Kinkaid (Bad Boys of Retribution MC Book 2) (16 page)

Later we lay in the bed. Sadie spooned against my side all flushed and golden from her long soft hair to her long lush body.

“If loving you is wrong, I don’t want to be right either.” She idly toyed with my neatly trimmed thatch of pubes, causing a pleasant hum in my balls and along the backs of my thighs.

“
Hmm
?” I lifted my head to peer down at her.

“The song you danced to.”

“I think it was more than dancing. A seduction. An apology.” I stilled her hand and brought it to my lips. “But if you’re saying what I think you’re saying, it’s not wrong, but I was. I’m sorry.”

“I
am
saying what you think I’m saying.” Her tropical blue eyes glimmered as she pressed a kiss to my chest.

“Care to say it for real?” I asked teasingly, but fuck it, I meant it in all earnestness.

Swinging her body on top of mine, she kissed me softly on the lips. “I love you, Kinkaid.”

“I think you’ve probably known longer than I have.” I sank my hands into her hair and held her against me. “But I want you to know it for the truth it is.”

“And what would that be?” Her eyelashes swept low, fanning across her pink cheeks.

“I, Kinkaid Rhett Ryder—”

Her bubble of laughter burst against my lips.

“Yeah, yeah. Apparently my mom was a little bit of a romantic with the Rhett thing.”

“You were
saying
?”

“I, Kinkaid Ryder love you, Sadie Audrey Grace, and I think I always have.”

MARCH ARRIVED AND BY that time Sadie was completely part of my life. She’d sublet her apartment for the remainder of her lease and moved in with me. The small cottage that had been dormant since Grampa’s death burst with her vibrancy. I’d always been tidier than her, having been taught the single man’s ways, but seeing her belongings strewn around the house I couldn’t bring myself to give a shit. Her easel and paints took over a large corner of the living room, her text books spread across the kitchen table, her clothes dominated most of my closet, and her cosmetics and hairbrushes stood side by side with my razor and cologne on the bathroom counter.

Sadie was busy with her classes, her painting, and her part-time job. With just my MC responsibilities I had more time, and that meant taking care of her, which was just as important as protecting her. Hell yeah I’d even do the laundry and fold the clothes if it meant a little more precious time with her. I didn’t mind my new role, not one bit.

The little wifey
. I still heard Grampa’s growly voice and his amused tone. I was sure he was causing as much trouble up in Heaven as he could and looking in on me from time to time, too. His presence was muted but not altogether gone.

So the old cottage, the confirmed bachelor pad, was now a lovers’ retreat. And the small rooms brightened, filled with a love I’d never experienced before.

I was making plans but wasn’t sure how to present them to Sadie just yet. There was time enough for that.

****

The night was dark black and clear but cold. Stars spread out in the sky above us as we hit the wide open road going full throttle and hammering down. Sadie pressed against me, her body flush with mine on the back of my black-on-black Harley.

I felt the jostle through her body more than heard the accompanying laughter as it flew through her lips to be whipped back on the wind behind her like the hair streaming wildly from beneath her helmet.

We didn’t ride together all the time, but it sure as hell was fun when we did. A couple weekends ago, Sadie had gotten me on the back of her bumblebee yellow dirt bike. She’d taken me trailblazing over the frozen muddy earth at the motocross track up in Walterboro. The thought of it—the feeling of hanging onto her as she ripped through the trails hell-bent for leather—got me hard in an instant every time.

She’d let me own the road on her Suzuki when we headed home. I made that pumped-up bitch of a bike scream along 17 South. We’d fucked practically on the porch as soon as we tore off our helmets, ripped open jackets and shirts, and pulled pants down just far enough. She’d stroked me with her fingerless leather gloves right there on the doorstep before I’d backed her into the house and fucked the holy hell out of her against the door.

“Good ride,” I’d gusted out, still pumping my come inside her. I loved staying hard and pushing my wet cock into her fluttering pussy.

She’d bitten my throat and then my chest. “The best.”

The Retribution compound was aglow when we hauled up outside. Chrome, steel, pipes, choppers, and lowriders packed the parking lot. Inside the scenery just got better. Guys from the MC mingled with the women from the Redemption sister charter. Wives, girlfriends, old ladies carved out their own space, trading laughs and gossip.

A band played on the stage, belting out rock tunes as recognizable as the heady scent of leather and grease. The bar hopped and heaved and everyone looked ready for a damn good night of drinking and dancing.

I hooked an arm around Sadie’s waist and led her to the bar where Cole served us straightaway. Two beers. Two shots. Down the hatch. I’d take over for him in a few minutes, let him go carouse. The dude was as good a bodyguard as money could buy and if I was stuck playing bartender I knew he’d keep an eye out for Sadie.

We bumped fists, no further words necessary from the fellow tribesman. The thick industrial chains on his huge wrists and neck only augmented the dark hair slashing across his forehead and his rough, tough build. He could look scary, but he had a heart of gold inside.

In fact, all the dudes looked like outlaws but were good, law-abiding citizens, aside from the few past misdemeanors I knew of.

That didn’t mean the motherfuckers were harmless.

Case in point:

Tail, Brodie, and Boomer circled around me, humming David Lee Roth’s “Just a Gigolo” and adding some air-humping action to the mix.

“He’s not a gigolo,” Sadie snapped. “He’s a dancer,” she added proudly.

“All right, Magic Mike.” Brodie reached behind the bar, poured another two shots, and slipped one to me. He passed the other to Sadie with a wink. “All right, darlin’?”

I rolled my eyes at the good-natured assholes for their effortless icebreaker . . . at my expense.

Aaaand
right then, on cue, the band began playing a strip joint favorite: “Pony” by Ginuwine.

Tail grabbed a nearby cherry and pulled her into the crowd, yelling back, “I’ll show y’all some
durty
dancin’.”

“Christ.” Brodie worked a hand down his face. “I hope the cops don’t raid us tonight.”

Detective Ashe Kingston, Brodie’s old lady, popped up beside him. Her shining blonde hair swung about her shoulders and her silver-gray eyes flashed. “Cops are already here, handsome. And you don’t have to worry about anything but taking me home later and giving me some good loving.”

“Oh yeah?” Brodie’s eyebrow arched up.

“
Mm hmm
.”

Their initial kiss turned into a hot make out session, and I found myself staring at Sadie’s plump mouth, licking my own.

She stroked my wrist, sending chills up my back and down my chest. “Later,” she mouthed to me.

I narrowed my eyes and growled.

She widened hers and sashayed away.

“Later better come real soon,” I shouted after her, keeping my stare trained on her fantastic ass inside the tight faded jeans.

“Dude. I’m glad you fixed it up with her.” Cole slapped my shoulder as I joined him behind the bar.

“No shit. Me too. That was hell not being with her.” I made sure never to lose sight of her as she wove through the crowd and hooked up with her friends Rayce and JB.

“You doing okay about your grampa?” he asked.

“It’s getting easier, I think.” I rubbed my chest, the heavy almost-always ache lessening. “Sadie helps. She knew him as well as I did.”

“She’s a good woman to have.”

“You’re going to stare a hole in her back if you don’t let up.” Hunter eased onto a barstool.

“Like you’re one to talk.”

He’d swiveled around on the stool for a better view of his wife, JB.

He reached a palm back for a high five.

Cole disappeared into the throng and I kept busy for the next hour, one eye on Sadie and her T and A, the other on the partygoers and their drinks requests.

“Bo. C’mon over here and draw up a stool. What’ll it be tonight? Drinks and pool?” Hunter greeted his old friend, the newest full member of Retribution.

The former Marine—if that was what he really was—had made it into the fold no questions asked, no trial by fire, and no probationary period. I could’ve hated him since I was lowest man on the totem pole, but something haunted from his hazel eyes. His dark auburn hair stood up in messy spikes, not because it was effortlessly styled but because he must’ve raked his hands through the thick hair a couple hundred times.

“Marriage still looks good on you, Hunter.” Bo accepted his drink, his voice always a low rumble you had to concentrate to hear.

“I guess if I have to be ball-and-chained to anyone it better be JB. She gets me good and doesn’t put up with any of my shit. Got rid of my nightmares too.”

Bo blanched as if Hunter had hit a sore point. Knowing Hunter, he’d meant to, but not to harm. Hunter had an honest soul as long as he was sure you were on his side of right and wrong. Although I imagined the pair of them had participated in the kind of wrong shit that came from wars fought hand-to-hand in foreign countries, where dead bodies could never be recovered.

The MC guys gossiped just as much as the Ladies, and Bo’s story had been told, retold, augmented, and probably made up from scratch.

Both were dangerous.

Both were killers.

Both were trying to change, Hunter was just a few miles farther ahead on that road than Bo.

Sudden motion parted the crowded room, and both men silenced and smiled into their beers. Brodie and Boomer appeared at the bar, Cole, Tuck, Tail, and Handsome fanned out beside them. Hunter got into formation, too, and the rest of the MC members closed ranks as Boomer gestured me to the forefront.

I took my place before the ring of men. I’d been expecting this. Brodie was a man of his word after all. That didn’t mean my knees weren’t knocking or that I could stop myself from finding Sadie among the crowd. She stood a little away, her smile beaming at me.

“I don’t know whether to call you Probie 2.0 or Magic Mike anymore.” Brodie nodded his head, hiding a grin.

He stretched out a hand and a crackling leather vest magically appeared from Tuck. He shook it out and presented it to my viewing. The back bore the Retribution patch: the scales of justice weighed down by bleached white skull and crossbones.

He flipped the vest around. To my relief the name badge didn’t say Magic Mike or any other stripper-related roadname. They’d kept it simple with Ryder. Wholly appropriate and somehow a fitting tribute to the grandfather whose last name I bore.

“So I guess we’ll just call you Ryder from now on.” Brodie jerked his head at me and I turned around, lifting my arms.

Tears thickened my throat as the heavy leather cut eased over my shoulders.

Brodie stood close for a moment, squeezing my shoulders and saying, “Take all the time you need to gather yourself.”

It wasn’t just patching through. It was being part of a larger family when I’d lost my own so recently. It was the honor shown to my grampa by giving me his name on my vest.

I rested my chin against my chest and closed my eyes for a moment.

When I turned around, the ceremony wasn’t done.

Brodie, more talkative than his older brother, clasped my arm. “Just to be clear. This isn’t because of what I said before.”

The unspoken implicit, that I had to make good with Sadie before I could make good with the club.

“It’s because you care about your people, and we’ll be lucky to have you as one of ours. You’re a strong man, Kinkaid Ryder, and you got a big goddamn heart.” He hugged me with a slap to my back then set me free. “Welcome to Retribution!”

I received congratulations from everyone, deafened by the cheers. I ended up at Sadie’s side, happily pulling her into my arms.

“You look damn good in that vest.” Quieter for my ears alone, she murmured, “Can’t wait to get you out of it.”

If I kissed her then I’d have her stripped down and on top of the bar in two seconds flat. Given the fact I didn’t really want anyone else seeing her naked, I held her face between my hands and brushed my lips against her cheek. “Later. Like you said.”

“I can wait.”

I pumped my hips against her, my intent obvious. “Not sure I can.” I grinned ruefully.

A hullaballoo half an hour later pulled me out of fantasies about just how I was gonna fuck Sadie as soon as I got her home and in my bed, or close enough to it.

“I’m looking for Captain Maverick.”

I rubbed my eyes in case I was seeing a mirage. A very pretty woman walked up to the bar, hounded by half a dozen MC goons she ignored. She wore catwoman glasses on her pert nose, but that wasn’t the half of it. She couldn’t have looked more out of place if she’d shoved a badge under my nose amid all the black leather and lace and boots. Wearing a pair of tight slacks and a prim blouse, she was honey to the bees.

She pursed her lips, a frown forming between her eyebrows. “Bo Maverick?”

“I don’t know what you want with Bo, but I reckon I can supply you with anything you might need.” Tail swaggered up, cupping the woman’s elbow. Two thin twin braids of black hair twisted against his temples and he’d never looked more like a shark hunting the waters.

The woman looked him up and down, a pleasant smile on her lips. “Don’t even try it. I can read you from a mile away.” She tapped Tail’s chest. “You use your sex appeal to snag the ladies and try to take everything at face value to avoid anything even remotely resembling affection or emotion.”

Hoots and hollers and
So busted!

Tail chuckled, but he removed his hand. “Damn, woman. No need to twist my balls, unless you really want to.” He bowed gallantly. “Who’d you say you were?”

“Veronica Hartley. Not at your service.” She might’ve looked out of place, but holy fuck, the woman put Tail in
his
place. “Now, about Bo. Is he here?”

“You can pick your eyeballs off the floor now, babe,” Sadie said pertly, appearing beside me.

“I wasn’t staring at her. It’s just, does Bo have a lady?” I tucked her against my side. “Besides, you know I only have eyes for you.”