Axe's Fall: Insurgents Motorcycle Club (Insurgents MC Romance Book 4) (16 page)

Snapping his fingers, Axe said, “That’s all good, but give me the cash, dude.”

“The cash?”

“My winnings.”

Rock grabbed two women from the spectators and shoved them toward Axe. “These are your winnings. A blonde who likes it in the ass and a brunette who loves a big cock in her mouth. We’re low on redheads tonight, but you’ll have fun with these two. I know you like more than one bitch in your bed. Enjoy.”

The two women curled themselves around him.

Frowning, Axe rubbed his chin. “I thought we were playing for money.”

“Fuck, this is better than money.”

“I got something I gotta do.” He pushed the women toward Rock. “You enjoy.”

“What the fuck, brother? You won ‘em fair and square.”

The blonde whined. “You’re the one who gets us, baby. You’re the winner.”

Two weeks before, he’d have been all over those two hot bitches, but all he could see was Baylee’s face and ripe body as he checked them out. Shaking his head, he said, “Dude, I’m not feeling so good. You’ll owe me two bitches next time we play.”

Rock, Jerry, Chas, and Jax stared at him in shock. Fuck, he was shocked with himself. He’d never turned down prime pussy before, especially an eager double. The sexy minx at the hotel had made him all kinds of messed up.

“Later.” He fought his way through the crowd and left the clubhouse. Raking his fingers through his hair, he swung his leg over his Harley. The engine revved and he peeled out of the parking lot, leaving the surprised looks and questioning eyes behind him.

The night air was warm, and the glittering stars dusted the dark sky. Summer nights were some of the best times he loved to ride his Harley. The wind whistled around him, and the nearly desolate back roads became his playground as he twisted the throttle, accelerating to high speeds. The open road, a purring bike, and good throttle control were some of the best feelings in life. When he made his bike soar, it was the ultimate act of freedom, one step above a prison break.

Riding hard and fast always cleared his head, and he needed to do it because he hated the feelings stirring deep down inside him. Feelings he hadn’t entertained since he was a teenager and dated Amber back in high school.

Amber had been his first love, and after he’d found her fucking one of the jocks, she’d been his last. After a few days she’d come crawling back to him, begging for his forgiveness, and he’d left her sobbing without so much as a backward glance. But she’d broken his heart, even though he’d never showed it. From that day on, he’d never had any use for women except for pleasure.

How he’d hated high school; it’d been a pain in the ass. Axe had come from the trashy part of town. First from the trailer park, and then from a broken-down house that the city had condemned after he joined the Insurgents.

He’d always been able to hold his own, and he’d saved Derek from the bullies at their elementary school. From as early as he could remember, he’d always been an outsider, and it suited him just fine.

When he recalled his high school days, he couldn’t remember a time when he hadn’t been in trouble. Smoking, drinking, fighting, and skipping classes were how he’d passed his years in school. The truth was he’d been bored out of his mind, and by the middle of senior year, he’d just quit going to class altogether. His advisor had told him to stick it out a few months so he’d be able to graduate with his class, but he hadn’t given a shit. He hadn’t felt the closeness or unity the other classmates did. He’d been a loner.

Derek moved to Denver when they were sophomores in high school. He’d been Axe’s only male friend. Axe hadn’t had any problems with the girls, and most of them sneaked glances at him, loving his bad-boy attitude. He’d been exactly the type of boy a fine young girl’s parents warned her about.

Axe had been a rebel, and the girls had loved it, but their boyfriends had hated him for it. When he’d walk down the hall, the girls would squeal and blow kisses at him, while the guys clenched their fists. They’d hated him for his confidence, his fuck-the-world attitude, for being what they lacked the courage to be. So they’d come after him in the gym locker rooms, the bathrooms, and after school. They’d always come in packs, too fucking scared to face him alone.

At first, he’d pretended to be tough, even though his insides quivered. But later, he’d welcomed them, wanted to fight them, to feel their bones crunch under his hard fist and see their blood spill. At that point, they’d realized he was the real deal, and they left him alone.

If Axe had to name the one person he’d hated more than anyone else during high school, Palmer Rodgers would be the one.

Palmer had come from the rich part of town, and he thought his shit didn’t stink. When Axe had been fifteen, he’d been Palmer’s and his pack of snobs’ favorite punching bag. Palmer had despised Axe—saw him as nothing more than trailer trash.

When Axe had turned sixteen, they’d come for him, but he’d been prepared. He’d beat the shit out of Preston and Carter—two of Palmer’s best buddies—and was coming for Palmer himself, but the wuss had run away. After the beating, they’d stayed away from him, but the looks, the whispers behind his back, and the cold shoulders had given Axe the message that he was trash and unworthy of their time.

But when he’d ride his loud, big-ass Harley to school, he’d see hunger in the girls’ eyes, and respect in the guys’.

He’d bought the Harley after working two jobs non-stop over the summer for three years, and a full-time job during school. His uncle Max had told him if he earned half of the money for the Harley, he’d put up the other half. When Axe had brought the money to his uncle, he’d been surprised, but he’d honored his end of the bargain.

The Harley had been used, a bit beat-up, but in Axe’s eyes, it’d been the coolest thing he’d ever seen. Right from the start, he’d started working on it, and he’d found out there was a kick-ass bike shop, Thunderbird Repair Shop. That was how he’d met Hawk, who introduced him to the Insurgents MC when he’d turned seventeen.

The year he’d fucked and dumped Palmer Rodgers’s girlfriend to show the rich fucker he could make the girl scream louder than Palmer ever could, Axe had no more use for school.

His mom hadn’t given a shit; she’d been too busy spreading her legs and popping pain pills. So he’d earned his GED and left all the bullshit of high school—especially Amber—in the past.

He hadn’t thought of Amber in years, but Baylee stirred all this shit from his past. Having feelings other than lust for her pissed him the hell off. He didn’t want to care about her. When Baylee had set up the “casual sex, no strings attached” liaison, Axe should’ve been elated. If any other woman told him that, he’d be thrilled. All the women who were on his fuck list knew his rules: no phone calls, no cuddling, and no repeats. Just fun and pleasure between the sheets. But when Baylee told him what he’d told countless women, disappointment and anger warred inside him.

The first time he’d touched her at the wedding reception, a current zapped him and surprised the hell out of him. He’d never felt such intensity from anyone.

The fact that she was in Pinewood Springs on the strip mall project was too freaky for it not to mean anything. Axe wasn’t the metaphysical type, but even he had to admit it seemed like something was bringing them together.
What the fuck am I thinking? In two weeks, I’ve turned into a fuckin’ pussy.

On the way back, he turned off his brain and put himself in the ride and the wind. He swung a sharp left into the clubhouse grounds. The heavy bass could be heard out in the parking lot, the party in full-force.

After the fresh air, the scent of sweat, cigarettes, and weed was suffocating. He left the laughter, grunts, music, and conversation behind and entered his room, locking the door. He sat on the edge of the bed and took out his phone. Staring at the screen for a minute, he started to plug in Baylee’s number, but stopped and placed the phone down on the nightstand. He lay down on the bed, covering his eyes with his arm as the moonlight spilled over him from the open window.

Saturday couldn’t come fast enough.

T
he man reached
across his desk to grab a notepad, his cuff sliding up to reveal a white scar above his wrist. He blew out a breath and rubbed the back of his neck. “Are the shadows becoming any clearer?” he asked into his phone.

His contact on the other end tentatively replied, “In some aspects, yes.”

“You’re fucking the psychiatrist’s nurse for
that
?” the scarred man asked, a sharp edge to his tone.

“She’s only reading what the shrink puts in his notes in Baylee’s file.” There was a pause before the other man continued. “One thing’s for certain: she is remembering more each session. Baylee called her shrink a few days ago and told him she recalls that her mother’s killer had a thick scar on his right arm, starting above his wrist.”

The scarred man took in a breath. “Fuck.”

“I know. The images are becoming clearer.”

“I have someone watching her. I can’t take the chance of a full recall. I think it’s time she joins her mother. I…
we
have too much to lose. Now that she’s in Pinewood Springs, I’ll take care of it. Something I wished you would’ve done years ago.”

The baritone voice trembled. “Do you think that’s necessary? Remembering a scar is not the same as a face.”

“The face will come soon enough. I’m not willing to take the risk, are you?”

He let out a long breath. “No,” he whispered.

“Didn’t think so. Leave everything up to me. If you learn anything more from the nurse, let me know immediately. Understood?”

“Yeah, right.”

“Baylee Peters would have been better off shrouded in darkness.”

*     *     *

Baylee rushed around,
cursing herself for letting the time get away from her when she went antique shopping in west Pinewood Springs. As she finished putting on her mascara, her phone pinged.

Here.

She shook her head, smiling.

Baylee:
Running a tad behind. Will be down in ten.

Axe:
Don’t like to wait. Come down.

Too bad, macho prick. For that comment, you get to wait ten minutes more.
She slowed down, taking her time to apply her lipstick and gloss before she changed into her black jean skirt and lacy lavender crop top. It showed a bit of cleavage and the slight swell of her breasts, but the top didn’t come off as slutty. The lace made the look sexy, but soft. The bottom came right above her belly button, and she dabbed bronzer on her flat stomach to cover up some of the whiteness of her skin. She never had time to sunbathe or enjoy the summer days, usually having her tans sprayed on her. She made a mental note to find out if the town had anyone who did that.

As she buckled her high-heeled sandals, her phone pinged again.

Axe:
What the fuck?

Baylee:
Almost ready.

Axe:
When I say 6:30, woman, I don’t mean 7.

She scrunched her face.

Baylee:
It’s not 7. Be down in a minute. Chill, will you?

Axe:
I never chill, babe.

She rolled her eyes, combed out her hair, grabbed her purse, and headed out the door. While she walked down the long hallway, her insides were churning. She chided herself for being so nervous. Why did Axe make her insides twist?
Silly.

She exited the elevator, and on her way to the lobby she spotted Axe, all six-foot-three of him in his tight jeans, black biker boots, and fitted t-shirt. His back was to her, and his firm ass, corded muscles, and drool-worthy tatted arms made her tingle. Each time he shifted from one foot to the other, the ink on his arms danced. She paused for a few minutes, watching him. He was gorgeous, and all hers, at least for the night. A flutter of arousal skated from the tips of her breasts, down her stomach, and straight to the dampness between her legs.

Baylee approached him as he turned around, his dark eyes slowly roaming over her body. His gaze began at her feet then moved up, lingering on her exposed belly button, then her cleavage. It finally rested on her mouth. He looked up at her, brown eyes smoldering, his full lips curved in a sensual invitation.

His shock of dark hair and perfectly formed eyebrows, along with an angular nose, chiseled cheeks, and five o’clock shadow always took her breath away. No doubt about it, he was all man—bulge and all.

He nodded to her, breaking the mesmerizing moment they shared.

“Sorry I’m late.”

He drew her close to him, his rough chin scraping against her jawline. “It was worth it. You look beautiful.”

Smiling, she pushed him back then looked around, making sure Logan was nowhere to be seen.

A crease crossed his forehead as his eyes turned stormy. “What the fuck? Don’t pull away from me.”

“Logan… Remember?”

“Give me your lips.” He slammed her against his hard chest and captured her warm mouth with his.