoes after his voice as rain continues to pelt the parking lot.
“The hell's wrong with you?” Tank asks, crossing his arms over his chest.
“The hells’ wrong with me? The hell’s wrong with me?! I should just show you what the hell is wrong with me!” Hawk grabs the joint from Tank’s mouth and throws it on the ground.
“That’s fucking rude,” Tank mutters, washing as the joint’s embers go out.
“I thought I made it clear that she was off limits until we figured out what the hell was going on.”
I watch the confrontation unfold before me. Hawk and Tank are two different forces, and when they collide it’s hell. Tank shouldn’t have touched Izzy, not when Hawk made it clear she’s his girl.
But I can’t blame him.
The idea of having her has been a constant torment, pulling at my sanity. If she was willing, I don’t think I’d be able to stop myself. Tank stands up then, getting in Hawk’s face, using his height to his advantage.
“You’ve been playing games with her for the past few fucking days. Give her a god damn break!”
“We still don’t know if she’s lying, you goddamn moron!”
“So, it makes it okay to fuck with her head? How the hell is that okay, Hawk? She can do what she wants with who she wants.”
Hawk grabs the collar of Tank’s shirt, drawing him up and against the clubhouse’s outer wall. His eyes burn with wild intensity. The muscles in his arm tense as he holds onto Tank.
“Sure. That might be true, but if you stop giving a fuck about what I tell you then we’ve got a big problem on our hands. I run things here. Not you. Got it?”
I step forward, ready to pull the two of them apart if I need to. It’s not the first time they’ve thrown fists at one another
Tank swallows, cold dread replacing the confidence he had a moment ago.
“Yeah, I get it.”
Hawk releases him and Tank straightens his shirt out.
“We should let her decide who and what she wants,” I say to them both.
“I still don’t trust her.”
“Of course you don’t,” Tank mutters under his breath. “You haven’t trusted anyone since losing Axel.”
Hawk falters, stepping back. The weight of everything is settling over him. He bears too much of the burden and at times forgets himself. The stress, the strain of it all like one massive mountain that he lies under.
“I don’t think she knows what she wants or needs right now.”
“That’s not up for us to decide,” I say.
“Ever since she’s shown up, it’s like everything is going haywire. But I do know she needs our help.” He stops himself. “Well, she claims to need it.”
“With finding her friend?” I ask.
“No. There’s more. She thinks the Puppeteer has her marked.”
Tank starts to pace back and forth in a small path.
“Jesus—what the hell,” he mutters. “That’s the doll serial killer running around town right?”
“The one Detective Reynolds is hunting,” Hawk says with a distant voice. At his sides, his fists curl tightly. There’s no one Hawk despised more than him. He’s the reason we lost Axel, though I know Hawk blames himself.
“What else did she say?” I ask Hawk, but he doesn’t meet my eyes, instead, he looks up to the night sky.
“If her friend’s missing and the Puppeteer is targeting her…” I start, but I don’t need to finish it. It’s what we’re thinking. Izzy’s friend might not still be alive.
Jesus Christ.
“We don’t even know if she’s telling the truth. This could all be a trap,” Hawk says then. His gaze returns to the two of us.
“That’s an elaborate lie though,” Tank says. “Like who the hell even comes up with something like that?”
“We can’t risk anything until we know for sure,” he says.
I don’t verbally agree with him, but I understand where he’s coming from. Not trusting Izzy about this could put her in serious harm.
“Tomorrow morning, Vance, I want you to take Izzy to her home. Let her pack, but be on the lookout for anything that might give us more on her history.”
“I’m on it.”
“I’ll check with my contact at the station. See if there even is a missing persons report on her friend,” Tank says.
“Good, we need all the information we can get.”
Hawk runs a hand over his face and sighs.
“If any of the guys ask, tell them to fuck off, okay?”
“With pleasure,” Tank nods.
Hawk turns to me, his eyes churning with many emotions I can’t decipher. “For now, until we know more about this, we keep this between us. Understood?”
“Yes, sir,” Tank and I chorus at the same time.
Hawk looks at me. “I’ll expect a call if there’s so much as a change in wind direction, understood?”
I nod, turning to look back at Tank.
I wish Hawk would’ve punched his mug for sleeping with Izzy, God damn it. But I know them both like I know my motorcycle. I have every single part memorized.
Tank’s all talk, but he doesn’t hook up with women unless he really cares about them.
How the hell did a woman we all want end up in the middle of such a storm? Hawk and Tank head inside. I take one moment to catch my breath, hoping for everyone’s sake this plays out alright.
I’m leaning against my bike, the polished chrome gleaming under the streetlight, when I catch sight of Izzy walking up. The morning air is warm, and a slight breeze tousles her hair, lifting it like a halo around her face.
God, she’s stunning. Her brows furrowed as she walks up to me with a warm smile.
“Hey, Vance,” she says.
“How’d you sleep?” I ask, studying her still expression.
“Alright, I guess. Did Hawk come in?”
“No. He stayed up in his workshop.” The bastard couldn’t relax like the massive storm that had rolled in.
She stretches then and gives me a smile.
“No wonder I slept like a log.”
We both take in the sight of one another, and I savor the view. The way her lips are set, a hint of defiance tugging at the corners, as if she’s daring me to underestimate her. Her hands are tucked into the pockets of her jacket, fingers flexing restlessly, betraying a crack in that tough facade she wears so well.
“Tank said you were going to take me home so I can grab a few things?“
“That’s right.” I grin, pulling my helmet off the handlebars and tossing it to her. “Hop on. We’re burning daylight.”
She catches the helmet with ease, slipping it on as she swings one leg over the seat behind me. I feel her hands grip my waist, firm but not hesitant.
“Ready?” I ask.
“Yeah.”
I cold-start the engine, revving the throttle before cruising off onto the main drag, heading toward her home. The sun casts a golden glow on the streets.
Izzy’s grip tightens around my waist, her body against mine for stability as we weave through the early morning traffic.
“Hold tight,” I shout over the roar of the engine, not sure if she can hear me. But she responds, her hold tightening, her body pressing closer.
Something inside me unravels, knowing she trusts me enough to keep her safe. Our clubhouse is after all the safest place for her to be staying. As long as she doesn’t go wandering off without one of us.
But our world, it isn’t for her.
She’s too good, too clean for the blood and the dirt that mark our daily lives.
Maybe it’s selfish, maybe it’s foolish, but as I feel her tighten her hold, as if sensing my turbulent thoughts, I make a silent vow. I’ll protect her, come what may.
“Down here,” she points to a small one-story ranch house on the outskirts of town. I cut the engine and the silence is deafening.
Izzy slid off the bike, stretching her legs, which are probably a little numb from the ride. A million different ways to stretch them flash through my mind.
I give her a half smile as she slips the helmet off her messy long hair, it tangles and webs around her features.
“I'll check the place out. Stay here," I instruct.
“Well, let me go with you,” she says. “It’s my house after all.”
She walks up the porch steps and unlocks the front door.
The place is still, unbothered, except right there on the kitchen table is another piece of the marionette—a hand this time, wooden fingers poised as if frozen in a silent plea.
"Damn it," I curse under my breath as she picks it up, her expression tightening. There’s a note too, written in blocky print. She reads it out loud, "Seems you’ve made new friends, Izzy. But not all friendships last. Watch your back."
The color drains from her face. "They know I'm here with the Hellfire Riders. This is another warning, Vance. But I don’t understand. No one knows I’ve been staying with you.”
I take the note from her, the paper feeling like it weighs a ton. "Or a threat," I correct grimly. "Whoever this Puppeteer is, they're not just playing games. They're moving pieces into place."
She looks up at me, her blue eyes sharp with a fear she was trying hard not to show, but it’s there and it’s building.
“He was in my house, Vance,” she whispers, blinking as her eyes frantically look around.
“Fucking Christ,” I mutter. “Alright. Let’s check it out. Stay close to me.”
We move through the rest of the house but whoever this sick fuck is, they’re long gone, but the threat remains in the air like a stale odor.
Izzy collapses on her couch, her hands shaking in her lap, so I sit down beside her, my large frame dwarfing her.
“They’re just trying to rattle you, okay? You’re going to be safe.” Instinctively, I pull her against me tight. “There’s a reason they’ve been coming to an empty house.
She’s trembling in my arms and with each shudder her body makes against mine, it fuels the darker half of me. Rage. Fury. Murderous intent boils beneath the surface, if anyone dares to lay a finger on her I’d ruin them.
God. How the hell did she end up in this fucking mess? The question continuously turns in my mind.
“How can you be so sure about that?”
“Because I won’t let anyone hurt you,” I reassure her. “Izzy.” I run my hand up and down her spine in a soothing gesture. “You’re going to stay with us, oaky?”
“God. This whole thing’s crazy,” she whispers. “I just—I’m so worried about Laina.”
“You’re not alone in this, okay? We got you.”
“You know, for a badass biker, you‘re a big softie,” she mutters against my chest, and I hear the smile in her voice.
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” I draw her into me, pulling her onto my lap. Her fingers curl around the collar of my leather jacket. Out of all the three of us, I’m the one who's always wanted to settle down and have a family. It’s been a dream of mine, I wasn’t sure it could ever be a reality. But holding Izzy, being near her, has made me hope again.
“Sometimes,” she whispers “I can’t believe any of you are real. I’m worried I might wake up from a dream or something.”
“Oh, believe me—we’re real alright.”
She looks up then, pressing her hand against the side of my face. I lightly kiss the palm of her hand, feeling her form shutter ever so slightly.
She sighs, as her cheeks redden and flush with arousal.
“God,” she mutters, hiding her face in my chest.
“What is it?”
“I don’t know why this happens—but you all—you just?—“
“What?”
“It’s nothing.”
“Come on, now. No more secrets, Izzy.”
“I,” she starts, but stops herself. My grip on her tightens a bit.
‘You can tell me everything.“
‘I don‘t know, it‘s stupid,” she mutters.
I laugh, brushing hair away from her face. “It’s not going to be stupid.”
“It’s just—I-I’ve never been so attracted to anyone in my life before, but the three of you. I don’t know. It’s fucked up, I know that.”
“You think I haven’t noticed the way you stare at me?” I ask, smirking.
“Says the pot calling the kettle black. I don’t know. I feel embarrassed and stupid and I have no idea what the hell I’m doing, but I haven’t been this turned on before and now, I’m just rambling so?—“
So, I kiss her, pushing my lips against hers, tasting how sweet she is, nudging her mouth open to find her tongue.
The world dims around us. It‘s just me and her.
I deepen the kiss, swirling our tongues together, moaning into each other‘ mouths. Her warmth is addictive against my cold body, and I want to get lost in it.
We break away, panting. Her hand goes to her lips, the other one resting on my chest.
“I-I’m sorry,”
“Don’t apologize,” I murmur. “I want you too.”
She bites her lip, cheeks flushed. “We really shouldn’t be doing this. “
“And why’s that? Tank and Hawk?”
“I don’t know?— “
I tilt my head, examining the gorgeous woman on top of me, the one I’ve been craving the moment she stepped through the front door. I rest my hands on her hips, moving my thumbs along the edge of her pants. It’d hardly take any effort to yank them off, bury myself in her tight little slit.
God, I’m hard as fuck right now, even just looking at her mouth sends a thousand filthy images through my head.
“You decide what you want, Izzy. No one else. They’re big boys, grown ass men.” I lift her up slightly by raising my hips, letting her know I want in. Now. “Do you want me, right now?”
She swallows, her hands making their way down my chest and stops at my jeans.
Her touch is featherlight as she grazes her fingertips over my erection, and fuck me, am I losing patience. She looks at me with those beautiful, hooded eyes. Eyes I want to make roll back.
“I…”
“Simple question. Yes or no?”
“Yes,” she whispers, her voice like a prayer. The hunger in her eyes and the way she bites her lip is enough of an answer to me.
“Good, because I want you too. I crave you so fucking much.”
I suck her bottom lip.
“Am I being greedy?” she asks.
“Who gives a fuck?” I roughly pull her back to me, grinding my aching length into her heat, moaning against her lips.
“You’re mine right now, and tomorrow we can go back to whatever you want. No strings attached. Just you…,” I trail my free hand down her stomach, to her panties, “...and me. “But so help me God, I need you right now.”
Her hands roam my torso, every touch a burning flame on my already heated skin.
Roughly, I yank her shirt up and over her head.
Her breasts spill out, perfect, pert, with hardened nipples. I suck on one, running my tongue around the pink tip. It’s music to my ears when she moans against my lips as I pinch her other nipple between my fingers, rolling the sensitive bud between my fingers.
I want to know every part of her.
She grinds against me, asking for more, and I give it to her.
I slide my hand into her panties, wetness coating my fingers as I spread her apart, exploring her tight pussy.
She tilts her head back, egging me on.
I yank her pants off her and she works to undo my jeans, unbuckling the belt and yanking them away.
I guide her down and she takes me into her sweet mouth.
“Jesus,” I grunt, feeling her tongue slide along my cock.
Her hot, wet mouth feels so damn good, but I want more of her. I don’t want to cum. Not yet. I hoist her up then.
I pick her up, never breaking eye contact as I walk us to the bedroom.
She wrapped her legs around my waist, her warm, wet core grinding against my throbbing member.
I gently lay her down on the bed, and I position myself between her thighs, looking into her eyes as I slowly push inside her, inch by inch until I’m in deep.
She whimpers, clawing into my back.
You feel so fucking good,” I grunt. My own personal nirvana.
Her hands grip the headboard. “Oh, Vance. God.”
The way she moves, it’s as if she's been made for me.
I thrust into her again and again, her cries of pleasure only spurring me on.
Her hands grip the headboard tighter as she bites her lip, holding back a scream.
“Let go, baby.”
Hips rocking, grinding, her wetness coating us both. I kiss her hard, claiming her mouth as I rock my hips into her, picking up the pace.
“Vance—I’m—I’m?—“
“Good girl. That’s right. Cum.”
“Oh, god!”
I lean my weight on my forearms, feel her tightening around me, convulsing as she orgasms.
Her nails dug into my back and her body quakes beneath me.
“Fuck,” I groan, but before she can recover, I flip her over onto her hands and knees, propping her up.
“I want you to cum again. I’m not done yet.”
I enter her from behind, her wet pussy milking me, my cock pounding into her.
She moans louder, her fingers claw into the sheets, hanging on for some kind of support. She’s so tight and feels so damn good.
I bite her shoulder, wrapping my arm around to stroke between her legs. She bucks against me writhing, so I fuck her hard. Faster.
“Yes, baby. That's it Unravel for me.”
The way she feels is so damn good it's almost enough to make me lose my mind. Almost.
“Vance!”
Her moans vibrate through her chest, against my own. My hand’s greedy between her thighs, stroking her clit as I continue thrusting.
Once. Twice. Thrice.
“There you go, baby,” I growl in her ear.
She shatters against me, her second orgasm rocking through her body, her cries echoing in the room. I still my hips for a moment, letting her ride my length as she needs while her entire body shudders, her orgasm like the only thing that matters, and with her, I let go.
I groan into her ear as I finish, the pleasure so intense that my vision goes white.
Breathing hard, I pull out and flip us over.
The look on her face is priceless. Flustered and dazed. I’d like to think for the moment, we both saw stars.
Her mouth parts as if to say something but she can’t quite get the right words, instead she stretches, shaking her head.
“I don’t want to be done with you,” I murmur, running my hand down her side, “But until we figure out who's leaving you little doll pieces, it’d be best not to hang out here much longer.”
Fuck. I’m not going to hear the end of it from my men about this later. I know it.
“Now get dressed, princess, we’re getting out of here.”