Axe's Fall: Insurgents Motorcycle Club (Insurgents MC Romance Book 4) (6 page)

The club whores and the hoodrats knew the score. They were at the clubhouse as property of the Insurgents, and that was the way they wanted it. In exchange for keeping the clubhouse clean, fixing some of the meals, and servicing the brothers whenever any of them wanted, the women had the protection of the club, all the pot they could smoke and booze they could drink, and the kind of freedom they craved. The hoodrats knew the score as well, and even though they weren’t Insurgents’ property, they willingly came to the club’s parties to lose themselves in drink, drugs, and sex for a short while.

Axe loved the easy sex without pressure. Yeah, that was how he rolled, and it suited him just fine.

Until now.
What the fuck?

He couldn’t get the woman in the celery-green dress out of his mind. The night they’d spent together had been absolutely wild. It was like she couldn’t get enough, like she was starving, and he was there to feed her cravings.

Her long, silky hair swishing across his body as she rode him drove him crazy. As he replayed the way her heavy tits jiggled as he slammed into her tight pussy from behind, and the feel of her incredibly soft lips peppering his taut skin with kisses, his cock hardened and strained against his blue jeans. The dark-haired sweetie did a fucking number on him, but he was still surprised that he couldn’t get her out of his mind, off his skin, or away from his dick.

“Feeling lonely?” a sultry voice purred. Long nails raked down his back.

He turned around and saw Lola, one of the club whores. Her green bikini top barely held in her tits, and her short skirt showed a glimpse of her curved ass cheeks.

“Hey, Lola.” Axe swiveled back to face the bar, his elbows on the counter.

“Hey, yourself. What are you doing all alone? Want some company?”

“Nah. I was just taking a break. It’s hot as Hell in the shop. Getting ready to go back.”

“I’m surprised you’re not with Rosie. She seems to be your favorite for the past few months. You haven’t been with me unless Rosie is there, too. I miss being alone with you.” Leaning in, she brushed her lips against his cheek and her tits against his arm.

Axe pushed her away. “I told you I have to get back to work.” Swinging his arm around, he added, “Find yourself another brother.”

Lola looked startled. He couldn’t blame her—he was startled, too. Did he
really
say that? He was turning down a good fucking with Lola? Something was definitely wrong with him.

Axe tossed back the rest of the beer in his bottle and stood up. “See you around.” He padded across the floor then walked out into the white heat of the day.

A
n oppressive heat
pushed in on Baylee as she left the cool confines of her car. The colorful flowers in large, mosaic planters and the elm trees surrounding the hotel stood still in the July heat. The dry, mountain air—thin and scorching—made her feel claustrophobic, like a mouse trapped in a shoe box. She hurried up the steps, seeking refuge inside the hotel lobby.

The cold AC slapped her face as soon as she flung open the glass doors, stealing her breath. If not for that, the first thing Baylee would have noticed was the four-story chandelier dangling over the atrium of the elegant hotel. Stained glass windows from when the Palace Hotel was first built in the late 1800s reflected their patterns on the marble floor, a kaleidoscope of color and brilliance.

Okay—maybe Pinewood Springs wouldn’t be so bad…

After registering, Baylee picked up her tote bag and headed toward the elevators. Glancing around the bustling lobby, she scanned the crowd to see if Logan’s face would be among them. She was sure he was staying at the same hotel, although she secretly prayed the firm had put them in different ones.

“Baylee.” Logan’s chipper voice bounced off the marble walls.

Damn.
“Logan.” She turned around and greeted him with a thin smile.

“What room number do you have?”

“I’m on the fifth floor.” She turned the keycard over. “Number five thirty-seven. I didn’t notice you when I checked in.”

“I’ve been here for about an hour. I came up a little early. I had to wait for my room to be ready, so I was hanging out in the bar.” He ran his hand through his short, brown hair. “I think we’re neighbors. My room is five thirty-eight.” He smiled.

Damnit.
“Great. Well, that’ll make it convenient if we have to work after hours.”

He nodded. An awkward silence ensued as Logan stared at Baylee while she brushed imaginary lint off her cotton knit top.

Picking up her tote, she said, “I’m going to head upstairs. I want to settle in. See you around.” She turned to the elevators and pushed the button, praying the door would open quickly.

“Do you want to have dinner together? We could go over our plan of action when we have to present the blueprints tomorrow.”

My plan to avoid Logan socially isn’t panning out at all.

“Thanks, Logan, but you know, I’m really bushed. I’m going to order room service and turn in early.”

He pursed his lips, nodding his acceptance. “We can have dinner another time. It’s not like we’re leaving any time soon. Maybe tomorrow night? We can go over what happens at the meeting.”

The elevator doors opened. All Baylee wanted to do was go to her room, close her curtains, and lay on the bed. A dull throbbing in her head threatened to turn into something nasty if she didn’t take a couple of aspirins soon.

Before she could walk inside the elevator, Logan grasped her arm. She turned.

“So, dinner tomorrow night?”

“That’s fine.” She had to get away.

“Excellent.” He let go of her arm. “I’m going to have one more beer. I’ll catch up with you later.”

“Whatever,” she mumbled as the door trundled shut.

Trudging down the hall, Baylee wondered what in the hell she was going to do in Pinewood Springs for three or four months. If the pace of small-town living didn’t drive her insane, she knew spending her time with Logan would push her over the edge.

After tipping the bellhop, Baylee kicked off her shoes and shuffled over to the window, squinting against the blaring sun. She sighed as she took in the blue skyline broken by the jagged peaks of the Rocky Mountains, dotted with dark green foliage.
Maybe I can get back into hiking. It’s been a while.
When Baylee was at the University of Colorado in Boulder, she and a group of her friends hiked many of the mountain trails that circled the university town. Once she graduated and moved back to Denver, her whole focus had been on her career.

Looking out the window at the beauty of the landscape, Baylee realized how much she missed doing some of the things she used to before she became a crazed career woman. It seemed that ever since she had her one-night stand, she’d begun to question if she were making a mistake to be so single-minded in her pursuits.

Logan’s smug face flashed in her mind. She couldn’t lose to him. She was the better architect; vanity wasn’t telling her that, only the facts. Baylee had bailed Logan out more than a few times over the past two years for simple mistakes he’d made on projects they worked on. She never told Gary, Bob, or Warren, and she was positive Logan wouldn’t have been as discreet if she were the one who’d screwed up—he’d be chomping at the bit like an impatient race horse at the starting line.

Once I make partner, I’ll slow down a bit. Maybe I’ll meet a nice, sexy man. Who knows?
Who the hell was she kidding? The only man she’d love to have in her life
and
her bed was the brooding stranger she spent the night with the previous week. Baylee couldn’t get him out of her mind. Even though her common sense told her she was crazy fantasizing over something that would never happen—she didn’t even know his name, for God’s sake—her body craved his touch, his wickedly delicious tongue which made her come over and over that night.

Damn.
When would he leave her mind? Probably not until she found a living, breathing replacement, and her purple vibrator wasn’t it. She heaved another sigh. At least she was far away from Denver, and she’d be so busy with the big construction project that by the time she returned home, her sexy one-nighter would be a very distant memory.

Baylee zipped open her tote bag, taking out a couple of aspirins and a bottled water. She pulled the curtains closed, replacing the brightness with a cool, comforting darkness. She downed the tablets, stripped down to her underwear, pulled down the bedspread on the king-sized bed, slipped under the sheets, and covered her eyes with her arm. As the low hum of the air conditioner began to lull her to sleep, she prayed the shadows from the past wouldn’t creep into her dreams, turning them into nightmares as they often did.
I need to sleep without the past clawing at my present.
Baylee tugged the soft blanket around her, then let sleep overtake her.

*     *     *

Axe stretched his
long legs in front of him and cursed under his breath about the malfunctioning air conditioner. It seemed that each time the temperatures hovered around one hundred degrees, the damn thing went out. His wet, gray muscle shirt clung to his chest, and his ripped biceps glistened with perspiration. After he guzzled down a bottle of ice-cold water, he twisted the cap of another and poured the chilly liquid over his head, bringing momentary relief.

A persistent fly buzzed around his face, and each time Axe tried to catch it in his large hand, the fly zipped away. The elusive insect pissed him off big-time, and he made it his mission to nail the fucker by the time church wrapped up.

Banger pounded the gavel on the old, scratched wooden table the members crowded around for their weekly meeting. The table couldn’t accommodate all thirty members, so metal folding chairs lined the concrete walls of the room. On hot days—even when the cooling system was working—the room was suffocating, but when the air conditioner fizzled, it was a sauna replete with the pungent scent of sweat.

“I know it’s hotter than Hell in here. The fuckin’ AC crapped out again. We got a repair man looking at it, but it’s happening too often. Seems like a good time to take a vote on replacing the unit. It’s gonna be expensive, though, ‘cause the repair guys are telling me that if we replace one, we gotta replace the other two that cool the building.”

“We got the money, let’s get rid of this fucker and get a new one. This fuckin’ sucks,” Bear said as he wiped his brow with the palm of his hand. Bear was large and stocky and didn’t tolerate the heat too well. He was always bitching how hot it was during the summer, and when the first snowfall came, he’d be out in the parking lot, laughing and doing wheelies with his Harley.

“Yeah, we got the money. Let’s vote. Seems like it’s gonna be unanimous, especially since it’s so fuckin’ hot in here.” Banger looked around the room. “All in favor of purchasing a new cooling system, say ‘aye.’ ”

The wave of “ayes” bounced off the walls, and Banger motioned to Jerry to come up front.

“Jerry, go tell that repairman we want to replace the whole system. Tell him I want to talk to him, so he’s to wait here until we’re done. Say, in ‘bout thirty minutes or so.”

As Jerry slipped out of the room, Banger addressed the members. “We got a problem in our county, and we gotta take action right away or it’s gonna be a mess.”

A loud bang on the table brought the eyes of the membership to Axe. He shrugged then motioned Banger to continue. When Axe lifted his hand up, he saw the fucking fly had dodged his fist.
Fuck!
He swatted the air as its buzzing filled his ears.

“As I was sayin’, we got a problem.” Banger looked toward Hawk, who stood up.

“Yeah, word is meth is being sold in this county.” He wiped the trickles of sweat running down his tanned face. “I know it’s been a long time since this shit has come up, but it was bound to happen. You know we have an implicit deal with the Feds to keep hard shit outta here, and they leave us and our dispensaries the fuck alone because of it. So we have to act fast, before they catch wind of it.”

“I’ll bet it’s those sonsofbitches Dustin and Shack. They’ve been trying to get back at us ever since we put them outta business. We shoulda killed them when we had the chance,” Jax said, his hot face made redder from anger.

The membership emitted sounds of fury, and Banger had to hit the gavel three times before the room calmed down. Hawk shook his head. “It’s not those guys.” He held his hands up, silencing the protests from a few members. “My old lady and I went down to southern Colorado last week for her friend’s wedding. While we were in Puebla, I stopped by the Night Rebels’ clubhouse, and Steel told me the meth was coming from a new MC who’re calling themselves Skull Crushers. The prez said the shit wasn’t coming from the Deadly Demons or the Demon Riders, who we know Dustin and Shack are riding with now, only these punks who’ve started the MC.”

“They wearing a bottom rocker that says
Colorado
?” Throttle asked, his voice hard as iron.

“Steel says no. If they had that shit on their cut, we’d be talking about a turf war right now. Seems like they’re a group of Neo-Nazi punks who ride rice burners, don’t get what respect is, and think they’re invincible. Fuckin’ assholes who need to be dealt with. Of course, I’m getting confirmation on all that, but once I find out it’s them, they’re dead.”