The Riot (Hell's Disciples MC Book 5) (10 page)

“Oh fuck. I think…
I think
…” She explodes around me, her walls tightening around my cock. Fuck is right. “
Fuuuuuck
, Rocky,” she breathes, and hearing my name fall from her lips is enough to send me over the edge.

Everything tightens; my nuts, my legs, and my hand in hair. My legs burn and I swear to God, I might die from coming so goddamn hard.

Jesus.

El sighs, content, and leans all her weight against me. “Holy shit,” she whispers. Holy fucking shit.

It’s
always
like this with El. It’s heaven here in hell.

I feel like a goddamn king.

But I know it won’t last long.

That’s the thing with El. Her highs are highs, but those lows are fucking deep, dark, and cold. I’ve known her long enough to know that being up this high tends to land me on my ass after a while, but I’m a glutton for punishment, I guess, ‘cause I always come back for more. I’m a stupid motherfucker. I know exactly what I’m fuckin’ getting, and yet here I am, balls deep inside heaven, inches from falling straight back into hell.

Pulling out of her, I kiss her shoulder and slap her ass. Back down to earth, I tell her, “Lockdown is fuckin’ lifted, but you’re stayin’ close.”

Eyeing me carefully, she finally nods in agreement. “Okay.”

Grabbing El a towel, I wrap her up and back away towards the door, knowing if I don’t get the fuck away from her, we’re never leaving this room. “Get dressed, baby. Dan wants to talk to you.”

Ellison

Interrogated within an inch of my life, I leave room one, which I’m now referring to as a small slice of hell, escaping as fast as my feet will carry me. I feel like a deflated balloon. Closing the door behind me, I sigh in relief, and a bit of exhaustion. As soon as they extracted whatever pertinent information they were looking for from me, I was abruptly excused.

Asked about my brother, I told them what I knew, recounting word for word my brother’s surprise
visit, and even helped to spitball ideas. They got what they needed and kicked my ass out with, “Out, El.” Dan gave me a small, tight smile. “Church,” was added as the door closed at my back.

I’ve never been happier to be excused than I am right now.

I wasn’t yelled at. No one got violent, and I wasn’t forced. What I did do was tell the same stories fifteen different ways. Dan, Mossy, and Big Ben cross-examined me good. When Rock said the Disciples were the law in this town, I fucking believe it.

Goddamn crazy people.

Shuffling across the big gravel lot, I slip inside the bar, happy as hell to be a few hundred yards away from the room full of jackasses. A few pleases and a couple smiles would’ve gone a long way with those guys.

In the common room of the old bar, I find Sammy and Lennon sitting at the bar, eating and chatting.

“That was fun,” I huff, practically falling onto the stool under my ass in between the two.

“Was it painful?” Sam smirks around a mouthful of food. Not physically. It felt a little like I was an untrusted infiltrator though. All I know is that I never want to be on the Disciples shit list, that’s for sure.

“Nah, but I do need a shot, or four.” After that, I’d happily take an entire bottle.

“Is Rock mad at you?” Lennon asks quietly, but I don’t get the chance to answer her. Sam snorts and mutters, “Right. Like that asshole could ever really be mad at her.”

“He’s kinda scary, but I like him,” Lennon adds, laughing softly. “Buck’s an asshole on the outside, but on the inside, he’s sweet. I think Rock is the same, but with a different way of showing it.”

“Nope. Rocky’s an asshole inside and out,” I add. Some would assume years of hard living made him an asshole, but I think it’s in his genes. He was born mean.

Really, I don’t have room to talk. I might not have been born crazy, but I learned it from a seasoned pro.

Standing outside the high school on the sidewalk, my backpack slung over my shoulder, I wait with Sam, Lisa, and Brit,
for our rides home. Sam and I are waiting on the guys, while Lisa and Brit are waiting on the bus.

Adjusting the strap to my backpack, I keep my eyes on the road in front of me.

“Brad’s back there talkin’ shit,” Sam tells me, bumping into my shoulder. “He’s such a douche.”

A giant douche.

Brad and his buddies are hanging back on the front steps of the high school. They’re talking about us, me in particular. He’s mad that I shot him down a few weeks back, in front of the entire lunchroom. He’s been busy rebuilding his ego by dragging my name through the mud.

“The dumb bitch won’t give me the time of day, but she’ll let that old creepy asshole on the bike fuck her,” Brad chuckles, his friends laughing right along with him.

I’ve taken the high road. Calling me a slut in the halls, scribbling my name on the bathroom walls, spreading rumors, and through it all, I’ve let it roll off of my back, not concerned with his shit. But he brought Rocky into it. Talk about me, fine, but don’t talk about my people.

Spinning around, Sam catches my elbow. “Don’t waste your time.” Too late.

Brad notices and smirks. “Yeah, bitch, I’m talkin’ about you and that sick fuck.”

With one clean shake, Sam’s hand slides off my arm, and I’m across the little patch of grass, up the stairs, and in Brad’s space.

“Bitch?”

“Yeah, bitch,” he sneers, his face inches from mine.

I take a lot of shit from a lot of different people. Today, Brad the dick weasel, is not gonna be one of them.

Before I know what I’m doing, I sock him square in the mouth. Pain explodes in my hand. I’m pretty sure I broke at least two fingers, but I feel fucking great.

He stumbles back and his hand flies up to his face. “You fuckin’ cunt!”

Shaking out my hand, I grin at his stunned face. “You’re just fuckin’ butt hurt because I won’t let you stick your tiny gonorrhea infested dick inside of me.”

“I’m gonna fuckin’ kill—” He doesn’t get to finish his sentence.

Rock is next to me in an instant, Buck and Poncho next to him. I didn’t hear him pull up. I was too engrossed in killing Brad to hear anything around me.

Rock lays him out flat without so much as a word. Brad’s friends, “Ohhh,” and shout, “Oh shit,” As Brad falls flat on his ass.

“Little cocksucker,” Rock grumbles, annoyed. He doesn’t hang around to finish the shithead off.

“Rock,” I call out, shaking my head. I could have handled him. I
did
handle him. Tipping his head, he looks down at me and smiles.

“Baby doll, you hit like a fuckin’ girl.”

“Hey, fuck you.” I am a damn girl.

Throwing an arm over my shoulder, he shrugs. “That doesn’t mean shit. First lesson of the day is don’t tuck your thumb.” I roll my eyes.

“Second lesson?” I snap, walking with him back down the steps as he hauls me along with him.

“We gotta get the fuck outta here. Some teacher is looking at me crazy.”

“You just punched a student.”

“So the fuck did you,” he laughs. Yeah, I did. And I’d do it again. “And I’m goddamn proud of you, baby doll.”

We both have issues, Rock and me, issues a licensed therapist wouldn’t even touch.

Reaching over the bar top, Lennon snags a bottle of something or other, the label peeled off, and hands it to me. “Drink this. Whatever the hell is it will cure whatever the hell ails you,” she informs me.

“Or kill me.”

“Or kill you,” she echoes my words. “But it’ll be a fun death.”

Throwing back a mouthful, I gag once it reaches my throat. It’s not good. It’s sooo bad. “Holy shit! That’s nasty,” I manage to say around a cough.

“The good shit usually is.” Sam snatches the bottle from my hand and downs a drink. Her pretty face screws up and her eyes start to water. “Oh no. Blech!”

Lennon laughs at the two of us until Sam slides the bottle towards her. “Your turn, newbie.”

This is one of the many reasons I love this place and this crazy club. New or old, you’re family as soon as you set foot in here. Memories and good times are never in short supply within these walls.

“Heard Buck telling T that some of the Washington guys are headed down,” Lennon informs us, taking the bottle from Sam.

Sam frowns and I laugh. “I hate you,” she huffs, so full of shit. She doesn’t hate me. How could she? We’ve been friends since Jr. High.

“Which guys?”

“Just heard Tank’s name.”

This should be fun, the whole damn group together. It’s been a year, since the fiftieth, that all of the guys have been together.

“Where Tank goes, Rampage, Stitch, Gin, and
Tags
follow.” I add that last bit for Sam. Her Tags is the worst. They have Rock and I beat by a mile.

Glaring at me, she grabs the bottle again and announces, “Time to get biker wasted.”

From power ballads to rap songs, we dance.
Celebration
is on my phone, plugged into an old sound system. Sam’s got some serious practiced dance moves to this shit, and Lennon is in Lennon’s world, dancing to a song neither of us can hear.

Lennon’s got a sloppy joint between her lips, and Sam’s using her cell as a makeshift microphone. In my hand is the dingy brown bottle.

But we dance.

I never get to just dance for fun. Naked acrobatics is not dancing. Hanging butt ass naked from a pole is not dancing. This, hands in the air and my feet on the ground, is dancing. Just feeling the music.

We twerk. We spin. We dirty dance. We laugh and we drink,
together
.

A few hours pass and the bottle makes the rounds between us. We’re drunk, and we’re having a damn good time.

“What is that fuckin’ noise?” Buck yells as he walks in through the back door. Rock walks in behind him, making a face only a mother could love. It’s a mix of disgust and pain.

“Turn the shit down,
El.
” He looks directly at me, an eyebrow lifted in suspicion.

“Oh yeah, blame me.” It was so me.

Rock walks up to me and jerks the bottle from my hands, holding it up for Buck to see. “Fuck. It’s gonna be a long damn night.”

Long and
fun
.

***

Gone off of eight-year-old moonshine, I’m sloppy drunk, and having a damn good night to make up for my shit day.

“Hell, I remember when you two dipshits thought it’d be cute to wash our bikes. El knocked over Bish’s bike with her ass,” Rock chuckles and Buck joins him.

Cringing, I hide my face in Rocks back. “That was like, ten fucking years ago,” I slur into his cut, feeling the slight burn in my cheeks and the image my mind conjures up. “I was trying to be cute.” I will never live the embarrassment down. I swear these people don’t know how to let things go, or let shit live in the past. If it happened, and if they laughed at it, it will be rehashed, time and time again.

Seventeen and seeking attention from anyone of the opposite sex, Sam and I got clever.

“It was real cute how pissed Bish was at you.” He was so mad at me. Me and Sam thought we’d be sexy in our new American flag bikinis, to offer the guys a free wash ‘n wax. What started as a good idea ended in a scratched bike and scarred ass cheek.

“Fuck you both.”

“It was…
sweet,
babe.”

Sitting in the bar, we’re drinking and reminiscing about the good ol’ days. Memories new and old are passed around with the bottle and a blunt.

Sitting on the bar top, Rock sits between my knees, his body leaning against mine. Sam’s lying across the bar, her eyes closed and a smile on her face. Lennon’s on Buck’s lap, while T, Poncho, and Ben are next to them on stools.

“Man, Bish didn’t talk to us for like, what?” Sam asks, giggling.

“A month,” I add, remembering Bish bitching us both out. His blue eyes were lit. I remember him handing me a Band-Aid for my ass, and smiling at me when I had tears rolling down my cheeks.

“Who is Bish?” Lennon asks. No one answers for a moment, none of us wanting to talk about it.

“A brother,” I tell her softly.

“Oh.”

Bish has been in prison for six years, indicted on murder charges. Life. It’s as hard now as it was on the day they took him away. Bish was Rocky and Buck’s best friend. Hell, he was everyone’s best friend. Bish was a good goddamn guy, and we hope to bring him home soon. When you grow up in a small town, the loss of a good friend is felt everywhere. And if the guys have it their way, they’ll fuck the judicial system the best way they know how, by having his charges overturned.

“I still have a scar on my ass,” I grumble, breaking the painful silence. “From falling over his bike and onto your stupid kickstand, T.” A forever white tan line is right across the cheek.

“Yeah, you do,” Rock laughs, hardy and deep.

“Can I see?” Tyler asks, and we all laugh, everyone except Rocky.