3 – Spike
“ Y ou see, I don’t fuckin’ like people dealin’ on my turf. You’re makin’ a name for yourself, and I don’t like it. This is my town, and I’m fuckin’ done with you scumbags comin’ in and causin’ problems. I’ll give you a choice: you leave town, or I’ll make you disappear.”
Fingers curled into the shirt of a middle-aged drug dealer who is causing a fuck load of problems in town, I hold him against the wall, my face close to his, my body rigid as I make sure he knows I’m not messing around. This town is overrun by scum, and I’m sick of it coming in to try and take over what the club has created.
We are the fucking kings, and it’s about time everyone learned their place again.
“I don’t know what you’re fucking talking about,” he spits in my face, baring his teeth. “I’m just here mindin’ my own business ...”
“So it wasn’t you who tried to jump my shipment and fuckin’ steal my stash?”
His eyes flash, but I already know he’s going to deny it. “I said, I don’t know what you’re fucking talking about.”
“Then let me refresh your memory.”
Using my other hand, I curl it around his throat and squeeze, my arm pulsing and aching as he squirms in my grips. His face slowly starts going red, and I know any second now, he’ll cave because he won’t want to die. The problem is, he is going to die today, he just doesn’t know it yet.
“It wasn’t me. It was ordered. I had no fucking choice,” he wheezes.
“Who ordered it?”
“My boss, Cole. He wanted the shipment, he wants control. I was just doin’ my job.”
“And where,” I growl, squeezing tighter, “might I find this Cole?”
He squirms, clawing at my arms. “Let me fucking go.”
“You have a matter of seconds left before the air runs out and I keep hanging on until you don’t start breathin’ again. The choice is yours. Tell me or die. Either way, it ain’t lookin’ good for you.”
“Warehouse on second street.”
Grinning, I release his throat but not his shirt. I keep him pressed against the wall as I pull a syringe out of my jacket, and, before he can question it, I plunge it into his neck. A lethal dose of drugs. It will only take minutes to kill him, if he’s lucky. I hope it’ll take a lot fucking longer than that. Men like this don’t deserve the air they breathe. I know for a fact he has assaulted more than one woman in his time, not to mention the charge for child abuse.
That alone is enough to bring him down. I threw the extras in for fun.
“I told you what you wanted,” he wheezes as his face turns blue and he tries to push me away, his strength waning.
“Yeah,” I murmur. “I changed my mind. See you in hell.”
His choking sounds grow louder as I drop him to the ground. He claws aimlessly at his throat as his body twitches before he finally passes out. His heart will stop, of that I have no doubt. Staring down at him once more, I turn and walk out of the alley without a second glance. Good riddance.
My phone rings just as I get out of the alley and throw a leg over my bike. Pulling it out, I see Muff’s name flashing across the screen. I answer it with a gruff, “What?”
“Don’t even want to ask where the fuck you are.”
“Ain’t any of your concern, brother. What can I do for you?”
“Jackson wants you to check out a job while you’re in town.”
“Flick me an address.”
“Spike ...”
“Later, Muff.”
I hang up the phone before he can get another word in and start my bike. I don’t need his fucking lecture about what I’m doing. If this club was running the way it should be, I wouldn’t have to be doing this shit. The fact is, we have been too lenient on the people who continue to mess around with us, and now we’re overrun by shit.
Jackson isn’t stepping up, but I am.
He wants quiet, peace, a club that keeps on the downlow but when I was running a club, the world knew who we were and they didn’t fuck with us. That’s how it should be. Ain’t no reason for it to be any different. We’re a motorcycle club, not fucking Girl Scouts. If Jackson has a problem, he knows where to find me.
Pulling out onto the street, I make my way toward what I need to do, and then I have places to be.
Places like finding where my woman is because she ain’t answering her phone.
I don’t like her being so far away, but I especially don’t like when she doesn’t answer the phone.
Today, she’ll find out just how much I don’t like it.
IT DOESN’T TAKE ME long to track her down. Something about the bar full of fucking young people in the middle of the town. There is nowhere else that is swarming with college kids. I can practically smell the cheap wine and bad decisions. Pulling my bike up to the front, I get off and toss my jacket on it. I’m not going to wear my colors in and get kicked out before I get the chance to find her.
Moving through the crowd, I get more than one shocked look.
When I was younger, I’d have been all over a place like this.
Hell, I think I fucking came here once with Cheyenne.
A memory I no doubt blocked out.
Shoving through the crowd, I hear her laugh before I see her face. She’s sitting at a booth with the young guy who gave her a tour and a few other students. The table is lined with empty glasses, shots, and beer bottles. They’re hitting it hard. So much for fucking studying. A strange kind of rage washes through me, masked thankfully by my love for her because otherwise I’d burn this fucking place to the ground.
I don’t stop as I approach the table, nor do I stop when she notices me, her eyes widen and her lips part to say something. I reach in, haul her out, and then she’s over my shoulder as I stride toward the bathrooms, not pausing for a second even as her screams trail behind me and her tiny fists pummel into my back.
Moving past the bathroom, I go down the hall to the back exit and kick the door open with my foot. There are a few people lingering in the dark out here but with one swift bark at them, they leave. Ciara is calling my name over and over as she slams her hands over my back, but I don’t pay her an ounce of attention.
I only put her down when I know we’re alone.
“What the hell, Danny,” she cries when her feet hit the ground.
Placing a hand to her chest, I push her up against the cold brick wall and lean in close, my mouth only inches from hers. I can smell the beer and sweet shots on her breath and something about it makes me wild. I don’t like her being where I can’t protect her, where I can’t watch her, where I can’t be there if something happens.
It makes me fucking wild.
“When I call,” I grind out, “you answer.”
Her eyes flash. “If you’re about to tell me you left our children ...”
“They’re with Serenity,” I grate out.
“I’m not done,” she snaps, “you left our children to come here because I didn’t answer my phone?”
“That’s exactly what I’m doin’ here.”
“Have you lost your mind?”
Her pathetic attempt to shove me off only makes me wilder. Bringing my hand up, I curl it gently around her throat, causing her to gasp, but she’s not afraid of me. No. She fucking loves it when I do this.
“You’re mine,” I hiss, my breath tickling her face. “I call, you don’t answer, I assume you’re in trouble.”
“My phone was on silent in my bag,” she whispers, licking her lower lip.
“I call,” I growl. “You answer.”
“You’re acting crazy.”
“Yet if I put my fingers in your panties right now, they’d be coated with your sweet arousal.”
Her cheeks flush.
She’s drunk, and fuck she’s pretty when she’s buzzed.
“I was just enjoying myself with friends.”
A low growl.
“I am perfectly safe.”
Another growl.
My free hand slides down her belly, dipping into her shorts until I feel her warm, sweet cunt against my fingers. As predicted, she’s wet.
“You’re mine,” I murmur as she gasps.
“I know.”
I find her clit and flick it, my dick hardening over the way she moans.
“Do you know what I’d do if somethin’ happened to you?”
Her eyes meet mine. “I know .”
“You’re the only thing that keeps me sane, baby. The only fuckin’ thing.”
She pushes her mouth against mine, cutting me off. She tastes as sweet as I knew she would, and, with a growl, I release her throat and hook my arm around her waist, hauling her to me. Crushing her body against mine, I kiss her with a ferocity I know she loves. Fingers tangled in my hair, she grinds her pussy against my fingers, still in her panties.
I know when she orgasms, because she shudders against me, her little moans of pleasure humming through my mouth.
I need her.
Fuck I need her.
Releasing her pussy, I have her shorts down before she has the chance to say another word. Then, I spin her around and make her place her hands against the brick wall as I expose her perfect backside to me. I slap it, hard, and she cries out as I know the sting radiates through her flesh. I give her another whack for good measure, then I release my cock. I already prepared for this moment, making sure there isn’t a single spike that needs removing.
I don’t want to wait.
Pushing my dick against her entrance, I slowly sink into her. Growling, I shiver at the sensation of her wet pussy gripping my cock as I slowly fill her. I could live every single day of my life just doing this with her, and I’d be a happy fucking man. Not a single thing in this world could ever make me feel the way she does. Her fucking soul consumes me every single time I’m near her.
When she moans, I feel it radiate through my dick.
I twitch inside her, then I’m fucking her, hard and raw, against the wall, relishing in the moans of pleasure that are ripped from her throat. It’s the best fucking thing I’ve ever heard, and it takes all my control not to find my release, just because it feels so damned good. My body slams against hers, and I can feel the moment she orgasms because she tightens around me, gripping my dick like a vice. I cum only seconds later, growling as I release inside her.
Before I let her go, I give her bottom one last slap, watching the way her cheek jiggles.
Fuck.
Spinning her around as my cock slips out of her, I bring her to me. “I’m not fuckin’ done with you.”
Her eyes widen and her lips part.
But she doesn’t argue.
She knows better.