Текст книги "Reapers and Bastards: A Reapers MC Anthology"
Автор книги: Joanna Wylde
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Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 8 страниц)
I frowned, not liking how he’d pumped my friend for information. In all fairness, though, she’d probably been the one doing the pumping.
Pumping. Ha. A fit of giggles overtook me as I reached for another tiny glass.
“What’s so funny?” Boonie asked, his lips tracing the edges of my ear. It distracted me long enough for him to take away my drink and set it out of reach, which was really unfair. Then his hand started running up and down my thigh under the table and I forgot all about the booze.
“Kelly pumped you,” I said, giggling again.
He gave a low laugh. “Darce, you’re hot as hell but I got no fuckin’ idea what you’re talking about.”
I let my head flop back on his shoulder, smiling at him. God, he was beautiful. Kelly squawked as one of the bikers caught her hand, dragging her off toward the dance floor.
“You want to dance?” Boonie asked. I nodded, grinning at him. “I take it that means you’re over your snit?”
I frowned. “What snit?”
“At the bar. You looked pissed to see me. I wondered what’d been going through that brain of yours.”
I frowned, trying to remember. Oh, yeah. I wasn’t married anymore. That was pretty fabulous.
“I like being single,” I informed him. “I like how nobody tells me what to do. If you tell me what to do, that’ll piss me off.”
He laughed, then leaned close.
“Babe, I’m not Farell.”
I shifted in his lap, feeling the bulge of his cock flex under my ass. A wave of heated need ran through me, and my drunken mouth spoke before giving my brain a chance to weigh in.
“The last time I had any real penis/vagina action was with you in that cemetery,” I said, trying to focus on his face. Unfortunately things had started to spin, making it damned hard. Ha. Hard. I liked hard things. “Farell couldn’t get it up after the accident. We still fooled around and he got me off, but even that hasn’t happened for at least a year.”
“Jesus Christ,” he groaned, turning me toward him. One hand caught my hair, and then he was kissing me, tongue diving deep into my mouth. His dick turned rock solid under my ass and I wiggled happily because everything was tingly between my legs—woohoo!
The night turned fuzzy after that.
I know we danced for a long time. We also made out a bunch, which was perfectly fine because after every kiss I reminded him that I absolutely, positively wasn’t interested in a relationship.
Boonie just nodded and smiled—then he’d kiss me again.
The only part that wasn’t so great were the other bikers. Now that I knew how much money Farell owed, I was a little scared they might ask me about it. Fortunately, they were too busy trying to convince Kelly and the others to come back to their clubhouse and party to pay attention to me.
By last call, I was exhausted, starving, and horny as hell.
That’s when Kelly stood and informed us we needed a “potty break.” We all trouped to the bathroom in a giggly, wobbling clump, taking turns using the disgusting little stall as Kelly called for a vote.
“So what’s next, girls? We going to that party or doing our own thing?”
I frowned into the mirror, then made fish lips at myself. Glub. Glub. Funny . . . Sudden, loud shouting broke through my alcoholic fog and I blinked. This wasn’t happy, “We’re at the bar!” shouting. These were definitely “Holy shit, something’s really wrong!” sounds.
“What the fuck?” Kelly asked as we looked at each other with wide eyes. Creeping to the door, I opened it a smidge. People were rushing through the hall toward the emergency exit. Not good.
“We gotta get out of here,” I told her. Someone pushed against the door and I stepped back as Boonie opened it, his face dead serious.
“C’mon, all of you,” he said, grabbing my wrist to pull me out into the hall. The rest of the girls followed and then his friends were with us as we joined the tide of people. I still had no idea what the hell was going on. After a few long, confusing minutes the flow of bodies burst out into the alley and I saw flashing lights everywhere.
“Fuck,” Boonie said, jerking me closer. Good thing, too, because people were lurching and falling all around us. I heard someone shouting over a loudspeaker, but I couldn’t tell what they were saying.
We started following the back of the building, trying to get away from the crowd. In the distance I heard more cries and screams. I couldn’t see Kelly anymore. I couldn’t really see anything—just random people rushing in all directions, their faces panicked.
After an eternity of waiting, we reached the end of the alley and ran into the street. That’s when I saw the line of cops wearing riot gear and carrying plastic shields. They were shouting something . . .
“Get back!”
“Oh, fuck,” Boonie muttered. Suddenly a rock flew over our heads. It hit one of the cops. Then a glass beer bottle shattered against a shield. The police line faltered, and one of them stepped out of line, lifting his baton to hit a man who’d been standing too close. Suddenly the others started hitting people, too, and the crowd panicked. Everyone surged back but there was nowhere to run—the wall of people behind us just kept pressing forward. I felt Boonie’s grip on me slip.
“Boonie!” a man yelled. I looked over to see one of his biker friends waving at us. He plowed into the crowd, cutting a line toward us. Boonie caught me up, throwing me over his shoulder as he moved toward his friend. People were throwing more rocks now as the police kept fighting them.
What the hell? Things like this don’t happen in Coeur d’Alene!
The crowd ebbed and surged around us as Boonie fought free, then we were running across Lakeside Avenue into the neighborhood just north of downtown. We weren’t the only ones fleeing—all around people ran up the street, screaming and crying. I’d never seen anything like it.
‘’You okay?” Boonie asked, setting me back down. I nodded.
“The others already left,’’ his friend said.
“Thanks, brother,’’ Boonie told him. I looked at the biker, noting the Silver Bastard patches he wore. This man had thrown himself into a rioting crowd to guide us to safety, I realized. No wonder Boonie considered him a brother. For the first time, I realized the club might be more than a criminal gang . . .
“Thank you,” I said, and the man offered a toothy smile. I saw a trail of blood trickling down his forehead.
“Are you hurt?’’
“No worries,” he said, wiping at it. “One of ’em got me, but I got him back.”
The sudden, bright light of a spotlight filled my eyes.
“Stay where you are,” a voice said over a loudspeaker.
“Let’s go!” Boonie’s friend shouted, then we were running again as the sound of the rioting crowd grew louder behind us.
_______
Ten minutes later, Boonie and I slowed to a walk as we moved up Fifth Street. I had no idea where his friend had gone, or where Kelly was.
“Would your friends have taken the girls with them?” I asked Boonie as we stopped to lean against a wooden privacy fence. My breath came hard and my side hurt from running. At least I wasn’t feeling drunk anymore. Way too much adrenaline . . .
“Yeah, they should be fine,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “We planned it out when we came looking for you. Fuck. Don’t take this the wrong way, but every time I kiss you something blows up. I’m startin’ to think we’re cursed.”
I looked at him, and realized he was right. First the mine, then Farell’s crash . . . now whatever the ever-loving hell this had been.
“Damn. What do you think would happen if we actually made it to a second date?”
He stared at me, then his face cracked and he started laughing. I caught his mood, and then we were both laughing so hard tears ran down my face.
“Fuck if I know,” he said admitted finally. “Apocalypse or some shit?”
I sobered, frowning at him. He was joking, of course, but he raised a point. Bad things really did seem to happen every time we got together.
“Maybe for the good of humanity we should call it quits?”
“No way,” he said, pulling me into his body for a hard kiss. My insides heated and I guess I wasn’t totally sober after all, because I felt absolutely no inhibitions.
A car sped by and someone shouted, “Cops are coming!’’
Boonie dropped me abruptly. Down the street I saw the flash of blue lights.
“Are you kiddin’ me?” he asked, glancing around. “Over here.”
I followed him into the alley behind the fence. The yard had a gate, but it was locked. Not a problem for Boonie—he caught the edge of the fence and jumped, boosting himself up and over. Seconds later the gate opened from the inside. I ran through right before the squad car turned down the alley. Boonie slammed it shut behind me, and we both leaned back against it, panting.
“Are they looking for us?” I asked, confused.
“Doubt it,” he replied. “I mean, they always target the club, but I’m thinkin’ they just want to clear out downtown.”
“What the hell happened? Did you see anything?”
“Yeah,” he said. “There was a biker outside the bar. The cops were givin’ him shit, and then some guys in the crowd started arguing with them. By the time I realized what was happening, the biker was already gone. Still not quite sure how it turned into a riot.”
I glanced at him sharply. “Was he one of your friends?”
“Nope. Never saw him before and he wasn’t wearing club colors. All happened pretty damned fast. I think the cops panicked.”
Beyond the fence more lights flashed. We heard the police car pull into the alley, then it stopped and the lights went dark. I heard the crackle of the cop’s radio—he’d parked there. Crap.
“So now what?” I whispered. “I think we’re stuck here.”
Boonie shook his head, lifting a finger to his lips but it was too late.
“You hear something?” a voice asked. Suddenly a flashlight hit the other side of the fence, narrow strips of light shining through the cracks in the boards. I gasped. In an instant, Boonie caught me, covering my mouth with his hand.
“Boost me up,’’ said another man. “I’ll look over the top, maybe I’ll see something.”
Boonie let my mouth go, holding my gaze intently. As the cops shifted just inches from us, he jerked his chin behind me. I glanced around to see an overgrown lilac shrub—it was more than big enough to hide us . . . assuming we could reach it.
Fortunately we’d been in this situation before.
Not with the cops, of course. But when we’d been kids we’d had a far more terrifying nemesis.
Granny Blackthorne.
Twice a week she baked bread for her family, which she’d set out on her back porch. She also put out cookies, cupcakes, and even the occasional pie.
Looking back, it’s obvious that she was leaving the food for the kids in the trailer park. Most of us had enough to eat—at least during the school year, when we could get free lunches at school—but a lot of it was cheap, prepackaged shit. Not long after the worm incident, Boonie had judged me worthy to join his raiding party. Because I’d been a cute little girl, they’d used me as bait. I’d pick a handful of wildflowers, then go knock at Granny’s door. After a few minutes—her hearing wasn’t so good—she’d answer and I’d hold them out, offering my best gap-toothed smile and lisping about how much I liked her roses.
It was my job to keep her talking as long as possible, while Boonie and the boys went raiding. I’d wait for the signal and then run off to get my share of the booty.
She never caught on to us—or so we assumed—but no matter how much we stole, she put out more. Along the way, we’d developed a whole secret language of elaborate hand gestures, winks, et cetera, because you never knew what might happen during a highly dangerous food raid.
Now Boonie blinked at me twice in the old pattern.
Back up.
The cops were talking again, then I heard a flashlight hitting the boards. I nodded understanding, taking two steps backward as Boonie guided me. He caught my hands and lowered me to the ground. Seconds later I’d scooted silently into the safety of the shrub. Boonie followed, crawling over my body just in time.
Behind him—through the leaves—I saw the cop peering over the fence, shining his light into the back yard. Boonie looked down on me, his body heavy as we lay perfectly still.
“You see anything?” the cop asked his partner.
“Nope, looks clear.”
The man grunted as he dropped back down, his radio crackling again. I became more aware of Boonie’s weight pinning me in the darkness. His legs tangled with mine, reminding me of that afternoon in the woods above the trailer park.
He’d been heavy on me then, too. Now his hips pressed down and his mouth dropped over mine.
I wanted to protest—the cops were less than five feet away—but he didn’t give me a chance. He nipped at my lip, then shoved his tongue deep inside as I gasped. My head started to spin as he kissed me, taking advantage of the fact that I couldn’t risk making a sound.
When his hand trailed down my side, sliding between us to catch my thigh, I started getting nervous. When he pushed my leg out to grind his pelvis into me I felt something like panic, knowing there wasn’t much Boonie wouldn’t dare.
How far would he take this?
Farther than was comfortable. His cock pushed into the softness between my legs and like always, the chemistry between us was instant and powerful. He shifted, his erection rubbing against my clit. For long minutes he swiveled his hips slowly, pressing me back into the dirt as fire raced up my spine.
I wanted to strain against him but I couldn’t—he was already being so reckless, so crazy. No matter what I did, I’d risk making noise. Not that they had any reason to arrest us.
Not any legitimate reason.
But not half an hour ago I’d watched the police beating people with clubs, people just like me—and that was in front of witnesses. What would they do here in the dark, where nobody could see them?
Boonie pushed up on one arm, still holding my lips captive as he reached down to catch my shirt. Then his fingers caught my left nipple, pinching it lightly and tugging as his hips kept their steady rhythm.
We heard thudding footsteps as a group of people ran by, the police parked beyond the fence racing to meet them. Someone screamed. I couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything.
Boonie wasn’t so inhibited.
Taking advantage of the distraction, he lifted his hips and reached down to unzip his pants. Then he pulled up my skirt and I felt my ass hit the bare dirt.
I really needed to stop wearing skirts.
Seconds later his fingers slid inside me and I’m embarrassed to admit how wet I was already. (Okay, make that stop wearing skirts and invest in some serious granny panties, because these thongs weren’t providing any protection at all.)
His thumb found my clit as his fingers hit my g-spot. I arched my back, and I would’ve cried out if he hadn’t caught my mouth with his again, swallowing the sound.
Overhead lights flashed and outside the fence people shouted. I hardly even noticed, because Boonie pulled out and grabbed his cock, lining it up with my entrance.
Then he pushed inside.
Looking back, it’s hard to keep all of it straight. I know the chaos around us seemed to be moving away, but I could still hear the police radio on the other side of the fence. Boonie’s strokes were steady and smooth, not to mention so achingly slow that they were torture. I pushed my hands down into his jeans and cupped his ass, urging him to go faster. He ignored me, maintaining his pace as more people ran by. The chemistry between us had always been insane, but this time it was explosive and by the time I came, he had to cover my mouth with his hand to keep me silent. At the last minute he pulled out, blowing his wad on my stomach as the fireworks were still exploding in my head.
Then he shifted, rolling us to our sides and tugging me onto his body, rubbing one hand through my hair as the noises around us faded. It was just me and him, joined in our own private world.
You’d think the adrenaline would’ve kept me up all night, but apparently it wasn’t enough to overpower the sex and the booze. At some point I drifted off, despite the lights and the noise.
Boonie woke me with a kiss, raising one knee up between my legs as I squirmed against him restlessly.
Then a branch poked my ass and I remembered where we were.
“What the hell was that all about?” I asked, my voice a soft whisper.
“I think it was a riot. Although I still can’t quite figure out how it started. Never heard of one around here before.”
I shivered, and he tightened his arms around me, rubbing up and down my back.
“That’s pretty fucked up.”
“No shit,” he said, then distracted me with another kiss. I pushed back against his leg, realizing my skirt was still up around my waist.
Slutty, much?
“Um . . . I’m not sure—” I started to say, but he cut me off.
“Don’t think about it too much. Not gonna end well for either of us. Just consider this—every time we’ve gotten together, some big disaster hits. This time it missed us. Maybe that means we’re home free.”
I frowned at him, flinching as pain shot through my skull.
“Hangover?” he asked. I nodded. “You need some coffee and some food.”
“And a shower.”
“Great,” he said. “We’ve got all of that at my friend’s place. It’s not far—will take us about ten minutes to walk there.”
There are walks of shame, and Walks of Shame. I think when you come dragging in after a riot, covered in dirt, leaves, and dried come, you qualify for capital letters by default. We saw a few police cars along the way, but things seemed to be settling down. Early light traced the sky. If I hadn’t known better, I’d never have guessed there’d been people fighting in the streets just hours before.
His friend’s place was just an apartment over a garage. When we walked in, the first thing I saw was Kelly asleep on the couch. Well, she was on top of a man on the couch—the same man who’d helped rescue us from the crowd.
He opened his eyes briefly, then closed them again. More people slept in the bedroom, but at least the bathroom was empty. I followed Boonie through the wooden door, then frowned when he reached for his leather cut.
“Maybe we should shower separately?”
He shook his head.
“No way. Took me long enough to pin you down. I let you out of my sight you might go marry someone else.”
I think he meant it as a joke, but I frowned.
“Boonie, I was serious when I said I wasn’t ready for a relationship. The divorce isn’t even final yet—I can’t handle anything new.”
He pulled off his leather, hanging it carefully on a hook. Then he reached for the edges of his shirt.
“I get that,” he said, tugging it over his head. The sight of his bare chest caught me. Damn, this man was beautiful . . . “But what we have between us isn’t new, Darce. It’s always been here. I had to walk away twice. I won’t do it again.”
He was right. There really had always been something between us, and not just when it came to sex. As children he’d always protected me . . . well, protected me from everyone but himself. He’d fought Farell for me, and even when he’d stopped returning my letters, he’d thought he was doing it for my benefit.
This wasn’t new at all.
“I’m not willing to give up what I have,” I insisted, refusing to roll over. I’d had my fill of that with Farell. “My whole life I’ve had to live for other people. This is my time. I’m not willing to let that go, not even for you.”
“Does having ‘your time’ involve you fucking guys who aren’t me?”
I rubbed my stomach, a thrill running through me at the memory or him, deep inside. Could I imagine doing that with someone else?
Not really.
“No, but it doesn’t involve me moving back to Callup and giving up my career, either. I want to own my own spa some day—one of those places where people come to get their hair done, along with manicures and massages and all that.”
“Sounds great, so long as I don’t have to get my nails painted,” he said, shrugging. “But I definitely want more of those massages. Wouldn’t mind a happy ending, either.”
“Not funny,” I snapped. “I’m a therapist, Boonie. I help people who are in pain. You should respect that.”
The smiled dropped from his face and he caught my hands, pulling me close.
“It was just a joke, Darce,” he said. “I don’t need you giving up on your dreams. Hell, I’ve got my own life. The last thing I want is you all whiny and dependent. My mom was like that. Sucked. I just want to know that at the end of the day you’ll be in my bed.”
I leaned into him, laying my head on his chest.
“I could probably make that work. But no more riots, okay? My ass is covered in scratches. Let’s keep it boring from now on.”
“Boring. I can work with that.”
A sudden knocking pounded the door.
“Boonie, get out here!’’ his friend shouted. “You won’t believe what just happened.”
Boonie pulled away, running a hand through his hair in frustration.
“I think we’re going to have to be bored later,” he muttered. I sighed, realizing I should probably get used to it.
“We really are cursed.”
Boonie shook his head, then gave my nose a quick kiss.
“We’re just normality-challenged. It’ll be okay.”
Wrapping my arms around him, I gave a squeeze then let him go. Guess I should get used to it—boring was probably overrated anyway, right?
_______
Historical note: The events in this story are based loosely on real events that took place at different times in the Silver Valley and Coeur d’Alene, Idaho.
The “riot” in downtown Coeur d’Alene took place in June 1999, during the annual Car d’Alene classic car show. It began outside the Ironhorse Saloon when police stopped a biker and were booed by the crowd. Things grew out of control when more officers arrived in riot gear. While the exact timeline of events is controversial, many witnesses (including my own friends who were present) stated that the police attacked them violently. Fourteen people were arrested and it led to a challenge in the Idaho State Supreme Court over whether police officers are immune from prosecution.
The Sunshine Mine Fire is one of the darkest chapters in Silver Valley history. On May 9, 1972, the second deadliest hard-rock mining disaster in U.S. history killed ninety-one men deep underground, many of whom were overcome so quickly they were found still sitting in front of their open lunch boxes. Escape efforts were hampered by out-of-date rescue equipment and leadership issues. Eight days later, two survivors were found 4,800 feet under the surface. No other men would come out alive. The oldest victim was sixty-one years old and the youngest was nineteen. They left behind seventy-seven widows and more than two hundred children, three of whom were still unborn. If you’re interested in learning more, I highly recommend The Deep Dark by Gregg Olsen.
