SLAM HER (3 page)

I looked over my shoulder and saw my next target sitting in a chair, fucking naked, two of her fingers rubbing between her legs. Her other hand touched her tits, her drunk eyes locked to me.

They were both beautiful women, a sponsored treat from Uncle Jakey to me for doing time for the MC. I didn’t know how much he paid for them but I hoped not too much.

I hated wearing a condom, too. But with this shit, I needed to. I wasn’t taking any chances. I didn’t need to get sick or something. Not to mention have a fucking kid because some stripper forgot to take a pill. I knew a guy who knocked up a stripper and his life went straight to hell. So did hers.

Fuck that.

“Come here, babe,” I said in a rough voice as I kept fucking the first woman.

The second climbed off the chair and walked to the bed.

“On your knees,” I ordered.

She listened.

I slipped my left hand up the first woman’s body and took a handful of her hair. I pulled hair and grunted, now riding her like she was meant to be ridden. The other woman dropped to her knees at the side of the bed. She looked like she was about to say her bedtime prayers.

How fucking sweet.

That was fine because I had something Godly for her to enjoy.

I felt my balls twist up tight. My cum raced through my long shaft. The first woman let out another yell, screaming my name.

“Slam! Fuck!”

That’s what I did. I slammed them. I slammed my cock deep into her pussy. I felt my dick explode and I quickly pulled out of her. Normally I’d just hang inside there, pulsing, feeling that warmth squeezing tight against me.

But I had something else in mind.

I pulled out of the first woman and pushed her to the bed. I turned and my cock was an inch from the second woman.

“Hurry,” I ordered.

I slid a hand behind her hand.

She reached up and knew just what to do. She peeled the condom off my dick and let it fall to the floor. Then, with two hands (because that’s what it fucking took), she grabbed my dick and finished me. Her lips wrapped tight around the head of my cock and she sucked the rest of my cum out of me. I wasn’t done there though. I stayed there and fucked her mouth for another few minutes, just for the feeling.

It was good but not great.

I had been in the goddamn room for almost three hours with the two of them. They were both exhausted. The first woman was already sleeping, her hand reached across the nightstand for a mostly empty bottle of vodka.

I got off the bed and got around behind the second woman, still on her knees. I lifted her up to her feet and she giggled. She leaned into me and my hands explored her tits. They were a little small but really firm. She placed her hands over mine and leaned her head back.

“I can do this all night,” she whispered. “And all day tomorrow…”

Yeah, right.

I took hold of her hips and tossed her to the bed. “Get some fucking sleep. Wake up and leave. I don’t want to see you in the morning.”

“What the fuck?” she asked.

I walked to my jeans and grabbed a smoke and lit it. I laughed. “What did you think this was? A date? Want me to fucking propose?”

“Asshole,” she whispered.

“Exactly.” I took a deep drag. “Now, if you two start up on each other again, someone better get me. I refuse to miss that shit. You kiss better with pussy on your breath.”

Her face turned bright red. Anger flashed in her eyes. It was kind of cute. I thought about fucking her again but I was good for the moment. Plus, the second she put her head to the pillow, her eyes started to shut. Hell, I was doing them a favor just by letting them stay. I could have kicked their asses out. Then what? They’d be scrambling for a ride or sucking someone else off, begging for a place to sleep.

Asshole? Me? Nah. Not much.

I got dressed and left the clubhouse. The garage bays were all closed up, floodlights shining down to the ground. We had worked our asses off to make the business profitable and make the MC profitable. Any law that came our way was faced with legit books, taxes, and all that real world shit. We kept our chapel room open for them to search. They could look but not touch a fucking thing.

We had worked out a deal on an old warehouse where we stored anything that needed to be hidden. It was a hard to find building, but even if someone did find it, they’d see nothing but skeletons of motorcycles. So it looked like we were a bunch of filthy bikers who couldn’t let go of the past.

In reality, we didn’t give a shit about the past. And we owned the present. And we were going to control the future.

I sucked on my smoke hard, my mind racing.

I had to get this shit worked out. I never let anything go without revenge. It was just how I was. It’s what made me Slam.

“So there he is,” a voice said. “He emerged.”

Knox approached me as I leaned against a light post.

“Knoxville,” I said.

“Spencer,” he threw back.

“I will fucking kill you.”

Knox patted my back. “I know, brother. I know.”

We stood there together, brothers, staring out to the night.

“Just say what you have to say,” I said to Knox.

“Enjoy the pussy,” he said. “All of it. Tons of it.”

“Why? You upset you got settled in with your old flame?”

“No,” Knox said. “And don’t discount Ana and her innocent look. We’ve had company in the bedroom more than once. She knows how to keep me happy.”

I laughed. “Good to know, VP.”

“Slam, it took a lot for us to get you out,” he said. “It wasn’t your fault what happened and what went wrong. We took a vote on whether to let you back at the table to discuss retaliation. Uncle Jakey is nervous but we all made damn sure you’re going to be at the table.”

“But I can’t fucking do a thing about it,” I said.

“No. You get tangled up and you’re looking at life,” Knox said. “I can’t save you from that. Look at my old man. He was killed in prison. And look at King. Fuck, man, Kingston. On death row.”

“I know. I saw him. A few times. He’s the same as ever. He just lives normal, man. Like he’s waiting to get out.”

“He’s a true outlaw,” Knox said.

“Amen to that, brother.”

There was silence again as we both thought about Kingston.

I tossed the butt of my smoke across the lot. I folded my arms and felt the tension build up inside me.

“I know you’re ready to explode on me,” Knox said. “I can smell the smoke, brother.”

“I’m going to get revenge,” I said. I looked at Knox. “You guys can’t stop me. I’ll stay out of trouble. I’ll stay out of jail. But I’m going to fix what was wrong. I need you to understand that, Knox.”

“That’s why I’m here. You’re fucking pissed because Chief Richards grabbed you. You’re taking it personally.”

“I have my reasons.”

“Okay. What can I do to help?”

I looked right at Knox. I knew what I wanted to do. I knew what I had to.

“Find out everything you can about his daughter.”

five

(slam)

*MONTHS AGO*

Timmy, Tommy, and Don. I had repeated their names in my mind a hundred times, making fun of them for sounding like some dumb TV show. They were the ones with big money and big ties to other work for the MC.

But the way they talked and acted, they always seemed skittish to me. Yet when it came time to vote, I threw my hand up with a
yay
because I wanted the cash and I didn’t want to go head to head with the entire MC. Granted, I had been pounding whiskey when we went to chapel, so maybe my best judgment wasn’t present.

Either way, I was first in line, cruising along a normally quiet road, the back of my ride stuffed with pieces of weapons. The plan was simple. If I got knocked over in any way, shape, or form, the guns I had could be worked out through the lawyers and court. Not to mention most of the PD was on our side with things. It was just the chief and a few of his brown nosed buddies that wanted to fuck us over big time.

Behind me, Ari drove a truck. If that was opened, there would be a big stack of
just-about-to-turn
seafood. Enough to make your stomach turn and want to get away from the truck.

If shit did hit the fan with me, then Ari was to park the truck and bail. Then when the coast was clear, we’d have an alternative route.

Most of our runs were flawless. Sometimes we ran into hiccups.

But this one…

This was a fucking set up.

Chief Richards put his foot to the middle of my back and pointed his long ass revolver to the back of my skull.

“I got ya,” he growled. “You filthy piece of shit.”

“Fuck off,” I said.

I knew how to play off getting arrested. Jail time didn’t bother me at all. I could get in and get out, just like nasty sex, you know? Do it because it needs to be done. Then be gone.

Chief had two of his guys stand me up.

He was a little shorter than me. Years on the job had left him with salt and pepper hair, a rough looking attempt at a beard, and crow’s feet big enough that he looked ready to grab dinner and fly away.

His breath stunk of cigar and whiskey.

“Guns. Always the guns with you guys.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said.

“Yeah fucking right,” Chief Richards said. “I’ve been eyeing you for a long time. And we have a box truck about two miles back that’s full of weapons.”

Now that got my fucking attention.

I looked right at Chief Richards and he knew I knew he fucking had me good.

Right on cue one of the police cruisers moved and I saw Tommy standing against another cruiser, his arms crossed, body shaking.

That’s why I didn’t trust those pricks. They were junkies. They were on the search for the next high. It was the only thing they knew. They couldn’t exist beyond it. And they had sold the fucking MC out big time. My name was thrown all over the place and since I was the first guy they grabbed, I was the one who got fucked.

I had no reason to talk as Chief Richards walked me to his SUV. He took me to the box truck and tried to get me to sell out the rest of the club. One thing about the guys in the Reap: we never fucking sold each other out. No matter what.

My lips were shut and stayed shut.

Chief Richards introduced me to his baton half a dozen times and all I did was spit blood on the ground. His biggest deputy slammed my face off the side of the box truck, leaving a bloody smear.

They had their fun.

I would serve my time.

And I would get my revenge.

six

(belle)

*NOW*

It was a quiet little Italian restaurant. My father got me the job as a favor and I ended up staying way too long. I got too close to the family that owned the place and now I felt completely stuck there. The owner, Marco, had been through two divorces. His kids had grown up and moved on, while I was still there, working. His mother, Annie, had battled two types of cancer, beaten them both, only to fall, break her hip, and somehow end up with pneumonia, and that’s what took her precious life.

The restaurant had seen hundreds of workers come and go but I was one of the few that stuck it out. I could handle the family drama, the crises, and everything else in between. I could handle Marco when he drank too much and talked to me about his future. I could handle the people, the drunks, the complaints, and I could handle decorating the place for each stupid holiday all on my own.

The truth was that it wasn’t about comfort. It wasn’t about having a job. That part was nice. Thanks to my suggestions and Marco’s willingness to spend a little money, we took the restaurant from a small casual place into something a tad bit more upscale. Marco promoted me and I was able to make enough to survive and have plenty left over. Trust me, I wasn’t rich. I wasn’t retiring at forty or anything. I had a one bedroom apartment, a used car that needed an oil change, and the last time I bought myself something new at the mall was for the black dress I wore to Annie’s funeral. (And even then, Marco slipped me a hundred bucks to get something nice.)

What it was…
family.

I felt like I was part of a family. The restaurant was home.

A guy named Jake was like the drunk uncle. He’d sit at the end of the counter, drink fifteen cups of coffee, tell war stories for hours, watch the news and critique the country. He’d toss down five bucks, tip his cap, and leave. The Bollary brothers would come in for lunch every day. They owned a construction company. They ordered the same food, complained about their jobs, hated their wives, wished they never had kids. They’d tip and leave.

My days and nights were all routine.

I had once heard rumbling about Marco getting involved with the mob but that was just a rumor. There was part of the mob in town, but Hector - the head chef - told me that the Reaper’s Bastards MC took them on to keep the peace. Some of his stories were a little out there but fun to hear.