Nomad Kind of Love Read online

  I flattened my hands on her back, pulling her to my chest. No fucking way was I gonna let her get too far along with that talk again.

  Wasn't good for her. Besides, my cock was starting to regain feeling again, and it would be hard and hungry in another second.

  “Don't worry about it. Seriously.” I looked her right in the eye. “You're doing just fine here, getting your shit together. What went down at the strip club the other night was just a fucking bump in the road. Learn from it.”

  “If somebody with a broken brain like me can learn anything. I'm tired of making mistakes.” She lowered her face, resting just beneath my chin, inhaling my scent.

  Mischievous. If she thought I was gonna let her off that easy, she had another thing coming.

  “You keep saying that, and it's wrong,” I said, firmly tilting her chin until she faced me. “It's bullshit. I don't give half a fuck how crazy or damaged you say you are. You're mine now, and I'm gonna iron out every last one of your kinks. Stop doubting yourself and you'll find out just how smooth you can be.”

  That got her attention. June raised her head and I kissed her, seizing her mouth the same way I cupped her ass, like I belonged there.

  My hand brushed her pussy. Just as I expected, she was getting wet, dripping cream and the last load I'd blown in her.

  Fuck. Wet and wild and still absolutely fucking hot.

  My finger pushed in, ready to warm her up. Then a fist banged on the door and I jerked up.

  “This better be life or fucking death,” I said.

  I edged past her and threw my legs over the bed. Didn't even bother throwing on pants – if it was some bullshit, it could wait for me to finish with her.

  The doorknob practically ripped off in my hands. Shatter was on the other side, and I knew it was serious. Any other time he would've busted out laughing when I greeted him buck naked with a wet and ready girl in my bed.

  “We need everybody out here, Prez. Several bikes just pulled up at the clubhouse and there's more on the way. Not ours. Grizzlies.”

  “Fuck!” I slammed the door in his face and went for my jeans.

  June got up. She threw off the blanket covering her and was at my side, yelling in my ear.

  “Stay with me!” she begged. “I don't want to deal with them alone...not again.”

  The terror in her eyes was real, but I had to keep moving. Pushing her away tugged on my heart, but the club came first. Hell, if this place went down, June wouldn't be safe anyway.

  It was up to me to defend my castle, my men, and my woman.

  I jerked on my jeans and zipped up without looking for my boxers. Threw on my shirt and leather cut, all the while pushing her away.

  “Sit down and stay quiet, babe. My boys need me. I won't let these fuckers anywhere near you. They won't get that far.”

  The door flew open with a jerk and I slammed it behind me. Everybody else was already lined up by the main entrance.

  Blaze looked at me, annoyed. If it wasn't so dire, I would've punched him in the ribs to wipe the look off his face. Still, dealing with the Grizzlies was a lot more important than bickering with my fucking half-brother just now.

  “Everybody armed?” I asked.

  All four of my brothers nodded.

  “How many?”

  “Ten bikes, and at least that many more circling our stretch of road. Fuckers just showed up outta nowhere. Tank saw them pull in and ran inside to get me.”

  Fuck. Five guys against two dozen or more. I wasn't afraid to do serious battle. Just hated the way the odds were starting out stacked against us.

  “Brought you an extra, boss.” Tank reached toward me and I grabbed the gun out of his hand.

  Everybody else had theirs drawn too, with Hypno behind us holding a high powered shotgun. Better than nothing, but we needed full auto for this.

  With their numbers, the Grizzlies were likely to break through all our entrances, swarming us in every direction.

  An engine revved. I watched a Harley pull up with the roaring bear painted on its casing.

  A tall man with a disheveled beard and nasty long hair climbed off. He motioned to his other guys to stay back while he walked to our door.

  “Come on out, Devils! Just wanna have a neighborly talk since you took a steaming shit all over our truce.”

  Bullshit.

  I waited. The evil morning stillness hung thick, so silent I heard all my guys breathing.

  “Don't make me fucking ask again!” He slapped the glass hard with his fist. “I wanna talk to Maverick. Man to man. We can do it the easy way or I'll light your fucking club on fire.”

  Smiling, he stepped aside, waving to his men. My nerves blazed when I saw he meant what he said literally.

  Several guys across the lot held up huge red drums of gas, grinning like idiots.

  The Grizzlies were just crazy enough to do it too. They were infamous for blowing up rival warehouses in their war with the cartels further south.

  “We could drag him inside,” Blaze said. “I saw the VP patch on the fucker's jacket. A hostage officer just might do us some good.”

  “No.” I stood tall, no longer crouching with my gun, making the last few steps to the door. “Let me go. By the time we haul his ass in here, the place could burning or under heavy fire. I'm sure they're packing more than gasoline cans. Look out the windows over there if you don't believe me.”

  I motioned. Everybody's eyes flicked in the right direction, and they saw the other five bikes parked there, their riders dismounted and creeping up to our fire exit.

  “Bastard's got us by the balls. I'll talk to him.”

  I didn't look at my guys as I pulled the door open. The VP looked even nastier up close. His leathery skin reeked of tobacco.

  “If you're really here to talk, then come in.” He gave me a nasty smile and I flashed my gun. “But if you move a single step in our clubhouse past my men, or give any kind of signal, we're letting bullets do the speaking instead.”

  He shrugged. “Your funeral.”

  I took several steps back, never once taking my finger off the trigger. He followed me, and I signaled for my boys to give us some space.

  “All clear,” he said sharply, turning his mouth to the radio in his breast pocket. Then he looked at me. “You know what this is about, Maverick.”

  He knew my name. And I knew his. Vulture, VP of the Missoula Grizzlies, the monstrosity on two legs who'd taken my girl's soul.

  “Do I?” I wasn't going to give him anything and make him think he was justified.

  “Yeah. You Prairie fucks have overstayed your welcome. As VP of the Missoula Grizzlies, I don't appreciate one of your assholes sending a broken bottle across my brother's head!” He was practically screaming. “You fucked up, asshole. You fucking trashed our agreement, and I don't do seconds.”

  I didn't even flinch. I'd had bigger guys than him yelling in my face since I was old enough to jerk off, and the only thing bad about this fuck stain was his breath. It was easy to forget he had thirty guns trained on us, ready to blast clean through our doors and windows.

  Play it cool. Give the asshole what he wants. There's plenty of time to take it back later.

  He was bullshitting. Flexing.

  The only notice most MCs give when war breaks out is a bomb in a shipment or a few dead men with the rival club's letters carved in their chests. If the asshole in front of me wanted war, we would've had it by now.

  This wasn't a declaration of war. This was a negotiation.

  “That was an accident. Don't play innocent with me, VP.” I sneered at his title. “I'm guessing you're like me. Been in this business a long time. We both know damned well you don't send a patched in member to another club's titty bar just for fun.”

  “I'm not a fucking retard. I know what you're accusing. Still doesn't excuse beating my man to pieces. Especially when you're the fucking guests in these borderlands, a long ways from home.” He reached out and pushed one finger into my che
st.

  I caught his filthy wrist and twisted it backward. Would've been lovely to keep bending until it snapped, but I wasn't ready to go kamikaze yet. I let him go before I did any serious damage, and he jerked his hand away.

  “Listen to me, asshole. You've got more chips on the table than I do, but I've got plenty too, or else there wouldn't be a game at all,” I said. “I know what you want: restitution for putting one of your guys in the ICU.”

  Vulture looked at me, frowning and admitting nothing. Finally, he stepped closer. I felt every guy behind me tighten fingers on their guns.

  “Blood for blood,” he said coldly.

  “Fuck off. We both know this game's really played with money. Wouldn't be any blood between MCs at all if it weren't for dollars – “

  “Dollars and reputations,” he corrected.

  I glared. “I'll give you a twenty percent cut of Pink Unlimited's profits for the next year if you back the fuck off and drag your ass back to Missoula.”

  “Thirty percent.”

  I cocked my head. “Fine. We both know this is stopping at twenty five, but I'll need to take five off the top to cover the backend so the IRS doesn't get suspicious.”

  “IRS,” he hissed. “Whatever. You pussy boys want to play by the rules, go ahead. You'll be lucky to keep this place in booze and women with the way I'm skinning you.”

  He extended his hand. I didn't hold his greasy fucking palm a second longer than I needed.

  Dumbass. Easiest deal I never had to negotiate.

  I was laughing in my head, but I didn't show a single tooth outwardly. With one more death glare, he was about to turn, when something behind me caught his eye. Vulture circled past me.

  “Hey! Where the fuck do you think you're going?”

  Fuck. He'd crossed the line and then some, moving past my boys. Everybody had their guns raised and trained on him, and I could practically hear the rifles and handguns going up behind the windows and doors.

  Then I saw what he was after.

  June.

  She stood just at the end of the long hall where the bar led to our rooms. Vulture walked up to her like he owned the place.

  “My, my. Been a long fucking time since I seen that pretty face, darlin'. Forgot they took you as collateral. Better you than that sweet pussycat sister of yours, I suppose. What was her name?”

  The room went deadly silent. Blaze looked at me, waiting for the least little signal to fire.

  I looked to the side, out the window near the Fire Exit. Fifteen guys had their guns perfectly fixed on us, ready to shatter the glass and fill us with screaming lead the second we hit their boss.

  Motherfucking Mexican standoff.

  We're fucked. Screwed, blued, and tattooed.

  We were boned in every way. But I was ready to hit self-destruct if he didn't take his nasty hand off her face right fucking now.

  June screamed. She lunged, clawing at his neck. He slapped her across the face, and I exploded.

  I charged, blowing past my guys. I know somebody would've fired if I wasn't in the fucking way.

  I knocked him flat on the floor, and then whipped out my pistol. I didn't fire, but I brought it down on his head again and again.

  “Fuck!” Two guys screamed at the same time as a window blew in.

  Shrapnel exploded around us, but the firing stopped after one volley. Everything was eerily silent again, except for my own heavy breathing plus June's whimpers.

  Beneath me, the asshole coughed. Vulture squirmed, and I reluctantly took my knee off his back.

  Laughing, he stood and wiped the blood from his lip.

  “Hold your fire,” he growled into his radio.

  “Hey, man, I just wanted to admire something that used to belong to me. Nothing personal.” He took several steps past me, staggering toward the door. “Don't worry. I won't take the fat bitch away from you. Don't need to have her back when I've left my mark on her forever.”

  I swallowed. Hard. Foamy spit rushed down my dry throat, one movement away from going mad dog.

  Vulture was gone. Too many engines to count revved at once. They left us in our mess, surrounded the deafening Harley roar.

  I looked around. There was blood on the floor, and not all of it Vulture's. One of the glass fragments had grazed Tank near the temple, and steady blood caked the side of his face.

  He looked at me and grinned. I nodded, and relaxed as soon as I saw none of my guys were hurt.

  I went to June, grabbed her, and held her tighter than ever before. She broke, weeping into my leather. I stroked her hair, finally able to hear my own savage heartbeat now that the enemy bikes were gone.

  “Have a little patience. A little faith. They haven't taken shit.” I cleared my throat, and my next words were louder. “As I stand here, with God and my brothers as witnesses, I will kill them. Every last member of the Missoula Grizzlies has a painful death on the way by these hands, and there's no fucking stopping it.”

  I'd been through tense church meetings in my time, but nothing as bad as this.

  The room was dead quiet. So damned eerie silent we heard our local supporters sweeping up the busted glass and repairing the window outside our little meeting room.

  We were all gathered at the table. I looked at my brothers' faces one by one, staring into shell shock and blinding rage.

  Blaze sat tall in his chair, across from me at the other end, holding his fists on the wood beneath him like a statue.

  Whatever was on his mind, it was fucking intense. And I wanted it dealt with first, before he spread his dark energy through the MC like always.

  “Looks like you've got something to say, brother.” I mustered the coolest voice I could. “Don't hold it in. Bad juju can hurt a man, you know.”

  “Yeah, I do. I think your brain's gone to your ass, Maverick.” All eyes turned to him.

  “Your little promise out there to kill the Grizzlies...was that a fucking joke? Ever since this stray pussy showed up as collateral, you've been too busy petting her and putting the club at risk. Every week we're getting further and further away from what we we're supposed to be doing out here. That means mother charter's gonna keep us here longer. Fuck, will we ever be Nomads again?”

  “That's bullshit, and you know it. There's more to being a Nomad than riding across state lines and wearing the patch. We're not anchored to any charter, true, but we serve the MC. We're here to take care of business and get the fuck out.”

  He shook his head. “You sure that's what we're really here for?”

  I stared him down, waiting to see if he was finished, or if my brother was gonna go all the way. He stopped just short of calling for a vote on my leadership.

  Doubted the fucker had the balls.

  “We came out West to muscle into new territory and net the whole MC some nice money. Everybody wearing the new Python patch knew the risks. Guess what?” I folded my hands and leaned forward. “Those risk are now realities, brothers. I don't give a shit how big and bad the Grizzlies are, or how many bears they can wrangle from the coast. We're Prairie Devils, and Devils don't let themselves get shoved around by anybody. What happened out there was a fucking disgrace, and we won't let it go.”

  The same deadly silence lingered in the room. I had their full attention, including Blaze's.

  “YSBF.” I pulled up my shirt and tapped my bicep where the phrase was scrawled, reminding everybody who had the same tattoo what it really meant. “Your Soul Belongs Forever. If that's not true for anybody here, then you can turn in your patches and get the fuck out.”

  Shatter and Hypno shared a quick, uneasy glance. Blaze and Tank were looking right at me. They accepted my challenge with firm nods.

  “Just for the record, you're dead fucking wrong, brother.” I looked straight at Blaze, my brother in blood, steel, and leather. “Hitting the Grizzlies isn't about pussy. It's about this club's reputation.”

  “Then the deal's a double-cross?” Tank asked quietly.

  �
�Damned right it was. They fucked us over by sending their guy over to our strip club in the first place. We don't honor truces with fucks who don't honor ours. They aren't getting shit from Pink Unlimited or any other business under our protection.”

  The other guys nodded more vigorously. Even Blaze looked satisfied. He had his reasons to distrust me – plenty – but he was the same as me at heart.

  He didn't believe in taking shit from anyone. His fists, knives, and guns were always ready for a fight, no matter how uneven the odds.

  The Prairie Devils were an old club, formed on the plains in blood and fire. Nobody who wore the patch honorably was afraid of dying for this MC. If I had to choose tarnishing myself like a chickenshit coward or being torn apart by five hundred Grizzlies, I'd choose the latter any day in a second.

  “If we're gonna take them on, then we need more support than this. Backup.” Blaze tapped the table, knocking the big rings around his fingers on wood loudly.

  “I'm making the call to Cassandra tomorrow. Throttle won't like it, but he won't let us get torn to pieces out here. He'll send reinforcements from his charter or the Dickinson group half a state over, our closest brothers.”

  “What about weapons? The shit we're armed with isn't gonna cut it. Did you see what those fucks were packing today?” Shatter brushed his lips with anxious fingers. He was jonesing for a cigarette, and talking out logistics about some very serious shit didn't help soothe his nerves.

  “You're right. We're gonna need a lot more from mother charter. We can't match the Grizzlies in numbers, but firepower's another story,” I said.

  “Trouble is, you can't use it and get away with it. The minute machine guns and RPGs start going off in a little town like this – or hell, up in Missoula – the Feds will land on us and break our fucking necks.” Once again, Blaze was both a cynical asshole and the voice of reason.

  “We'll figure it out. One thing's for sure: their numbers have made them sloppy over the years. The Grizzlies are used to throwing their fucking weight around. They don't do much planning. That's why the cartels are kicking their asses down in Cali.”