Wild Ways (9 page)

“Had a friend from my early military days who rode with the Kings of Chaos,” Julian said. “I saw a few of them but they didn’t seem like they’d be forthcoming if I asked about him. I have no idea where he is these days, just that he used to be in the Oklahoma City area.”

Good work yourself
. He’d thrown it out there without actually asking anything. She would have just asked about Di without much preamble. Her goal was get in, find out what she needed to know, and get out. Julian was finessing it.

Venom made a venomous sound. “Kings are assholes. Probably good you didn’t
talk to them.”

“Yeah, hard to believe Brick got tangled up with guys like that. He was an ordinary guy in the service.”

“Brick,” Venom repeated, as though searching his memory.

Julian crooked his fingers at her. “Give me my phone,
querida
.”

His phone? No, her phone, with the picture of Di and Brick. As she dug it out, she realized he’d called her by one of those endearments he’d mentioned. She went right to the picture and handed it to him.

Venom and Buzzkill both looked at the picture, then shook their heads. “But not a lot of King action around here,” Venom said. “We keep ’em out of our territory.”

Venom excused himself and wandered back to the others, probably reporting back. One guy with thick, wild black hair and a beard to match scowled as he looked their way.

Buzzkill started talking to some other guy who’d come up to the bar. The bartender, who’d obviously been listening, said, “You ought to check over at Devil’s Inn in Devil’s Tail, Missouri. It’s a biker outpost, like a neutral zone between the different territories, and it’s just a ways off the main thoroughfare between the chapters. Lang Stevenson, who owns the Inn, knows just about every biker that comes through.”

“Thanks for the info, but it’s a bit out of our way,” Julian said casually. She had a feeling he wasn’t casual about it at all. “If we ever get by, who should I say sent me?”

“Chumley. He’ll know me.” He grinned, showing off a front gold tooth. “We go way back. Army.”

Even after Venom returned, the man back at their table kept watching them. She forced herself to turn away, surveying any newcomers while Julian continued to talk with the guys. Once Julian showed them his skill—flicking a pretzel so that it landed in the precise spot he wanted every time—the two Vipers were all about trying to outdo his stack of pretzels sitting atop his beer bottle.

As tough as these guys looked, they greeted each other affectionately, hugging and even kissing in greeting. Every time a woman with red hair or a red hue to her hair
came in, Mollie’s heart spiked. Hope and disappointment, that bitch of a seesaw. Most of them looked as though they’d been ridden hard and put away wet, as the saying went. She began to understand what Julian had meant by the fact that she was too pretty and healthy to look like a biker-gang chick.

One woman let guys grope her as she shot pool. She laughed when one slid a pool cue right up between her legs. Mollie fought not to look shocked or disgusted, even as the scene riveted her attention. She didn’t see the scowling guy until he’d come up on them.

Julian had. That tension returned to his body language as he was introduced to the Vipers’ sergeant at arms, a man named Blackbeard. Probably in his late forties, the club’s enforcer bore the skull and crossbones patch, along with a score of others. She knew they all had meaning, signifying their sexual prowess or if they were injured while riding. This guy had a patch with crossed rifles on it. He also sported a bunch of prison tattoos, including a rudimentary spiderweb and a teardrop near his eye.

Blackbeard wasn’t shaking anyone’s hand. He planted his meaty fists on his hips. “Venom says you’re looking for a Kings of Chaos member.”

Julian shrugged. “I’ve been keeping my eye out for a guy I served with a few years back. Brick used to tell us about riding with a badass motorcycle club.”

Mollie watched Blackbeard’s face for any sign of name recognition. He gave away nothing.

Blackbeard scanned Julian. “Where are your military tattoos?” He pointed to an Army one on his biceps. Below that was a skeleton in uniform holding an assault rifle.

Julian pulled aside his outer shirt and then his tank top to reveal the eagle on his chest. “That’s as military as I get.”

Odd that he didn’t identify himself as a SEAL. Well, she sure wasn’t going to volunteer it.

“Heard the Kings had some trouble this morning,” Blackbeard said. “Couple guys and a woman shot some of their assholes.” His gaze went to her and then back to him.

“Brick used to talk about all the trouble between the clubs.”

“Normally I wouldn’t care, but my idiot cousin rides with them.” Blackbeard
snapped his fingers at the bartender, who produced a beer within seconds. “You don’t have stars and stripes on your tank, do you?”

Julian didn’t give away anything either, not even a twitch. “Nope. Mine’s blue.”

The two tap-danced around accusations and denials for several more minutes. It was apparent that the man wasn’t going to be leaving them alone anytime soon.

Before long, her bladder was jumping up and down and waving to get her attention. Now that the bar was much busier, she
really
didn’t want to go to the restroom alone, even with her gun. She felt a lot less secure with having it after the altercation behind the bar. It sure hadn’t done her any good then. And here, the women were almost as scary as the men, like they’d bitch-slap her for blinking the wrong way. Even worse, the restrooms were down a hallway and out of sight of the bar.

Finally, she couldn’t stand it anymore. She put her hands on Julian’s shoulders and leaned close to whisper, “I have to go to the restroom. Please come back with me.”

Blackbeard guffawed. “Whatsa matter, you afraid to go peepee by yourself?”

Damn, how had he heard her?

Julian stepped away from the bar and gave the guys a grin. “It’s our code.” He slid his hand down her behind and squeezed. “My lady has a need, if you know what I mean.”

She hoped the embarrassment of Julian’s cover story didn’t show on her cheeks, or at least that her flush wasn’t obvious in the dimness. That she would be horny enough to want to do it in the bathroom of a place like this … she shuddered at the thought.

Julian shadowed her as she made her way through the crowded, noisy space toward the back. She managed to say, “Sorry. I didn’t think he could hear me.”

“Dude’s got good hearing. I don’t want these guys thinking you’re afraid to go alone. They’ll pounce on fear like a cat on a mouse.” He glanced toward the end of the hallway where two people were snorting something next to an old phone booth. “I had to give them a reason for me to go with you that they’d understand. And they understand sex. Trust me, in a place like this, a man and woman going into the bathroom together won’t even raise an eyebrow. It’s a good diversion, too. I don’t like that guy’s questions.
This breaks up the conversation, and then we can leave.”

A woman came out of one of the doors. Julian glanced back across the room. “We’ll have to put on a show if we don’t want to pique Blackbeard’s suspicions even more.” He took her hand, pulled it to his mouth, and planted a kiss on her palm that skittered down her spine. Then he pulled her into the men’s room.

She squeaked, covering her eyes.

“There’s no one in here. Quick, use the stall. Hopefully no one comes in over the next couple of minutes, we step out looking satisfied and that’s that. Other than my pride at only lasting that long.”

She still didn’t want to look. A men’s bathroom in a place like this, the image would sear into her eyes like the stink of a skunk permeates the cells. At least it didn’t smell too awfully bad. She dashed into the stall, took care of business, and exited. “Let’s get—”

The door opened and before Venom even walked in, Julian was already tugging her into the stall, his mouth on hers.

“Sorry to interrupt, dude, but I gotta piss like a racehorse,” Venom said, unzipping his pants as he settled in front of a urinal.

“Whatever,” Julian said as he slammed the door shut. He nuzzled her neck, making animalistic sounds that ruffled her senses. “He’s checking on us,” he murmured between those sounds. “Which means showtime.”

No way. No friggin’ way
. She had never in her life had sex in a public bathroom. Through the crack between the stall and the door, she could see that Venom was angled slightly so he could see inside. He was definitely checking out their story.

Julian pinned her hands against the wall of the stall and kissed her. He ground his pelvis against hers, and to her surprise, she felt his arousal. To her shock, she felt her own, a strand of heat unfurling low in her belly. They were going to have to convince this guy that they were two horny lovers who weren’t concerned with finding a nice place to make love. Or that someone was on the other side of the stall listening.

Right now, they had to be a different breed of people. But could she …

Julian ran his hands down her back, cupping her butt. His mouth moved over hers, sucking on her lower lip, simulating a French kiss. He pulled her flush against him, pressing what felt like a steel rod into her stomach. Another strand of heat unfurled.

This is pretend. So let go
.

He leaned close and whispered, “I’m going to take you from behind. You know what to do, right?”

Panic infused her. She gave a subtle shake of her head. Missionary or woman on top in a bed was her experience. And half the time the guy couldn’t get it up or keep his erection because of some antidepressant drug effects or other emotional issues. Then she spent the rest of the evening soothing his ego.

God.

“Relax,” he said softly into the shell of her ear. “We’re just pretending. Be easy with me.”

Julian turned her to face the back wall and reached around to unzip her jeans. He bent her forward and placed her hands against the tiles. She spread her hands to maintain her balance, and he jerked her jeans down to her thighs. He caressed her ass, the span of his hands covering her cheeks, squeezing.

“You have an amazing ass,” he said reverently, drawing his thumb down the seam of her crack.

And you’re an amazing actor
, she wanted to say, because she believed that he meant it.

He made motions like he was extracting his erection and sliding it inside her. He gripped her hips and started moving against her. The hard ridge of him beneath the fabric of his briefs thrust against the base of her sex.

Pretending, she reminded herself. But there was nothing pretend about the heat building inside her, the thrum of desire flooding between her legs. The possessive way he held her, controlled her, amped it up even more. Be easy, hell. She was on fire.

Remember, you’re in a restroom with a creepy biker standing on the other side of the stall listening. Maybe even watching. And …

All those thoughts, and their surroundings, floated away as Julian pushed up her shirt and left a trail of hot kisses down her spine. He was murmuring in Spanish, and even though she had no idea what the words meant, they left a similar trail of heat through her core. Then he said her pretend name, soft and guttural, and his hands swept down to slide across her bare stomach.

A long “Mmmmm” escaped her mouth, reminding her that she should be making sounds if she were that horny, that loose and free and wild. It was easy to release the sounds that rose from some decadent place inside her.

Pretending
.

Or was she?

One hand moved higher up on her ribcage, and she involuntarily pressed into his touch. Begging for him to move higher, to cup a breast that ached for contact. She was just acting, so she could let herself be a little wanton. Needy.

Julian must have felt her ache because his hands cupped her breasts over her bra. He was trying to maintain both the illusion and a sense of propriety, but she wanted him to push her bra up, away, and touch her, palm to skin. But even his fingers stroking her through the fabric felt incredible.

Julian’s Spanish grew in intensity as he thrust harder and faster. The intensity behind his words surged through her. He positioned his hands at her hips again, gripping them. Then he let out a hoarse sound with one final thrust. She felt no warm wetness, no sign that he’d actually come, but his erection was real enough. Was he that good of an actor?

His breaths pulsed against her back as he leaned down to gather her in his arms. After a few moments, he pulled his pelvis away, helped her to a standing position, and pulled up her jeans. She only glimpsed black briefs before he zipped his own. He gathered her face in his hands and murmured more of those words, now soft and sensuous, before kissing her. His kisses, even chaste as they were, drove her crazy. Crazy bad, crazy good, sweeping away all reason.

“Mmm, same to you,” she managed.

He chuckled, low and throaty. “Let’s roll. We’ve got a few hours of riding before we can stop for the night.”

They exited the stall, finding no sign of Venom now. Another guy was in there washing his hands, and he gave them a look she wasn’t sure was admiration or jealousy, maybe both.

Julian pulled her through the room and back to the bar. Venom and Buzzkill lifted their beers in a salute. They had apparently been satisfied that Julian wasn’t up to something. No Blackbeard in sight. Julian told them they needed to roll and bid them goodbye. As soon as they stepped outside, he pressed his finger over his mouth in a silent
Shhh
.

It was still light, which made Blackbeard more than easy to spot as he prowled the row of bikes. He probably outweighed Julian by twenty pounds, but Julian showed no sign of being intimidated as he strode toward his bike. Mollie subtly let her hand hover near her gun, the way Julian did.

Blackbeard walked closer. “I just talked to my cousin. A bullet sliced an inch off his scalp.” The bastard who’d sneaked into her car.

Julian pushed his bike forward and positioned it for a getaway. But he kept his hands free, letting the bike lean against his hip. “Maybe he was doing something he shouldn’t have,” he offered, as though they were having a conversation about the weather.