The Riot (Hell's Disciples MC Book 5) (4 page)

Oh how the mighty fall. 

I work at The Grill & Grind. It’s a bar and grill in the front, strip joint in the back, and it’s all inside of one building. It’s nothing new, and it’s nothing nice, but it pays the bills, just barely. I’m making the best out of what life has dealt me with a smile on my damn face.

Running the back of my hand across my forehead, I wipe away the small beads of sweat collecting on my brow. It’s been a busy day, and I’ve done nothing but run. I take a breather, gulping back a glass of lukewarm tap water, but it doesn’t last long. The bell above the door jingles and someone out front hollers, “Yo, service!”

Walking back around the corner, I find Rock sitting at the bar, staring at me. Danny Boy and Mossy are standing on either side of him, with Buck at his back, and none of them look particularly happy.

But Rock, he’s looking at me like he doesn’t like me, or much else, really. Grumpy bastard.

“Hey, guys. Something to drink?” I ask, propping my side against the bar top, aiming for casual, but feeling anything but with four angry men staring at me. “Lunch?”

“No,” Dan grunts out. “Gotta ask you somethin’.” My back instantly straightens and I go on the defensive.

Flicking a hand out, I encourage him to get on with it. “Okay…ask.”

“Your brother. You see him lately?” For a moment I stare, thrown off by his question. The Disciples don’t talk about Mike, ever. Thinking back, I dig for the last time I saw him.

“About two or three weeks ago.” He came over to borrow money, and when I say borrow, I mean ask for money with no intention of returning it. I’m his personal ATM.  Hell, he didn’t even make inside the door. He stood on the small stoop, asking for a hundred dollars, and took off the second the bill hit his palm.

“Yeah? He say if he was goin’ anywhere? Tell you anything?” Dan pushes, his questions getting more urgent. “Was he with anyone? Drivin’ a truck or car?”

There wasn’t much said. He asked for money, I gave it, he took it, and he left. Usually that’s how most of our visits go. “We didn’t talk much.”

“Rock said his shit’s at your place. Must talk to him.”

“He needed a place to store his crap. We talk, kinda. His stuff has been there a while now.”

Goddamn Rock and his big mouth.

Rock and Buck exchange a look before turning their gazes on me, so I stare right back. It doesn’t last long.             

“You lyin’ to me?” Dan snaps. Taken aback, I step away from the counter. Am I
lying
?

“If I were lying, it’s not like I would tell you.
Duh
.” Does he think I’m stupid? Usually people don’t openly admit to lying, especially not to a man wearing a cut. I might be cautious of the Disciples, but I’m not scared of them. I fear two things; death and the IRS. Everyone else can kiss my ass.

“You sure?” He retorts, getting up from his stool. Getting up isn’t going to intimidate me.

“Pretty sure.”

He mulls it over a second and shakes his head. “Yeah, okay.” Dan nods once, looking like he believes me. At least I hope he does. Michael may be my brother, but that doesn’t mean he tells me shit. I’m lucky if he even acknowledges me for anything other than my wallet. “If you see or hear from him, let Rock know. You got me?”

Not a problem.

“Yeah. Loud and clear,
boss
.” I give him a mock salute. I might respect him, but that doesn’t give him the right to get all threatening with me.

“Good.”

I watch as Dan walks to the door to leave, Mossy and Buck on his heels. With a frown, I turn to Rocky, ready to tear him a new one.

“What the fuck was that about? Don’t bring that shit to my work, Rock.” I will happily and willingly answer any questions Rock and his club have, because they’ve always
been there for me, but he damn well knows not to bring that shit to my work. My boss is a prick, and is always looking for a reason to shit-can my ass.

“Club business, babe. Bring it where I gotta bring it.” Lame excuse.

“That’s bullshit, Rocky.” I yell, slapping my hands down on the counter. Leaning in, I get close. “Don’t fuck this job up for me like you did the last one.”

“You knew I wasn’t gonna let you work there once I found out where it was. It was only a matter of time.” He crosses his arms aggressively. The job incident of ‘08. Good times. “That place was fuckin’ rowdy. No place for you. Startin’ to feel the same about this place. You won’t be here long, so what does it matter.”

“Jesus, you’re a pain in the ass. You don’t always know what’s good for me.” Rock knows me better than anyone, sometimes better than myself. But when it comes to my jobs and my money, he doesn’t know shit.

“Yeah. Okay, Ellison,” he mutters as he gets up. “Whatever the fuck you say. Not gonna fight with ya.” That’s a first. Once he’s off the stool, he comes around the bar and advances on me. “You see that puke of a brother, you tell me. No shit, babe. I gotta know.”

“Rocky—”

“You better fuckin’ tell me, Ellison.”

“Yeah, yeah.” We’ll see about that.

Wrapping a big rough hand around the back of my neck, he pulls me into him. There’s no point in fighting him. He always wins. Planting his lips against mine, he kisses me hard, then pulls away and kisses my forehead, letting his lips linger on my skin.

“Now be a good girl, yeah?”

“Yeah,” I mumble.

Good girl my ass.

Friends with Benefits

Rock

It’s been a week since I’ve seen Ellison, but it’s not unusual for us. Might see her every day, or a couple times a week, but the longest was for six fucking months. I prefer keeping her close, but El doesn’t always make that easy on me.

Last time I saw her, she was staring at me from across the bar top like I was pissing in her Cheerios. She hates me asking about her brother, and I hate having to ask. Nothin’ I enjoy more than rehashing shit I’d rather bury. But, when shit gets unearthed, I have no choice but to ask questions. I’ll ask until I get the answers I want.

I got a sneaking suspicion that her piece of shit brother is behind some of this shit that’s been going on. For the past few weeks, he’s been AWOL. I know that fucker’s somewhere close, laying low, hoping we forget he’s a shit stirring little rat. Unfortunately for him, The Hell’s Disciples don’t forget, and most importantly, we won’t let it go. He’s in for a world of hurt once I get my hands on him.

Through the door and out into the parking lot, loud music, and even louder voices hit me. Weeding through bodies and weaving around tables, I make my way up to the bar and find El filling shots glasses. With a bottle of liquor in her hand and a cup on the bar, she pours and chats with a woman in a trashy skirt on the other side waiting for her drink.

Ellison looks so fuckin’ wrong here behind that bar. I see her somewhere a million miles away from here. From the moment I met her, there’s always been this light in El. She fuckin’ shines. Each time I see her here, in this bar or in her neighborhood, I see that light dimming. I hate that she lets life do this to her, but what can I do? She has to do it herself, but I’ll be right here waiting once she figures that out.

Stopping at the bar, I see there’s a man sitting right in front of her on a stool that looks like it has my name on it. Grabbing onto his shoulder, I politely suggest he get the fuck up. “Mind if I sit here?” He looks ready to argue until he sees the dealmaker, my cut, and nods vigorously.

“Oh. Yeah, sure.” Smart man.

I take a seat and watch her pour drinks, chat with customers, all while ignoring me. She knows damn well I’m sittin’ right the fuck in front of her, but she’s gonna play her little games tonight and drive me crazy.

“You mad at me, babe?” I ask, interrupting her conversation.

“Not yet, but give it ten minutes,” she sneers, exchanging the shot of Makers for a five-dollar bill. “I’m sure you’ll do something stupid.”

I’ll do damn near anything for a reaction out of her. I live to set that attitude of hers on fire.

“Keep the change,” the woman tells her before turning her attention to me when Ellison doesn’t bother offering me any more of hers. Leaning an elbow on the bar, the chick juts her tits out. I swear to Christ, the cut is a bitch magnet.

“Hey,” she says softly, pouting her glossy lips. I wish like a hell this bitch could hold a candle to El, but with one head to toe, I know there is no fucking competition.

“Darlin’.” I give her a nod, but I’m too busy watching Ellison roll her eyes over the bitches’ shoulder. Jealous little shithead. She doesn’t want me, but no one can have me. I love that shit.

“You’re handsome.”

“Ya don’t fuckin’ say?” I’m not interested, but it annoys the piss outta El, so I decide to play her game.

“Wanna buy me a drink?” Fuck no. Waste of money.

“Darlin’—”

Reaching over the bar, El taps the woman on the shoulder. “Honey, you’re gonna need a few more of those before he’ll even consider taking you home.”

Real fucking nice.

“Excuse me?” The woman gapes at a victorious Ellison. Fuck, she’s in a mood, and she’s gonna make damn sure I don’t get any pussy from anyone other than her tonight.

El is all I want. I’d fuck her on the regular for the rest of my life if she’d let me, ‘cause the only thing I need is what she’s offering. She’s had a few deadbeat boyfriends here and there, but for the most part, El knows that if she needs something, she’s got me.

I’ll be the first to admit I’m not a goddamn saint. Hell, I’m not even a good guy. I fuck other bitches, but never while I’m with El, because really, I’m not fucking interested. When we’re not on, I get what I need where I can. She might not like it, but I don’t lie to her. Ellison knows the score.

The minute she wants to put that patch on, she’s it for me. Until then, we do what we gotta do.

“He likes them sloppy drunk, face down, ass up kinda shit,” El chirps happily. She’s so damn proud of herself that I have to laugh. What a little fucking liar. The woman gives me a once over before standing to leave, clomping off bitterly with her heels slapping the old floor.

Twisting in my seat, I stare down the animal behind the bar who’s snickering to herself.

“That was cute.”

“I thought so.”

“You’re fuckin’ crazy, baby.”

“Eh. What are you gonna do? Stop talking to me?” she snorts and rolls her eyes. Not on her life. She’s not getting rid of me that easy.

Two dudes at the end of the bar call for her, and she leaves me sitting here watching her go, wondering why I let her rule my world. I put up with far more than any other sane motherfucker would. Why? Because she’s fuckin’ Ellison, that’s why. My whole goddamn world.

She left me with shit to drink. Reaching over the bar top, I grab the bottle from behind the bar and spin in my seat. Leaning back against the counter, I watch people while I wait for the little shithead to come back and give me more hell.

The place is busy for a Sunday. Most of the tables are full, and there are two girls on-stage working the pole. Neither of them sport anything special. Nothin’ worth grabbing a chair for, that’s for damn sure.

There are two reasons I come here; business and El.

This place isn’t where I envisioned a wild haired little girl to be all those years ago. It sure the fuck isn’t a place I want her dancing in, that’s for sure.

She slings drinks here two nights a week, serves breakfast out front at the grill the other two mornings, and dances here a few nights in between. I fuckin’ hate it.

Ellison pours drinks and bullshits with a few people at the end of the bar, not worried about me down here all by my fuckin’ lonesome. She’s lucky she’s beautiful, or I would’ve left already.

After about fifteen minutes, she walks over to me, after all her customers are happy and liquored up, while I’ve been over here in a foul fucking mood.

“You want something?” she snaps, resting a hand casually on the bar next to mine, drumming her fingers. “Because I don’t have all damn night.”

“You’re in a fuckin’ mood. You talk to all your customers this way, or am I special?” Christ. She knows I like her mean mouth and the attitude that flows right on out of it.

“Yeah. Only the special assholes get my love and affection,” she bites out sarcastically.

Well, this has been fun, but… “You comin’ home with me after you’re done ignorin’ me?”

I need a taste. It’s been way too long for my liking.

Ellison looks like she’s thinking it over; chewing her lip and batting her lashes at me. When she inches closer to me, I can’t resist. Snatching her by the back of her neck, I jerk her in close. “Don’t fuck with me, babe. I was enjoying it before, but now I’m not.” Her smile only gets bigger.

“Well, I kinda had shit to do tonight.” She pulls away, putting space between us.

“The only thing you gotta do tonight is me.”

“I know most people ask how high when you say jump, but I’m not one of them, and you know this,” she tells me. I’m very aware of that. If Ellison were that woman, we wouldn’t be here. Not exactly sure where we’d be, but it sure the fuck wouldn’t be in a titty bar, debating on whether or not she’s coming home with me.

“Yeah, babe, I’m real clear on that. But tonight, you’re jumpin’ when I say so.” Jumping right into my bed.

“Maybe.” No maybes about it.

“El. Don’t make me hop up over that fuckin’ bar.”

“Fine. I’ve got a couple hours left.” Yeah that’s what I thought. “You can wait.”

And I do. I wait like a chump for my little piece of heaven.

***

Like most guys, I’ve had my fair share of pussy. I’d like to think I’m well-versed in females, and seeing as I’ve sampled quite a few varieties, I know what I like and what I want. Ellison is everything I want, and more. Plain and fuckin’ simple.

We’re good together. Probably because she trusts me and I trust her. It could be the fact we fucking explode whenever we’re together. The sex is fucking phenomenal, and she’s the only woman I ever think about. Our pull to each other is strong.

There’s nothing like finding a woman that will let you do whatever the fuck you want to her. If I tell Ellison to bend over and grab her ankles, she does it. If I want to spend two hours eating her pussy, she’s all for it. She’s my sexual fantasy, and I’ll be damned if I give her up.

Sliding into a seat, I lean back and stretch out right in front of the stage, front and center. There’s no way in hell she can miss me, and that’s exactly how I like it.

I hate Sundays.

“No fuckin’ clue how you deal with this,” Buck says, claiming the seat next me.

“I couldn’t share her man,” Tyler adds, sitting down on the other side of the table.

I thoroughly enjoy when they share their dumbass opinions.

“It’s life.”

Finally, at midnight, the lights dim and the butt rock fades into something so fucking familiar it makes me sick,
Red Light Special
. Ellison likes her nineties music loud and old school.

Watching the stage, I catch movement to the side and I hold my fucking breath, bracing for it. I hate this part. Hate it more than I hate letting her go. She crushes me a little every time she comes onto this stage.

After a beat, El walks out onto the stage like she owns it. Every man in the joint is on the edge of his seat, bills in hand, waiting for the goddamn thrill of their life as they watch her glide to the middle of the stage.

She walks out like a queen—a fucking goddess—entitled and on top of the world. You’d never know she came from shit. We both did. There’s a look on her face so believable, so real, that you’d think she wants to be here, that there is nowhere she’d rather be than right here for your enjoyment. Her smile is sly and sexy. Those eyes are low and needy. Her body, that
body
, is every man’s dream.

But it’s all a fuckin’ lie.

Giving the pole a caress, she bends over and shakes her ass, slowly, with practiced perfection. Everything moves in all the right places, and parts of her that belong to
me
are visible.

“I hate this shit,” I grumble, shooting back the rest of my double.

Wearing all black, she’s the sexiest woman in the place…hell, the state. But all I can see is that seven-year-old little girl singing this song into a hairbrush, wearing a tutu, while dancing in her living room. Seven, and so fucking innocent, belting out lyrics she couldn’t even begin to understand. Seven, and not a care in the world.

But things changed.

Drastically.

Ellison

Standing in Rock’s dark room, I can feel him at my back. He’s close, but not close enough. His overwhelming presence is larger than life.

My skin is on fire. Awareness snakes its way down my spine, and an involuntary shiver runs up my arms.

The door closes, and I know there’s no going back now. Once Rock gets me, he has a hard time letting me go. I know this. It’s a mistake, it always is, but I can never tell him no. I want him, just as much as he wants me.

“Rocky?”

“Hmm?” I feel his breath on my shoulder, close to my ear. He puts his hand on my back, encouraging me to go further inside. I’ve been in his place countless times, and every time feels like the first. A nervous ball of dread and excitement sits in the pit of my stomach, and my knees feel weak.

We’ve been doing this for a long time now. The first time wasn’t sweet, and it sure as shit wasn’t romantic. It was after a bad date, and both of us went a little crazy. He pushed me up against the front door and fucked me senseless. We’re not a serious thing, but we’re a beautiful fucking mess when we are together. 

We’re a disaster.

But we’re fire.

Walking inside, his hand remains on my back, his thumb rubbing along my skin. Walking through the small living room and to his bed, I pause. “I shouldn’t be here,” I tell him, just like I always do. “But I want to be.” We don’t make sense. We’re singing a different song, but it’s always the same dance.

“You know you’re right where you need to be…” Rock starts, but stops when he shoves me onto the bed, placing his body flush with the back of mine. He grabs a handful of my hair and tips my head back before he finishes his comment. “…and that’s right here with me.”

Fire.

“So tell me you shouldn’t be here again.” It’s not question.

Pushing his body into mine, Rock pulls me up the bed, folding me at the waist. “Hands on the bed.” When I don’t comply immediately, he spanks me, hard.
It fucking hurts.
The smack of his hand reverberates off of my ass cheek and I know it’ll be big and red.