Unrequited (Fallen Aces MC #1) (12 page)

“Your problem, not mine.”

“We aren’t dealin’ if that’s the kind of shit you want us doin’.” Apex flings the bones beside the basket and leans back, both hands gripping the edge of the table.

“You want to walk away?” Carlos rolls the bullet still before him under his palm, his eyes glazed as he stares at the movement of his hand.

“That’s exactly what we’ll do.”

“Try it.”

“Excuse me?”

The air around us chills a few degrees as Carlos lets out a low chuckle. “I know everything about you assholes. You refuse to do this for me, I’ll pick apart your worlds, one family member at a time.”

“Why the fuck do you need
us
so badly?” Twig asks. “What have we got that you don’t?”

“Anonymity.”

Apex snorts. “Are you kiddin’? You heard what went down last week with the Blood Eagles.”

“I did.” He chuckles quietly to himself. “Even so, you’re still invisible.”

The three of us stare at the guy like he’s crazy.
Well . . .

“You’re a common sight,” Carlos explains. “People see you come and go, and they knowingly turn a blind eye, forget they saw you. My men”—he slaps a palm to his chest—“wouldn’t get more than twenty miles before people started asking questions. We’re not commonplace, and we’re not
familiar
. You bikers can get around in plain daylight unnoticed. My men can’t.”

“Your problem, not ours.” I echo his earlier remark.

Carlos drops his hand to the table and spins slowly in his seat to face me. “Is that so?”

“That’s so.”

Carlos’s nostrils flare as he stares me down. “Your Girl Guide badge here says ‘prospect’”—he points to my cut—“and yet you sit there like you’re fucking royalty,
King
.” He comes short of actually spitting my name.

“Well then, given you’re sitting to my left, that would make you the fool, right?”

The blow comes out of nowhere. Carlos raises his right arm, and before I know what’s coming, he backhands me across the jaw. My chair wobbles beneath me, a firm hand from Twig stuck squarely in my gut after he rights me is the only thing that holds me back from tackling this fucker to the ground.

Apex pulls a gun on Carlos somewhere amidst the chaos, old Josef matching him.

“Everybody calm the fuck down,” Apex roars.

Carlos chuckles beside me. “Know your place, boy.”

I resolve right there and then that one day, no matter how, my place
will
be above this asshole, looking down on him as he breathes his last.

Apex tucks his weapon away, and scrubs a hand over his face. “Gettin’ back to business—what say we
did
agree to a set amount of runs? What is this information that you have? What do you think I’m going to be so damn keen for?”

“Denver, 1997.”

Apex’s eyes narrow at the time and place. He pinches his forefinger and thumb across his lips in contemplation as he processes the tease Carlos has delivered. “What would you be able to tell us about that?”

I’ve heard about Denver, but it happened way before I even begun to hang around the club. The story goes that the Aces were promised safe passage through the Blood Eagles MC territory on a run back from our Californian chapter. Apex had jacked up with their president a one-night pass for the brothers—a night to stop, refuel, and rest up after a few drinks at the local. Problem was a bright-eyed, trigger-happy prospect hadn’t got the memo—or so our club was told afterward. Keen to prove his grit, he blew a hole through two of our members before one of our own put him to ground. The Blood Eagles president wasn’t happy being denied the right to process and punish the kid as their club deemed fit, and ever since it’s meant the Aces have to add an hour on to the journey west to detour the city. It’s what started our dispute with the club.

“I have a recording of the president of the Eagles with the chief of police,” Carlos says. “In it, he asks him to turn a blind eye to what would unfold that weekend. The message is coded, but any monkey with half a functioning brain cell could work it out.”

The truth began to surface after the incident, and apparently the whole thing was a jack-up to try and take our officers down; the Blood Eagles have been attempting to spread east for years, and Lincoln is on their radar. Only thing is, nobody had the hard evidence to prove the shooting was a planned hit, not just a renegade prospect, as we were led to believe.

Apex’s lip curls in a sneer. “And what you want for it?”

“Three more runs.”

“Doing what?” he barks. “We don’t deal in death, so it better be somethin’ fuckin’ pedestrian like pharmaceuticals.”

“Guess you don’t want the proof that badly then?” Carlos pockets his bullet, and reaches across the table to snag a nacho, turning it over and over to wind the stringy cheese about it.

“We’re a one-percent club, that’s public knowledge, but fuck, man, even we have standards,” Apex explains.

“Really?” Carlos lifts an eyebrow before taking a bite.

“I’m goin’ to check the bikes, Prez.” I scowl at Carlos, giving Apex the impression I’m just out for a breather. It’s not too far from the truth.

Apex gives me his nod of approval and continues the discussion with Carlos as I walk away. If they’re going to run over details and terms, I’ve probably got ten minutes tops before things start to break away.

Sully gives me the once-over as I pull a smoke from my pack on the way out the door. I give him a tip of my chin, doing exactly what I would have done if I really were going to check the bikes. I mean, I will, but that’s not all I’ll be checking while I’m out there.

He doesn’t need to know that, though.

Crisp evening air hits me as I push through the exit, as does the smell of rain in the air. The bikes are just as we left them—lined up and shining under the glow of the security light. I circle each one with a freshly-lit cigarette, eyes roaming the machines for anything that seems off, and satisfied we’re not about to be blown apart by some homemade bomb care of one Carlos Redmond, I turn my sights on the car park.

Across the far side, parked by itself along the fence that runs down the side of the property, is the black Escalade with the white emblem I’ve been told is his.

And standing beside it, one foot braced against the wheel as she leans against the bodywork, is the woman I have no doubt will be the death of me.

THIRTEEN

Elena

Stalking across the car park in his dark denim, black T-shirt, and leather cut, he looks every part the dangerous menace society love to make bikers out to be. Yeah, there’s always going to be some with hearts blacker than the pits of hell, but men like those can be found everywhere—not just in MC clubs.

My soon-to-be husband is proof of that.

King though, I’ve seen his heart and it’s pure. He just doesn’t realize it.

His face is stern, a frown pulling his brow together, and his chin tipped downward. A smoke burns brightly in one hand, the orange tip rising with every few steps he takes. He looks angry, like he could maul me, and damn how my body reacts. The cotton of my tank does nothing to hide my arousal as he comes to a stop before me with the crunch of gravel under his boots.

“You gotta move,” he growls, extinguishing the cigarette butt under his toe. “Don’t want you seen.”

“What’s the matter?” I ask, following him around to the other side of the Escalade.

“Need you,” is all he says before taking my face in his hands and crushing his mouth to mine.

I tilt my head in his grasp, allowing his tongue entrance. The bitter after-taste of smoke is on his breath, mixed with bourbon, but it’s so
him
that I find I don’t care.

He pulls back and looks me in the eye, finally cracking a smile. “You got me under a spell, woman.”

“That a good thing?” I lift an eyebrow at him.

“When I’m with you.” He traces the lines of my cheekbones with his thumbs and then skims his hands down my neck to rest around my throat. “When I’m not it makes me crazy.”

“Tell me how I can leave this behind without putting anyone in danger, and I’m yours,” I plead. I reach out and place my hands on his hips, pulling his lower body against mine. “Show me a way out.”

King shakes his head, his hands flexing gently around my windpipe. “It can’t be done yet. I don’t have enough sway, baby.”

“What do you mean?” Sway with what?

His eyes appear forest green in the dim light of the car park. “Wait ’til I get my patch. Wait ’til I have men who’ll back me up. Fighting for you on my own is suicide against a man like Carlos. If I’m gonna start that kind of fight, I wanna know I’ll win”

He wants me to wait. How? Every day with Carlos is a gamble. The man’s temper is so volatile I never know if he’s going to laugh at me or try to kill me.

“I don’t know if I can.”

Kings hands drop away and he steps back, his face pained. I reach out and tuck my fingers in the neck of his T-shirt, tugging him toward me. “I’m not done with you, yet.”

“Why do we do this every time we see each other?” he asks. “If you can’t picture a future with me, then why talk about it at all?”

I take a moment to pull myself together as his hands roam a path over my hips and butt, distracting me. “I do see a future with you,” I tell him. “It’s just that my future with you starts now, whereas yours . . . there’s no date on it.”

“Club comes first,” he murmurs, burying his face in my neck. “You know that. I rock the boat, I fuck up everything the club’s workin’ for right now. Can’t do that, baby. Fuckin’ want to, but I can’t.”

“I know that.” My hands fist in his hair. I yank hard, a dire need overtaking me to pass on the pain he’s causing—and then I remember he likes it.

The vibrations from his growl tickle my shoulder as he skims his lips over the exposed flesh. “I like these.” He loops his thumbs in the sides of my leather pants and tugs.

“How much?” My back arches as he places a palm over my breast, squeezing and teasing the hard nipple with his thumb.

“Enough to wish I could take them off.”

I’d drop them in a heartbeat for him, but I know why I shouldn’t—why he said he wouldn’t. How would I explain away missing clothes if Sully or Carlos came out here?

He pushes a hand under the back of my tank, splaying it across my lower back and forcing me to arc my back further, pushing my tits toward his face. He dips his head and teases one nipple and then the other with his teeth through the cotton of my top.

“What are you going to do instead?” My words are hushed and breathless.

“You a gambling woman?”

“Why?”

“Want to place bets on how long it is until somebody comes lookin’ for me?” He raises his head, smirking as his eyes find mine.

I lift his wrist, looking at the thick leather watch with skulls on the strap. “I give us three minutes.”

“Six. They’re pretty busy in there.”

My hands fly to his buckle and work frantically at it. He helps me out, flicking it open, and rips the button at the top of his jeans from the eye. I tug his zipper down, my top teeth biting into my bottom lip with my concentration.

He grapples at the top of my leathers, mirroring what I’ve just done to him, but my elevated body heat has stuck the damn things to me like glue.

“Damn it.” I push him back and wrestle them painstakingly slowly down over my hips.

He places a hand on mine and stills me as soon as my panties come into view. “That’ll do.”

My breath catches when he spins me around and places a hand between my shoulder blades to force me over ninety degrees. In this position,
everything
down there is on perfect display for him. I brace myself on the running board of the car to keep balance as he fingers the wet material of my panties. Folding at the knees, he drops down to his haunches and pulls the thin strip of fabric aside to run a finger through my slick heat.

I groan and rock my hips, seeking more. His finger sweeps the length of my pussy again, and he leans around the side of me. I sigh as he licks his finger clean, causing a fluttering low in my gut. “Sweetest thing ever.”

I drop my right shoulder and push my arm between my legs, reaching for his straining cock. It twitches as he plays with me, taunting me with how hard it is. King shuffles a little closer, making it possible for me to reach without changing my position, jammed up against the car. One stroke, two, and then a swipe across the head with my thumb. He pauses in his play of my pussy and groans.

“Fuck, that felt like heaven.”

King’s eyes snap open, and with a crack, he slaps me hard on the ass. My back arches as he runs his tongue up me in one smooth, firm stroke, making me groan. My body responds, giving him more, and he laps at me like an eager puppy, probing every now and again with a stiff tongue into my center. My knees quake, and he shifts his hands above the back of them to hold me upright as my hand slips from his dick, lost in my pleasure.

King pulls back, resting on his heels to check the time. My back aches, and unable to hold this position much longer, I stand and place my hands on the driver’s side rear window of the Escalade. King stands as well, taking hold of my ponytail and whipping his wrist in a quick circle to take firm hold. He’s in command of me—every part of me.

I’m ready to obey.

“Don’t fuckin’ move,” he growls, knocking my feet a little wider.

My chest expands and subsides with each breath, a muscle in the back of my leg twitching involuntarily. His palm sweeps lazily over my ass and then delivers a sharp smack to the right.

What the hell did I do to deserve this man showing an interest in
me
? He reads my body so well, delivering exactly what I need. He plays on the edge of my limits, testing the boundaries every time we’re together. I hiss between my teeth as he rubs the sore spot on my butt and then presses his lips to it, almost as though apologizing.

“I better not do that again in case it leaves a mark.”

Again, Carlos hangs over our situation like a dark cloud.

“Don’t talk about him,” I plead. “All I want to think about right now is you.”

“You will, baby. Pretty sure my cock’s gonna be the only thing on your mind in a second.”

He threads his fingers under the thin strip of fabric between my cheeks, hooking it over the back of his hand and pushing it to the side to lay his palm over my butt. King holds my panties out of the way while he lines himself up with my entrance, nudging the head of his cock inside. I pull in a stuttered breath as he hisses through his gritted teeth. I could hang in this moment forever, trapped between the desperate need to have him inside me, and the free-fall toward climax. He pushes slowly against me, and I relish every inch as it disappears inside.

“Woman . . .”

“Again.” I want to feel every ridge as he sinks himself inside my pussy over and over.

King pivots his hips back, and then slides inside a little faster.

“Harder.”

He does as told, ever the dutiful soldier. The balance of power has shifted and neither of us seem to mind. I push against him when he reaches the hilt, searching for more . . . something. Length? Pressure? Friction?
Pain.

“I need you to make it hurt,” I say. “Fuck me hard.” I need to feel punished for doing something so wrong.

“Jesus, Elena.” He pulls out and drives back in, using the grip in my hair to pull my body against him. The slap of skin on skin echoes off the car.

He pounds relentlessly into me, his knees colliding with the back of mine. At this pace I won’t last long, but we don’t have time to take it slow and enjoy ourselves tonight; it won’t be long before somebody comes to see where he’s gone.

In, out. Again, and again. My legs are weak, my muscles contracting as quick as he slams into me. I don’t think I can hold on.

“If you need to come,” he growls, my head hurting from his punishing grip in my hair, “then do it.”

King reaches his free hand around me, moving it from my panties to rub over my clit. I reach back and hold the fabric out of the way as he continues to drive hard, and unforgiving—just how I need. My stomach contracts, my back arcing.
I’m going to lose it.
Garbled moans fall from my lips before I can think of how loud I’m being. His hand clamps down over my mouth to keep me quiet.

I come. Restrained in his hold and being punished, I come.

He follows me soon after, his movements losing rhythm. His chest touches my back as he collapses over me in exhaustion. I’m still catching my breath when he lays a kiss on my spine and pulls out.

“Don’t know if that’s gonna help or make me miss you more. “ He re-buckles his jeans and steps away as I straighten up.

“I know it’ll make me miss you more,” I admit. I miss him just
thinking
about missing him.

“Better get back inside,” he says, stepping forward to stroke some hair off my cheek. His eyes sweep my face, his eyebrows peaked in what appears to either be regret or pain.
Maybe both
. “Too fucking beautiful to be mine.”

And with those words he leaves, walking away from me as I open the door of the Escalade to get some tissues from my purse. I duck out from the car in time to catch a glimpse of him as he opens the door to the roadhouse and steps inside . . . away from me.

Back to
them
.