Thrash (Rebel Riders MC Book 1) Page 11

  “I’m—”

  Her words end in a strained gasp as she claws against my chest and tosses her head back, her pussy clenching against mine and her mouth opening in a silent moan.

  I let her have her moment, watch her writhe on top of my cock.

  And when I think she can move, I remind her that I’m always going to get mine.

  I stand her up and bend her over, face-first against the wall.

  I love the way her ass looks like this.

  I can’t hold back.

  “Thrash.”

  My name comes from her lips in this ecstatic gasp as I take her.

  And it comes again and again as I control her body, as our bodies combine and I thrust into her in a way that shakes her body and makes her clutch at the wall for support.

  “Holy shit,” she shrieks as I take her the way that smooth, plump ass of hers deserves.

  I growl as I feel the tightening in my balls that tells me I don’t have much time left to enjoy this sweet, tight pussy of hers. I take hold of her hair, pulling her head back and she lets out a deep, lustful moan.

  “Are you ready?”

  “Give it to me. Give it to me, please,” she says.

  I knew she’d beg for it.

  That’s all I need to hear.

  I let her have it. I shut my eyes and let it all go into her. She shakes me to my core with how good it feels and I tighten my grip on her ass with my free hand to hold myself up. A woman like her could drain me dry.

  It seems like forever before I’m back in control of my body. Fuck, she did a number on me.

  I have to sit down.

  Panting, smiling like a madwoman, she sits down beside me.

  We’re quiet for a while, two people just trying to catch their breath and get their bodies back under control. She slides close to me and nuzzles her head into the crook of my shoulder. I’m not normally the type for shit like that, but, with her, it feels good. Without thinking, I find myself stroking her hair and just enjoying the feel of her against me.

  It’s good. I could get real used to this.

  The silence between the two of us is perfect. Just two people, enjoying the hell out of each other’s presence.

  Then, her voice breaks it into pieces.

  “Thrash, tell me about your plan. Tell me everything.”

  I look down at her and see seeking eyes look back at me.

  I don’t know if I can lie to her anymore; it’ll be safer if I could, but I can’t. It just doesn’t feel right.

  Like a damn fool, I open my mouth.

  I’m going to tell her the truth.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Alice

  “You’ve been using me?”

  He didn’t say it in those words, exactly, but I’d have to be an idiot not to reach that understanding. Afterglow be damned, I’m fuming.

  He sits up, shifting uncomfortably, and I move a little further away from him on the couch.

  “That’s not it. I’ve known for a long time what the Reaper’s Sons have been up to, but I’ve needed someone on the inside — someone who isn’t one of them — to confirm it.”

  “Which means you’ve been using me.”

  “It was to keep you safe.”

  “How?”

  I need to hear an explanation from him, something plausible instead of manipulative. Everything between us has been built on respect and, right now, with every word, he seems to be tearing that down.

  “Hammer runs their operation. Hammer doesn’t fuck around, if he’d questioned you and had even the slightest suspicion you were working for me and knew what was happening, you’d be dead.”

  I press a finger into his chest. “So you lied to me. Kept me in the dark.”

  “I didn’t want you hurt. I happen to give a shit about you.”

  “Then respect me. Tell me the truth about things — and don’t make me have to come to you for it. Offer it up. And not after the fact.”

  I could hit him right now. If my hands weren’t still tingling from the aftereffects of an incredible series of orgasms. It’s hard to be angry when you feel like you’re floating in the clouds, but, somehow, I’m managing.

  Thanks to his help.

  He sighs, exasperated.

  “Fine.”

  There’s a tick of silence.

  “Go on,” I say.

  Why do I have to encourage him to be truthful? Why is lying so baked into his identity?

  He gives me a look that tells me to back off.

  I’d wager he hasn’t done this much; being honest with someone.

  “I’ve known bits and pieces of what the Reaper’s Sons were up to for a long time. I’ve known they were bringing in drugs from Mexico, and re-distributing. I’ve known they must have a place nearby where they cut and distribute the product, and I’ve known they’ve gotta have somewhere where they can store their cash before they launder it.”

  “That’s a start,” I say. “Keep going.”

  He glares at me. “I haven’t known where these places were, and the Reaper’s Sons have been pretty good about throwing me off their scent. I’ve been trying to get close to their operation for a while.”

  “How?”

  “Their last driver — the guy who bartended before you — was some straight-laced guy from San Luis. Approaching him was a mistake. I went to his house late at night to make him an offer, but I knew right after talking to him that he was going to crack the second Hammer looked at him sideways. To this day, the Reaper’s Sons think he just ran off.”

  “What’d you do to him?”

  I know what he did, but I don’t want to believe it.

  “What do you think?”

  I shiver. There’s a cruel, calculating side to Thrash that’s clawed its way to the surface. His willingness to use and cast aside people in pursuit of profit is frightening. People are just parts to a profit and loss equation to him.

  Would he do the same thing to me?

  How can I trust him?

  He scoots closer to me and puts his arm around me as if sensing my fear. “I’m not going to let that happen to you. This is a dark business that I’m in, there’s no getting around that — I’ve done things that I’ll stay with me until I’m cold in the ground — but I’m not going to let any of that touch you. You’re not like the others. And I definitely haven’t baked brownies with anyone else’s mom. You mean something to me. Something more. Something greater.”

  There’s so much heat in his voice that it chases away the chill. The thing is, despite everything he’s saying, I want to believe that he cares. I want to believe that he’ll keep me safe. I want to believe that the love I feel for him — and that I hope he reciprocates — is based on truth and not lies.

  “So, how does this work? What are we doing?”

  I don’t know if I’m asking about the plan, our relationship, or both.

  “The day I bought all that Molly from you, I followed you, and then I followed Lucky once you handed over the cash. They keep the money at Hammer’s house on the outside of town. Which figures, because you’d have to be fucking nuts to make a move against him. So, the night of the mayor’s party at The Smiling Skull, we’re going to do just that and make our move. We’re going to knock them all on their asses and rip them off for everything they’ve got.”

  I blink.

  Is he insane?

  Hammer’s as cunning and violent as they come. Just the thought of that man and what he’s capable of scares the shit out of me.

  “Are you fucking nuts?”

  “You need balls to make it in this business. Balls and a plan, and I’ve got both.”

  I shake my head and look at him, doubtfully.

  “How are you going to pull that off? How are you going to make a move against the whole damn club?”

  He smiles. “Because you’re going to take them all out. You and Lexie.”

  “How?”

  He grins in a way that’s exceptionally proud. “I’ll tell y
ou the day of. Anything sooner, and it could put you in danger. Until then, it’s a surprise.”

  “No surprises, Thrash. We just talked about this.”

  He puts a finger over my lips and gives me a smile that is so supremely confident I find myself quieted.

  “Trust me.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Alice

  “No. No more surprises.”

  I say it firm and I keep eye contact with him as I say it. I need to press him for honest; it’s one of the most frustrating things about Thrash.

  “It’s too much of a risk. We have one shot at this, if the Reaper’s Sons find out, it’ll ruin everything.”

  “Thrash, stop making excuses. Tell me, treat me with the respect you’ve promised me.”

  He blinks, considering.

  “Are you sure you can handle this?”

  I nod.

  “If they start to question me or wonder why I’m stressed, I’ll tell them the very real fact that I’m taking care of my mom, who has breast cancer. And as I tell them, the fact that all it is weighing on my shoulders and has my life teetering on the edge of ruin will hit me, and I will probably start to cry because it’s all true, and then I’ll tell them about how I spend so much of my time scared for my mom and scared for myself. How do you think they’ll react?”

  “They’ll probably want to shut you up as quick as possible, so they’ll leave you alone,” he says.

  Which is true. It’s one of those things about most of the men in the Reaper’s Sons — Hammer, Lucky, the regulars I see every single day — none of them are the ‘sit down and tell me about your feelings’ type. One tear, and they’ll head for the door.

  “So show me some respect and tell me what’s really going to happen,” I say, pointedly.

  “The night of the Mayor’s event, most of the Reaper’s Sons will be at the bar. They’ve also hired a band for the evening, a band that used to play there when they were starting out and whose lead singer happens to be my distant cousin — Crescent Falls’ most famous son, Scott Davis, lead singer of The Steel Hearts — recently got in touch with them and told them he’d be in town and willing to play gigs for old times sake. Everything is set for this to be one large, drunken bash.”

  “And then?”

  “Let them drink. Now, it is important, more than anything else, that you do not drink a damn thing while you’re at work.”

  “You want me to not drink… while working at a bar?”

  “The Smiling Skull is getting a delivery of kegs the morning of the party in order to make sure they’re stocked for the mayor’s event. Don’t touch the stuff other than serving it to anyone who asks. That evening, when my cousin Scott and his band have the whole tavern shitfaced and rocking, is when my brothers in the Rebel Riders and I will make our move.”

  This plan is way more intricate than I expected. Especially from someone with as many tattoos as Thrash has.

  “You have the whole club?”

  “I’ve got a few. Enough. People willing to get shit from our president, Hawk, for the chance at a big payday.”

  “How big?”

  “I have no idea. But big enough, I’m sure. The Reaper’s Sons have been running this operation for a few months now, and I don’t know of them having made any moves to launder it. But, listen, Alice, for this to work, you need to play your part to perfection. You need to make sure people drink, and you need to make sure that you and Lexie do not. Got it?”

  “I understand,” I say. “I appreciate the trust, Thrash. And the honesty, too.”

  He’s opened up, revealed more of himself and his plan, and I feel more comfortable in his arms, now. I rest my head against the crook of his shoulder and sigh. It’s frightening stuff he’s talking about, risky as all hell and dependent on so many things falling into place at just the right time, but I trust him to put all the pieces together. There’s a fire in his eyes as he talks about his plans, and I know that he won’t allow anything to stand in his way.

  “Alice, when this is all over, I still want us to stay together. I don’t want this just to be a business relationship.”

  “Thrash, we just fucked and earlier I told you I might love you. That’s more than business.”

  He shifts a bit like he’s uncomfortable with the subject. “I have to be honest: when it comes to you, Alice, I don’t know how to react. You’re different, you unnerve me, you make me question everything, and I’m not used to that.”

  “You do just fine when you treat me like I matter. Let’s just stick to that,” I say. “Agreed?”

  “Agreed. You’re important to me. I never expected to fall for you, I expected to steal your cargo and never see you again. But now, I can’t imagine a future without you.”

  I sit up and kiss him and then settle back into his arms.

  We doze for a while on his couch, not saying much, just enjoying the peace of each other’s company. I feel like I’ve crossed another barrier in getting to know who Thrash really is as a person. I wish it were easier, I wish I didn’t have to battle for every step of intimacy, but it seems worth it so far. Every layer of him that I peel back reveals a good man that, though rough around the edges, is one that I feel safe, secure, and valued around.

  I stay in his arms, enjoying the moment for as long as I can put off thinking about my other responsibilities. Slowly, I disentangle myself from him.

  “I need to get going.”

  “So soon?”

  “I’ve got to get back to my mom. I really need to be there for her. The chemo brain gets worse in the middle of the night, sometimes, and if she wakes up and I’m not there, it could be bad.”

  “She’s lucky to have you, you know.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Before you go, I’ve got something for you,” he says. He rummages in a small box of things on his living room table. He takes out a small glass bottle labeled ‘Mother Earth Medicines’ and a small, tightly sealed packet. He hands both to me. “For your mom’s nausea. Some people prefer just the oil, and she probably will, but I thought I’d throw in some of the regular stuff. I hope it helps.”

  “Thank you, Thrash. You’re a good man,” I say. When you try to be.

  “Just tell Daisy to get well, ok?”

  “I will.”

  I kiss him goodnight and take his gifts and put them in the glove box of my car, making a note to ask Eleanor about the best way to use them — and if we should use them — at a later time, preferably when she seems in a good mood. I don’t know how she’ll react to me getting pot from an outlaw motorcycle club for my mom’s chemo treatments, but, when I do ask her about it, I want her to be in a good frame of mind.

  I get home and sneak into my mom’s house like a thief in the night, careful not to wake her. My bed seems so cold and empty without him. I fall asleep to thoughts of Thrash. To the ‘maybe’ in my future — the hopeful time where I’m not broke and on the edge of losing it all, the time where I might be able to put a normal life together where I feel pride in who I am, what I do, and what kind of life I’ve rebuilt for myself. And the time I share with him.

  It still seems like a dream, something too fragile to even speak out loud for fear that it’ll crumble to dust. But that dream is getting stronger. And with every passing moment I spend with Thrash, the more confident I become that it will be a reality someday soon. It’s a strange feeling, almost scary in how unusual it is for me, that after months of feeling like nothing will ever work out, now I feel like I have hope.

  I will make it.

  Someday, that dream of being back on my feet will come true.

  And Thrash will be there with me. By my side.

  He does it for me. His strength elevates me, his confidence makes me stronger, and I know that with him, there’s the chance that my dreams of making it out of this ordeal without breaking have a chance of being real.

  I turn in bed, staring at the ceiling.

  We’re taking so many risks together.

 
I’ve put my heart in his hands.

  He’ll either help make my dreams real.

  Or he might just shatter me to pieces.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Thrash

  “You stepped out of line.”

  Bull looks at me pointedly.

  From where we’re standing, rows and rows of pot plants rustle in the breeze, their leaves sending up a quiet green chorus that joins with the general chirping and chattering of life out here in the forest.

  “What do you mean?” I say.

  He gestures angrily, spilling some of his Irish coffee on the grass.

  “You left the grow op, after Hawk and I specifically ordered you to stay put. What the fuck are you thinking, Thrash? Do you have some kind of deep-seated need to consistently fuck up?”

  “Damn, Bull, I never would’ve thought that, but, now that you mention it, yeah, I do. Especially when I’m being ordered to do something that’s as fucking pointless as staying out here at the fucking grow up. I’ve been babysitting plants for fucking days, Bull. I’d rather be dead.”

  “Keep messing around with that bartender for the Reaper’s Sons and you will be. Hawk will see to that, if Hammer doesn’t get to you, first.”

  “Don’t make me laugh. Hammer doesn’t fucking know, if he did, he’d have come after me by now and I’d have had to put that old bitch down.”

  “Well, either fucking way, you’ve forced my hand, here, Thrash. I went and had a chat with your ex, Chastity, this morning.”

  He takes a slow sip of his coffee and, it might be an illusion, but I swear to God I see his lips curl slightly in a smile.

  “My ex? Is that what she’s calling herself, now? Just because she swallowed my cock a few times doesn’t make her my ex,” I say, indignant.

  Chastity’s been after me for a long fucking time. She has this strange idea that a few shared orgasms constitutes a relationship.

  “She’d sure disagree with you about that. She was pretty damn interested to hear you were deep-dicking that Reaper bitch.”