Axe's Fall: Insurgents Motorcycle Club (Insurgents MC Romance Book 4) (7 page)

The membership whistled and held their arms in the air, waving their fists in support of the club’s solidarity. Each and every member would die for the other. The Insurgents were brothers, they were family, and they were loyal to the end. No one messed with them.

Banger stood up, and everyone quieted down. “I’ll take
that
as a unanimous vote that we stomp on whoever is responsible for bringing shit into our county.”

The guys whistled.

“Okay. Let’s hear from Hawk on the treasury report.”

Hawk opened his laptop and gave a stack of papers to Chas to hand out. Axe glanced at the numbers on his copy, but he zoned out when Hawk started going over them. His mind wandered to the same thoughts it always did since his one-night stand at his friend’s wedding—to the seductress in the celery-green dress. As hard as he tried, he couldn’t rid his mind of the luscious woman who made him come harder than he ever had. Her kisses were the perfect combination of sweet and nasty, and her tits? They were so soft and perfect. He couldn’t get enough of touching her skin; it was like velvet.

Axe glanced up and saw Hawk holding the ledger sheet and pointing to some column. Instead of paying attention, Axe debated whether to call his friend Derek on his honeymoon so he could ask his wife who her friend was. The thought of his perfect lay, the memory of the way she moaned and screamed as he made her come, sparked a fire so intense in Axe that it took him by surprise. He
had
to know who she was. He needed to see her again, and have his cock inside her once more. Axe had no idea why this woman grabbed him that way, but she did and seeing her again was imperative.

His hand flew up as he closed it over the annoying fly. Opening his fist slowly, he cursed when it was empty, his focus immediately going back to the woman. Axe was sure once they fucked a few more times, her pussy would be familiar and he’d grow bored and move on. Screwing the same woman became tiresome quickly for Axe. He usually was a one-time guy, so the fact that he wanted to hook up again with the mystery woman surprised the shit out of him. He had to admit that she was hotter than most; no wonder he wanted another taste. Once he had it, he could walk away. No problem. But until it happened, thinking about her all the time was driving him fucking insane. The only way he could stop the automatic replay his mind was stuck on since their one-night stand was to fuck her again.

When Banger yelled out Axe’s name, he was in the land of the tall, dark-haired woman, had her toned legs wrapped around him as he pummeled her tight cunt with his big dick.

Rock, who was standing behind Axe, nudged his shoulder. Axe blinked and focused on a not-too-happy Banger.

“Sorry. Did I miss something?”

Banger’s brow creased. “Get your goddamned head outta your ass. What goes on during church is important. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“It’s the heat, that’s all.” Axe looked down at the fly resting on the table, taunting him. He didn’t think Banger would understand if he gave more attention to the fly than to his president.

“Bullshit! You’ve been acting strange for the past week. I don’t know what’s wrong with you, but you need to get over whatever the fuck it is. Now.”

Diverting his eyes away from the fly, Axe glanced at Banger. “Okay.”

Banger rubbed his hand over his face. “What the fuck is going on with the strip mall project?” Irritation laced his voice.

“Oh, yeah. Well, nothing much. I’m meeting with the architects from Denver tomorrow morning, and I’ll go over the blueprints. The structural engineers will be there, as well. Unless there’s a major problem, we should break ground in a week.”

Banger nodded. “Good. You let me know how it goes every step of the way.” He took a big gulp of his ice-cold beer. “Don’t fuck up. Got it?”

Axe clenched his jaw and threw a hard look at Banger. “I’m on it.”

As Banger picked up the gavel, Axe jerked his hand out with lightning speed and crushed the fly. “Fuck you. Nothing messes with me,” he muttered under his breath as the gavel hit the table.

“Church over,” Banger boomed.

Axe scooted onto one of the bar stools lining the bar. Before he opened his mouth, the prospect placed a cold bottle of Coors in front of him. Axe drained it in one long pull. As the empty bottle hit the counter, another one sat in front of him. Axe wrapped his hand around the bottle.

“What’s up with you?” Jax asked as he swung onto the stool next to him.

Axe shrugged. “Nothing much. Same shit.”

Jerry leaned over and grabbed the shot the prospect placed on the bar. “No, he means what was that shit about in church?”

“Nothing. I was so damn hot, I couldn’t concentrate.”

“That’s fair,” Jax commented before he popped two green olives in his mouth. After swallowing, he said, “Why’ve you been avoiding the club girls?”

Axe slammed his beer on the bar. “I haven’t, and why the fuck is what I do any of your goddamned business?”

“Just wondering why a horn dog like you suddenly doesn’t want any club pussy. Getting it somewhere else?”

“Back the fuck off, okay? I’ve got this mall project on my mind, I’m helping out at the bike repair shop, and I don’t need to explain myself to any of you assholes.”

“Having a lot of shit to do never stopped you before,” Jax ribbed.

Jerry laughed.

Axe sulked. He was pissed because they were right. He wasn’t interested in club pussy, not when he had the image of the silkiest legs wrapped around him, and the best night of fucking he could ever remember.

“Hey,” Chas said as he slid next to Jax.

Axe, expression glum, stared straight ahead.

Tilting his chin to Axe, Chas asked, “What’s the matter with him?”

Jax popped some more olives in his mouth. “Got pussy—or, I should say,
lack
of pussy—on the brain.”

Chas chuckled. “Yo, brother, you do seem like you’re going through a dry spell, especially since you got back from Denver. Banger even noticed you’ve been weird.”

“We think he may have met someone there, and he’s getting prime pussy and doesn’t want to share.” Jerry laughed then motioned to the prospect for another shot.

Axe sat silent as he tried to quell the rage building inside him. If he didn’t temper it, he’d end up bashing some heads, and then Banger would be really pissed at him.
Damn, they’re right.

“So, did you meet someone?” Chas prodded.

Axe clenched his jaw and continued to stare ahead.
Fuck yeah, I met someone, but I don’t know who she is.

“You gonna tell us who?” Jax asked.

“More importantly, are you gonna share her? Not with these two, of course.” Jerry pointed to Jax and Chas. “They’re tied down already. But with me?”

Axe narrowed his eyes.
When I find her, I’m not sharing her with anyone. What the fuck is wrong with me? Jerry and I, and sometimes Throttle, love sharing women. Threesomes and foursomes is the way I usually roll around the club. What is it about this woman? Fuck, I don’t even know her name!

“Nope, Jerry, I don’t think he’s gonna share. She must be something real special for our buddy to keep her all to himself.” Jax clapped Axe on the shoulder.

Axe knocked Jax’s hand off him and downed his beer. He pushed away from the bar and looked at them. “Fuck the hell off.”

As he sauntered out, their guffaws surrounded him. Axe held up his middle finger high in the air and exited the clubhouse.

The Harley jumped to life as he switched on the engine. Sitting on his humming bike, Axe took out his phone and stared at the blank screen for a minute. The magenta-tinted clouds bathed the biker in a warm glow, the heat of the day dissipating as the coolness of the night crept in. Axe put his phone away, then took it back out and sent a text to Derek. He
had
to fucking know. Shifting gears, he left the compound and rode out into the open space.

K
nock. Knock. Knock.
Baylee covered her head with the pillow.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Louder that time.

“Ugh…” Baylee threw her pillow on the floor and propelled herself out of bed, padding to the door bleary-eyed. Opening it a crack, she groaned when she saw the broad smile on Logan’s face.

“Why in the hell would you be knocking at my door at seven in the morning?” she asked as she tried to finger-comb her bed-hair.

“I thought you’d be up. We have an important job to do, and you’re always so early and eager to get started.”

“We don’t have to be at the firm until nine o’clock. That’s like, in two hours.”

“Thought you might want to grab some breakfast. We can go over our strategy.”

“I don’t do breakfast. A strong cup of coffee, black, is all I need. Oh, and before you get any ideas, I don’t do lunch, either.”

“Wow. How do you function?”

Baylee shrugged.

“Get dressed and I’ll meet you in the restaurant for coffee. Say, in thirty minutes?”

“I’ll meet you at the firm at nine. Go away, Logan.”

“You’re cranky in the morning, aren’t you?”

Sighing, Baylee closed the door and trudged back to bed. What was Logan up to? They’d worked together for a little more than two years—she knew him, knew he wasn’t being solicitous for the hell of it. Perhaps he was awkward being in a new place and not knowing anyone but her, but Baylee was sure he was up to something. Maybe he was cozying up to her to find out what her ideas were, then he’d steal them from her and claim them as his own. It wouldn’t be the first time he did something devious like that on his climb up the firm ladder.

Baylee tried to get another hour of shut-eye before she had to start her day, but sleep eluded her; she tossed and turned, mashing her pillow to re-fluff it. Cursing Logan, she shuffled to the bathroom to take a shower.

An hour later, she slipped on a sleeveless, light gray pencil dress with a hemline that rose slightly above her knee. The dress hugged her in all the right places, showing off her curves in a subtle and professional manner. Light gunmetal four-inch pumps completed her look. Checking herself in the mirror, she swiped peach lip gloss over her nude lipstick. With her black leather briefcase and matching clutch bag in hand, she left her room.

Driving around Pinewood Springs was a breeze. That was one thing she hated about Denver—the constant traffic. It took forever to traverse the big city, but in less than ten minutes, she pulled her car in the firm’s parking lot.
Small-town living has its perks.

She was early. A smug smile whispered across her lips.
How’s that, Logan?
He was probably still stuffing his face with a ton of carbs. The man could eat. The first time they went out for lunch, she’d been amazed how much he could pack away. He was lean, so she figured he worked out a lot. Baylee didn’t know too much about Logan, and she wanted to keep it that way. Since they were on the same career path, it wasn’t a good idea to become too friendly, especially when it came to promotions and the like. Logan was very competitive, as was she, and they often clashed.

Baylee just didn’t trust Logan, and she presumed he didn’t trust her, either. The next few months in Pinewood Springs would prove to be more than challenging for her. She had to watch Logan, make sure he couldn’t sabotage her efforts. Claudia, who kept begging her to arrange a “meeting” with Logan, thought she was paranoid, but Baylee knew how cutthroat the corporate world could be, and Logan gave off slimier-than-average vibes.

“May I help you?” a pleasant-looking woman in her mid-fifties asked as she walked through the door.

“I’m Baylee Peters. I’m the architect from Denver, and I’m having a meeting with Stanley Danesk.”

“Yes, Ms. Peters. You are expected. You’re the only one here so far. Let me show you to the conference room.”

Baylee followed the secretary down a long hall lined with generic paintings of mountain scenes, boats, and ocean landscapes. The woman opened a door and invited Baylee into a medium-sized room with a long table and eight plush chairs covered in a burnt orange, geometric pattern.

“Would you like something to drink? Water, coffee, tea, or a soft drink?”

Baylee smiled warmly at the woman. “A cup of black coffee sounds great.”

“I’ll be right back with your coffee, Ms. Peters.”

After she left the room, Baylee took in the spectacular views outside. Pinches of green, purple, indigo, yellow, and pink carpeted the base of the sky-piercing mountains. Below the rock skyscrapers, the town thrived. Iron streetlights and elm trees dotted the sidewalks on the streets around the firm. A small park with a white-wood gazebo lent a nostalgic feel, and Baylee half-expected a brass band to start playing.

“Here you are.”

Baylee turned around and saw the secretary placing her coffee down on a coaster on the table.

“Thank you. What is your name?” she asked.

The woman smiled. “Tina Lambert. Is there anything else I can get you?”

“No, I’m fine. Thanks, Tina.”

At a couple of minutes to nine, Logan entered the conference room with three gentlemen. “That’s a good one, Stan.” Logan’s loud laugh grated her nerves.

Can always count on Logan to be the first one with lips puckered to kiss ass.
Baylee grinned to herself, standing as the men entered the room. Logan gave her a quick glance, disappointment registering on his face.

“Good morning, Logan.” She smiled sweetly.
That’s right. I’m not late, jerk.

“So, you made it okay.”

“Of course.” Baylee turned away from Logan and greeted the three gentlemen who were at various stages of checking her out. She extended her hand. “I’m Baylee Peters, an architect with Derry, Decker, and Vale.”

A man in his late thirties with short, blond hair and brown eyes grasped her hand and shook it. “I’m Stan Danesk. I’m a partner with Machol, Greenberg, Norton, & Danesk Engineering Firm. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” His eyes scanned back down to her bust.

“I’m James, lead engineer,” a bearded man with twinkling blue eyes said as he shook her hand.

“And I’m Fred. I’ll be working with Stan and James. I’m a newer addition to the firm.” A man about twenty-eight with red hair and big, brown eyes smiled and took her hand.