Tread: Biker Romance (Ronin MC Series Book 1) (24 page)

SOMEHOW, I GOT STUCK PUSHING
the cart while the older women treated the aisles like a stroll in the park. It was 5:30 on a Thursday, so the place was picking up, and the freebies were out.

“I think I got your red sauce down this time, Vee,” I said as we shoveled extra-large pizza slices in our mouths simultaneously.

“You didn’t eat any?” she asked, grabbing her drink from the front of the cart.

I shook my head and finished chewing. “Not this time. It’ll be gone by the time I get home. Figured Tread could enjoy it since they’re camping out or whatever on the run.”

Veesa gave me a rare smile. “You’re good to him.”

I looked down and blushed. Our relationship may not have started in an orthodox way, and Tread might not be who I pictured myself with, but the way he looked at me, respected me, the things he did to my body, were more than I could ever have begun to wish for. “He’s good to me, too.”

“You two remind me so much of Veesa and Lee when they got together. They just clicked like puzzle pieces from the beginning. Nothing like Harvey and me. That man loves to rile me up,” Lola said, tossing an industrial box of Pringles into the cart. She was dressed in her usual fashion: short jean skirt, top proudly displaying her girls, and teased blonde hair out to there.

“You’re passionate,” Veesa said quietly, as was her way. She was a woman of few words, but when she did speak, it was usually something important.

“Hell yes we are!” Lola cackled loudly, catching the attention of several people in our aisle. “We fight just as much as we fuck. It’s our thing. Shit, don’t let me forget the oil. It’s goin’ down tonight at Casa de Prez.”

My eyes scanned the crowd, and I had to hide a smile as people cleared out. Lola was a personality unto herself. “I bet you’re not talking about deep frying are you?” I asked with a smile.

Veesa snorted. “As if that man needs any more fat in his veins. His cholesterol is through the friggin’ roof.”

“Might want to lay off the boar bacon then, Lola. You know he has it every day for breakfast.”

“That man don’t listen to nothin’. I try, but he’s been goin’ his own way for a long time now.”

“Can you give him an incentive?”

“You mean like a bribe?” Lola cocked a hip and looked to be having an internal debate.

“Grandkids, maybe a sex swing?” Veesa said with a laugh.

Lola and my eyes flashed to her in surprise before we burst out laughing in shock. If Lola was the sexpert of the group, Veesa was the prude. I used to think that was me, but I found that I fell somewhere in the middle.

“You might be on to somethin’ there, Vee.”

As we continue on, little chuckles caught us off guard sporadically. It was funny how in a few short weeks I felt like I could talk to them about anything, and couldn’t even tell my own mother that I didn’t want to get married. Unlike my parent’s religion and restrictions, the MC wasn’t as stifling as I feared, and with my new knowledge on how to protect myself, all of the dangerous positions I’d been put in, didn’t seem so scary anymore.

“How long is this one going to be? Tread hasn’t said a whole lot, other than the route’s giving him trouble.”

“It’s a big one. Harvey’s all bent out of shape.”

“More than usual?” It seemed Harvey was always in a huff about something.

“He’s grumbling about losing Lonny at the table. It’s always hard for him to see someone else in their chair, even if it is a brother. We’re a family.” She reached over and gave Veesa a half-hug. “He’s been Prez since the start. With Kit gone . . . I don’t know.” Lola sighed, throwing in pretzels with force. Obviously changing the subject, she pointed over my shoulder. “Grab those Slim Jims would you, doll?”

I filled my arms with extra-large packages of dehydrated meat.

“Grab two more.”

“Isn’t that a lot?” There were already five cans in the cart.

“I wanna put together a care package for Con. Can’t go wrong with jerky. We need to make sure we grab that new Gatorade powder, too.”

“How much longer does he have left in Afghanistan?” I asked, turning the corner to get baby wipes. Tread swore they were better than duct tape on the road.

You can clean your bike, wash your hands, or wipe your ass, is the way he put it.

“Eight months or so now.”

“What does he do for the Army?”

“EOD. Explosives. He de-arms landmines and IEDs.” She shook her head. “Adrenaline junkies, every one of ’em.”

I sighed because there were no truer words. Veesa grabbed a package of paper towels that was half her size. “And pigs.”

“Don’t even go there. That office . . .” I shuddered.

“This run is so big, almost everybody is goin’. We should go out to the well and clean that pigsty of a trailer.” Lola looked back and forth between us.

I shrugged. “I haven’t been out there before.”

“You’re not missing a whole lot,” Veesa said, grabbing bottles of Lysol.

“Is it dangerous? That close to the border?”

Lola scoffed. “Nah. If it was, they would leave more than a skeleton crew.”

“Come on, let’s get the cigarettes before it gets too crowded in here.” Veesa led the way and we followed.

“Maybe we should stop by the sex store on the way home. I could use a new nightie and Veesa probably needs a new vibrator.” Veesa threw an arm up with no hesitation and flashed her middle finger for the whole store to see.

WHEN I GOT HOME TWO
hours later, the dinner dishes had been done, and there were bags packed by the door. I hung up my purse in the foyer and made sure the zipper was open to the gun pouch in the back like I had been taught.

All was quiet, so I put away the ice cream that had softened on the hour long trip home and went to look for Tread.

I opened the door to the garage and stuck my head in. The light was on, but no biker.

I flipped the switch and moved to the office, expecting to find him where he was hours ago, bent over maps and pushing buttons on gadgets. No Road Manager.

In the master bedroom, there was a sleeping Bella at the foot of the bed, and humidity from the shower still fogging up the mirror, but no Tread.

I finally found him in the backyard a ways from the house, in front of a small fire. His knees were spread wide, his white shirt bright as it reflected the flames.

“What are you doing out here?” I asked quietly.

He took a deep breath and I watched his chest expand in infatuation. Looking into the fire, I could see papers turn to ash, but said nothing. When Tread raised his arms, I didn’t hesitate to climb into his lap to listen to his heartbeat.

We stared at the fire in silence, bugs chirping in cadence around us. The stars were bright, like they always were here.

It was a quiet moment that I’d learned to cherish in a world so loud.

“You okay?” I tried again.

Tread rubbed up my back until he was pulling lightly on the ends of my hair. “Yeah, babe. Everything’s gonna be okay.”

“You’re worried.”

“Just doesn’t feel right,” he mumbled against the crown of my head. He filled his lungs and sighed again.

I started stroking his chest, feeling the muscles underneath. This man was so strong, physically and mentally. He had seen the horrors of the world, and dealt with the memories every second of the day.

More times than I could count, I woke up to him in the grips of nightmares when his defenses were down in sleep. There had yet to be a time I couldn’t pull him back, and knowing he was going to be away from me for days at a time had me on edge.

Then there was the fact that he wasn’t on board with the plan. He loved his brothers, worried for them, and didn’t want to see another one fall. I didn’t want him to have new material to make his nights even darker.

I determined tonight I would give him a good one, something that would hopefully override the demons, if even for only one night.

I started by turning my head into his neck and tasting the pulse that beat so strong there. So alive. My mind wouldn’t accept that he would come back any other way.

Suddenly, I was desperate to have him before the ride took him away. What I had thought would be a slow seduction on my part turned into a taking.

It took seconds to turn and straddle his jeans. The arms of the chair were awkward and dug into my shins, but I ignored it to slant my lips across his.

I sucked his tongue into my mouth when it was offered and bit his lips when he took it back.

“Mmm, baby, yes,” he hissed. I arched my back and thrust my chest just as he buried his head in my breasts.

I got frustrated with the band in his hair. I wanted to feel the strands around my fingers and pull them tight to keep him there. I fought with it until it was gone, while he did his best to distract me.

I felt the collar of his shirt against my pinkies. That wouldn’t do.

I pulled the soft cotton up and over his shoulders. Tread let go of my nipple long enough to free his arms then switched to the other side. My bra fell from nimble fingers as I panted.

I moved my hips in a circle over Tread’s hardened cock to find the friction I needed.

“Wait, Gracie, wait,” Tread said roughly. Suddenly, his hands were on my hips and he was pushing me to stand. My jeans were down to my knees before I could contemplate being naked outside, something we had never done before. Tread’s eyes looked black in the darkness, the fire leaping in their depths when he pulled me forward and latched onto my clit.

With my knees bound, I fell forward, catching myself on the back of the chair. “Ah!” I couldn’t help but yell into the night.

He growled into my pussy, pulling a gasp from me. I watched the MC insignia tattooed on his back ripple and lunge from shadow to light when he added first one, then two fingers inside me.

“Oh my God,” I ground out through clenched teeth. I knew how much he loved doing this, but tonight was supposed to be about him.

I pulled out of his hold on my hips to kick off my jeans and quickly fell to my knees.

I attacked his belt as he ran a hand over his mouth. His short beard glistened with my wetness in the firelight.

He helped the process by lifting his hips, and suddenly he was as bare as I was. I wasted no time filling my hands with the weight of him. He didn’t have patience for this for long, so I angled the angry head and took him deep in my mouth.

“Holy fuck. Grace.”

I lived for the shock in his voice. He was so experienced. To be able to catch him off guard was something I strived for.

I swallowed around the head and felt his fingers flex in my hair. It caused goose bumps to cover my skin in anticipation.

Lifting my head, I left my mouth open when I looked up at him. His eyes were rings of fire, his hair wild and free, the skin tight on his cheekbones. Everything that he was, all of his energy was focused on me, a sheltered little girl from Utah. Tread at my front was as warm as the fire at my back.

I lowered my head again, but didn’t get far before Tread was lifting me under the arms and into his lap. I spread my legs and wasted no time impaling myself onto him with a gasp.

“My naughty little girl,” he said through clenched teeth as I started to rock. He slapped one butt cheek firmly and my toes curled.

There had never been anything we tried that I haven’t liked so far. Tread made me feel as alive as he was.

His hands gripped my waist, firmly pulling me up and down his length. “Tread,” I moaned and brought my mouth to his. Sparks shot off inside of me from the friction of the changed angle.

“Grace,” he said, lifting one hand to rub my clit, giving me exactly what I needed to shatter. “Fuck me, Grace, fuck. I . . .” Tread said, giving in to the pleasure right after me.

I wondered briefly what he was going to say, but forgot the thought when he stood and carried me back into the house. To our bed.

THIS WAS IT.

This would be the day where I made my worth well damned known.

This run would go smooth, I promised myself. At least the route would.

I checked over my bike, again and again. My fluids were filled, my saddlebags packed with pogey bait—I guessed I could have just called them snacks like a civilian—and smokes.

I skimmed through my wrist Garmin, double checking all the grids to ensure we would be on the right check.

I double checked the bug-out/hideout zones in our operation order to the support crew. Again. Hopefully those dipshits listened. If not, and I went down for something, they were fucked.

While the rest of the guys checked their gear, Slayer played in the background, classic metal pump up music. Every mission we had a music set list that would shoot red-hot adrenaline into our capillaries until they were on the verge of exploding.

Once the gear was checked, the garage would turn into a bunch of dudes beating their chests a la King Kong.

“You ready to fuck shit up?” Alt shouted as he slapped my shoulders hard, interrupting me from my much needed head banging.

I grabbed his face. “Fucking believe it!”

Benny was in his corner going ape shit, breaking shit, head banging and moshing to himself like that one guy at a concert. All alone, up front, high on bullshit and going crazy. He was going to need an intervention soon.

Mac was tying a headband on. The design was a subdued color-themed American flag. Instead of red bars, it was black. Once done, he put on his Ray-Bans and just strutted like a turkey, flexing muscles at the other alpha males in the room.

Really, you would think hardened soldiers were more mature, but there you have it.

Alt bounced from guy to guy, slapping them on the shoulders, as he would do when we played football in high school. He was that massive bouncy guy, full of energy and hulking muscle, jumping and running around like a dog barking its fool-head off before a run. If anyone else saw him like that, they wouldn’t believe it. His persona as hard-ass-with-no-sense-of-humor was rarely shed, except for moments like this.

Then there was Royal. He sat next to his bike, leaned back against the wall.

Calm.

Collected.

Watching. Always watching.

Smoking a cigarette and bobbing his head slightly. Judging by the rest of us, if I didn’t know better, I would say he wasn’t ready for an Op, but maybe a beer.

I did know him.

This was his Zen.

This was where he was near clairvoyant. You could practically see every scenario flash through his mind as he gave the crew this time to get pumped. The look on his face said that he loved us, we were his family, and he would die for us.

I fucking loved my crew.

We hated the operation, but the table voted it in.

No one would say a word in protest to the dumb shit we were doing, even if we all felt it.

Tonight’s mission was highly dangerous and had the potential to go completely FUBAR. We had to pick up some politician asshole from Mexico City that wanted out of the cartel’s pocket.

Apparently he had some plan on naturalizing in the States and running for some small town office in the predominantly Hispanic southwest.

We were picking this asshole up outside of our territory, too, which was abnormal. So much so it was the first ride I would ever run to pick up an international pizza.

The MC knew who its friends were and didn’t try to piss off the easily-agitated. Until now.

We would smuggle this douche to Albuquerque then hand him over to the Mayor; that was very, very abnormal. We usually liked to stay below the radar of political figures.

That shit got sticky quick.

Harvey entered with barely a glance at us. “Go time.”

A series of grunts, bellows, and whistles filled the room before the clattering of gear, ammo, vests, guns, and radios as the guys mounted their bikes.

Simultaneously, the garage erupted as the hogs fired up and one by one. We rolled out of the garage in order.

Harvey in the lead.

Royal off to his back right.

The rest of us lined up in columns, the roar of their engines bouncing off of the nearby buildings.

It was early morning, the indigo sky was giving way to a wash of orange-red. Even as early and chilly as it was, the girls were all there to see us off. Doves, sisters, and old ladies alike cheered us as we passed like it was some kind of parade. They didn’t know what we were going to do. They just supported us.

As my chest tightened with pride at our MC, my eyes locked onto my angel. Grace was tucked into her new leather jacket, hair still rumpled from my hands. I winked with a smirk and she laughed. In the morning sunrise, she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen.

As I passed my heart, and left it safely behind, we quickly departed our small town for the open road. This was my favorite part. The beginning.

It was so picturesque, watching the sunrise over a badass convoy of my brothers riding out into the desert. I couldn’t ask for more, and I remembered to be grateful and thank whoever was up above for the opportunity.

I’d also pray to that same whoever to bring all my boys back in one piece, mission successful. Most importantly, I prayed that I had the wherewithal to do what had to be done if shit got hot. We were all battle worn, but this was uncharted territory, and some of us hadn’t had our skills tested in a long time.

Everyone had that feeling in their gut, I thought. At least, I knew the second gen did. All of us were opposed, but what could we do?

The fear that not only would bad shit happen, but you would freeze up when it did seemed inevitable. In our way of life, that meant we were a failure and left you with feelings that we were cowards, unworthy, not fit to wear the cut.

These were the worst fears of anyone in the military, an MC, hell, even a street gang.

Bottom line, no one wanted to let the others down, or look like a pussy.

I tabled all of the doubts and focused on the bliss of the open road to the soundtrack of us whole. On rides, my mind freed up enough to quiet the jumble in my head.

It used to be that my mind went to negative shit.

Horrible things that my nightmares were made of.

I had new images, sounds, and smells to go off of.

Grace straddling my lap by a fire.

Grace’s cross wrapped around my handle bars and the tap it made on the tank.

The smell of her pussy, because I ate her out for breakfast.

What we did went beyond fucking, and I couldn’t have fallen more for one woman. Initially, it was the challenge. The untouchable, the innocence and how I wanted to smudge it.

There was the unexpected peace, and the emotional attachment that came along with it. I hadn’t slept that good in years as I did when I was with Grace. The demons lay down in supplication to my angel every time.

Then came the physical. She was so pretty, in an understated way, that I knew would be overlooked time and again by the stupid and unobservant. Thankfully, I was neither.

On top of that beauty, though, there was the personality that was blossoming every second of the day. My Grace came to me a sheltered virgin, and took on the title of old lady in an MC. She spread her wings in the bedroom and took flight in ways I would have never guessed.

If you would have asked me two months ago if I would give up a variety of pussy for one, I would have thought you were high. But Grace came with no hang-ups or preconceived damage from past partners. She was so trusting and eager to learn, I found myself counting down my day, and going home early from the saloon. Me, turning down a rowdy crowd, loud music, and booze for a quiet dinner in front of the TV and a slobbering dog.

She was my type when I didn’t know I had one.

Thanks to the vibrations of the bike and my runaway thoughts, I was riding out with my boys with a throbbing monster erection. Embarrassing if anyone bothered to look. Fortunately, we were not in the habit of checking out each other’s junk.

Time passed, along with my erection, as we crossed the border, illegally, via our land. Knowing that the Border Patrol had beefed up their security, and even had drones, made my neck itch with the feeling of being watched. I didn’t like it, but I wasn’t in a position to object. I didn’t like change. It was bad for my paranoia.

Hours later, the sun had already set and we were tired. At the meet, a white Escalade was waiting, loaded to the gills with well-dressed Mexicans in suits. It reminded me of some Secret Service shit, Mexican Edition.

I smiled to myself as a man in a gaudy white suit, purple undershirt, and striped tie climbed out. He went to Harvey and shook his hand.

The look over the shoulder, coupled with the sweat appearing on his forehead, told me he was nervous as shit. He should be. Stupid asshole was crossing the border ‘incognito’ in his, most likely, signature white Escalade with entourage that every person in this country would recognize.

What a fucking asshole. Was he trying to get killed? Was he trying to get us killed? Prick.

After a short conversation that was drowned out by my thoughts, Mr. Suit loaded his crew back into the truck. Harvey turned his bike around, followed by the first half of our convoy.

The Escalade was kept in the middle, and the second half, myself included, fell in behind. My adrenaline was ticking in my skull, tingling at the root of my humanity.

Fight or flight was fired up as I fully expected this asshole to have blown operational security and let slip the location of the meet. I waited for the anvil to fall from the sky and flatten us all.

To my relief, the pickup went off without a hitch. We made it out of the city, and we were on our way north.

After driving through the night, we crossed back into the U.S. The whole thing was looking good so far, and we were in the middle of no man’s-land New Mexico.

Unlike what they show in action movies, the middle of nowhere isn’t the ideal place for an ambush. There isn’t an approach you can take that won’t be noticed by your target.

Not to mention, this was the part of the desert that was flat and clear. There was nowhere to hide. This was the easy part.

I broke formation to take point of the convoy when the mountains picked back up. It was my job to lead this convoy on the correct routes, which was not the shortest way, but the safest.

I cued up my grid points on my Garmin and hit the throttle. I was sure to eye the asshole in the Escalade. I made a cross on my chest, true Catholic style, mostly just to make him nervous as I passed.

I shot forward and took my place at the front to direct this train of horsepower, muscle, and noodle-armed politicians.

Another hour passed and we were coming in and out of populated areas. Cars were traveling the road here frequently. I had tried to avoid populated roads at all costs, but it was inevitable, especially the closer the convoy got to Albuquerque. The first major choke point had come and gone with our arrival into civilization. My mind was almost at ease.

I didn’t even know if my adrenaline was there anymore, I was so tired from being on my bike this long. The paranoia was always there, every passing car, every Hispanic male driver was reason to tense up slightly when you were taking from the cartel.

I was just starting to think we might actually pull this off. That I was the fucking best Road Manager in the history of the world. That’s when it all went to shit.

A black Caprice came up in the fast lane. At first, I thought it was just another guy passing the convoy, until he matched speed with the Escalade. I watched my rearview for a split second before tossing up a hand. Alt was closest. He fell back to the passenger side of the Caprice, wedging himself between the two vehicles, and kicked the car. “Fuck off!”

I kept switching back and forth from the road to the rearview as we all tightened up around the white cage. I heard Alt shout, but the car wasn’t going anywhere. He pinned the throttle and with one booted kick he punted the side mirror off the car.

It still didn’t react. He fell back behind the car as another brother took position on the passenger side. He pulled his sidearm just to show the guy he wouldn’t be playing footsie.