Mayhem dauntless mc book.., p.3
Mayhem (Dauntless MC Book 3), page 3
When Tiny felt like he’d had enough, he walked over and tapped Coy on the shoulder. Coy turned around to see a mountain of a man in a kutte. Coy wiped the back of his hand over his mouth and shook his long black hair out of his eyes.
Tiny never took his eyes off Coy as he spoke to Preacher, “Get that fuckwad’s wallet out of his back pocket and count his money.”
Preacher kicked over Bert’s unconscious body and fished his wallet out, “He’s got close to a thousand dollars in here.”
Tiny reached down and grabbed the money, handing it to Coy. “This should cover the money he stole from you—with interest.”
“Thank you,” Coy eyed the patch on Tiny’s kutte, “I’m sorry for interrupting your business. Guess my temper got the best of me. He sucker punched me—not cool.”
His lopsided grin shot right through Stinger who had been standing in the corner watching. Before she could think about it, the words were out of her mouth, “You’re going home with me tonight, cowboy.”
“Think they oughta go back to the club. Stinger’s got clothes there and cowboy there has luggage on his Harley parked out front,” Preacher stood with his arms crossed over his massive chest staring down Coy.
Tiny’s eyes bored through Coy. “I agree, Preacher. We don’t want to leave any loose ends.”
Coy knew he was going back to the Dauntless MC club tonight; no way he was arguing with two bikers the size of two grizzly bears. Coy looked at Tiny and nodded once in agreement. These weren’t the kind of guys you wanted to disagree with. Coy also had enough sense to know being a guest at a biker club was an honor and to say no to that honor was the highest form of disrespect.
“Get the fuck over here prospects!”
Coy watched as two guys ran over at the President’s command.
“Get this fat fuck out of here and let him know he’s barred from the strip joint. I’m tired of him ripping off my customers and my woman doesn’t like him.”
Raven sauntered over and saddled up beside Tiny. She lifted her head and kissed her man’s cheek, “You’re right, baby, I never have liked the thief. Looks to me he got what was coming to him.”
The prospects dragged Bert out the back door and into a cargo van. They would take care of the body and then clean up the mess. Coy had beat the shit out of the man and everybody who had seen it was impressed.
When Stinger slid behind Coy on the Harley seat, squeezed in tight because of the luggage, she felt good pressed up against Coy’s body; and damned if she didn’t look like his own little hillbilly Barbie. Life was looking up—if the bikers didn’t decide he’d been disrespectful by beating up Bert in their establishment. Even though they were taking him back to the club, he still had the nagging fear he’d about beat a man to death on their turf. He should have asked permission. That settled it, he’d apologize again—couldn’t be too careful when it came to these guys. There wasn’t a whole lot Coy was afraid of, but he knew there were a few things a man needed to respect; guns, explosives, and bikers.
Chapter Eight
The place was in full swing when the Harleys pulled in with a thunderous roar that only came from the engine of a Harley Davidson. All the bikers and partiers looked up as Tiny, Preacher, and Coy pulled in and parked with their women in tow.
The men lumbered over with Coy and Stinger following behind. The people around the bonfire took a second to checkout Coy.
“Who’s the cowboy?” One of the clubhouse whores asked.
“He’s with me,” Stinger snarled. It wasn’t a matter of Stinger being jealous over a man she’d just met, but for some reason she did feel a responsibility to help the man avoid getting an STD.
“You don’t have to get all territorial about it,” the woman sneered.
“And you don’t have to immediately attempt to fuck every stranger on the street, but you do.”
The crowd laughed when Stinger said that because they all knew it was true. The old ladies hated the club whores and the men just looked at them like… whores.
The woman huffed but didn’t say anything. The last time Stinger had gotten into it with a club whore she’d beat the woman so badly she had to go to the hospital. The fact Raven, her best friend Red, and Daisy, the Vice President’s old lady, all liked Stinger made it hard to be too bitchy. Even though Stinger wasn’t an old lady, she had an in because the women liked her—not just any women—the top women in the club. One of the main reasons the women liked her was because Stinger hadn’t buddied up to them to get the prestige that came with being their friend. She was real, and they all respected that. Stinger made no effort to try and fit in because she really didn’t give a fuck what people thought of her. That natural attitude she had gave her an air of confidence. She was a lone wolf and a natural-born leader. The fact she didn’t try to be popular drew people to her.
Scooter, the sergeant at arms, was the next to ask. Red stood by his side looking up at him adoringly, “So who is he?”
“His name’s Coy Calhoun. He’s the ol’ boy I was tellin’ ya might come lookin’ for Bert.”
Scooter directed his attention towards Coy, “So…did ya find him?”
“Found him and got my money back, thanks to your president.” Coy directed his attention to Preacher, “I should have filled ya in on what I was doing here before I let my temper get the best of me. No disrespect meant and I’m sorry. I also appreciate you giving me interest on that money he stole. I’m starting over so it’ll come in handy.”
Preacher just shrugged, “Man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do. I respect that. You sure put a beatdown on that old boy.”
A couple of howls of victory went up when Preacher said that. There wasn’t a brother in the club who didn’t respect a man for taking back what belonged to him.
Scooter solemnly shook his head up and down, “You’ve gotta respect a man who will travel over five-hundred miles on a bike to prove a point.”
Coy looked at Preacher and Tiny with a snarl on his face, “I got no respect for a man who can’t look a man in the face when he punches him—bastard sucker punched me, and it pissed me off.”
“Coy, you and Stinger will be sharing a room here tonight. We like to keep our circle tight after something like this happens. You gotta problem with that?” Tiny asked.
“Any man who would have a problem sharing a room with a woman who looked like a real live hillbilly Barbie ain’t much of a man.” Coy took a moment to study Stinger. She had long, thick, blonde hair that almost reached her ass, and big porcelain blue eyes that looked like they belonged on an expensive China doll. Her skin held a hint of a tan that gave her a healthy glow. She had a pert little nose that turned up at a perfect angle. Her body looked like it had been hewn to perfection at a local gym, but it was her attitude that socked him in the gut like a welcome sucker punch of pure lust, and that made him want to spread her legs and have her lips screaming out his name in pleasure. He wanted her body squirming beneath him in the worst sort of way and Coy Calhoun was a man who was used to getting what he wanted—not because he was entitled but because he was persistent.
“Tell me about it,” Tiny laughed. “Stinger won’t have a damn thing to do with any of the brothers. That girl is independent just like my Raven.”
Stinger looked up through long black lashes at Tiny, “I’ve had to take care of myself my whole life. I won’t be able to work in a strip club forever so I’m working towards my retirement now. I don’t want to age out without having alternatives to invest in a legal business,” she laughed before she continued, “then I can launder money for the club. Y’all been good to me and I’ll never forget that. My loyalty lies with Dauntless MC.”
Tiny reared his head back and roared laughing, “That’s the same thing my Raven says.”
“She’s the one who gave me the idea,” Stinger said coyly.
Tiny looked down at Raven, “Don’t make these bitches too smart financially, we don’t want ‘em getting the idea they aren’t property of their men.”
Raven laughed, “Ain’t none of these bitches getting my financial planning ideas but Red, Daisy, and Stinger.”
The club whore who had attempted hitting on Coy pouted. Just like always those four bitches were the queen bees of the club. She wished she’d never let all the bikers in the club fuck her. Now she would never be anything but a club whore. Spreading your legs too quick was a bell that couldn’t be un-rung. She would have to settle for being on the fringes of the Dauntless MC biker club family because she’d never be in the inner circle now. There was no manual for how to navigate a biker club and she had broken every rule there was to break. If she had any respect or self-worth, she’d just walk away and count her losses, but the lifestyle was as addictive as the drugs that ran rampant through the corridors of the club. There would be no walking away for Smoky. She hadn’t chosen her name, the club had. Just like smoke dissipated and was forgotten; after the men used her the same thing happened to her.
Chapter Nine
The club was set up much like a motel with an outer courtyard where the firepit was, and that was where the bikers gathered when they wanted to party outside; and the weather was accommodating. There were rooms that were permanent rooms for the bikers and guest rooms that served as a place for people to stay when they had partied too hard or were in town for club business. There was also a very large room set up as the bar, complete with pool tables, older arcade games, and pinball machines. Some of the brothers were hooked on vintage arcade games and would kill to keep them. Contrary to popular opinion, the club was always clean and there were women whose full-time jobs were to do just that. Many of them were runaways who had been brought home as a gift to a biker’s old lady. There were always women around who would cook and clean in exchange for a place to stay, with the hopes they would one day become a biker’s old lady. There was a hierarchy in the club and rules were not made to be broken. The smart women allowed themselves to be taken under an old lady’s wing so they could learn those rules. It was the only way to survive in the 1% lifestyle.
Even though Stinger was leading Coy to the room they’d be staying in, she allowed him to pull her in close so she could walk straight. Between the whiskey, beer, and joints that had been passed around the firepit, Stinger was high as hell. Normally, she was careful about getting too buzzed if she knew she’d be staying at the club, but for some reason, she’d felt safe with Coy there. She’d never believed in an instant connection, but when she looked into those whiskey gold eyes of his, she couldn’t look away.
“Come here, baby girl,” Coy smiled and bent over the end table next to the bed and put out a line of coke. He turned around and handed Stinger a short straw he had tucked in a pocket.
Coy stood behind her with his hands on her hips to steady her. Even though she was drunk she could feel a spark of need go through her. His hands felt sturdy like a man who knew how to support a woman. She didn’t know what it was about him, but there was something she liked about this guy.
“Fuck yes,” she groaned. “I needed that. That’s some awesome shit.”
“I’ve got a whole shitload of it right there in my luggage.” The bags had been brought into the room for him already. He sauntered over to the door and locked it. He did a line and then opened his luggage to make sure his stash was still there.
“They won’t steal anything,” Stinger said.
He walked over to her and placed his hands lightly on her hips, “What about you, Stinger? Would you steal from me?”
“No. I don’t run my mouth, either. It won’t go any further than this room.” She looked up at him and took a moment to study him. He was tall and muscular but in a lithe way. He had black hair that was long and wavy. His eyes were the color of amber with gold flecks in them like there was fire burning just beneath the surface and it would consume her if she ever let her guard down. His face was chiseled like it had been carved in stone. There was an intensity that radiated off him and a dangerous vibe that made her want to toy with him to bring it out. The beginning of a black eye had started to form; it only added to his ominous good looks. She’d seen fights before but never one that had turned her on. Coy had owned that moment he jumped on Bert from the second he punched him until the bikers had to mop him up off the floor—Bert didn’t stand a chance.
“Didn’t take you for the talkative type, but I’d damn sure love to hear you talking dirty to me while I eat you up, girl. I wanna get to know ya first. Come here and do another line so you’ll be awake enough to tell me all your secrets you don’t want the world to know.”
She followed him like a lamb to the slaughter and they both did two more lines.
He pulled her over onto the bed and wrapped an arm lazily over her shoulder; pulling her body in close to him. His thumb ran over her shoulder and the circle he traced over her skin put her into a peaceful state, calming her so she’d open up to him.
“So, how did you get so independent?”
She cut her eyes at him, “If we’re going to play truth or dare, you have to be honest and whatever we talk about goes no further than this room.”
“Works for me” he shrugged, “same rules go for you, too.”
“You go first, Coy.”
“I like the way my name sounds on your lips,” he leaned over and kissed the top of her head, “and your hair smells like citrus, I like that, too.”
“It’s my favorite scent… well scents I guess you’d say.”
“How did you get so independent, Stinger?”
“I had to take care of myself. I grew up with no father… or rather not knowing who he was, and a mother who was more worried about partying than having a kid. More than once she let me know I was an accident. I decided if nobody else loved me, I would love myself. My turn now. How did you learn to fight so well?”
“I grew up with an old man who beat the shit out of me… until he didn’t.”
“Until he didn’t?”
“Yeah. One day I got sick of it and beat the shit out of him. I left him lying in a river of his own blood. That was the last time I saw him. I left home at sixteen and started pool hustling to make a living.”
“So… your fighting skills stayed honed—I mean, because of the pool hustling and everything.”
“You got it.”
“My turn little girl,” he took a strand of her hair and rubbed it between two fingers like he liked the feel of it. “It turned you on when you saw me beat that man half to death. When did you first realize danger is an aphrodisiac for you?”
Her voice was barely above a whisper, “Tonight.”
He grabbed her face and kissed her; the kind of kiss she could feel all the way to the tips of her toes. It was an all-consuming kiss that took her breath away. His tongue explored her like he wanted to know every part of her for the purpose of owning her. He nibbled at her bottom lip and ran his tongue over it. “Baby, you’re the kind of woman a man wants to take and make his own. I haven’t known you but a minute and the thought of anyone else touching you makes my blood boil. Have you got a man?”
“No. I haven’t wanted one for a long time. I’m too busy with my financial portfolio.”
“I’m staking claims on you, girl. Unless you want to watch me beat a man to death you better keep it that way. Do you strip?”
“Just waitress. I don’t do table dances either because I don’t want anyone that close to me. Can’t stand somebody touching me when I don’t want them to. Raven lets me work that way because we’re tight. I doubt she’d do it for anyone else. I bring in a lot of money for the club and my customers always tip the other waitresses well, so it works out for everybody.”
“How do you make money without doing table dances?”
“For some reason, I get awesome tips because I’m off limits. I guess it’s true; men always want what they can’t have. One of my customers is the lawyer for the club and on nights when he comes in, I make between five-hundred and a thousand dollars. He pays me to sit at a table and talk to him. It’s weird. He says he isn’t interested in having sex with me because he knows I’m off limits. He just wants to bitch about his wife and unload on me after a hard day at the office. I’m a good shoulder to lean on and like I said I know how to keep my mouth shut—the club teaches you that real quick.”
“How often does he come in?”
“Almost every night. The guy has enabled me to lead a very comfortable lifestyle.”
“Sounds like he’s emotionally in love with you.”
“He is.”
“Don’t…I don’t want to get jealous.”
“Don’t ever get in the way of my financial portfolio—it will cause issues.”
He knew she meant it. He also knew the girl had the ability to empty a man’s wallet without him ever touching her. It was a good thing, because Coy was jealous by nature and as far as he was concerned Stinger was property of Coy Calhoun and nobody better get in the way of that. He’d never been one to take one look at a woman and decide she was his but this one was different. The circumstances were different too. If he didn’t stake claim to her, someone else would. It didn’t matter if she didn’t want to be a biker’s old lady; this was a different world and sooner or later someone would stake claim if he didn’t hurry up and make his move. If nothing else, doing so would keep her off the market and that’s what she wanted—he did, too.
“Well just think of this as having a new bodyguard to help you stay pure and build that financial portfolio you’ve got going on.”
“Now that I can deal with, Cowboy.”
“I’ve got a proposition for you, Stinger. Let’s act like you’re my old lady and it will keep you off the market and safe. It will make you off limits as far as the brothers are concerned and that’s what you want, anyway.”
“You want me to be your pretend girlfriend?”
He leaned in and fisted a handful of her hair; his voice came out in a hoarse whisper that sounded more threatening than if he’d been yelling. “I want you beneath me. I want to be buried in your core. I want to break you down to build you back up. I want to taste that sweet pussy of yours until you scream my name out begging me to cum. Until then… I’ll settle for playing house.”
