Inflamed: A Shadow Riders MC (14 page)

I looked each one over as I moved closer and within seconds felt like I had stepped onto the set of a local biker film. Some of the men were tall, some were short. Others were bald while some had hair that rivaled the length of mine, which sat just below my shoulders. A few were as skinny as a rail, one was handsomely built as if he worked out on a daily basis by lifting anything weighing over two hundred pounds, and one was the size of the mac truck I imagined ramming back and forth over my head as I slept. Every single one of them had some form of facial hair, from mustaches and goatees to full on beards ranging between black, blond and red, and each one had a set of Chinese letters tattooed just below each knuckle, while other, more colorful tattoos aligned their arms and just about every side of their necks. They all looked around my age or older, but not a single one of them looked as old as Blue or River.

I cleared my throat when I was close enough for them to hear me, but when they didn't turn around, I screamed out. "Excuse me!"

One biker, who looked the youngest of them all, with his jet black hair and bright ocean blue eyes, turned back to me and whistled while eyeing me up and down. I felt as if I were a piece of chocolate cake being served up to him on a giant silver platter.

He lifted his beer up high and titled his head. "
OOOOOOOHH WEEEEEEEEE
, babe, you sure do look like one of the tastiest fuckin' bitches I think I've ever seen in my whole goddamn life."

Jeez.

I bobbed my head and smiled despite that giant cloud of disgust forming over my head. "You must not get out too much," I shot back.

"Oh, I get out plenty, darlin'," he said, a slime-covered grin pulling at the corners of his mouth. His blue eyes sparkled, but not with shine, more like with ire and a touch of venom. "But in all my time of being out, never have I seen a bitch as
sweet
looking as you. So tell me, sexy, what's that sweet fucking pussy of yours taste like, huh?" he asked. "Honey? Chocolate?" The other bikers around him chuckled.

Before I could even think to answer him with my fist or a knee in his balls, another biker stepped forward, the one the size of a mac truck and missing an eye, with his slick black hair tied into a ponytail at his nape, and smacked him on the back of the head. The one with the mouth on him bumped his teeth on the rim of his beer bottle and made a face at the ‘mac truck’ as he stepped back and leaned against his bike, never saying another word.

"Sorry about that asshole," the big one told me as he readjusted his cut. "Some of these week old motherfuckers don't know proper manners when it comes to a beautiful woman like yourself for shit. Must be why they're still some lonely, horny motherfuckers."

I nodded. "Mm-hmm."

He parted his lips into a genuine smile, though his teeth remained completely hidden behind the beard, and held out his hand. "You're Mia, right?" he asked. I nodded. "I'm Trucker."
The irony.
He lifted his hand higher, angling for me to take it. I did, if only because it felt awkward not to, and he gently pulled me in. "The motherfucker who just made an ass out of himself in front of you is Eightball. You'll have to excuse him more than any of the rest of us since he uses his shit personality to make up for the small size of his dick." He laughed and dropped his hand. "That asshole on the end there is Lex, the one next to him is Luther." He turned to his left. "This one here is Tick." He slapped his hand around his neck. "The one sitting on the bike back there is Slim--"

"YO!" He looked up from his phone and threw out a peace sign.

"And the one next to the tow truck, which is what you'll be riding in along with your baby girl back to Crescent Beach after we hitch up your car, is Styx."

I turned my eyes to both the well-built man and the truck. Styx nodded at me, then quickly turned away. I was put off at first until I realized he had done me a favor in showing me the side of his head. Just above his right ear was a tattoo of that check mark Avery had mentioned. And his hands were indeed covered in old cuts and scars that looked as deep as the wound inside my thigh.

When he realized I was staring, he turned back to me and frowned. I quickly refocused on the others and moved my eyes between each one while forcing a grin. "Nice to meet everybody more formally, I guess," I said.

They all nodded their heads at me and grunted. Though 'Eightball's eyes seemed to linger a little longer on my body than the rest of them, specifically my breasts, while Styx's eyes never left my face.

"As you can see," said Trucker, recapturing my attention, "we're all angling to be officially patched into the club, and part of the process of becoming official members means doing as the brothers ask, specifically the VP and Prez, whether we like doing the shit or not. And our task tonight is getting you and your kid back to the club in one piece, darlin'."

"So I guess this whole thing would be on your 'not' list," I told him. He made a face to indicate that being forced to take me back to the clubhouse was in fact the last thing he or his 'boys' wanted to do for the night, but he didn't say an actual word to me in response about it. I crossed my arms and knit my brows. "Where’s River? Or, Blue?”

“Church, darlin’.”

I arched my brows. “
Church
? What the hell are they doing, praying for redemption?”

He chuckled. “Not the kinda church with crosses and baptisms, babe. More like the kind with guns and gavels.”

“Oh.”

“They’re back at the clubhouse and ‘church’ is what they call meetings about club business. It’s usually every Sunday, but in this case they made an exception since it’s more or less about you and your kid moving in.”

"
Ohh, great
." I felt myself dying a little inside when he said that. 

“Since prospects aren’t official members yet, we’re not needed or even allowed to attend. Not until membership is made official.”

“Which is why you’re here,” I said. “So in the meantime, where exactly did you all take my furniture?"

"It's on its way to Crescent Beach for an auction our VP’s setting up for you this weekend. He’s having it stored in a shed behind his house ‘til then. We removed everything we could from inside except for the shit in your bedroom," he said. "With you sleeping in there, we didn't wanna disturb you in moving all that shit around."

"I guess letting me sleep through your breaking and entering can be considered generous. And while we're on the subject, who the hell authorized you to pick up
my child
from school this afternoon?"

They all looked between each other for a few seconds with wide eyes and shrugs, until Trucker finally cleared his throat and turned back to me. "That was actually the VP's doing," he said.

"River went to the school?"

"No, no. When we got here, he had me and Styx go and pick your kid up while he went looking for your landlord lady. Said he thought it'd be easier just to get her out and bring her home to you instead of waiting for you to wake up to go and get her yourself."

"And I guess if I didn't wake up, you would've just, done what? Dragged me out of bed?"

"We had to weigh all of our options since we didn't know how the liquor would affect your, uh, 'cognitive abilities'," he said. “Just like I’m sure you had to weigh yours in deciding whether or not you actually wanted help from the club.”

"
Right
,” I replied. He grinned. “How long did River actually stick around after you guys got here?" I asked him.

"Maybe about fifteen to twenty minutes or so. He had to head back pretty quickly after calling that meeting."

"Hm. Well, did he tell any of you about my parent's? And the fact that they have no clue about any of this, especially in regard to what the hell is actually going on where Ricky's concerned?"

"He mentioned something about it, yeah. Told me to tell you to use this contact phone to get in touch with 'em before you left." He threw his hand into his back pocket and pulled out one of the smallest flip phones I think I had ever seen. It was cracked on every side, the faceplate was taped together, the antenna was hanging on by a literal wire, but all of the important buttons were still intact.

"I guess bikers don't necessarily live in the twenty-first century when it comes to technology?"

"Not in the case of phones we don't, darlin'. It’s a burner. Here." He placed the phone inside my palm. "When you call 'em up, just make it quick. Give only bits and pieces of what the fuck's goin' on and don't linger too much on shit that you shouldn't. You wanna keep 'em safe as far as this sick fuck goes, which means you don't give 'em much more to work with than what they need. Once we're back inside your place, Styx can coach you on what to say."

I looked up at him and smiled as sincerely as I could. "I know that what you're saying to me makes sense to you and it probably should to me too given the circumstances and the fact that I pretty much set all of this in motion. But even if he helps me with what to say, how
exactly
am I supposed to make telling my parent's that they're no longer going to see their grandchild again 'quick'? The minute those words come flying out of my mouth, they're going to start asking more questions than 'why' and whatever explanation I give them over the
phone
won't fly."

"Just do your damnedest to make that shit soar like a goddamn bird, darlin'," he said. "On VP's orders, I can't let you go any other place tonight except for the club."

"What if they come to me instead? After I get settled in at the club, maybe--"

"Sorry, darlin," he interjected. "But that's more fucking trouble than what we need right now. You too if you wanna make sure that your kid is safe from Ricky and his crew.”

I groaned. "
Great
."

"If I could help you out with more than this shit, I would."

"Yeah," I told him. "Thanks."

"Now we should really get back up in there and get your shit out of your bedroom. Pack whatever clothes you can in a few bags and we'll get the furniture hitched up and on its way to the garage with the other pieces."

"Okay, thanks. But, the toys," I said, "and all of that stuff for Avery, where did it come from?"

"River, darlin'. Gave us the money before he left and told us to go buck wild with it without going too overboard. Said he wanted your girl to be as comfortable as possible at the club and thought surrounding her with all that shit might help." He smiled and pat me on the shoulder, then moved around me and headed up the stairs and back into my apartment along with the others.

Before heading back up for myself, I stared down at the phone in my hand and wrapped my fingers around it.

What if all of this is for nothing? What if I'm giving up my entire life and everything my child and I have ever known for a life and a man who may not even be able to protect us from what's to come like he claims?

I might've felt safe with him, but it sure as hell didn't mean that I was.

I turned back to my apartment and inhaled. I knew that once we were gone from Tampa that nothing would ever be the same for us again. I didn't know what the hell was coming next, but I was certain that whatever it was would be entirely unforgettable. And maybe not so much in the best possible way ever.

Chapter Seven

Everyone sat in complete silence around that hand carved table in the small chamber where they held church at the clubhouse, after River informed his brothers of what had gone down with Mia earlier that day, and why. Some of them were openly surprised he had agreed so quickly in allowing her to stay, while others like Tiny, were just downright pissed the hell off that they hadn't been informed about it prior to his agreement with her. Or at the very least, given a goddamn heads up before he decided to ship her shit from her own place to theirs, courtesy of the remaining and newbie prospects.

"I know this might still be a foreign concept to you, motherfucker," stated an incensed and red-faced Tiny, "even after all these goddamn years of your unworthy ass continuin' to sit in that chair at Prez's side. But bein' ‘VP’ of this club don't mean that you just get to do whatever the fuck you want like some kinda dick waggin' asshole lookin' to impress some bitch you may never fuck, without lettin' other folks know about that shit first." He tossed his long, thick braid over his shoulder and stroked his shaggy, grey beard down to the center of his chest. "Wearin' that patch on your chest and havin' all those goddamn tattoos on your back and arms don't mean that you can just let these bitches stay within our goddamn clubhouse and not have a single goddamn reasonable explanation for it--!"

"What the fuck are you talkin' about?!" spat River, opening his hands in question. "I just gave you a list of goddamn reasons for it, Old Man."

Tiny adjusted in his chair as fury sparked in his eyes. The one thing he hated being called in front of the other seven brothers more than any other thing in the world, was 'old'. The man
was
old, as a matter of fact, he was just a few years older than Wolf, who himself was pushing sixty at best, which made him the oldest member to date of the Crescent Beach charter. But it wasn't something he liked being reminded of on a daily basis, and certainly not by motherfuckers he was currently looking to throttle.