Cocky Biker: A Stand Alone MC Romance Novel (Cocker Brothers of Atlanta Book 2) (2 page)

I’m almost to the door when I loudly tell him, and the whole diner, “Never gonna happen!” 

The cocky fuck
smiles.

A
s I stroll back
to the Ciphers, Scratch informs me as if I don’t already know, “That body would drop any man to his knees.”

I give his shoulder a solid smack. “I know it’s tough but keep your eyes off her. She’s mine.”

Honey Badger chuckles deep and rumbly as all four of them watch me head out the door to chase her down. I’m not letting a woman like that get away until I’m done with her.

Squinting against the Southern California sun, I search for the feral beauty. The parking lot has the same unimpressive cars in it as when we rode up.

Out of habit, I do a quick scan of our Harleys as I pass them for the sidewalk, to make sure no one’s been dumb enough to fuck with ‘em. No sign they’ve been touched. So I stroll past purple Bougainvillea bushes growing up a fence on the property behind the diner, and discover gold.

There she is walking up Coldwater Canyon.

Her sweet, round ass is ticking from side to side as though to say time is running out, buddy.

She made some distance. On foot. So she doesn’t have a car.

I’ve got a ride I can give her.

“Hey!” I shout up the street. Her shoulders stiffen, but she doesn’t slow down.

She’s gonna make me chase her.

That I can do.

My boots hit the ground heavily as I break into a run. I don’t slow until I’ve reached her side.

“You’re wasting your time,” she growls.

“What’s your name?”

Silence.

We walk a ways longer, toward Moorpark. There’s an Arco on the left and I make mental note, checking my memory for when we gassed up last. It was in Pomona. We’re still good.

Since she hasn’t given me her name, I offer mine. “I’m Jett.”

“Good for you.”

Chuckling, I run in front to make her stop walking.

Truth is, I shouldn’t be messin’ with this kitty.

We came for a dangerous and tricky job.

But we don’t back down. Ever.

So now I’ve got
two
missions, and one is staring at me with fiery deep brown eyes in caramel skin, with lips I need to feel on me in so many places.

She runs a hand through long black locks. She smells dusty – the shampoo smell faded days ago.

So…she probably doesn’t live nearby.

Not with how dirty she looks.

What’s her story?

I bet her pussy tastes nice and ripe. I don’t mind that at all. I love all the flavors.

“Look buddy,” she snarls, and means it. “The only reason you don’t have your balls kicked into your neck is because you lack the rapist vibe. But ‘persistent prick’ will get you there, too, if you don’t let me pass. This warning is me being nice.”

She’s got no accent. If I hadn’t heard her speak ever, I’d have guessed she’s from Mexico, Guatemala, or maybe even Cuba. You never know in L.A.

“Gimme your number and I’ll be on my way.”

“That smile of yours…” she mutters, irritated as shit. “…tells me you think this tactic is going to work. It won’t.”

Someone honks at her from a passing Buick and makes sloppy kissy sounds.

“Fuck you!” she calls to the taillights.

I watch the car leaving. See the hand waving out the window. My eyes land back on her tight-lipped expression. It’s gotta be a pain in the ass being this beautiful when there’s a world full of cocks who’d love to dive into you. That those douche bags honked with
me
here, wearing this patch and clearly not someone you’d fuck with, says it all about her. If they weren’t protected by moving metal, they wouldn’t try that shit right now.

But she
inspired
them to do it.

They practically couldn’t help themselves and took a chance, knowing I couldn’t chase them down.

This gives me insight into what she deals with daily. Which means she’s right. This tactic ain’t gonna fly.

I walk closer to her, changing my tone to a more intimate one, friendlier and less asshole-who-gets-a-ton-of-ass. I don’t want to scare her away and I just realized I was about to.

Fuck, we guys sure can be stupid.

“Sunshine, forgive me. I was being a dick. I won’t force myself on you.” I lean in really close to her. A few more inches and we’d be kissing. The feral beauty holds her breath, dark eyes searching mine like she’s confused why she’s not punching me. “You don’t want to tell me your name, you don’t have to.” Without warning, I kiss her nose and smile, “I’m sure I’ll see you again,” right before heading off, back to the diner.

“No…” I turn around. She’s looking over her shoulder at me, holding the strap of that beat up backpack. “You won’t.”

I feel like I’m standing on a cliff, that moment where you decide if you’re jumping, or if the mountain will make the decision for you.

She heads away. I turn around and walk off, too, to meet her chess move and see if she’s bluffing. I keep expecting the sound of footsteps, or a shout of my name, if she even remembers it.

My chest tightens as the distance grows between us.

Those footsteps never come.

I may see her.

I may not.

The odds aren’t in our favor.

* * *

F
use
, Scratch, Honey Badger and Tonk are all strapping on their helmets and looking for an answer to what happened on my end.

“Next move?” I ask Scratch, changing the subject.

Our salt and pepper-haired MC Vice President smacks my shoulder as hard as I smacked his in the diner and announces, “Motel,
Striker.
”

I pull my keys out with the chain that keeps them attached to my faded blue jeans. My head is still on the girl. I’m only half paying attention when I mutter, “Striker?”

Fuse laughs and shakes out his longish hair before he straps on his helmet.

I don’t like the sound of that laugh. “What? What am I missing here?” I ask him, then look around at all their amused faces.

Tonk’s not sure if he should be the one to spell it out for me, since I give him so much shit all the time. He decides to be brave. “You struck out, Jett.”

“
Striker,
” Fuse chuckles. “It might stick.”

Grinning, I mount my bike, feeling the warmth of a sun-heated seat on my balls. “Fuck you guys.”

“She was worth the try,” Honey Badger laughs, his large belly bouncing as he jumps on his ride. His little helmet on that big head and body is always an interesting contrast, but no one would ever say that aloud. Despite his rotund appearance, Honey Badger earned that name. He can be vicious. Not with
us.
But we don’t get on his bad side…like pointing out how he should get a bigger helmet.

“We’re only gonna be here a couple nights,” Scratch tells me from his hog. “That woman? She’s the type who’d make you stick around.”

“Let’s drop it. We’ve got better things to do.”

“Keep tellin’ yourself that,” Fuse laughs.

I shake my head at his joke and turn on the ignition.

The roar of our engines harmonize, and one after the other, we cruise up Ventura Boulevard in search of our next temporary home. We never stay at the same place when we visit a city for a second, third or fourth time, unless there’s only that one option. Definitely not the case in a metropolitan city like this one.

In Sherman Oaks, mere blocks west of where we ate, Scratch pulls into a motel that’s cleaner than any you’d find in those forgotten towns along lonely highways.

“I can use a good shower,” I tell my chosen brothers as the engines die, thinking it’ll be a cold one with that feral pussy still on my mind.

Scratch announces to the group. “With what we’re about to face, you’re all gonna need more than that.”

S
hoving
the photograph into the girl’s terrified face, I keep my voice hushed, as I demand, “Where is he? You recognize him! I can see the fear in your eyes!”

She’s fragile, just like they all are when they’ve been with him too long. “No!” she insists, shaking her head with big brown eyes darting back the way she came.

In the kitchen on the opposite side of this door are the distinctive sounds of men and women cooking a feast for one of the busiest restaurants in Sherman Oaks.

Everyone talks about Beverly Hills and Bel Air. Yeah, there are powerful people there. Wealth that would make you shit yourself if you found out how much.

But
this
city, Sherman Oaks, tucked into the valley-side of the mountain, is filled with money and power unnoticed. It’s less obvious — therefore the perfect place to hide.

But I found him.

He’s here.

Not in this restaurant even though he owns it. But he lives not far from where I stand. I can almost smell the rank odor of his cologne, I’m so close.

Standing here in the tiny section that separates the back alley door and the rear entrance to the kitchen, I pull out my gun and point it at her. “No more lies. Do I look like a patient woman to you?”

Trembling, she levels me with a stare that sends shivers into my bones. “If he knew I told you, he would do worse. Kill me. Please kill me! It’s my only way out.”

I blink in horror because I recognize what I saw in my mother’s eyes when I was just a child. It’s as familiar to me as cookies and bedtime stories are to someone else more fortunate than I.

Releasing overwhelming pain from my lungs, I lower the gun. “If you tell me, I
will
kill him. You’ll never have to be afraid again.”

She crumbles. “Where would I go? I don’t know anyone. I have no one.”

“You’d find a way.” I steal a quick glance through the kitchen door window to make sure no one’s coming yet. “
You’re a woman
. It’s in your blood to be strong. You can handle more than you think. We all can. We have for centuries. Now tell me where he is.”

A click happens behind those scared eyes of hers. I see it. She heard me and while her tortured, captive mind doesn’t believe me, there’s a sliver in her soul that knows what I said is true.

She whispers an address and my eyes close with relief.

“Are you going to warn him I’m coming?”

“He’d know I told you!”

I stop her from explaining more by biting off her next sentence. “Good! Don’t. I want it to be a surprise. I’ll keep my promise. You’ll be free soon. You all will.”

An eruption of unusual noises comes from the kitchen. Through a window I see one of the cooks go flying.

“He’s here!” The girl clutches my hip as though she is my child.

I aim my gun at the door and attempt to see more from this vantage point.

Why would he destroy his own place with a restaurant full of upper-class witnesses? Some of the wealthiest and well-connected people in town?

It doesn’t make sense.

Another cook flies by. There’s tons of shouting and grunts of pain. Unmistakable struggle and fighting. Someone screams. Two men walk past the window.

At the unexpected sight of them I mutter, “What the hell?” edging closer for a better look, with the girl still clinging to me.

Another Cipher jacket almost passes, but stops and blocks my view as the tall, young one shouts to his buddies. “THE COPS!”

Suddenly I hear them, too – blaring sirens in the distance, approaching fast.

I don’t know what The Ciphers are doing here, but I can’t let these guys see me.

Now that I know where the sadist motherfucker is, I won’t let anything take me off course.

I whisper to the girl. “Run!”

“Where will I go?!”

In a different world I’d tell her,
to the police – they’re coming. Run to them!

But I know what
he’s
said to her. I know because of his lies, she doesn’t trust cops.

I know all too well the false stories he embeds in the women’s brains to hold them hostage and impotent.

It’s how he keeps his anonymity, and how he gets away with everything – by his victims’ willing silence.

Pushing her off me, I insist, “Anywhere is better than where you’ve been. Go!”

She scurries out the back door into the dark alley.

I step back as the young Cipher lunges forward and punches a hired thug who came to fight. Stunned and wondering,
what the hell
…I step up for a better look.

There’s Grey Eyes in the distance, hammering a man in all black, with steady, experienced fists. He looks trained. There is nothing sloppy about those punches – every one hits the target swiftly and to knockout.

There is food everywhere – on the floor, on hanging pots, on shelves. A female chef in all white is huddled in the corner. From her expression, she has no idea what’s going on.

She’s not alone there.

What the fuck is this gang doing here?

Grey Eyes turns to pull someone off the older Cipher.

He yanks the guy back then looks right into my eyes.

“Fuck!” I gasp, making a break for the door. As the warm night air hits my face I start running.

“Hey!” I hear him call from behind me.

The gun is swinging in my hand.

Fucking RUN, Luna!!

Sirens grow louder in the distance.

RUN!

I turn left and race into the residential street just behind Ventura Boulevard.

RUN!

Shoving my weapon into my backpack while I sprint is one of the most awkward things I’ve ever done.

Panting I steal a freaked-out glance over my shoulder.

He’s not there.

The perfectly groomed landscape is lit only by dim street-lamps. It’s supposed to be charming, but there’s never been a more terrifying sight when you’re this out of place, and in the mindset I’m in.

I have no idea where he went – he could be anywhere – and the sirens are coming closer.

I’m trying to be as quiet as I can by running on grass when it’s available. I don’t want someone to see me from their suburban window and make that 911 call.

My chest nearly catches fire as a cacophony of motorcycles explodes behind me.

“Shit!” I hiss.

The Ciphers catch up to me in 1.3 seconds flat.

Grey Eyes hits the brakes hard. “GET ON!”

Panting, I look at the upheaval behind us.

“Get the fuck on the bike!” he commands me.

His friends stopped with him, but now they’re taking off, leaving ominous words floating in their wakes…

“They’re coming.” “Leave her.”

Grey Eyes revs the engine.

I see a tan curtain open in the house behind him.

That’s all I need to decide. Rushing forward, I grab his bicep and leap onto the back of his Harley.

My backpack feels like it’s going to rip my shoulders off as he guns the engine so hard the front wheel comes off the pavement before it lands with a slam and drives into the night.

I wrap my arms around his rock hard torso, clutching abs in one hand and chest in the other.

A master of his machine, the blonde Cipher growls, “Hold on!”

Fucking hell. This street is littered with long, low speed bumps put in by rich people to discourage cruising of their precious neighborhood. Each one is painful until I realize that Grey Eyes rises up off the seat to weather each blow. Learning quickly, I follow suit.

As we chase after the ghostlike taillights of the bikes ahead, we rise up with each bump as though we’re one person. With me wrapped around him like this, my thighs around his, I can’t help but become aroused.

Mortified, I swallow hard against the sensations charging powerfully through my body as the bastard gains speed.

At this rate, with my adrenaline rocketing to dangerous heights, this is one hell of a fucking rush.

The tingles become deliriously strong when my pussy hits the vibrating seat, each and every time after we rise to avoid a speed bump. I can’t admit to myself that I’m starting to look forward to them.

I clutch his massive body tighter against me, pressing my breasts into the patch on his leather jacket, lying to myself that it’s only so I won’t fall.

When the sirens become a memory and the bumps are no longer, I try to loosen my hold…but I just can’t.

My veins are on fire.

I have no idea where he’s taking me.

But I tell myself it’s okay, because if he was fighting the men who worked for that motherfucking sadist, I have to know why.