Horse (Rolling Thunder Motorcycle Club Book 6) (5 page)

Horse

She kept me busy all freaking night. She’s voracious, and every time I thought I was done she’d run her finger down my chest, or kiss my neck, and I’d be ready to go again.

I’m used to being in control during sex, and when I took control she gave it to me. However, when I wasn’t actively taking it, she stepped up and passively took over.

I’ve never enjoyed hurting women I care about — I want to make them feel good. The club sluts sometimes egg you on to get rough with them and hurt them, but even then I’d been super careful with them. I had mixed feelings about Gabby forever being an anal virgin, because I had no desire to hurt her, and yet knowing her body would make room for me — I wondered. I didn’t bring it up, though. We kept busy with plenty of other activities, and when I went down on her I got to see what she meant about her body forming to fit whatever was working on her, because she tightened down so just my tongue in her sent her into the stratosphere.

* * * *

I took her to an all-you-can-eat breakfast bar the next morning, and I admit I was sad to see her put loose jeans and an oversized hoodie on over her mouthwatering body.

On the way there, I handed her my phone and asked her to store her number. She hesitated, but she did it, though I could smell her conflict. “You don’t want me to call you?”

“I think you want more than a fuckbuddy, and that’s all I’m interested in right now.”

“A partial truth.” I knew I was skating the edge of pushing her away, but I needed to figure out where her head was.

She sighed. “If I’m someday going to try to get hired by the FBI, having you show up as a serious relationship in my background won’t help.”

Neither of us said anything the couple of minutes it took me to pull into the restaurant, but once the truck was parked I turned to her and said, “I have a spotless record — no arrests, no convictions. I have a concealed carry license as well as an FFL so I can legally sell weapons. I’ve had to pass just about every high level screening a civilian can be put through.”

“But you’re part of a one-percenter motorcycle club.”

“I am, and the club is invested in my not getting into legal trouble. Technically, the club backed the gun shop with the inventory. It’s in my name and I get a substantial percentage of sales, but so does the club. They have several legal moneymaking endeavors, and the gun store is one of them. One of the members is away at a gunsmithing college in North Carolina. When he returns we’ll add gunsmith services as well. I’ve gone through a bunch of classes on how best to instruct people to handle firearms, and I teach a few classes a month. Plus, we offer fifteen minutes of instruction when someone buys a weapon from us.”

“So, you’re saying you aren’t really one of them?”

He shook his head. “No, they’re my brothers. I’ve been a friend of the club for a long time, but I didn’t understand how close I’d feel to them when I was first offered the chance to prospect in. Bears are loners by nature, and wolves are social animals. However, they accept me as a loner. They’re fine with me sitting in the corner drinking a beer and not joining in the conversation. I’ve fought by their side a few times when I was with them and someone started shit, so it isn’t like I’m not one of them… it’s just that they keep me out of anything illegal, when possible.”

We were never going to have a relationship, but last night he’d given me what I needed, and then some. If I had sex with a human and accidently hurt them, I’d never forgive myself. My dad had literally fucked them to death, and while I’d been assured you have to mean to do it with most of them and can’t do it accidently — I wasn’t going to take the chance. I’d smelled a few shifters in class here and there, but I worried about having sex with people I didn’t know. Especially predator species.

Would Horse accept a sex-only relationship, or would he keep pushing for more? I knew the question as soon as I asked myself, because he was already pressing for more.

“I’m not looking for a relationship, Horse,” I told him yet again. “If you want another night of sex, I’ll be more than happy to oblige, but it isn’t going to be anything else.”

“How often do rabbits need to have sex?”

“There isn’t an exact number. If the person we’re with has a strong signature and fully gives themselves to me, then seven to ten orgasms a week would be enough. If they don’t, it could take three times that amount.”

“Could you get them all at once and go a week in between, or does it need to be more often?”

I shrugged. “It isn’t ideal, but with my class schedule I think finding someone on the weekends is probably going to be the best I can do.”

He shook his head. “I told you I want you to be safe, and I meant it. Even if it’s just sex, how about a standing date with me on Wednesday night every week? If you know ahead of time Wednesday won’t work, let me know and we’ll switch it to Tuesday. Dinner and sex, and nothing more — unless you want it to be more.”

Gabby

I wasn’t sure how it would work, but Horse stayed true to his word about keeping it to dinner and sex without trying to verbally make it more.

I knew how he felt about me — it came through loud and clear in the energy we exchanged during orgasm — but he didn’t pressure me.

We usually went to his place so I could scream and thoroughly enjoy myself, because apartment walls tend to be kind of thin. He gave me so many orgasms I had no problems lasting a whole week until I saw him again, and he always fed me breakfast the next morning before dropping me off in time for my first class.

I met a guy at a street party one weekend — he was an owl shifter and he seemed safe enough, but he was kind of a jerk, and then he pulled out and came on me, instead of into the condom. I understand he’d heard the rumors about how fertile rabbits can be, but I’d assured him I’d had a procedure that would keep me from getting pregnant for a year, and I wasn’t even two months into it.

The bottom line is we weren’t touching
anywhere
when he came, so there wasn’t an energy exchange and I got next to nothing from the sex. Not even a decent orgasm.

Nearly two months after the first time Horse and I’d had sex, I came out of a criminal history class and smelled wolves. Not just any wolves, but the ones who’d finally, eventually, captured my father. They’d kept a fourteen year old me in that tiny room for days, just walking me right next door to pee in front of one of the women, and right back to the windowless room with the flickering bulb. They’d made me
earn
water by answering their questions, and I’d only been fed twice. They’d showed me pictures of my father’s victims both before and after he got them, and forced me to look at close-up details of his victims’ dead and tortured bodies. They’d read dozens of medical examiners’ autopsy reports to me over and over until I thought I’d go crazy. They were convinced I knew where he was, and didn’t care about the damage they did to me if it let them get to the victim they were sure he had at the time, so they could save at least one of them.

They’re the reason for my claustrophobia, and the reason I’m terrified of wolves. I sniffed to try to see which direction they’d gone and realized they were at both ends of the hallway. Luckily, I knew of another way out and I turned down a smaller hall and into a courtyard, crossed it, and came back into the building at another hallway. I slid out a side door and found a pack of people to walk with. They went into the Fine Arts Building and I made my way downstairs, stopping off in a bathroom to take my coat off. I hung it on the back of a stall door and put my cellphone in the pocket so they couldn’t use it to follow me. I donned a hoodie from my backpack to cover my light-blonde hair, and I went out the bottom of the Fine Arts Center and ran down the sidewalk past the old mansions of the Fortwood District. I stayed to back streets as I ran, until I hit Willow Street and took a left. I ran as fast as I thought a human woman might run and was careful not to draw too much attention.

When I finally made it to the gun shop I didn’t see or smell Horse, but I ran in and jumped over the gun cases, and curled in a ball on the floor.

“They’re after me. Dear god, they’re after me.”

Ghost squatted in front of me but didn’t touch me. “Who’s after you, Gabby?”

I shook my head. “I have to get out of here, somewhere I can hide. They’ll find me. I may only have a few minutes! God, I can’t believe they…
shit
.”

Terror hit me even harder, spiking through my veins so I almost took off running again, and Ghost swore before saying, “I can get you out of here so we aren’t followed. Will you trust me to touch you?”

I looked at him and tried to get my voice to work, and he must’ve thought I was trying to make up my mind. “Horse wants you to be his someday. He knows you aren’t now, but he cares about you — and that means every man in the RTMC will protect you. I know you’re afraid of wolves, but I vow to you I can get you out of here so no one can find you.”

I nodded my head, and he held his hand out. I put my hand in his and whispered, “If I freeze, it’s okay to carry me, if you have to.”

“Do you have a cellphone on you?”

I shook my head and managed to say, “Left it in a bathroom before I came here.” He nodded and walked me to the back of the store. Within minutes I was wearing a full-face helmet and a black jacket, and he’d used black duct tape to put black plastic over my shoes so it looked as if I wore boots — and I held on tight as Ghost sped us away from the wolves on his bike.

He’d explained as he wrapped my feet, “If they know you’re associated with us, they’ll look for your shoes on the back of bikes on the traffic cams.”

I don’t know where he took us. I know within ten minutes we were on a curvy road that followed the Tennessee River for miles and miles, and once when we turned off it, he kept us to back roads. We drove for hours, and by the time he parked in front of a cabin in the woods, every joint in my body was stiff. He parked under some trees a good ways from the cabin, and as soon as he turned the engine off he said, “There are newly bitten wolves here, but there are plenty of experienced wolves who can keep you safe. This place is off the grid, and since I didn’t know who I’m protecting you from, it seemed the safest place to bring you until I know for sure who’s after you.”

I took a breath and admitted, “The FBI. I know I’ll eventually have to talk to them, and I had plenty of time to think while you were driving. I probably need to talk to Aaron Drake so he can set me up with an attorney. These men are the reason I’m so afraid of wolves, and I won’t go to them without people who can keep me safe from them. They took advantage of me when I was fourteen, but I’m not a little defenseless kid anymore.” I laughed, but it sounded harsh even to my ears. “I’m a defenseless adult, now.”

He looked at me a few seconds before he helped me take my helmet off and told me, “Let’s get Horse here, and perhaps Aaron, since you seem to think he’ll help.” He turned his head towards the cabin and raised his voice just a little as he said, “Dawg, if I can get you to come to us alone, and bring a burner I can use to call Horse and Aaron? The bunny is afraid of wolves, so let’s try to keep the trauma to a minimum.”

Ghost is hot. I mean, he has muscles on top of muscles, and yet he walks like he doesn’t weigh anything at all. All wolves are stealthy, but Ghost doesn’t make
any
sound.

But when Dawg came into view, all thoughts of Ghost went out the door. Damn, every instinct in every cell of my body wanted this man, and I didn’t care that he was a wolf. I knew they’d smell my libido and I said, “Sorry, I’m a rabbit. It’s kind of what we do. I don’t mean any disrespect, just ignore whatever you smell.”

Dawg’s smile made my clit throb, and I closed my eyes so I didn’t have to see it. “Horse is more than a little attached to you, so nothing will happen, but I’m flattered, little bunny.” He stopped about five feet away from us, tossed a phone to Ghost, and told me, “I can smell your fear. If you aren’t too afraid of me, I’d like to touch you to see if I can calm you down a little. No sex, just me taking care of you until Horse gets here.”

I nodded, and he walked to me and put his hand at my back — slowly, as if he wanted to be careful I didn’t run.

“Keep her under cover of trees,” said Ghost. “But walk her far enough away from the house she won’t smell the new wolves. I’m gonna go in and grab some food and water. I’ll find the two of you shortly.”

Dawg walked me about twenty yards into the forest before he kneeled to pull the duct tape and plastic from my calves and feet as he said, “I heard you say the FBI is after you. I’m glad you told us, but should the FBI question you about us helping you, it’s important you don’t tell them we knew who you were running from.”

I leaned over and worked on my other leg. “I won’t get ya’ll in trouble for helping me. I haven’t done anything wrong, but they think I have information and I’ve learned in the past they’ll go to extreme lengths to try to get it from me.”

“Do you?”

I shook my head. “They want to know where my dad is, but my best guess is the Concilio took him. I have no idea if they did, or where he might be now — if he’s even alive.”

Dawg walked me about a half mile, until we reached a tiny waterfall on a little stream. It was only about eighteen inches tall but the moss and lichens growing around the flowing, babbling water were soothing, and my breathing slowed, my muscles relaxed, and my mind cleared. I instinctively knew this was his personal spot, and I told him, “Thanks for bringing me here. It’s beautiful.”

“You needed soothing, little bunny. Can you sit with me here? You need touch and I’ll give it without making it sexual.”

He sat on a rock beside the stream, facing it, and gently pulled me so I sat between his legs. I stretched my legs out in front of me and leaned against his chest.

Dawg moved me into the position without forcing it, and it felt natural. “How have you made me not afraid of you? I should be more terrified of wolves than ever right now, after smelling
them
and having all those horrible memories assault me as I ran from them, but you’ve managed to put me at ease.”

He chuckled. “It’s a gift. My guess is that Ghost will work out some convoluted way for the MC to get Horse here, but it might take a bit. No one will find you here — Ghost is excellent at evading both the bad guys and LEO, but it’s important Horse doesn’t lead them here.”

“LEO?”

“Law enforcement. The police, and in this case, the FBI.”

“It felt like we drove for hours to get here.”

“Won’t take as long for Horse to get here, but they’ll have to be creative about how they get him out of town so no one knows he’s gone.”

I smelled Ghost before I saw him, and Dawg chuckled. “If he didn’t want us to smell him, we wouldn’t have. He let us so he didn’t scare you.”

“It so happens, Horse isn’t far away,” Ghost told us. “He should be here within about forty minutes.”

“They want to question her, something about her dad,” Dawg said, his voice soft.

Ghost’s expression didn’t change, but I smelled a subtle shift in his scent, as if he were relieved I hadn’t found myself on the wrong side of the law. “Good to know. Horse doesn’t need that kind of shit in his life right now.”

“Right now?” I asked.

“Anytime,” Dawg said from behind me. “Right now, tomorrow, yesterday. He keeps his nose clean but I have a feeling he’d get it all muddy if he needed to, for you.”

“Thanks for helping me. I’m sorry I got you involved but I didn’t know where else to go.”

“Glad you came to us,” Dawg’s voice rumbled through his chest and into my back. “Means you trust Horse.”

“He’ll leave his phone where he is, and he didn’t have a burner on him, so he’s out of communication until he arrives,” Ghost said. “Bash is inside with the new wolves, he’ll head Horse in the right direction when he gets here.”

Ghost handed me a bottled water and a sandwich, wrapped in paper. “It’s fried egg with lettuce and cheese, and we only have the lettuce here because a few of us like it on our burgers. Just about everything here is meat based — that’s as good as I could come up with.”

He pulled another sandwich out of the bag and I smelled pulled pork and barbecue sauce. He opened it as he told Dawg, “There’s another in the bag for you, though I figured you’d be more focused on Horse’s bunny here than on eatin’.”

“Yeah, I’ll wait. She’s calmed down for now.”

I started to pull away so Dawg would eat and he said, “No, little bunny, it hasn’t been that long since I ate. You and Ghost need food. You should eat. I’m good.”

They kept me talking until Horse arrived by asking about my classes and how I’m getting along in the human realm. I thought Dawg would move away from me when Horse showed up, but instead he stood with me in his arms and literally handed me to him as he said, “I got her calmed down. Don’t fuck up my work.”

Horse grunted a thanks as he pulled me to him and wrapped his arms around me. He held me a good minute or two before sitting on another boulder with me arranged in his lap so I was on one leg and he could see my face. “Tell us.”

Ghost had gotten me out of town without asking questions because I’m important to Horse. I owed them an explanation, so I took a breath and told them.

“When I was fourteen the FBI came to my school and walked me out in handcuffs. They were wolves and they knew they scared me, and they didn’t care. They didn’t take me to an FBI office, but to an abandoned house in the woods. They’d set it up with cameras and spotlights, and there was a room with a metal table in it they’d bolted to the floor. They chained my ankles to a metal chair, and my wrists to a bolt in the middle of the table. They kept me there for days and days, and didn’t let me sleep. They only fed me twice, and I had to earn water by answering questions. I got to go to the bathroom every once in a while, but once I couldn’t wait any longer and peed myself, and they didn’t let me change clothes.”

“Why did they have you there, Gabs?” Horse’s voice was soft, but steel.

“My dad was a serial killer. I didn’t know. They figured out it was him, and that he had his latest victim somewhere. They thought I knew where he was. I thought they should’ve been able to tell I wasn’t lying, but apparently sociopaths can lie without smelling like it, and they assumed I was like him.”