STRIKE: Storm Runners Motorcycle Club 2 (SRMC) (7 page)

CHAPTER 11

H
e left pissed, with a head full of steam. But an hour later, he turned the bike around and headed back in the direction of the Ladies Night. With all the shit Butch and his minions were pulling in Detroit, he wasn’t going to leave Dakota unprotected. A few nights off the search weren’t the end of the world.

Even if she didn’t want to see him again.

“I thought I’d seen the last of you.” Dakota stood there holding a tray of drinks.

“You waitress now?”

“I told you that I didn’t want to see you.”

“I was an asshole,” Tom said, putting up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I’m sorry. You said this was nothing and it’s not nothing. Not to me. I…I like you and I hate not knowing who you really are.”

It was like the words were a physical blow. She didn’t move, didn’t unbalance the heavy tray of drinks, but her face went softer.

“I shouldn’t have said what I did. I don’t have a problem with your job. I just took a shot where I thought it would land.”

“Okay,” Grace said, studying him like she was searching for a sign of sincerity. “But if it happens again, we’re done.”

He smiled, grateful. “So why are you hauling around drinks tonight?”

“We’re shorthanded and it’s a big night for bachelor parties. I’ll be on stage soon enough.” She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, balancing expertly on what looked like long, metal toothpicks. Still, he couldn’t deny the way his eyes were drawn up her shapely legs. “Honestly, I’d rather serve drinks all night. You get less attention that way.”

He could see how strong her arms were and wondered if the muscle tone owed itself to pole work or to hefting heavy trays of drinks and fried snacks.

“Go serve,” he said, not wanting to make her hold them longer than necessary. He’d already kept her too long trying to get back in her good graces. “Come by when you can. I’ll be here all night.”

“I told you that’s not needed.”

“I don’t care.” He slid onto the barstool and raised a finger for the bartender. “When your shift is over, I can take you home or we can get some food.”

“I drove over.”

“Then you can drive me back to your place and I’ll walk back to get my bike. It’s not far.”

“Tom…”

“Go serve your drinks.” He turned away from her and placed an order for a beer.

The rest of the night was slow, except for the few stolen moments he had with Dakota. At one point, she switched out the bright blonde hair he knew was a wig now for a cotton candy pink one that tumbled down her shoulders in ringlet curls.

“What color is your real hair?” he whispered in her ear when she leaned against the bar to place another order for a rowdy group of men sitting in chairs near the stage where a buxom redhead danced. “Is it that silky black I see you with in public? Or is that a dye?”

“That’s my real color,” she said, and the information felt like a prize. He craved anything real about her. When he’d decided that she was better off without him and didn’t contact her for two days, he could still feel her pull all the way from the shift he pulled at his bar. From his bed, where he twisted in the sheets sleepless at the thought of her gentle curves.

She walked away, the scent of magnolia lingering behind her. Tom inhaled deeply and took another slow sip of his drink, careful not to slip down the path that ended at the bottom of a bottle. If he was going to look out for her, he was going to do it with less than two drinks in his system.

He closed his eyes, centering himself when all the chaos inside pulled him back to the image of his father’s bullet-ridden body in the downtown morgue. Only this time, it was Dakota he saw through the window. Dakota he couldn’t save.

Maybe he should have seen that counselor Carly recommended during one of their late night drinking contests.

He felt a soft body close to his back and relaxed, recognizing her scent. “I forgot to ask if you wanted to do breakfast with me and Mandi, if you’re so determined to stick around.”

“I’d love to.”

“You can follow me to her place so I can drop her off, then head home.”

“I’ll follow you home too, at least. A gentleman doesn’t leave a lady to make her way home after dark.”

When she only sighed and didn’t argue, he grinned.

_____

Grace shoveled another bite of pancakes into her mouth, almost choking as Mandi made another face, describing her mother’s reaction to finding out she’d taken up stripping. Tom abandoned his food moments before, unable to keep from laughing at the woman’s antics. His omelet sat cooling on the plate.

“She started to tell me to leave—Mom’s like that. Very southern. Very dramatic. Then I offered to finish paying off her car, and the next thing you know, she’s talking about my ballet classes and how she always knew I’d be a dancer.”

“Is she still down with it?” Tom asked, shaking his head as he reached for his cup of coffee.

“I pay her rent.” Mandi said with a shrug. She rolled her eyes. “She works less now and can watch more soap operas, so she’s put her fake morals aside. I don’t think she mentions it when she’s getting her nails done, though.”

“God, she’s such a piece of work,” Grace said. “I don’t know why you over there so often.”

“She makes really good pie.” Tom laughed again, watching Grace lick syrup off her finger. The twist of her pink tongue over her finger brought his mind to images of her doing the same to his cock and he took a deep breath.

“I think that’s it,” Grace said, sitting back and surveying the last bites of food scattered over their plates. “I’m ready to crash.”

“Me too,” Mandi said. “I’ll get the check.”

“No.” Tom grabbed it and pulled out his wallet. “What kind of man would I be if I didn’t buy you lovely ladies dinner?”

“It’s the least you can do for the comedy show Mandi put on,” Grace said with a wink. “I’m going to finish this water and then I’m taking you home, Mandi.”

“You two can go solo,” Mandi said. “I’ll grab a taxi.”

Tom shook his head.

“You’re not going home alone in the dark.” He felt ten feet tall when Dakota’s golden eyes glimmered and her soft lips curved up, exposing her small, white teeth. God, she made him feel like a hero, like he wasn’t stalking the underworld looking for a man who’d signed his death warrant with a hail of bullets.

He followed her to Mandi’s building and then back to her own. When she crooked her finger at him and asked him to come up, he was powerless to resist.

Inside, Grace reached out and dragged him to her, pressing her lips to his and drinking him in with a moan. “God, you feel so good,” she whispered as she pushed off his jacket and ran her hands over his back, tracing the lines of his muscles. “Kiss me.”

He slid her jacket and the light sweater she wore under it off, leaving her in a jean skirt and tank top. “Take off the wig. I want to see you.”

She nodded, then reached up and twisted her fingers in the fake hair. He heard pins rain down to the floor and then the bright blonde hair was down and she was peeling off the cap on top of her head. Once it was gone, he could see the luminous blue-black of her hair. When she unwound the bun, it fell down straight and silky to her lower back.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he said, dragging her down to the couch so she was perched on top of him, facing him. Her tresses tickled his skin when their lips met and lingered.

“I want more tonight, Dakota.”

“What do you want?” The words were barely words, just whispers over his skin where her teeth skimmed over his neck.

“I want to know your real name.”

_____

Grace shivered and wrapped her arms around him. “I don’t think you want that,” she said, but knew she was lying. Tom craved the information. “Not at all.”

But he did—and she knew it. His skin was so warm and smelled so good. It made her head swim and distracted her so that she almost whispered the truth to him, secrecy be damned. Chief Anderson’s warnings swam in her head and she frowned, sitting back on Tom’s knees with her own pressed into the couch so that her center was only separated from him by her panties and his jeans.

“I can’t give you that,” she said finally, rejecting the idea of distracting him with her body. “But I want more with you too.” She did. Was so hot from the hard press of him against her that her hands itched to take off her clothes, then his.

“Why can’t you?”

“Because I’m not ready,” she whispered, looking down. He lifted her chin and pushed back her hair, meeting her eyes.

“Okay, then.” He kissed her, soft and sweet. “Then you can just tell me whenever you are.”

The glow she always felt around him intensified until it felt like her stomach contained a piece of the sun. Wrapping her arms around him, she moved her body back and forth over the hardness swelling under his jeans and a low moan escaped her throat. “You feel so good,” she said as he began to kiss his way down her neck, marking a trail to where the tops of her breasts swelled over her tank.

It shouldn’t feel this good with this man—not someone who was more than just slightly affiliated with what the police considered a gang. The Storm Runners weren’t the worst men in town by any means, but they were the ones with whom one did not fuck. Even the gang bangers who’d shoot a cop faster than they’d share a cigarette steered clear of the neighborhoods where Storm Runners’ family members lived. As crime spiked in the city, the members started patrolling those streets and the body count had risen—then dropped.

His lips on her cleavage wasn’t enough; she needed more of him, the heat and flash of his breath on her skin. She reached down and pulled off her tank top, letting it drop on the floor behind her and whispered “Fuck,” when Tom took one of her nipples in his mouth, sucking with light pressure while his tongue laved the sensitive bud.

She could lose her job, but his mouth was a miracle that set her skin buzzing.

He didn’t even know her name, but he knew what her skin tasted like now. One of his big hands came up to cover and warm her other breast while his lips made her strain against him. She ran her fingers through his thick hair and grinded on his lap, letting her head fall back as her breathing quickened.

“You’re,” he said, pulling away to kiss her mouth between words, “so perfect. Every inch of you is perfect I want to touch you.” He returned his mouth to her breasts and she clutched as his shoulders as the sensations became overwhelming. She was so wet that when she took his hand and brought it between her legs, she knew he could feel it through her panties.

“You sure?” He looked into her eyes and she could see the fire burning in his. An inferno she wouldn’t be able to put out once he parted her legs—and one she didn’t want to bank.

“I am.” He slid his fingers under the soaked cotton of her panties and found her flesh, sensitive and swollen. “Damn, you’re so wet. Were you this wet on my bike the other night when you pressed your sexy little body right up against mine?” His skilled fingers quickly found the spot where she needed them, massaging gently while he kissed her neck.

“Don’t stop.” Her other lovers had been slow build up and strong release, but this was something new. Grace couldn’t stop circling her hips to rub on his hand, urging him faster. Wild, for the first time in her life, she urged him to push her over the edge she so desperately desired. If it meant losing her job and quitting the investigation, maybe it would be worth it for one perfect moment with a man she shouldn’t want.

Maybe—and then he changed angles just a little and her world exploded.

Grace buried her face in his neck to muffle the scream as she came, hot and desperate, moving against him. Once her motions slowed, he eased her off his lap onto the couch and leaned her against the arm. “I’m not done yet,” Tom said, and his eyes gleamed. He rubbed her thighs to soothe, then grasped her skirt and yanked it down. Her panties followed and she was bared to him in the dim light.

“Perfect,” he said, one corner of his lips curving up. He lifted one of her legs up on the couch and she shivered, knowing what he intended. Kneeling between her thighs, he parted her and slowly licked, a broad drag up her center.

“Oh fuck,” she moaned, her hips bucking. Tom used a light touch to hold her to the couch and pressed a kiss directly to her clit, his tongue coming out to tease and torment. Grace didn’t know how she’d ever let anyone else do this again, she thought as he explored every inch of her, leisurely licking, sucking, kissing and driving her out of her mind.

“You taste so fucking good,” he murmured against her skin, the words teasing her as he spoke. “I could eat you forever.”

“Tom…” Her center was so tight and hot. She couldn’t breathe when he slid his tongue inside her.

“Don’t come yet,” he said, pulling back and looking up at her. “Not yet. I want more of you.” But it was an effort for her not to reach for the stars he put in front of her eyes, so close that she could stretch up and feel the burn that wasn’t so far away. Grace panted and arched her back when he kissed a line up her thigh and focused on her center again.

“Tom, I can’t wait much longer.” Each word was a hard bite of sound forced out between her teeth. She couldn’t stop. Couldn’t stop the tight pleasure that wracked her body and spiraled her up and up and up until—