Satin and Steel
Authors: Jayna Vixen
Satin and Steel
Jayna Vixen
Jayna Vixen Erotica (2012)
Rating: ****
All Rhiannon Blake wanted was to find her little sister, Mickey. The last thing she expected when she walked into the seedy biker bar was to be assaulted. Luckily, Dax Jamison, the tall, muscled, vice president of The Phantoms motorcycle crew rescues her. At first, the innocent college girl clashes with the dominant biker. Then, a slow fire begins to burn between them, culminating in a fiery explosion of sex, drugs, and passion.
At first, Rhiannon is more than a little afraid of the sexy, tattooed biker. He’s arrogant, domineering, and dangerous. When her apartment is ransacked, Dax insists that The Phantoms provide protection for Rhiannon until he can figure out why she is being targeted by a rival crew. When an escaped drug cartel boss joins the mix, things start to get complicated. Loosely based on the hit television show, Sons of Anarchy, this work combines a strong plot with a scorching tale of danger, intrigue and romance.
Jayna Vixen is a popular online erotica author. Satin and Steel is her first published work. Keep an eye out for the sequel, Leather and Sand, due out in 2013.
Satin and Steel
Jayna Vixen
Satin and Steel
Published by Jayna Vixen
Copyright 2012 Jayna Vixen
License Notes: This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient.
Contents
Chapter One
Rhee took a deep breath and squared her shoulders before walking into the seedy bar. Ignoring the lewd stares from the rough-looking patrons, she marched a straight line to the bartender, a hairy guy with a big belly. Her hands were shaking slightly as she shoved a flyer at the man, who regarded her with one eyebrow raised.
“Have you seen this girl?” Rhee’s voice came out high but assertive.
The bartender smirked.
“What if I have?”
Rhee drew herself up to her full height, a petite five feet, three inches.
“Then I suggest you tell me where she is. My little sister is only nineteen years old.”
She tried to make her voice sound calm and steady, but inside she was quaking with tension. The bartender suddenly looked more serious.
“Your little sister, you say?”
Rhee nodded. “That’s what I said, sir. She was dating a guy who rode with a motorcycle club that used to stop in here. She’s missing. At least just let me put up this flyer?”
The bartender nodded to someone behind Rhee’s head and then looked back at her.
“Well, missy. You have a lot of nerve coming in here and making demands. But…it turns out that I have a little sister myself. Hand over one of them flyers you got there. You can put one up in the ladies’ room too, if you want,” he held out his beefy hand.
Ten minutes later, Rhee’s breath rushed out in a great
whoosh
as she pushed her way back out onto the street. In her haste to get back to her old Toyota she nearly ran headlong into a tall, blond man who had just parked his impressive-looking bike by the curb.
“Steady there, little girl,” a husky voice rasped with an undertone of mirth.
Little girl?!
Rhee glared up angrily and felt her breath catch in her throat as a pair of twinkling blue eyes met her own fiery green ones.
Damn, he’s tall!
Irritated that she had to crane her neck to see his face, she straightened her spine, flushing under the stranger’s perusal.
He wore a black leather vest over a tight, black tee, and loose jeans that might even conceal a holstered weapon.
Definitely one of those biker gang guys
, Rhiannon thought to herself. It must have been only a few seconds that she stood there, transfixed by the blond hulk’s gaze, but it seemed like an eternity. Rhiannon mumbled an apology and tried to walk slowly back to her vehicle, aware of the man’s eyes on her back. Running would show fear, she reminded herself as she forced herself to take slow, measured steps, willing her hands not to shake as she placed her key in the door.
That was the first place she hit. That week, Rhiannon visited four more biker hangouts, hot on the trail of her little sister, Michaela, or Mickey their father had christened her. Mickey often disappeared for weeks at a time; the girl had been a free spirit since the day she was born. Rhiannon smiled, remembering how her baby sister had scared everyone one cold winter’s morning by crawling behind the Christmas tree and falling asleep, while the family tore the neighborhood apart trying to locate her.
Yep, that was Mickey all right. She had horrified their mother by getting a butterfly tattoo on her sixteenth birthday, and she had rejected traditional college applications in favor of pursing her photography hobby. Mickey marched to her own beat and never stayed in the same place for very long. Her little walkabouts had never worried Rhiannon…until now. This recent disappearance had been preceded by a frantic phone call in the middle of the night. Rhiannon remembered every word out of Mickey’s mouth, even though she had been half asleep.
“Rhee, it’s me! Wait-don’t say anything! I’m in trouble, Rhee. Big trouble. I need you to come and get me…tonight! I’ll be at the corner of West and-oh! Oh, shit…”
The call had been disconnected. Rhiannon had flown from the house in her sweats and raced across town to West Avenue. She drove up and down the street in vain, all night long. Finally, exhausted, she had gone to the police and they had been no help. They all remembered Mickey. Their parents had logged numerous missing persons reports when Mickey was in high school. She always turned up, with a new tattoo or a story about a festival in the desert. It seemed her reputation had followed her to California. Darling was a small town, and the local deputies didn’t bat an eye when Rhiannon begged frantically that this time, a search party really was warranted.
It had been days since she had slept.
Well, years really.
Rhee’s normally bright eyes had dulled, and she was sporting some dark circles.
Thank God the roommates are gone for break.
They’d think I was losing it.
Plus, she didn’t want to rehash her crazy past and current life to the bubbly coeds she lived with. They could never understand. Kate and Lisa were sweet, but Rhee knew they thought she was a total drag. She always made up excuses to avoid joining them when they went out to parties or bars, and she didn’t want to explain why. She didn’t need their pity.
Rhee dragged herself from a few hours of desperately needed, dreamless sleep and pulled on a pair of worn, low-slung jeans and a simple tee shirt. Blearily, she made herself a cup of strong coffee and nearly fell into her car. There was one last place that she could think of to hit but she had left it for last for on purpose.
Tu Madre
was a small establishment that an old lady from another hangout had mentioned. It was known to be the den of a particularly nasty Mexican motorcycle crew.
Ignoring the warning tingle that shot down her spine, Rhee shoved her apprehension deep down into her guts. If Mickey was there, or if anyone knew where she was, she had to find out. She pulled up in front of the dilapidated shack that matched the address the biker chick from the last hangout had given her. Rubbing her eyes, Rhiannon stifled a yawn. A metal sign, rusted with weather and age, proclaimed,
Tu Madr-.
Rhee groaned inwardly.
No “e.”
As an aspiring copyeditor, punctuation errors really irritated her. The place looked deserted save for a few bikes parked out front.
Perfect
, Rhee thought to herself.
Fewer scumbags for me to fend off.
*
Dax sat at the table to the left of his president. He sighed as the latest task came to a vote. Dax raised his hand half-heartedly. Even though he had quite a bit of sway in the club, defying Hawk would be like signing his own death warrant. Part of Dax wanted out, but he simply could not justify leaving. His girlfriend was talking marriage and he couldn’t afford her or her medical school bills without the club. The cut he received as vice president of
The Phantoms
trumped any full time job he could think of…by a lot.
A crackle of excitement went through the air as Hawk pounded the gavel.
The Chicos
had overstepped their shit for the last time. Taking the deal for the latest round of guns was the last straw. They would hit them tonight, when they were least expecting it. No doubt the stupid bastards would be partying it up, and they would all be piss drunk and high. It was the perfect time to strike, and take back what was rightfully been theirs.
It was late when the unmarked, black van pulled up outside of
Tu Madre.
Dax and his crew were suited up and packing hard core. Dax adjusted his bulletproof vest and issued some orders to the rest of the crew. Then, they popped the bathroom window and sneaked in, wholly undetected.
*
Rhee was sick with fear. From the moment she entered
Tu Madre,
she knew she had made a grave mistake. A small group of heavily tattooed men graced a table at the rear of the shack. Three whorish girls danced groggily on makeshift poles, cigarette smoke wafting up to caress their fake tits and caked makeup. A group of a dozen or so younger guys barged in and assaulted the bar, whooping and high-fiving. Shots were passed out and the distinct smell of marijuana wafted to her nostrils. Rhee turned on her heel, realizing that these were men who adhered to no rules or laws. A large man stepped in front of her, blocking her path.
“Where do you think you’re going, puta?”
Rhee bristled. “How dare you!” She pushed at the man, but he was like an oak. He laughed at her pathetic struggles and then, to Rhee’s horror the smelly man picked her up and threw her over his swarthy shoulder.
“Fresh meat!” he called, as the other men glanced her way, their eyes widening with lust. A few rubbed their crotches and made lewd gestures. Rhee began to struggle in earnest, employing every one of her self defense class tricks. She stuck her thumb into her captor’s jugular and he grunted with surprise and fury. Rhee screeched in outrage as her bottom was walloped so hard she was sure it would be bruised. Nausea bubbled in her stomach as several of the men at the bar stood up and adjusted their pants. Then, they hauled her, kicking and screaming, into the rear room.
Rhee squeaked as she was thrown down roughly onto a concrete floor. She landed on her left shoulder, hearing a sickening crack and then it immediately went numb. She wondered hazily if it was dislocated. A small light bulb illuminated above her and she blinked rapidly. Her heart was beating a million times a minute as she gazed at the five men who formed a ring around her, circling her like sharks to wounded prey.
“Damn, puta. You know how to fight? Fight me!”
A smallish, Latino man who seemed to have some status approached, and Rhee waited several agonizing seconds before placing a well-timed and entirely unexpected front kick. There were several surprised whoops as she managed to catch the man in his groin and he fell back, hissing violently. The next guy fared no better, she slipped out of his grasp like an eel. Finally, two men grabbed Rhee and held her motionless as the first man, purple with rage, ripped her shirt straight down the front with a jackknife. There was a collective catcall as her lacy white bra was exposed. Her breasts heaved with anxiety and a rosy blush stained her flesh as the rough men stared.
Stay calm, Rhee.
She saw her opportunity as they leered at her chest, her arms pulled painfully behind her back. Both legs came up and her sharp instep caught one of them right in the nuts. Then, stars danced across her vision as someone backhanded her across the face. Then, her arm was pulled straight and she struggled furiously when she saw the needle poised against her arm.
