Tread: Biker Romance (Ronin MC Series Book 1) (19 page)

“What about entertainment?” Hendrix’s voice slowly brought me back to the conversation. “We could organize a fight or something. Maybe some Doves mud wrestling?”

“Nah, Harvey likes real fights, although raunchy Lonny wouldn’t mind a couple older gals wrestling in a rink,” I recalled.

There was truth in my words, but I mainly wanted to show presence. I tried to come up with a better solution immediately, but a good one escaped me. It was unlike me to come up with a problem without immediately following it up with a solution. Even for something as stupid and pointless as a sideshow distraction at a party to make it feel more ‘authentic.’ Suddenly, it occurred to me that eyes were on me, waiting for a solution. First thing that comes to mind was: “We let the girls dance? They like that shit, anyway.” I immediately regretted it, as I was sure it would be shot down.

“Fuck it, why not?” Royal put it bluntly and my eyes got a little wider.

I shrugged it off. “Fuck it.” I voted.

In unison, the boys agreed. Looks like I’d be pulling triple duty tonight. Taking care of Polly Pocket, looking after Grace, and of course, my sister. Time to line shit up.

“Ready break?” I asked, ready to end the meeting and get to work.

“It’s about that time.” Royal tapped the gavel and everyone shot up and headed for the door.

“I didn’t think you’d go for that, VP.” I studied Royal’s facial expression as I stepped towards the door.

“Mostly because Kit’s MIA. Plus, I don’t have a sister that’ll be shaking her ass. Can’t believe you were the one to suggest it in the first place.” He smirked and looked towards the floor.

“Don’t be emo, bro. Stevie-the-hacker is on it. If he can’t do it, we’ll break his legs, no sweat.” I tried to reassure him, but wasn’t willing to stay to ensure his head was on straight. I had things to do, guilt to weigh myself down with, and news to break to the girls. I stepped into the bar to find Marley talking with Grace. I bellied up next to them and put my left hand down on the counter.

“Java me, babe. Please.”

I pulled out my phone and got to work. I had to go through profiles on some of the Doves I was familiar with on their social media sites. I wanted to be Mr. Matchmaker tonight. As I was scrolling through, I noticed plenty of lookers. I was just having issue with finding one that would fit ol’ Polly. Not any chick would do, not tonight, and I was filtering for gals that might be open to going steady with him. A semi-permanent arrangement if I could swing it. Grace handed me a steaming coffee mug and I started to multitask.

“So I need y’all to dance tomorrow night, Marley.”

Grace’s eyes got wide.

“What for? For who?” Marley asked, already hostile.

“The boys’ welcome home party. We needed entertainment and it was between ya’ll dancing or Lonny getting cougars to mud wrestle out back. I figured you would thank me for not seeing saggy titties tonight.” I genuinely thought they would prefer to dance than watch older gals wrestle while Lonny pitched a tent.

“Yeah, you got a point there. You do realize Tatum is going to be up there, right? She’s been . . . restless lately.” Marley gave a little wink.

“Thanks for the fucking reminder. Whatever, she’s a grown woman with grown woman needs. What am I gonna do? Beat the shit out of her boyfriends until she’s well into her thirties?”

“Ha ha, only time will tell, love. Just don’t beat any of the brothers for looking when you’re pretty much serving her up.” Marley snickered.

Grace was still frozen like a deer in the headlights.

“What’s the matter, killer!” I jested, but she was clearly not in a jesting mood.

“I have to go change for class, I guess.” She tossed her towel on the counter and stormed off upstairs.

“What’s got into her?” I asked Marley

“Not you, apparently.” She eyed my crotch.

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” I stumbled back from my stool. Not sure why that caught me so off guard.

“Oh nothing, just maybe Tatum isn’t the only one with a little tension, is all. I’m going to get changed, too.” The master-of-puppets got off her stool and strolled upstairs after Grace.

I was taken aback by that. I wasn’t sure where to go, but I wasn’t going to stay there. I stomped off with my coffee out back and lit a cigarette. What did Grace tell her? Did she know about the junkyard? Ah shit, did Grace know about the lookout tower?! Fuck. Me. Running.

“Shit,” I forced my gaze back to my phone and continued being the woo-meister for ol’ Polly Pocket. I didn’t know his taste, redheads, brunettes, blondes. Maybe he was into that new shit, with highlights of all colors and crap. I called it Crayola hair, but I doubted I could Google hot chicks with Crayola hair and find a suitable floozy in the southern New Mexico desert by tomorrow. I stayed the course and continued scrolling Dove profiles. Near the bottom of suggested names, a new chick popped up. Her profile said that she lived here and hung around the bar a lot. I clicked it.

The girl, Susan Murray, had big green eyes and soft features. She was a dark brunette with a bit of blonde half way down her hair that quickly turned into a bluish-purple at the ends. She was shorter than Polly—a feat in itself, and a plus. Her skin was pale, but not in a vampire, photophobic way. She was cute, and she wasn’t a usual. I’d be the one to know, I guessed. I clicked send message.

Tread: Hey, are you coming to the bar tomorrow?

I tossed my smoke and put the phone back in my pocket only for it to buzz.

Susan: Yeah, who’s this?

Tread: You can’t see my profile?

Susan: I see your profile, but who the hell are you?

Who the hell am I? Who am I? I was the guy that knew every single person in this damn town. Or, at least, I thought I did.

Tread: Tread Marino. You haven’t heard of me?

Susan: I’m pretty new in town. Yeah I’ve heard about you at the bar. Why do you ask?

Tread: I got a buddy I would like you to meet. Are you interested?

Susan: That depends.

Tread: Depends on what?

Susan: Depends on the guy. If he’s a sleaze ball then hell no, and I don’t work johns neither. I’m not that kind of girl.

Tread: Whoa, no, no. Friend of mine is getting out of the hospital tomorrow. I just wanted to have you say hello, maybe rub his shoulders or something.

Susan: Well it still depends on what he looks like.

Tread: Fair enough.

I shoved the phone in my pocket. That was good enough. I could work on her more in person. Wait a minute . . . Did I have a reputation as someone’s pimp? I’d have to question some Doves about that later. With my mission accomplished, I went to see how the set up was coming along.

“NO, IT’S FINE. IT DOESN’T MATTER.”

“That’s bullshit, Grace. You saw what he was looking at on his phone. I saw it, too. Listen, here’s the thing about the brothers: They can get pussy anytime they want just for the cuts on their shoulders. Old, young, fat, small, they all can get women that look like playboy bunnies to suck their cocks because of the MC, then pass her along. You don’t want to be that woman.”

“I don’t,” I agreed with my arms crossed. I couldn’t explain the shift between the other night at Tatum’s house and today, but my feelings had changed. Maybe it had something to do with being in Tread’s arms for so long while he slept. While he dreamed. Tread was not a light sleeper, but he had nightmares often. Every time he moaned or yelled out, I found myself holding him tight around his middle, shushing him, rocking back and forth, trying to comfort him. It seemed to work, until the next one took hold, all the while he held me tight against him. It was the safest I’d felt in a long time. I tried to stay with him as long as possible, until my bladder was full to bursting and had to leave.

“No, you want to be the old lady. The MC’s form of a wife, eventually. That means that the brother has to want to give up the bunnies for your ass full time. It’s something that hasn’t been done yet with this generation, so frankly it’s going to be Mission Impossible. How you do this is going to set the precedence for every woman to follow in your wake.”

“Wait a minute. I don’t even know Tread. I’m not trying to be some kind of wife. I just don’t want to share, and if he’s getting me off in the afternoon, then screwing other girls, he won’t be getting anything from me. I like keeping things label free. I just don’t want to be Miss Two O’clock.” Seeing girls’ faces on his phone, with him as casual as looking at a dinner menu brought out a feeling I’d never experienced before. I knew what it was, and didn’t like it one bit.

Marley put on her blinker at a light. “You’re right. So for you to get the chance to know him, you have to keep his attention. This dance is going to be a huge catastrophe the guys don’t see coming yet. But you have the opportunity to slap a leash on that boy.”

I swallowed and shifted in the passenger seat, intrigued despite how contrived all of this seemed. “No leashes.”

“Whatever. If you can learn this dance today, then let us have free rein with getting you ready. Every man in that bar will want a piece.”

“And that’s good?”

“Yes, because Tread will think that’s bad.”

We piled out of the car and unlocked the room Marley held class in. She threw her red curls up in a quick bun and set up the music. I took the side opposite Tatum. Bella was turning into a bar hound, preferring to stay where the food dropped and wouldn’t get in the car with me this morning. I couldn’t say I didn’t feel a little bit betrayed.

“All right, let’s do some yoga to get us loosened up then we need to hammer out this routine.”

“I’m just going to say it right now. If I puke on that stage tomorrow, I’m killing both of you.”

Tatum gasped and covered her mouth sarcastically. “But, Grace! That would be a sin.”

“I’m not in Utah anymore, Tater Tot.”

Tatum tried to lunge, but Marley held her back, laughing her butt off.

“HEY, SUSAN, WELCOME TO THE
party. I’m Tread.”

I shook
the pretty girl’s hand and grasped it. I led her over to where Polly Pocket was sitting in a nice booth by the wall. He was sitting where he could enjoy the stage for tonight’s show.

“Hey there, Polly. I got someone I want you to meet. Susan, this is Polly, Polly, Susan.”

I sat her down across from him and pulled up a chair to sit on the end.

“How are you feelin’, Cherry?”

“Better every day, Tread,” he announced as he shyly stole peeks at Susan.

“Don’t be bashful, guy. I think you’ll hit it off just fine.” I inspected Susan’s face.

She gave me a subtle nod. “I heard you were in the Army?”

That was the cue, She was good. My job was done for now. I excused myself and lit a victory cigarette as I pulled up to the bar.

“Lola, has Harvey checked in yet?”

“Yeah, he’ll be here in ten. You might want to get your ass outside,” she responded.

“Yeah, will do. Can I get a Jack and Coke first?”

She went to work, handed me the drink, and I stepped off for the back parking lot to wait with the other boys. Royal, Hendrix, Mac, they were all there. All but Alt who had been trusted with a very sensitive, very secret squirrel mission. To meet Stevie-the-hacker and exchange details. The remaining crew was ready to meet
the first gen in our usual fashion. We had a cooler of ice and beer. We had a box of cigars. We had the Doves lined up to clap, flash, and cheer them into the parking lot.

“Looks like we’re set,” I stated while surveying all the details.

“Yeah, they should be here soon,” Royal replied first. “Has Alt checked in?”

“Yeah, he’s met his guy and exchanged the info. I think they’re just bullshitting about Xbox now. Want me to call and get a frontline trace?”

“Nah, let him geek out tonight. I’m more concerned with making sure no one asks about him. What did we decide on for a story, by the way?”

“The truth. Well, kind of. He’s geeking out with his boyfriend tonight.” I thought for a second. Yeah, that was believable. “Just like usual.”

“All right, they won’t be happy, but we’ll roll with it.”

“Won’t be happy?” Hendrix interjected. “Y’all better hope that the girls decide on a conservative dance routine.”

Later, the boys were settling in, drinking, fondling beautiful women twenty years their junior, at least. Lucky motherfuckers. I mean, I shouldn’t be jealous. They had thrown us one hell of a welcome home when we returned from Afghanistan for our last time, and these guys didn’t pull in the dangerous stuff anymore.

All things considered, they looked like they were enjoying themselves. Everyone was giving Lonny shit for screwing up the route and extending their time away by half a day, but other than that it was peachy. It was times like these that I was reminded most of my dark place.

If I wasn’t careful, I would get caught up in it and destroy my night. When it happened, I would get piss drunk and ask myself why I deserved to have a good time when my brothers came home in a box, draped with an American flag, their families broken. I couldn’t afford that tonight. Tonight I had to make-up for my failure. To Polly. To Grace. And to myself.

I didn’t like mistakes.

“Good job, son.” Harvey walked up. I was sure he was glad us kiddos didn’t burn the place down. “Well done. Well, for now, I still have to check your books, kid.”

I hated being called ‘kid.’ I served, I fought in a war against a determined and devious enemy. I came back to the MC. I hadn’t offed myself. I’d literally held the MC’s business afloat. Times when I felt treated like something inadequate, something less than worthy, I became disgruntled . . . just a little.

“Yeah, easy sailing. Sorry we didn’t get anything crazy for entertainment.”

“What
did
you guys get for entertainment?” Harvey asked, very condescending. Which made what happened next all the sweeter. I pointed with my glass then hid my smirk behind it.

The lights dimmed and everyone waited for the surprise show. The music started. It was a song written by a Nevada heavy metal band known as Five Finger Death Punch. “House of the Rising Sun” began to play and a feeling welled up inside.

Emotions that I didn’t know what to do with. Was I sad?

Happy?

Angry?

I didn’t know. Something about this music brought me back to a specific time of endlessly marching through mountainous terrain while questions that would never be answered would swirl in my mind. I felt the slip; the slip that would ruin my night and send me tumbling into the abyss. The lights kicked on and a surprise fantasy of my own came to fruition. I felt myself coming back to the present, as if by magic . . . or three women posing as some kind of Charlie’s Angels.

On the stage, on the end to the right of Marley and Tatum, was Grace. Her hair had been blown out in a neo ‘80s style that didn’t quite scream huge but was big nonetheless. She wore a leather jacket with rhinestones and black short-shorts.

The music thumped loud in the speakers, and the boys went wild. Hips shook side to side and I was brought back to what I walked into hours before.

I slept in Grace’s room the night before,. Despite my nightmares, I couldn’t resist the peace upstairs instead of driving to my house after so many beers. But I forgot my wallet the next day when I was ready to ride out.

After doing my shoulder bang, uplift twist on the doorknob, I walked into the room. My eyes expectantly went to behind the door, but the dog bed was empty. Hearing a gasp, my eyes moved to the bed, where Grace was scrambling to cover lily white legs.

“Holy shit.”

“What the hell are you doing?” she asked, big eyed, holding a wand attached to the wall above her head like a baseball bat.

“What the hell are you doing?” I asked reflexively, recognizing the vibrator in her hand. Never would I have imagined Good Angel Grace of my wildest dreams getting off by herself. When she had rubbed against my leg in the junkyard, that had been her first time. She hadn’t known what was happening, I knew that. So how did she get it?

“Get out!”

I walked into the room and shut the door firmly. “Nuh uh.”

I leaned against the dresser-of-one thousand-bottles and crossed my arms. “Why are you in bed at two o’clock, Gracie Lou?”

“Don’t call me that and get out,” she hissed.

I smirked and gestured with my chin to the vibrator raised like a weapon in her hand. “Whatcha doin’?”

“Oh my God. World, please end,” she murmured, and I fought the urge to laugh as she hid the white wand. The vibration was loud in the silence.

“You need somethin’?” I asked as nonchalantly as possible, regretting that I had looked behind the door first and missed all of that soft pink on display.

“Either I’m going to die of embarrassment or you’re about to, because I’m never leaving this room,” she declared, her voice shaking, cheeks adorably pink.

“Who gave you the vibrator, baby?” I cut to the chase.

“Marley,” she mumbled.

“Don’t let me interrupt. I forgot my wallet, but this seems a hell of a lot more pressing.”

“Shut up,” she said quietly. I could tell she was dying of shame, but she had my full attention.

“Put it back, baby. Don’t let me interrupt your ‘me’ time.”

“Not until you leave.”

“I’m not moving until you cum. Just like you did on my leg. If you have needs and I’m not meeting them, you gotta get yours. Nothing to be ashamed about.”

She watched me for several long minutes, but it was obvious I wasn’t leaving and after watching her, knowing what she was doing for so long, my cock was feeling neglected for not being invited to the party.

Her eyes moved down me like a caress. I swallowed, but didn’t move to adjust. Her eyes stayed on my dick for what felt like years while I studied her reaction. Her eyes got bigger, her chest rose faster, and her cheeks became a ruddy shade of red.

She was turned on. I licked my lips, the action bringing her eyes back to my face.

“Keep going.”

“Tread—”

“I said. Keep. Going,” I ordered, not knowing if I was pushing her virgin ass too far, but my cock was taking over.

She moved below the covers and I only got shadows and faint movements between the covers. I gritted my teeth to keep from ordering the blanket turned aside so that I could see what I thought she was doing.

I waited until the vibrator made contact with everything I wanted. I knew it happened the second her eyes fluttered.

“What were you thinking about before I came in?” I asked quietly.

She panted, her bicep flexing as the comforter stalled then moved again. I tried not to groan out loud.

“I don’t have a lot to go on.”

If that wasn’t a leading comment, I didn’t know what was.

“What do you have that made you feel good?” I asked.

“You.”

“What about me?”

“You know when.” Her eyes narrowed, only making them more blue as they stood out against her dark eyelashes. Goddamn, she was so beautiful.

“When I made you cum?”

“Yes.”

“When you rubbed your pussy against my leg in the field?” I pushed. Please don’t let it be too much.

“When I sucked on your neck?”

She moaned. She fucking moaned. My dick heard it. Felt it. “Yes.”

“What else do you want me to suck, Grace?” I tried not to grit my teeth. God, knowing she was getting off on what I did to her was hotter than any Dove I’d had in this place. But she didn’t answer. I was forced to prompt, “Your nipples?”

I watched in fascination as her stomach convulsed. She still didn’t answer. That was okay. I knew, anyway. “You want me to suck on those tits? Make them hard and shiny. I bet you would feel that in your clit. Wanna try? Pinch it for me.”

I waited without breathing, not knowing what the hell would happen. When her hand began to move, it was like the skies parted. Nothing existed but Grace’s fingers tightening under her shirt. It didn’t matter that I couldn’t see it. I knew she was responsive now. I knew I could get her off from my words with the first touch and her back arching off of the mattress. She was mine.

I watched, mesmerized as her hips swayed with the bass with her back turned. She did some kind of rolling of her hips and I felt it like a caress against my cock. When she bent at the waist and her hair touched the floor, her little shorts riding up over the curve of her ass, I groaned.

When she turned and started unzipping her leather jacket, my heart almost stopped. I couldn’t tell if there was anything on under it. That was when I came out of my tunnel vision and realized there were thirty pairs of eyes on Grace’s half naked body.

I slapped the brother next to me on the back of the head. He was whistling and waving dollar bills in the air. “Put your goddamn money away, and your eyes on the floor, douchebag.”

“What? Why? Hey don’t worry, dude. I wasn’t looking at your sister.”

I ran my hand over my face as the bigger fuck up clicked. “Jesus Christ.”

It didn’t take the old man twenty seconds after that to blow his lid. “What the fuck?!” Harvey shouted as he pounded his fists into the bar. “Who’s running this shit show? Why are those little girls dancing on my stage?!”

There was fire in his eyes. His face was so red it was almost purple. I thought he might have an aneurism at any moment.

“That’s it! Party’s over!” he shouted at the top of his lungs.

A few people turned to look at him briefly then went back to the show. I couldn’t blame them. If it weren’t for the enjoyment of seeing Harvey freaking the fuck out, I would be front and center, blocking the view from anyone else while I enjoyed it.

Bang bang bang!

The music stopped. Everyone jumped up and turned to the noise, some of them grabbing for their pistols. The girls on stage dove for cover. Immediately, there was ringing in my ears. I turned to see a purple faced Harvey holding his glock above his head. The crazy old bastard just shot three holes into the ceiling of a two-story saloon.