Beyond Christmas (Corrupt Chaos MC #1.5) (3 page)

Lifting me, my legs settle around his waist as our kiss deepens. The need to have him again itches at the back of my throat. Damn, I’m an addict.

All too soon, the sound of someone clearing their throat tears us from our bubble. Simultaneously, we turn our heads to see Whisky standing by the entrance of the kitchen, shaking her head and grinning. “Are you two done, yet? I had to lock the front for the last fifteen minutes because you were makin’ too much noise. Get that frosting mess cleaned up.” She points to us and the table. “Then come on out. Fawn and Cas just arrived.” Pausing a beat, her eyes zero in on Lachlan. “You can thank me later,” she says, and then she’s gone before either of us can get a word in edgewise.

I turn my attention back to Lachlan and peck his swollen lips. “We were just about to have sex again.”

“Aye.” He pecks my lips in return and carefully sets me down on the ground. “I’m ready for round two.”

I know he is. Truthfully, I am, too.

Sliding my pants and shoes back on, I look up and grin at my handsome man. “Tonight—you, me, some candles, music, and our new tub. I can’t wait to have my mouth on,” my eyes drop to the straining erection in his jeans, “him.”

Lachlan readjusts himself, squirming under my heated gaze. “Ye like him, dinnae ye?”

I finish slipping my final shoe on and stand up. “I love him, but not as much as I love you.”

Lachlan hooks his arm around my shoulders and pulls me in for a hug, pressing kisses into my hairline. My arms wrap around his middle, cheek on his chest. “Love ye, too. Now, let’s get that shit outta yer hair. Then I’ll introduce ye tae Fawn. Aye?”

Nuzzling my nose into his pec and inhaling a deep lungful of his scent, I exhale on a sigh, “Okay, sweetheart,” then break from his embrace. It’s time to get this crap outta my hair.

“Fawn, I’d like ya to meet Mags, Smoke’s old lady, and my right-hand chick over at the shop,” Cas introduces, nudging his daughter’s shoulder with his.

She extends her hand to me and we shake. It’s like touching a dead fish. “Hi, Fawn. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” I try to sound cordial, even though this young woman has bad girl written all over her. I’m not sure what screams it more—her leather pants and low-cut tank with too much cleavage, her tattoos, nose ring, dark purple hair, smoky makeup, or maybe her I-don’t-give-a-rat’s-ass posture. You know what I’m talking about, right? Where she’s too cool to stand up straight, look you in the eye, or act like she gives a damn. She would be pretty, I think, if it weren’t for her getup. Although, she kinda looks like a low-class harlot, and I mean that in the nicest way. Definitely not the girl I pictured as Cas’s flesh and blood. Okay, the tattoos, maybe. But the rest? Nope.

Her hand flops from mine and settles on her hip. Then she looks to her dad, attitude surging off her in waves. “Can I get my cookies now, and leave? Corey’s waitin’ on me back at the house.” She smacks her lips, eyes rolling, and I’ve never wanted to slap a child so much in my entire life.

Lachlan shuffles closer—hovering. It’s like he knows I’m getting angry. I peer over my shoulder to see him and fake a smile of reassurance. Guess he doesn’t buy it. I can tell when he frowns and shakes his head at me. I shift my gaze over to the corner not far from Lachlan, where Bridget stands with Whisky, both of them scowling this way. Apparently, they’re not thrilled about Fawn either.

“You can do what ya want. You’re grown. But, that boy needs to hit the pavement before I get home tonight. Got it?” Cas isn’t taking ‘no’ for an answer. Good. I’m glad he has a friggin backbone.

Fawn exhausts a sassy sigh. “Yeah, got it. No boyfriend at the house. No boyfriend for dinner. No boyfriend for anything. I heard you the first hundred times.”

Cas nods. “That’s right.” Then hooks an arm around his daughter's neck, giving her a sideways hug before kissing her forehead. She melts into him like a daddy’s girl, her badass façade fading fast. “Now, be good. And, if you fuck him in my house, I’ll know. Then Smoke and I will kill him before sundown. Got me?”

“Got you,” she grumbles, peeling away and walking to the front door. Grabbing a teal bag off the nearest table, she raises her hand and yells, “Later,” before disappearing through the exit.

Once she’s out of sight, everyone’s eyes swing to Cas.

“That was some shit!” Whisky is the first to interrupt, sauntering her feisty self our way until she’s standing next to me with a shy Bridget glued to her hip.

“Don’t give me that,” Cas says, pulling out a chair and dropping into it with a tired groan. He runs his hands through his dark hair. “She’s home for three weeks. Corey’s here for two of those. I’m just tryin’ to make do.”

“Bullshit. She’s gettin’ worse. What do you know about this Corey, anyhow?” Dang, Whisky is going all supermom on his rear end.

Lachlan slides to my other side, his palm resting on my lower back. It feels like Casanova intervention time. Is that what this is? Gee-golly, I hope not. We’ve only been up here for maybe three minutes. I don’t even know what went down before this, and maybe I don’t wanna know.

Guess I don’t have much of a choice when Whisky continues. “That girl is in a downward spiral. Her mama’s gone and all she’s got is you. What you gonna do about it? You gonna sit on your ass and pretend she’s not inkin’ up her body with jailhouse tats? Or wearin’ clothes worse than some of the groupies wear to the parties? You want her to be one of those? You want her livin’ like that? Bein’ a piece. You want her to be
a piece
, Danny?”

Cas scowls, curlin’ his lip. “Fuck, no, I don’t. But that asshole she’s datin’ is thirty-five and a complete loser. He tats on the side. No other job. All his art is shit. I tried sittin’ down with him when they rolled into town. Wanted to like the man, but don’t. He’s a tool. He’s too old for her.
And,
he’s fruity.”

“Hey!” Whisky barks, clapping her hands. “You can’t talk like that!”

Cas holds his palms up in mock defense. “I’m not sayin’ there’s anythin’ bad about bein’ fruity if you accept you’re that way. Hell, I’ve seen Bonez bag some guy’s ass—not on purpose or anythin’. But I can tell when a guy should be datin’ someone like Bonez. That fucker belongs with him, not Fawn.”

I can’t help myself when I cut in. “So you’re sayin’ that her boyfriend likes boys, and he’s too old for her? Aren’t you bein’ a little bit of a fartknocker? I mean, Lachlan and I are more than ten years apart. And, so what if he’s the way you say he is. That’s for him to choose if he wants a man or not. Not you. Why are you bein’ such a judgmental butthead?”

Cas smirks at me, rubbing his chin. “Fartknocker? Butthead?”

“So, what?” I huff, crossing my arms over my chest. “I don’t like to cuss, even though you are being those things.”

Lachlan’s hand on my back stiffens. “He’s right. A father’s got a say in who his lassie dates. I dinnae blame him for bein’ an arsehole tae him. I woulda done the same.”

My gaze darts to Lachlan. “You’re telling me that you think he’s right?” I can’t believe this. He’s siding with Cas? Granted, I agree that a father should be over protective. But, to think he has a say in much else, that’s barbaric. If his daughter wants to date a fifty-year-old, that’s her business. She’s an adult—technically.

“All right, calm the hell down,” Cas intervenes, pushing off the table to stand. “I just don’t like Fawn datin’. If her man was decent, then fine. You’re right; I shouldn’t judge him, but I’m a parent and parents are allowed to judge. That’s my job. Her mama ain’t around to do it, so I’m doin’ it on my own. I know they’ve been datin’ a while. But I don’t trust him. And I still think he’s too old. He’s not a good influence.”

Says the man who has a seventeen-year-old crushing on him. Jesus, this is one big mess. I wonder what Bridget thinks about all this. I know she’s not a huge fan of Fawn at the moment, but I’m sure she’s got some valuable insight. Guess I’ll have to talk to her about it later.

Cas slips a smoke from behind his ear and hangs it from his bottom lip. “I need a fuckin’ cigarette. I’m goin’ back to the shop. See ya later.” He raises his hand in farewell, and we all say our goodbyes. Then, he too, is out the front door and walking across the street.

I turn to Lachlan. “You really think he has a right to be that way?”

“Aye. I cannae blame him for wantin’ what’s best for his lassie. Can ye?”

I shrug. “Well, no. But he’s goin’ overboard.”

“Maybe, but wouldn’t ye want him actin’ that way, instead of not carin’? Sometimes ye cannae have it both ways.” Lachlan tags me around the neck and pulls me in for a tiny kiss. I melt into him, my front to his.

Resting my chin on his chest, I look up. “Okay, maybe you’re right. But it's Christmas and I want it to be perfect.”

“If ye’re here, it’ll be perfect na matter what.”

Awe! How did I get so darn lucky?

“If you wanna get laid again, do it somewhere else. I’ve got work to do,” Whisky comments, turning on her heel and heading back to the kitchen. Bridget stays put.

“You okay?” I ask her.

Bridget rubs her eyes. “Yeah. Cas was out here arguing with Fawn before you two finished your business. Which wasn’t as loud as Whisky said it was. I could ignore most of the noise, except the screams.”

Oh. Dear. Lord. Yep, we need to keep a lid on this. Put a cork in my mouth or something. Maybe one of those ball gags. That might actually help. Anything, to stop this heat from creeping up my cheeks and making them burn with embarrassment. I have to learn to be quieter.

“Sorry about that,” I mutter and she waves me off.

“It’s not a big deal. I’ve heard worse. Hey, did Whisky talk to you about the wrapping party?”

I flip in Lachlan’s arms and he wraps them around my chest, lips kissing the back of my head.

“Wrapping party?” I press because I’ve never heard of such a thing.

“It’s a party with booze, snacks, and Christmas presents. You should come!” Whisky hollers from the kitchen.

“Yeah. It’s something Whisky does every year with me and a few others. I’ll tell you more about it when I get home tonight, but I gotta get back to work.” Bridget hugs Lachlan and me at the same time. I kiss her cheek, and then she’s waving bye to us before heading into the back to help Whisky.

“I think it’s time tae go home.” Lachlan releases me and grabs my hand, threading his fingers through.

He’s right. I need a shower, and time to think about all of the crap that just went down.

Catch ya on the flippity side.

Staggering up Whisky’s front steps, an oversized tote full of unwrapped presents in my hands, I bang it against the screen door hoping that someone will come to help. I’ve already got another three trips to Viola before I’ll be able to relax at this wrapping party. It’s gonna be a busy day.

The door is thrown open by a buxom brunette, wearing Rudolph pajamas. I’m thinking that I might have seriously overdressed in my jeans and needlepoint sweater. “Hello there, sugar. You must be Maggie,” she singsongs, pushing the screen door open so I’m able to slide past her and into the house.

“Hi. Yes. Thank you.” I bob my head on the way to the living room and she’s right on my tail.

“Lay ‘em right over there,” the woman instructs, pointing to a mound of presents beside an eight-foot Christmas tree. Next to it, there’s at least fifty rolls of wrapping paper and enough bows to cover Viola. Jeezy Petes, does anyone need this many supplies?

I do as I’m told, then gesture to the front door. “I’ve got more stuff in my car.”

“Let Penny help you, Mags. I’m just makin’ some margaritas in the kitchen!” Whisky yells from around the corner.

Heading toward the sound of her voice, I lean my shoulder on the frame, poking my head into the kitchen. “Where’s Bridget?”

“Fawn and her are out in the bar grabbin’ me the good tequila.” She dumps ice into the blender and grabs a bottle of mix from the cupboard. “Did you meet Penny?”

The brunette moves around me and enters the kitchen, dropping into one of Whisky’s chairs. “I’m Penny,” she notes, raising her hand in greeting.

“I’m Mags,” I stupidly blurt, plastering a nervous smile on my face and directing it at her. I’m not a huge fan of meeting new people, even if she looks nice.

There’s a knock at the front door.

“Come in!” Whisky hollers, and I turn around just as it swings open. Immediately, a real smile blasts from my lips and I run full speed ahead to the visitor. With an
‘oaf’,
my body crashes into his and we laugh as we wrap each other in bear hugs.

“Hey there, beautiful. Did ya miss me?” His hand runs up and down my back.

Lifting onto my tippy toes, I kiss his cheek. “Yes. I did.”

“Good. ‘Cause I missed you, too.” He pecks me in return.

“Bonez, is that you?!” Whisky shouts.

“Yeah! Maggie decided to tackle me.” He chuckles. “I brought my brother along, too. Hope that’s okay.”

I turn my head and see a bald—Holy crapola! Someone else has been drinking the Carolina Rose water, too. Look at that hunk! A bald, gray-bearded, heavily tatted man wearing a vest maneuvers around us, snickering at Bonez and me.

“Gunz?!” Whisky shrieks with excitement. The next thing I know, there’s a curvy redhead sprinting out of the kitchen and throwing herself at Bonez’s brother.

“Hey, girl.” He chuckles all deep and sexy like, giving her a big, friendly hug.

Pulling from his arms, she takes a step back and punches him in the chest. “Why didn’t you tell us you were comin’? Sniper’s busy with Smoke and Cas today, but they would love to see ya.”

“He just showed up this morning. I didn’t know either,” Bonez interjects, his arms still around me, my head resting on his chest.

“Well, how long are you in town?” she asks.

Gunz extracts a sucker from his vest and plops it in his mouth before stuffing the trash into his jeans pocket. “Just two days. I wanted to drop by to see my bro before headin’ home and doin’ the Christmas thing.”

“We got the tequila!” Bridget calls from the back door.

Swinging her hand toward the kitchen in silent invitation, everyone migrates with Whisky into the space. Margaritas are made, beers are handed out, and the group of us lapse into a casual conversation about life, the club, and Whisky’s bakery. Penny, who I quickly learn is Whisky’s friend from high school, unpacks the fridge and sets out the abundance of premade hors d’oeuvres on the countertop.

We eat, drink, and be merry until I’m half way to blitzed. Then, when most of the food has been devoured, Whisky corrals us into her living room to wrap presents. I’d almost forgotten that’s what I’m here for. Silly me.

With a margarita in hand, I drop next to my tote on the floor, just now remembering I have more crap in the car. “I have to get more stuff from Viola.” I set my glass on the end table and attempt to stand. Bonez’s sudden hand on my shoulder forces me to stay put.

“I’ll get your stuff,” he says, releasing my shoulder and heading for the door.

“Um, okay. Sure. If ya want,” I mumble. “Thanks.”

“My pleasure.”

Gunz takes a seat on the couch directly in front of me, fingers curled around a fresh beer. “So, Mags, what is it you do for a livin’?” he probes, kicking his boot heel to rest on his knee, relaxing into the sofa.

I pull a present from my tote and set it on the carpet in front of me. It’s a pair of sweat pants for Lachlan. “I work with Cas and Sniper over at their shop.” Grabbing one of the million rolls of wrapping paper, I peel off the plastic. It’s printed with Santa with Polar bears, that would suit Lachlan, don’t ya think?

“You work on the cars? Or you’re their receptionist?”

Oh, right, I’m speaking to this other attractive biker man … duh. Why is he asking me this, anyhow? According to Bonez, his brother is the tech whizz. He also knows just about everything there is to know about me. He must be making small talk just to be nice.

Clutching my drink, I take a sip before responding. “I’m sure you already know the answer, so I’m not sure why you’re asking.”

Gunz plays with his beard, a contemplative look on his face. “Hum … you’re a smart girl—”

“Yeah, she is,” Bonez butts in while entering the room and setting my two other totes next to me. “Is that all ya needed?”

“Yes. Thanks.” I nod and Bonez takes the seat next to his brother, just as Penny and Whisky filter in from the kitchen with a fresh pitcher of margaritas in hand.

Whisky sets the glass on the coffee table and then sits on the floor. Penny takes a seat next to Bonez.

“So, what’re we talkin’ about?” Penny inquires.

I shrug. “Gunz was just askin’ what I do for a living. And since I’m pretty sure he’s aware of my place in this family, I don’t really think there needs to be a discussion about my job. It’s not that exciting, anyhow.”

I look around the space, searching for Fawn and Bridget. Why didn’t they come in here with us? Hum. “Where’s the girls?” I ask no one in particular.

“They went to the clubhouse to shoot some pool. I think they’re mending fences,” Whisky explains.

I guess that’s a good thing, considering Bridget wanted to catch up. They were acting pretty friendly when we were in the kitchen a bit ago. Maybe that'll fix whatever’s broken. One can only hope.

“So, Gunz, what is it you do for a living?” I turn the tables on him because I know little about this man. Bonez doesn’t speak about his brother much. Most of our weekly lunch sessions consist of town talk, his nonexistent love life, my abundant one, or other odds and ends. Yes; even after my physical therapy ceased, we have made it a priority to have lunch at least once a week and text almost daily. Bonez has become my new best friend, aside from Lachlan.

“I work for my MC.” Another sucker is pulled from his pocket, then twirled in his mouth.

“That’s a bit vague,” I comment.

“Yeah, it is. But that’s club business. You know enough, I’m sure. Bonez says you two are good friends, and you’re datin’ Smoke. Nice to see a decent lady with him after that whore of a wife.”

Wow, is he the master of subject changes, or what? I barely saw that one coming. I’m not sure what to say other than thank you, so I say nothing. Conversations involving Meredith are not on the top of my priority list.

Bonez turns his head toward Penny, obviously checking her out like he’s been doing all dang night. In the kitchen, he couldn’t stop staring at her chest. It’s big. About the same size as mine, except she’s skinnier. A total knockout, even if she’s in Christmas pajamas with no makeup on.

“So how’s work for you and Michael been? Steady?” He addresses her.

“Pretty well. I think he’s happy with the new partnership that we’ve taken on this year.”

“Good to hear,” Bonez replies, smiling like a fool. This man and his wandering eye—I tell ya, it’s never-ending. One weekend, he’s seducing the gas station attendant, Tom, and next he’s wooing Sarah from the bank to be his weekend fling. He’s a male whore, plain and simple. Unlucky in love, but at least he always has a revolving door of bed bunnies. Bonez could definitely give Cas a run for his money.

Preparing to wrap one of Lachlan’s many gifts, I grab a box, tape, and some scissors. “What is it your husband does?” I ask out of genuine curiosity. Penny hasn’t spoken much about herself tonight. Heck, I’m just guessing she’s married by the rock on her hand.

“He’s a urologist. We own our own practice. Bought it about five years ago. I do most of the accounting and the hiring of our staff.”

Not knowing how to respond to Penny, I’m saved when Whisky stands and turns on some Christmas music, then puts the TV on the fireplace channel.

“Setting the mood,” she remarks with a sly grin, grabbing some of her own gifts and fixing to wrap them.

“Mood for—” The words die on my lips when Bonez takes Penny’s hand into his and pulls her from the couch, before leading her out of the living room like a dog on a leash.

Gunz stands and wipes his vest. Then he grins and winks at me. “It was nice meetin’ ya. I’m sure I’ll be seein’ ya around.”

“Um, yeah, nice to meet you, too,” I mumble, dumbfounded.

What the hell is going on here?

His attention shifts to Whisky. “We’ll be in the back bedroom upstairs.”

“Okay. Have fun.” She waves him off with a smile, and as soon as he exits and I hear his feet ascending the steps, my wide eyes meet Whisky’s amused ones.

This can’t mean what I think it does. Didn’t that woman just say she was married?! And Bonez and Gunz are brothers! Oh. My. God. This is supposed to be a relaxing party for me to wrap presents with my new family, not to think of Bonez, my best friend, getting his groove on with some married chick upstairs. This is so messed up!

“Are they…?” I point to the ceiling, my mouth agape.

Whisky chuckles. “They sure are.”

“Both of them and her? Isn’t she married? Aren’t they brothers?” I don’t know why this surprises me so much, but it does. I knew both of them were kinky … still, this goes beyond that.

Whisky resumes wrapping one of her presents as she talks over
Nat King Cole
crooning
O Come All Ye Faithful
to us. Oh, the irony! “Yes, Penny and Michael are married. But, he’s aware of her tastes, just as she’s aware of his. When she came here today, she knew she was gonna fuck Bonez. I imagine, she feels Gunz being here, too, is a damn good bonus. And I’m pretty sure they’ve shared women before. Not sure how it works. I don’t ask, ‘cause it’s none of my business. But I think it’s more of Gunz and Bonez instructing the woman on how to please each of them separately.”

“So they’re just gonna screw under your roof while we wrap presents?”

“And drink Margaritas,” she quips, chuckling under her breath.

It doesn’t take long for moans to filter downstairs, so Whisky turns up the music. I’m pretty sure she does that for my benefit. Just hearing them makes my cheeks flush with embarrassment. So to keep myself occupied, I focus on my wrapping and drinking as much alcohol as I can. It seems to work when my brain starts to become fuzzy and everything mellows. By the time I’ve hit my third refill, my wrapping turns to shit, but I couldn’t care less. The warmth fizzling through my body is purely amazing.

Bridget and Fawn make their way back into the house and settle on the couch, drinking bottles of water. I have to blink several times to see them clearly. Hell, I’m really snockered.

“They’re not done yet?!” Fawn yells over the music.

Whisky uses a remote to turn it down, and the sounds of sex get louder. Never thought I’d have to listen to my best friend in the throes of passion, but now I have. And I must say he is one hell of a dirty talker. Woo wee, him telling Penny to, “Fuck him harder,” and “Take that dick down your throat,” is oddly sexy. Not that I would ever tell him that. So you can’t either, capisce?