Chapter 5 Carmen #2
Carter Trescott put me off dating for life. I only jumped into his lap that night because he was hot and I’d had too much to drink. If I was sober, I’d have looked at him, appreciated his face, and walked right past him.
Being this close to him again is dangerous. As much as I hate this man, he did know what he was doing in the bedroom, and I haven’t had a decent bedroom experience since.
These days, the only romantic relationship I have is with my vibrator. As long as I keep that baby charged, I get what I want.
Granted, it can’t throw me around the bedroom, spank my ass and call me a bad girl, but it can make me finish…sometimes.
If I can get my hands on all of this money, I’ll be able to afford an upgrade.
Before I know it, we’re out of the city and heading for the desert.
“I thought you lived in the city,” I shout in his ear.
I didn’t mean to catch a whiff of his masculine scent.
And I didn’t expect it to heat me up in certain…places.
“I don’t live in the city anymore,” he answers, his gaze fixated on the long road in front of us.
“Where do you live?”
“You’ll see.”
“How’s the business doing?”
Silence.
If I asked that question three years ago, I’d never get a word in edgewise. He’d be telling me about the annual revenue, about the new online courses available. He’d be telling me about fucking everything.
All I can hear now is the wind howling in my ears as we enter open air.
I don’t push any further, not wanting to poke the bear too much—I still want my money.
“What are you doing these days?” he asks me.
“Why do you ask?”
“Because women who attend O’Neill auctions don’t do it for plane tickets to Bora Bora. They do it because they’re desperate.”
“Desperate like the men that attend? You’re even more distasteful than I thought.”
“It wasn’t my decision to attend tonight.”
“Free will,” I yell into the wind. “We all have it. Ever heard of the word no?”
Carter responds to my question with another question. “What sort of trouble are you in?”
“I’m not in any kind of trouble.”
“Don’t lie. You wouldn’t be here otherwise.”
“Maybe we should talk more about why you’ve had a wardrobe change. Carter Trescott doesn’t ride dirty motorcycles out into the middle of nowhere. He sits on his ergonomic chair with two computer monitors. On one is a record of his finances. On the other, he’s online shopping for a designer suit.”
“You seem to know a lot about my life.”
“Men like you are predictable.”
“If that’s what you think…”
I let him have the last word, because he’ll probably get butthurt if I outsmart him too much.
I roll back my head and let the wind take my hair. All things considered, it feels refreshing being away from the suburbs for a change.
“How far away are we? I’m getting a cramp in my leg.”
“We’re close now.”
I look out and see nothing but darkness. Are we seeing the same thing? “What are you talking about?”
“This is home.”
Carter kills the engine, silence ringing in my ear. Vex and Skipper park next to us and jump off their bikes. Only when I see them walk ahead do I realize there’s something here.
“Where are the lights?”
Carter chooses to ignore my question. He offers me his hand as I climb off, but I refuse to take it and hop off just fine on my own.
If we’re not counting the part where I almost trip and fall flat on my face.
“This is the Venom Vultures clubhouse.” Skipper says it like the building is a historical artifact, one preserved for museums.
As I step closer, I realize that it well and truly could be a thing of the past. From the outside, the place looks like it’s falling apart.
Vex shines a flashlight, and I get an even closer look at the peeling wood, the weathered veranda. Carter Trescott wouldn’t be caught dead in a place like this.
“What the hell?” I turn to him. “This is a joke.”
Carter shakes his head.
“I’m not going in there.” I come to a halt several yards away, feet placed firmly in the dry earth.
It’s a place fit for a serial killer.
And don’t even get me started on the location.
“How many dead bodies have you buried out here in the sand dunes?”
“Not as many as you’d expect,” Vex says.
Carter gives him a stern look.
“You should come inside,” Skipper says. “There’s a lot more going on.”
I turn to Carter for clarity on the situation, but his gaze remains forward. He sees me looking, I know he does, but he refuses to look my way.
Sons of Anarchy.
I wasn’t kidding when I said that earlier.
“Look,” Vex says. “You agreed to come home with us, didn’t you? If you want the money, you’re gonna have to come inside.”
“And what happens inside?”
Carter tightens his jaw and shakes his head at the other two.
“You’re making it look so appealing,” I say. “Should I prepare to take my last breath?”
“You’re not gonna die,” Skipper says. “But Vex is right. If you want the money, you’re gonna have to come inside.”
Carter looks at them again, but this time with a more settled expression. He doesn’t shake his head. In fact, this time he turns to me with a pained look written across his face. I’m almost convinced that he feels sorry for me.
Almost.
I look at my three very attractive suitors, dressed to the nines in leather and denim, and wonder how I got so lucky.
Carter Trescott was too hot to handle by himself.
And now he’s found himself some smoking hot friends.
Forget the millions of dollars. I’d jump into bed with them for free.
“You promise I’m not gonna die? Because I have family, you know. Not like I expect you guys to understand.”
Carter stiffens for a second and then steps aside to welcome me in. “Ladies first.”
I take my next few steps very carefully.
One, because I can’t see the ground below me.
Two, because I can’t feel my legs.
Am I nervous or intimidated?
Or both?
These men could squash me between their fingers like a pea if they wanted to. They don’t want to—not yet, but that’s only because I’m worth something to them.
Who’s to say they won’t run me over with their Harleys as soon as they have what they want?
Vex opens the door and I cautiously step inside. A stuffed bald eagle welcomes me in with a hard stare which I feel the need to return, even though the creature is no longer breathing.
The other bikers in the room give me the same, piercing stare. Unlike the giant eagle they must worship, these stares actually mean something.
“Ignore them,” Carter says. “It’s not often we bring in outside girls.”
I don’t know whether to be endeared by that comment, or frightened.
“Oh.” I take a few more awkward steps forward in my sparkling lingerie. “Should I be flattered that you don’t attend sex auctions on a regular basis?”
“We attend them monthly.” Vex sits down at a free table and looks up at me.
“You must be fond of Conrad.”
“No,” Skipper interjects. “Nobody’s fond of Conrad, but he does put on a good show. He has good taste in women.”
I narrow my eyes at the boys as they all take a seat opposite me.
I have to be missing something here.
Vex, Skipper, and Carter could be the new heartbreak boy band of the century. I don’t doubt that women throw themselves at these men, plonk into their lap and do all kinds of nonsense.
Why are they buying women when they can get them for free?
“What would you like to drink?” Vex asks.
“Carmen won’t be drinking.”
Since when did Carter Trescott become my father?
“Gin, if you have it.”
“Of course.” Vex heads away and orders at the bar.
With his back turned, I take the opportunity to check him out from behind—just as broad as the rest of him. But it’s his hands that capture my attention the most. They’re careful. Precise. He speaks a lot with them as he converses with the bartender.
Vex is the kind of man who always wins a fight. It makes me wonder what he’s doing out here when he could be making thousands a night on the Strip as a security guard.
Maybe those paychecks aren’t quite as large as the ones from the motorcycle club…
“He’s a killer enforcer,” Skipper says, following my gaze.
“Who’s he killed?”
“It’s an expression.” Carter stares at me hard again. “He’s good at his job.”
“And what is it you do here?” I fold my arms over my chest and try to look at Carter without melting. “Is this another one of your hobbies whenever you need a breather from the business? How’s it going by the way? I’m surprised you haven’t found a way to make this conversation about yourself yet.”
“Milton’s Milkshakes has a new CEO,” Carter says matter-of-factly. “I sold the company.”
I frown. The ocean is more likely to turn green.
He has to be joking, but the more I stare into his blue eyes, the more I see the truth.
“Why did you sell it?”
For a beat, the table falls silent, and then Vex returns with drinks.
Saved by the bell.
For now.
I take a sip of the gin and pretend not to wince at the strength. My last sip of alcohol was about three years ago. To be precise, it was the night I sat in Carter’s lap and took him back to my place.
All things considered, it feels nice to sip something that isn’t orange juice, water, or milk. The sweet burn of the gin traveling down my throat feels dangerously restorative. It’s like I’m twenty-one years old again without a care in the world.
I gave birth to Otis and suddenly turned sixty.
I cradle the drink in my hands before I accidentally gulp it down in one go. “What exactly happens here? You ride motorcycles and get paid?”
“Kind of,” Skipper says. “It’s more complicated than that.”
“What’s complicated about riding bikes?”
“Let’s just say that Venom Vultures is a motorcycle club, plus benefits.”
“What kind of benefits?”
“The kind of benefits that don’t come with rules. You can do whatever you want.”
“Within reason,” Carter chips in.
Vex flashes his friend a calculating glare. “Then tell me—what was your reason for bidding all of this money on a girl?”
“I don’t see you complaining,” Carter counters.
Vex looks me up and down and smiles. “I’d never dream of complaining. Carmen is priceless.”
Flattered, I’m sure.