BROKEN WINGS: GODS OF CHAOS MC (BOOK THREE) (6 page)

As I jumped on my bike and roared off down the five miles of winding dirt road that led away from the clubhouse, my cock throbbed relentlessly, my constant companion.  We were both hoping this trip turned out to have a little bit of pleasure mixed in with the business.

I pulled up to the turn off to the main road, adjusting my aching cock in my jeans before speeding off into the darkness of the forest, a smirk on my face as I thundered past the tall, swaying trees.

The sound of Diana’s sweet voice echoed in my ears for the next hour.

☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼

I stared at the phone in my hand as the line cut off.  

Fuck!

What had I done?

I had dialed the number I had avoided for months.  In a moment of desperation, I caved.  Like a fucking avalanche.

And now he was on his way.  Did he mean…like, now?  For fuck’s sake it was midnight on a Friday night and he was just going to drive all that way?  I never expected him to do that.  Hell, I never expected him to say yes in the first place.

But he did.  With enthusiasm.  

Shit.  What the hell was I thinking?  He’s a fucking outlaw biker, for god’s sake!  

I could hear my mother’s voice echoing in my ears, warning me about the dangers of anything and everything, especially men, especially men like Slade.  

Slade whatever-his-last-name-is.  

It was probably something insanely intense.  Something hot and sultry to go with those eyes of his.  Something hard, edgy and in your face like that body of his. 

God!

That body.  Was that even real?  I mean, it’d been six months.  And it was just the one night, it was dark, that was for sure.  But my hands sliding over those taught muscles didn’t lie, and I had only had one beer, so I knew it wasn’t the liquor talking.  Hell, I didn’t need booze.  He was intoxicating enough on his own.

And now he was on his way.  Or, was he?  He didn’t really say.  He wasn’t the most…communicative…of men.  Unless you considered someone who reminded you of the most intimate thing he had done to your body in casual conversation communicative.

Fuck!

Fuck.  Maybe he wasn’t coming till tomorrow.  Maybe I should call him back.

Holy hell.  Maybe I should go shower and shave and…as I looked around my apartment…clean up?  I was used to being alone, and my apartment reflected that.  Big time.

I would have to prioritize.  My mind went into overdrive as I began making a colossal list in my head. 

Shave first.  

Everything else could wait.   

And well, the shaving might take a while.

☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼

“Hooooly, shit,” I whistled under my breath.  Standing in front of the address Diana had given me, I stared up at the shimmering monstrosity of a towering condo building smack dab in the middle of The Pearl, a warehouse district that had been taken over by the richest of the rich.  The black sky above it only made me miss the darkness of the clubhouse. Only a few stars were visible here in the city, and it was a stark contrast to the millions that I was used to seeing every night. 

Not to mention the fact that it was the middle of the night, one thirty-six a.m., actually, and the sidewalks were still bustling with a steady stream of people.  

The lack of quiet was disconcerting and I took a moment to take it all in.

It wasn’t what I expected but considering I had only ‘known’ Diana for a few hours, I didn’t have much to go on anyway.  A doorman guarded the door.  He wasn’t kidding around in the doorman department.  He stood tall and proud, looking absolutely ridiculous in his maroon feathered hat, and a red and gold uniform that actually had tassels hanging from his shoulders.  Fucking tassels!  A self-important furrow wrinkled his brow and I resisted the urge to laugh as I sauntered up to the shiny, gold-trimmed revolving door.

He looked like a character out of the fucking Nutcracker.

I nodded to him as I approached, heading for the doors, figuring I didn’t need his services since Diana had already given me her condo number.  He had different plans.  He quickly moved to stand between the doors and me.  

“Good evening,” I said, figuring that was how one was supposed to greet a doorman.  I didn’t have much experience with that, if you can believe it.  

I guess it wasn’t the right thing to say.  Or, he didn’t like it.  Or, most likely, he didn’t like the looks of me, because that fucking ugly wrinkle in his brow deepened to a big scary crater as he attempted to out-alpha me right away.

I hated this fucking game.  The subtle exchange between two men, strangers or not, that occurred.  The lightening flash of a second where dominance was established.  Or at least an attempt at it.  It was when there was a struggle, when one of the two refused to back down, that caused the friction.

And with this guy, well, the friction was instant.  I could tell by the way he dismissed me right away that he wasn’t going to make this easy.

“I’m sure you’re in the wrong place, sir.”

And, well, fuck.  That kind of shit just irks my hide so badly.  I don’t back down to anyone and yet I know how to be polite.  It’s the people who aren’t polite to me, the ones who judge me by the cut across my shoulders, that I don’t have any patience for.

Like this guy.  If I wasn’t here to see Diana, and my dick wasn’t still half-hard from the goddamned porno movie that wouldn’t quit playing in my head on the way here, then I’d have punched the motherfucker, got back on my bike, and gone back home.  But damned if my dick didn’t seem to be pushing me on, leading me around like a fucking puppet.

I tried one last time at civility.

“I’m here to see Diana Trudeau. She’s expecting me.”

He scoffed at me.  He fucking
scoffed
.

I shook my head, taking a step back and slowly taking him in.  He was a little taller than me, but I could take him if I had to.

“I
said
, she’s
expecting
me,” I repeated.  “I can find my own way.”  

I moved to the side to step around him and he put his hand on my arm.  

I froze, looked at his hand briefly, and then pulled my eyes up to meet his.

“Really?” I asked.  

“You need to leave,” he said, pulling on my arm and attempting to pull me away from the door.  I didn’t budge.

“Don’t fucking touch me, motherfucker!”  I jerked my arm away.  Again, my first instinct was to punch him. Miraculously, Diana’s face flashed in my head, and I pushed him away instead.

“Call her, asshole.  My name is Slade.  She’s fucking expecting me,
you fucking douchebag
.”  I was pissed.  But fuck that guy.

He began dialing and for a moment, I thought I had gotten through to him.  Until he stopped punching after three numbers.

“You fuck.  You’re calling the cops?”  I yelled.   People on the street started staring, and the fucking nutcracker looking motherfucker at the door decided he would turn away while he spoke to the cops.  

Like a fucking idiot.  What kind of guard turns his back like that?

I sprinted past him, entering and pushing on the revolving doors to make my way inside the building.  He noticed after two seconds and ran in behind me.   I turned around and waited till my section had opened to the lobby, then stopped the door from moving with my foot, trapping him inside the revolving door.  As if it was waiting for me, a heavy potted plant was right outside of the door.  I held the door closed with my foot, and slid the potted plant in front of it to wedge it into place.

The nutcracker dude banged against the glass, yelling like a little girl, his face turning red with anger.  It was fucking hilarious.

I left him there and ran to the elevators chuckling.  The doors closed just as I heard the sound of sirens approach.  I pressed the button for the seventh floor and looked around.  

All I saw was me.  Lots of me.  The mirrored elevator created that funhouse effect of creating endless reflections and I entertained myself as the elevator began moving,  jumping around and waving my arms.  

I was having way too much fun.  

The doors opened to a quiet, lushly carpeted hallway and I walked all the way to the end of it, until I found the number Diana had told me over the phone.  715.

I knocked and then I heard a sudden crash inside.  

I jumped into action, remembering Diana’s story about getting followed and my heart jumped in my throat.  I slammed the full weight of my body into the door but it didn’t budge.  Fuck!  I sprinted back a few feet and then turned towards it, determined to bust it down this time.  If Diana was in danger in there, nothing was going to get in the way of me saving her.  

I braced myself and then ran as fast as I could towards the door.  

And just as I was within inches of it, she opened it.

It was too late.  I couldn’t stop.  I barreled into her with the full force that was intended for the locked door, the full force of something deep inside of me that was unfamiliar - the need to save someone.  

But I didn’t have time to think about that till later.

We fell together onto the floor with a loud thud, the door flying open behind us, and my body slamming on top of hers.

“OOF!” her breath escaped from her in a rush.  I looked down at her and my breath caught in my throat.

“Are you okay? I heard something crashing!”  I looked her up and down and then scanned the condo with my eyes.  I didn’t see anyone.

“I broke a glass, everything’s f-fine,” she gasped.

“Fuck. Okay.” I nodded, suddenly aware I was laying directly on top of her, my cock squarely pressed against her.

“Hey,” I said, smirking, staring down at her. 

Her eyes met mine and a slow smile began to spread across her face.

She shook her head and began laughing, then quickly turned serious as she saw the look in my eye.  I stared down at her and all I felt was yearning.  

I didn’t give a shit about the sirens I could still hear.  I didn’t care about the fucking nutcracker doorman.  I didn’t give a shit about much at all, except this growing need that was pulsing through every inch of my cock now that I was touching her.

Diana.  It was about time I got another taste of her.  And by the look in her eye, the one that matched mine, I could tell that she was feeling something a little similar. 

“Thanks for coming,” she said, her voice thick with desire, her arms wrapping around my neck.  Her pillowy lips met mine and everything else faded away as we melted into each other.

Until I heard the yelling.  And the running footsteps. 

“Get off of her!”  The nutcracker’s voice filled with anger as he approached.