Captivate Me (19 page)

“You want this to be in your pussy?” I give one lick from the base of my finger all the way to the tip and circle my tongue at the tip.

“Yes.” Her voice comes out strangled. I love that I have that effect on her.

“Put my cock in your mouth.”

Her eyes stay glued to mine as she lowers her lips to my shaft. Fuck, her lips are utter perfection. She sucks in deep, hollowing her cheeks providing the perfect suction.

It isn’t long before my balls draw up, and I pull her head away from my cock. I’m not ready to go yet. When I do, it will be inside Bella.

She heaves in air, her lips plump from the suction.

I lean down and take her mouth, pulling her up to stand with me.

Her hands tangle in my hair and latch on tight, and her tits press against my chest as I grab her behind her knees and lift her.

She pulls away and stares into my eyes as I pull her legs wide open and sink my cock into her. She drops her head against my neck on a moan as her hot pussy sheathes me like a tight glove.

I lift her and slam her back down on my cock. Her head flies up as she screams.

As I move her up and down, letting gravity help me get deeper and deeper inside of her, I give Bella everything: my heart, my soul, and fuck yes, my love. She is perfect for me.

I toss her to the bed and stare into her eyes as I watch her come once, twice, three times, and on the fourth, I come with her. Best fucking lay I ever had, will ever have. Ever.

Alarms I installed all around the clubhouse start going off. They are intended to warn us when there has been a breach.

I jump from the bed and throw on my jeans, the noise blaring in my ears.

“What’s going on?” Bella asks, alert as she jumps up and throws on clothes.

“Don’t fuckin’ know, but it can’t be good.” I grab my gun from the nightstand and put it in the waistband of my jeans. I pull two others out of my drawer and put one in my boot and hand the other to Bella.

“Safety is off. If someone other than Ravage comes in here, you start shooting. You got me?”

Fear crosses her face, but she quickly wipes it away. “Yes.”

“I’m going to check shit out. Stay here.”

A large explosion sounds off, and the entire room shakes and rocks Bella onto her ass.

Her eyes dart to me. “Was that a bomb?”

“Think so. New plan. You come with me.” I hold out my hand, and she takes it. Screams can be heard on the other side of the door. “Hang on.” I rush to my laptop and pull up the security system. Three men stand outside the gates, each lighting something before heaving it over the huge barbed wire gates.

Where the fuck is the watcher? We always have a man on watch.

I move the camera to the other side and see Derek lying unconscious on the ground. Fuck. Inside, Princess is pushing all the people to one side as the hits happen. I watch as the three men—no one else—throw the last ones then hop on their bikes.

“Gotta go now,” I tell Bella as we rush from the room just as the three bombs go off.

I rush to Cruz, him being the first I see. “Three guys on bikes just took off. Bombs. Those are the last of them, and Derek is unconscious by the front gate. We need to go.”

Pops rushes up, hearing the second half of the conversation. “Go. Dagger, the Claytons, and I got everything here. Get the fuckers.”

I pull Bella, kiss her lips hard, and rush out to my bike. I pull one of my T-shirts from my saddlebag and pull it on, strap on my helmet, and we are off. Cruz, GT, Becs, Breaker, Tug, and I all align after I give them directions and descriptions of the men.

We are fucking hunting.

We split into three groups and case everything. When the call comes in from Cruz, saying he found them, Breaker, Rhys, and I take off to their location.

“How the hell did you find them?” Rhys asks, clenching his hands as we pull up to a local bar.

“Helmets. Look.”

My gaze swings to them, and sure enough, the same bright blue skulls on one and the crossbones on the other rest on the bikes I recognize from the monitors.

“Son of a bitch,” I snap. “That’s them.”

“Get the bikes first,” Rhys says as we scope out the area, which is clear. It’s the middle of the fucking night. These dicks are going to learn.

Cruz pulls out his cell. “Need the van.” He gives the location then disconnects the call.

We head to the bikes where GT, Tug, and I pull off the helmets as Cruz, Rhys, and Breaker pull the bikes over to the side lots. Luckily, not too many people are here at this time of night, but they should be closing soon.

The bikes are thrown—yes, thrown—into a center pile. Breaker climbs over them and unscrews the gas caps, letting the liquid flow into puddles underneath the bikes. If the fuckers want to play with the big boys, let’s see what they’re made of.

Several of the guys pull out smokes, inhale a couple of drags, and then toss them into the center of the pile at the same time. The flames instantly ignite, and we move back from the burst of heat. No one exactly knows who started it, but all feel the benefits.

Cruz, Breaker, and Tug move to the other side of the building to get behind the assholes. Chances are, they’ll run because that’s what pussies do. And that’s what these fuckers are.

It doesn’t take long before the bar is emptied, Pops pulls up in the van, and all hell breaks loose.

I stand with one of the fuckers’ helmets in my hand. This was the second guy on the screen that I saw from my laptop.

He clocks us immediately and starts to turn, but Breaker is right there with a gun to his forehead.

The other two try to take off in the opposite direction, but Tug and Cruz are already on them, guns to their heads, as well.

Rhys walks up to the mass of people. “Nothin’ to see here unless you wanna see. Then I’ll have to pour acid in your eyes.”

Bikes come to life, car and truck doors shut, and ignitions turn over.

The owner comes out with a shotgun, pumping it as he walks. He’s older, graying hair and wrinkles showing he’s had better days.

Rhys doesn’t even have his gun out when he walks head-on toward the man.

“Problem?”

“Not at all,” Rhys says as Cruz pushes his guy to his knees. Then Breaker and Tug follow with their guys.

“What’s with the fire?” he asks.

“Payback.”

The old man shakes his head. “Can ya do it somewhere else? Fire department’s gonna be here soon. Bonnie already called 911 when someone yelled fire. Cops, too.”

Pops walks up and holds out his hand to the guy, lifting his chin to GT who starts us in the process of zip-tying and getting these assholes in the van. I can’t hear what is said between Pops and the old man, but whatever it is, it must have worked. Pops climbs in the van, driving the assholes off, and we are following behind.

Pops takes them to the warehouse as we watch for the cops just in case. Luckily, no one follows.

We meet Pops at the back of the van.

“How’s the clubhouse?” Cruz asks.

“Fine, structure-wise. The bombs were half-assed ones they probably made in their mother’s garage. Not a lot of power in them at all.”

“People?” GT asks.

“Shaken, but Ma and Princess’ll get ’em squared away. Left the Claytons there with Dagger to keep their eyes open.” He lifts his chin. “Anyone you recognize?” he asks all of us.

Answers of “no” are heard all around.

“I’ll snap their pictures before we start and run them through the system. That is, if they don’t talk,” I add. If these idiots didn’t put enough force into their bombs to take us out, that means they aren’t heavy rollers in our world. More than likely, they were hired hands who thought it would be cool to be badass bikers for the night. Wrong people to fuck with.

“Chances are, they were hired by Ransom.”

We nod in agreement.

“Alright take ’em in,” Pops orders.

GT opens the doors, and the stench of fear hits us like a lead weight. Good. They should be scared.

“Well, boys, hope the pay was good enough for this,” Rhys says sadistically. He gets off on this shit just about as much as he gets off on his woman. This is his element. When he’s here, it’s best for everyone involved to step back and let him work.

Three swings in on the first guy, he yells, “I’ll talk!”

“Well, this is rather disappointing,” Rhys comments, crossing his arms over his chest.

I’ve gotta admit it is. I haven’t had my turn to beat the fucker up yet.

“Talk,” Pops orders.

“What do you want to know?” he asks through blood and spit.

Rhys punches his eye again, and the man screams, “Fuck, I said I’ll talk.”

“That one was for bein’ stupid,” Rhys snaps.

“Fuck. Guy paid us cash and gave us the bombs. He told us what to do and when to do it. We did what he said.”

Cruz grabs the fucker’s hair and pulls back hard. “And who is
he
?”

“I don’t know him. Buster over there”—he nods over to one of the guys—“knew him. Got the job for us.”

Rhys turns to Buster. “Guess you and I need to talk.”

“Come on; don’t steal all the fun,” GT puts in.

“Boys, just get this shit done. I want to get back to the club,” Pops says, as GT steps forward and grabs Buster, pulling him to the middle of the floor.

GT gets in four jabs and a savage kick to the stomach. “Talk!” he yells.

“Ransom. He gave us everything and told us what to do.”

I look at Pops, thinking Ransom wants us away from the clubhouse.

“Somethin’s off,” I tell him.

Pops nods. “We need to get back. Take care of these three quick and get back to the clubhouse. This entire thing smells like shit.”

When we enter the clubhouse, Bella comes directly to me, wrapping her arms around my neck and pulling me to her.

I scan the room, seeing nothing out of place, which doesn’t sit well.

Bella cups my face and kisses me hard. I give it back to her.

“Alright Bella. I need to work. Need you to help with whatever needs to be done.”

She nods then asks, “Are you okay?”

I peck her lips. “Yeah. I’ll be just fine.” Then I turn to Pops who lifts his chin. “I’ll be back,” I tell her and dart off to the computers. I need to find the
something
that is off.