Chas's Fervor: Insurgents Motorcycle Club (Insurgents MC Romance Book 3) (37 page)

“That’s right, baby, come all over my cock. I love feeling your come on me. Milk me ’til I’m dry.”

She didn’t even realize she was screaming until she heard his loud groans. They sang out their climax in a tune of cries, growls, and moans. It was the most beautiful music she’d ever heard.

Chas lay on top of her, his dick still inside her, her juices mixed with his hot seed spilled out onto the sheets. The room’s scent was a combination of arousal, sweat, and saltiness, like a humid breeze off the ocean. Chas propped up on his elbows and kissed her, their tongues seeking each other’s. He rolled off her then tucked her next to him. She cushioned her head on his chest; the up-and-down movement of his torso was hypnotic. Before she closed her eyes and welcomed sleep, she breathed deeply—she was safe in the arms of the man she loved.

I
an sipped his
martini while seated at a corner table in the hotel bar. From where he sat, he could see the lobby doors as people bustled in and out. Couples holding hands, senior citizens, businessmen, and families made the hotel home for a short stop on life’s road. Each time the big glass doors opened, a
whoosh
of air filtered through the main floor, carrying hints of pine and fresh earth. How he hated being stuck in this hick town. He’d take the grit and pollution from urban decay any day over fresh, clean air. To say he was enraged he had to spend
any
time in this town was an understatement. Once he executed his plan, Lizzie—or Addie, as she called herself now—would pay for his wasted days in Hicksville.

Ian spotted Snake the minute he came through the lobby doors. Upon seeing the biker, Ian had a bitter taste in his mouth. He had nothing in common with low-life bikers except the love of money. The Deadly Demons paid him well to make sure witnesses, rival club members, and other troublemakers were eliminated, thus making the MC’s world easier. Ian was paid for a job, but he never engaged in conversation with the Deadly Demons, nor did he want to. Meeting Snake there irked the hell out of Ian because it showed a crack in his hard veneer—he needed Snake, and Ian despised needing anyone.

“Yo, how’re you doing?” Snake asked as he plopped down in the burgundy leather bucket chair.

“Who’s the biker fucking my wife?” Ian’s narrowed eyes and taut face eliminated any small talk.

“Do I get a beer here, or what?” Snake twisted around, looking for a waitress.

A busty waitress came over, her gaze fixed on Ian. Snake leered at her while she took the order—another martini and a bottle of Coors.

“Fuck, did you see the tits on her?” Snake said as he watched the woman sashay to the bar. “Man, I could get lost in those jugs.” He laughed.

Stone-faced, Ian fought down the urge to grab the buffoon by his throat and choke the life out of him. “Answer my question.”

“Question?” Snake’s attention was still on the waitress as she came back with their drink order.

“Thanks, darling,” Snake said as she set his beer in front of him, his eyes trained on her low-cut white blouse. “You got a name?”

The waitress avoided his eyes, and her hand shook as she placed bowls of nuts, chips, and green olives on the table.

“Thank you,” Ian said.

“What’s your name, darling?” Snake popped a handful of nuts in his mouth.

Flustered, the woman looked to Ian, whose lips curled into a thin smile. “Keep my tab open, and thank you again.”

Relief dusted across her face as she ambled away.

“What the fuck? I wanted to know her name.”

“I didn’t ask you here so you could pick up women. Who is fucking my wife?”

Snake took a long pull from his beer, munched on a couple of olives, and glanced at the waitress as she took the order from the adjacent table. Ian’s flat eyes stared at him while he pictured Snake lying on the ground in a pool of his own blood with Ian’s expert one-shot bullet through his skull.

“Damn, lighten up, man,” Snake said. “The fucker’s name is Chas. He’s an Insurgent, and he’s got it bad for
your wife
. He’s also got a kid who goes to Addie for help at the library.”

“Is he married?”

“He was. His ex is a hot blonde with big tits. But your wife is a looker, too, and she’s got a great rack on her. Fuck…”

Before Snake could pop another peanut into his mouth, his chair toppled over and he was seated on the floor, his perplexed expression turning dark and angry.

“What the fuck do you—”

Ian ran his finger over the stem of his martini glass. “Don’t
ever
talk about my wife like that again,” he said, his voice deadly calm.

Rising to his feet, Snake brushed off his jeans. He leaned over and hissed, “And don’t you
ever
touch me again or I’ll ruin your starched white shirt with your blood. Got it? The only reason your throat isn’t slit already is because of your relationship with Reaper. You just fuckin’ used up your freebie.”

Ian shook his head, took a sip of his drink, and stared at Snake, his cold eyes sparking. “Before you could even take your knife out, you’d be slumped over in your chair. It would be quick and painless, and quiet, of course. I never make scenes.”

The two men surveyed each other, neither willing to break the tense silence between them. Ian had no plan as of yet, so if the biker thought he could sit there and intimidate Ian with his ridiculous scowl, he’d soon learn Ian was one cool sonofabitch.

Shaking his head, Snake said, “I could use another beer.”

Ian lifted his arm, gesturing to the bartender for another round.

“If I were you, I’d take my wife back to Chicago and show that Insurgent asshole who’s boss. But first, I’d teach her a lesson she’d never forget.” The bartender placed another round of drinks in front of the men as the waitress stood at the bar watching.

Without emotion, Ian replied, “I’m not paying you for your opinions. All I wanted was information on who my wife was fucking. You told me. You can go. Now.”

Snake drained his bottle of beer, took the two one hundred dollar bills Ian handed him, and swaggered out of the hotel.

Ian watched Snake exit the bar with an intense stare as his lips curled into a sneer. He despised doing business with stupid, low-life people. Ian prided himself in being a gentleman who could dine with the richest and most sophisticated class of people and be able to hold his own. Sighing, he took out his phone to dial Addie. Hearing her voice the previous morning brought back old memories. He had to admit, a part of him missed her. She brought a certain amount of innocence and vitality to his well-ordered and precise life. She would go back with him, Ian would make sure of that, even though he knew she loved the biker. He saw it in the way she kissed Chas and wrapped her body around his that morning Ian had watched them from the shadows of the evergreens.

Ian decided he’d give Addie two choices: return with him to Chicago, or stay and watch her lover and his young son die. When faced with sparing their lives, Ian trusted she’d make the right decision. The way he saw it, it was a no-brainer. He smiled thinly as he began plugging in her phone number. Before he pressed the last digit, his phone beeped—another call. He disengaged Addie’s number and took the call.

“It’s a go? … I’ll meet you in New York City tomorrow so we can go over the details.”

Ian placed his phone down on the table. The job in Uzbekistan had come through. Ian had been working out the details and the price for the past several weeks, and it had finally materialized. A political opponent was in the way, and Ian had been hired to assassinate him. The job was dangerous, but then, the high-paying ones always were.

Ian’s jaw tightened—his reunion plans with his wife would have to be put on hold for a few weeks. He didn’t think she’d leave her lover, but to make sure, he’d need someone to keep tabs on her while he was gone; he didn’t want her to slip away again.

As his upper lip curled in disdain, he picked up his phone. “Snake? I have a small job for you for a few weeks. The pay is good…”

One week later

C
has sat in
the chair in Hawk’s office, staring at the report Hawk handed him a half an hour before. The fingerprint analysis had come back. Chas had read the report numerous times, hoping he’d missed something. No such luck. The analysis said the fingerprints belonged to Lizabeth Quinn. She was sought as a suspect in the murder of a woman in Glenview, Illinois.

The report said Lizzie’s prints were found on the bathroom sink, the light panels, the screen door, and the front door. Chas hated cops, but he could see there was no way Addie’s prints could’ve been in the woman’s house unless she was there. What the fuck? Did she off the woman? It blew his mind to think of Addie as a killer. Chas had suspected she was hiding something, but damn, this was a doozy.

Chas rubbed his face with his hand.
Addie must’ve had a reason to kill the woman. Maybe she was fucking Addie’s old man
. Chas wasn’t a stranger to murder, and he wore his “13” patch—the symbol that a member killed someone—proudly on his cut, but he killed for club business, and it involved men who tried to hurt him or his brothers—it was methodical. He shook his head.
Fuck, if I screwed around on Addie, she’d probably cut off my balls
. He chuckled.

“Something must be interesting in the report,” Hawk said as he came into the office, “ ’cause you’re still reading it after all this time.”

“Did Cara say anything to you about Addie’s arrest?” Chas asked.

Half-sitting on his desk, Hawk said, “No, but she wouldn’t. Addie’s her client, and she doesn’t talk about what her clients tell her.” Hawk tossed a can of Coke to Chas. They both pulled the tabs on their cans open.

“I just wondered, that’s all.” Chas took a large gulp of his cola. He was surprised as hell Addie wasn’t on her way back to Chicago, and he was elated he could depend on the incompetence of the local law enforcement. But the report was in her file, and it was only a matter of time before someone with a brain read it. Once that happened, Addie was on a one-way ticket back to Chicago wearing iron bracelets. There was no way he was going to let that happen.

He didn’t want to lose her.

A pretty brunette with brown eyes came to his mind. Maria, a woman he’d fucked for a short time, was a clerk in the records department. She always asked Chas for money.
I could pay her for Addie’s file.
Chas could be very persuasive with women. No way did he want his sweet woman going to the pen. Faced with the gravity of Addie’s situation, Chas realized he loved her and he wasn’t willing to let her go. Having her fucking husband in the way made everything difficult because Chas had to be one hundred percent sure Addie didn’t have any feelings for the asshole.

Chas couldn’t bring himself to tell Addie he loved her. He had to be sure she was telling him the truth when she said she no longer cared for her husband. He couldn’t afford to get hurt. Brianna had taken a toll on him with her lies and cheating while they’d been married. Even though Addie proclaimed her love for him, Chas couldn’t completely let her into his and Jack’s life until he was sure she didn’t have one iota of love left for her husband.

Chas picked up his phone and called Addie. “Hey, precious. Are you doing anything tonight? … I’ll come by at around six thirty, okay? … See you later.”

Chas crushed his can and threw it in the trash. “Thanks for helping out, man,” he said to Hawk. “I’ll catch you later.”

“Later, brother.” Hawk settled into his desk chair.

From Hawk’s repair shop, Chas went to Cara’s office in downtown Pinewood Springs. When he entered, her assistant, Asher, greeted him. After Asher announced Chas’s presence, Cara came out of her office, a wide smile on her face.

“Hi, Chas. Come on in.”

Chas sat on one of the black leather chairs in front of her large wood desk. “You look busy,” he said, noting the law books and files piled everywhere.

“Yes. I have a big trial coming up in a few days. Very stressful.” She took a sip of her bottled water. “Want one?” she asked.

“No, thanks.”

“What’s up? You in some kind of trouble?”

“Nah, not me, but a friend of mine. You’re her attorney.”

“Addie?”

“Yeah. Well, isn’t her name really Lizzie?” Saying the name didn’t seem real to Chas. To him, she was and always would be
Addie
.

Cara gazed at him, her elbows on the desk, her chin resting on her folded hands.

“Isn’t it?” Chas returned her gaze.

“You know I can’t betray a client’s confidences. Everything Addie and I spoke about is privileged.”

“You don’t need to tell me shit. I know Addie is Lizzie on paper. What I want to know is why the fuck she wasn’t sent back. I mean, they printed her when my bitch ex had her arrested. I can’t stand knowing this shit is in her file, and at any moment some asshole badge will come knocking at her door to take her in. Fuck, I’m going crazy here. I need some assurance that it won’t happen. It’d kill me, and Jack is real fond of her, too.” Chas fingered the chain hanging from his jeans’ pocket. He didn’t mean to reveal how much he cared about Addie—it had just come out. What was it about being in a lawyer’s office that made someone spill his guts?

“I understand your concern. For now, I’ve taken care of it.”

“What do you mean, ‘for now’?” Chas searched Cara’s face.

“I mean I have a good friend in the sheriff’s office who has ‘misplaced’ the file. I can’t place his job in jeopardy too much longer, though. Now that Addie’s husband is in town, I’m hoping she’ll let me help her clear everything up.”

“You knew she was married, and you didn’t tell me?”

“It wasn’t my place, it was hers. I told you, she’s my client. Sometimes, being a lawyer poses a real dilemma. It goes with the territory, but a client has to have total trust that what she tells her attorney will never be revealed. That’s the way it goes. Why don’t you talk to Addie? I think the time for you both to communicate with each other is long overdue.”

Nodding his agreement, Chas rose to his feet. “You’re damn right about that. Thanks, Cara.” As he left, he looked over his shoulder and said, “Good luck with your trial.”