Harm's Way: Riot MC Biloxi Read online

  My heart swelled with his words, but I pressed my lips together to keep from smiling. “Whatever, Michael. I gotta pay bills, and my sketches don’t do that. But, I appreciate the vote of confidence.”

  His hand cupped my cheek. “Honey, do you know where you’re living? Sketches like these will sell if you put them on canvas, or anything a hunter can hang on his wall.”

  My brow furrowed while my lips pulled together. “My sketches are of wolves. Nobody around here appreciates a wolf.”

  He wrapped his arm around me. “Baby, you don’t know what you’re talking about. Plenty of men around here with hunting dogs who think of those dogs as wolves. Or wish their dogs were wolves. Having lived here so long, I can tell you, those men will eat this shit up.”

  I leaned into him. “Not in a sketch book they won’t, but I like that you think so highly of me.”

  His green eyes shifted to earnest. “Then put your sketches on canvas, woman.” A lopsided grin bent his lips. “Better yet go with rugs, they’ll sell like crazy.”

  I threw my head back with laughter. When I had it together, I leveled my eyes at him. “You’re crazy, do you know that?”

  His eyes held mine and his expression was blank for a moment until he shrugged. “Not crazy, Combes. You need to look harder at your work.”

  I leaned in to kiss his lips, but he took over. Our kiss only ended when one of my hands slid into his hair while the other cupped his crotch.

  “What are you up to, Steph?” he asked against my lips.

  I grinned. “I want another go before I have to go to work.”

  CHARLIE CAUGHT SIGHT of me in the break room after I put my purse in my locker. His brows drew together. “Since fuckin’ when do we need scarves, Stephanie?”

  I shook my head. “We don’t, but I get cold.”

  One of his brows arched. “You need a better excuse than that, Miss Obvious.”

  A sheepish grin spread on my face. “I’ll keep that in mind, sir.”

  “Don’t go callin’ me ‘sir,’ even if I’m old enough to be your father. What’s his name?”

  “Whose?”

  His chin dipped and he gave me a no-bullshit look.

  “Michael.”

  His eyes squinted just before he chuckled. “You mean, ‘Har,’ don’t ya?”

  My eyes widened with surprise. “How did you know?”

  He nodded once. “For one thing, my son and my nephew are part of that club, so I’ve done my homework. For another, no man goes out of his way to join a table with a bunch of tipsy bachelorettes unless he’s lookin’ to get lucky at something other than cards. But that man sat that table and kept his eyes on you.”

  I wanted to argue because the vision of Har giving the redhead flirty eyes wasn’t easy to forget, but I let it go.

  Charlie took a step away, but turned back. “Now, between you and me, I respect the hell out of Har, but you better guard yourself, Stephanie.”

  I nodded. “I hear you, Charlie. Believe me, I’ve learned a thing or two about guarding myself.”

  When I said hello to my boss, he gave me a strange look, but didn’t remark about the scarf.

  My day was quiet and slow until dinnertime. Things picked up as the after-work crowd added to the tourists, which helped the rest of the day fly by. There were four empty seats at my table and I heard four names called to report my table. One by one, four men sat down with their chips. They were all in their twenties, but one of them gave me a charming grin and I simply nodded in return.

  I welcomed them and ran their Player cards.

  As I dealt the next hand, the grinning man spoke. “So, uh, you’re not the first lady dealer, but you are the first one I’ve seen wearing anything like that around her neck.”

  I gave him a nod. “It’s a fashion statement.”

  One of the regulars raised after the flop and the action slowed. As I watched a player deliberate, I felt pressure against my neck and suddenly the scarf was gone. My head whipped to the side and I watched Har saunter around the table while tucking the scarf into the back pocket of his jeans.

  I closed my eyes and shook my head.

  The grinner asked, “Do you want me to get that back for you?”

  I smiled demurely. “No. I assure you, that’s exactly what he’s after, seeing as he made the scarf necessary in the first place.”

  The other mens’ eyes went straight to my neck, but this guy wasn’t quick on the uptake.

  “How’s a scarf necessary?”

  His buddy nudged him. “Look at her neck, L.J.”

  After his eyes locked on my neck for a moment, he looked at me with disgust. “You let a biker do that?”

  I looked up to see Har standing behind the man. “Men like you are the reason why I did it.”

  Hard to say what surprised me more, the fact he didn’t insult L.J. or the fact Har was being relatively chill about the guy’s judgment of bikers.

  L.J. looked up at Har and spluttered. “Sorry, uh, I, uh, didn’t mean...”

  Har smiled. “Now don’t lie, L.J. You absolutely meant what you said and you meant it to be insulting. But I don’t give a shit. You know she’s claimed and you can stop flirting with her.”

  I bit my tongue to keep from intervening. Him telling another man not to flirt with me wasn’t cool. I understood where he was coming from, but he needed to trust me.

  L.J. continued to stare at Har.

  Rather than let the tension build, I spoke to Har. “Sir, please step away from the table. If you need a table assignment, the floor director will be happy to assist you.”

  He looked at me and chuckled. “All right, babe.”

  I thought he’d turn around, but a devious light hit his eyes. “But so you know... this?” He whipped the scarf out of his pocket, “Doesn’t belong around your pretty neck. I’ll show you how to use it when you get home.”

  I felt my cheeks heat from embarrassment but my traitorous nipples hardened.

  Thank God for padded bras.

  Har

  HE LET HER HAVE HER play, but she needed to learn that he did not like other men flirting with his woman.

  His woman?

  Maybe he needed his head examined. Yes, he claimed her in most of the physical ways he possibly could, and told her she was his and he’d be exclusive. Yet, the force with which he felt that she was ‘his woman’ was new territory.

  Climbing the stairs of the parking garage, Brute asked, “Whatcha gonna do with that scarf, man?”

  “You heard what I said. Gonna show her how to use it when she gets home tonight.”

  Brute groaned and raised a hand. “Ugh. Sorry I asked. Know I said we aren’t really family after so much time, but seriously, man. I don’t want to think about that shit.”

  Har laughed. “Then why the hell did you ask?”

  When they reached their bikes in the parking garage, Block and Cynic were just dismounting.

  “Glad we don’t have to go huntin’ for you two,” Block said.

  Cynic took off his helmet and shook out his long brown hair. “Massive and Wreck had another hitch with this week’s distribution.”

  Brute muttered a curse, but Har focused on Cynic. “Again? Was Massive high? We gonna find out it wasn’t an undercover cop after the fact again?”

  Cynic shook his head. “They’re both busted up pretty fuckin’ bad, man.”

  “Shit,” Har hissed.

  “Said it was the Miscreants. Cut them off near the clubhouse. Seven against the two of them. Kicked their asses and took the product.”

  “That’s fucked up,” Brute muttered.

  Har agreed, but something about the whole thing was off. “They were able to get back on their bikes—”

  “No,” Block said, his e-cigarette at his mouth. “Layla drove up on ’em after they were jumped.”

  “Yeah,” Cynic added. “Then Mensa and Gamble went after their bikes on foot.”

  “One of y’all call Doc Silvie out?” Brute asked.
<
br />   Block and Cynic shared a look.

  “They didn’t want that,” Cynic said.

  To his surprise, Brute asked, “You trust that shit?”

  Cynic slowly shrugged. “If they didn’t get jumped, then I have to wonder where the product went. And if you don’t trust what they say, do you think they’d beat each other for some reason?”

  Block blew out a plume of cinnamon scented smoke and nodded. “Yeah, and why would Layla come up on them like she did?”

  She could be in on it with them.

  None of this sat well with him. He couldn’t talk to his brothers freely. This type of thing needed to be aired out with everyone present.

  “All right. Let’s hit the clubhouse. See how they’re doing—”

  Block shook his head. “Layla took ’em both home.”

  His lips twisted to the side.

  “Yeah,” Cynic said. “That’s the biggest reason I don’t trust them.”

  Har looked to Brute. “You got plans tonight?”

  He grinned. “Not now.”

  “What about you two?”

  “Got no ball ‘n chain. I’m down for whatever you got in mind, Prez.”

  Block shook his head. “I’m in, but I got a bad feeling.”

  Har grinned. “You can sit this out if you want, Block.”

  Block tucked his e-cig away and grabbed his helmet. “No. Don’t put words in my mouth. Where are we goin’?”

  “The source. The Miscreants have our product; I want to know why, and I’m gonna damn well get it back.”

  They mounted their bikes and rode across town to the run-down apartment complex where the Miscreants were known to hang. Twilight was setting in, which meant it would be hit-or-miss if anyone would be out. However, if they had a beef with the Riot MC, the sound of their pipes would draw someone out for sure.

  As they rounded the corner onto the dead end street, Har saw blue lights flash against the building before the chirp of a police siren.

  The four of them pulled over and looking over his shoulder, he noticed two cruisers were behind them.

  “Ain’t this some shit,” Cynic muttered.

  The officers asked for licenses and registrations then retreated to their vehicles. Har kept an eye on the road in front of them. The Miscreants hung out at the dead end and while he wanted to blame this on them he couldn’t. It happened too fast for the Miscreants to set them up.

  “May I ask what prompted you to pull us over?” Block asked one of the officers when he came back with their paperwork.

  The officer cleared his throat. “Had a report of four motorcycles disturbing the peace and not riding quietly.”

  It rankled with Har that a cop could make such a bald-faced lie. They hadn’t been speeding, and they’d have to idle outside someone’s door for fifteen minutes or more to disturb the peace.

  The officers took their time examining their bikes and insisted they submit to field sobriety tests. Nearly an hour later, the officers allowed them to leave. Har led them down the street to where a few men were perched on the stoop to an apartment.

  The burliest man stood and lumbered to the sidewalk in front of where Har stopped. He had a scar running from his temple down his cheek to his chin. Rumor had it, his father had given him the scar when he was sixteen. In retaliation he waited until his father passed out drunk, and beat the man to within an inch of his life, which led to his street name of Inch.

  “What’s a white boy doin’ at the end of my street?”

  “Curious if you made any money on the product you took from my men today.”

  He squinted one eye making his scar move like a snake. “The fuck you talkin’ about?”

  Har’s brows arched up. “So none of your men jumped Massive and Wreck?”

  Inch frowned. “That the big man and the pock-marked dude who always hang together?”

  Har lifted his chin.

  Inch shook his head. “Fuck no. We ain’t got time. You motherfuckers push weed and we’ve moved on from that shit. You start cookin’ meth, we might stop you from sellin’ that.”

  Yet another reason Har didn’t want to graduate to other drugs.

  He nodded at Inch. “Then I’m sorry to bother you, man.”

  He held up a hand. “Hold up, now. Those assholes sayin’ we did shit?”

  Har bit his lip. “Yeah, but my gut told me to verify with the source.”

  Inch shifted his head to give Har a side eye. “You a strange motherfucker, you know that?”

  “Not the first to tell me that, but thanks.”

  “Wasn’t a compliment.”

  Har grinned. “Take it as one anyway.”

  He circled his bike around and his brothers followed suit. They rode to the clubhouse without any further incident.

  After he dismounted his bike, he took off his helmet and walked over to where Brute and Block were waiting on Cynic. Once Cynic ambled over, Har spoke.

  “I don’t know about you three, but I believe every word Inch said. There’s no reason for them to jump those two. Even if their saddlebags were full, there’s a shit-ton more money in meth and coke. Not to mention Massive should’ve been able to take on two men at once.”

  Cynic widened his eyes. “He has let himself go, brother.”

  Har shook his head. “Maybe so, but if the Miscreants didn’t do it, then that leaves those two fighting each other and lying. That shit is not on.”

  “Hell no, it isn’t,” Block declared.

  “Noticed Layla’s car’s here,” Brute said, tipping his head toward the vehicle.

  Har grinned. “For once, that might be a good thing. Let’s see who’s here. I want an emergency session of church. They aren’t back inside, they’ll have to figure out a way to get here.”

  Chapter 14

  Run of the Mill

  Stephanie

  I RODE INTO HAR’S GARAGE and frowned. His bike wasn’t there. After his parting comment about the scarf, I really expected him to be here. Inside the kitchen, I put my phone and keys on the counter, trying not to feel disappointed. My stomach rumbled, and I peeked into the freezer. A container of chicken tetrazzini caught my eye, but I wasn’t sure if Har would want to eat that. I closed the door and I sent a quick text to him.

  Feel like chicken or should I order a pizza?

  I went to my bedroom to change my clothes, semi-surprised to see a new window in my room already.

  He did not mess around.

  Knowing how much he didn’t like my well-worn pajamas, I opted for a pair of yoga pants and a tank top. I piled my hair on top of my head in a messy bun and went back to the kitchen.

  No text back from him. I pulled a beer from the fridge and put in an order for a pizza to be delivered.

  Never mind the text. Made an executive decision and ordered pizza.

  I inserted a beer mug emoji and sent him the text. Half-way through my drink, the pizza arrived. Still no response from Har, so I plated up my food and ate in front of the TV.

  While I rinsed my plate, my phone chimed with a text.

  Sorry. At the clubhouse. Leaving in an hour.

  I put the plate in the dishwasher and turned off the TV. In my room, I saw Har’s t-shirt that I wore that morning. I decided to sleep in it tonight and took it in the bathroom. After my shower, I curled up with a book on my futon. Part of me thought about reading in Har’s bed, but I wasn’t sure if that was the right thing to do. Like he said, he wasn’t going to analyze it and I figured I’d give him his space.

  Within minutes of reading, my eyes grew heavy, and I nearly conked myself in the head with my book. Having done that before, I decided to set it aside and closed my eyes for a bit. The moment Har got home, I figured the sound of him moving around the house would wake me up.

  The feeling of moving hit me before I could open my eyes. I turned my head only to bump into something warm and soft.

  “About time you woke up, Combes. Christ, you’d sleep through the zombie apocalypse.”

&nb
sp; I giggled. “Not true. Zombies are loud and they groan. You must have come through the front door. Thought I’d have heard you.”

  He side-stepped through the doorway of the small hallway, and my brain kicked into gear.

  “You can put me down now.”

  “Don’t feel like it.”

  “Is that your answer to everything?”

  He looked down at me with hooded eyes. “Trust me, you don’t feel like it either.”

  “I don’t?”

  He grinned. “You don’t.”

  When he put me on his bed, his body followed me, until he pinned me to the mattress. “Now, what in the fuck is the big idea bein’ in that room?”

  I blinked as a shiver stole over me since his bed was ice cold. “What do you mean?”

  His emerald eyes widened. “I mean, you’re gonna be in a bed around here, you’re in this bed. Especially after what happened last night.”

  I gave a small grin. “I appreciate that, but a brick isn’t coming through the window twice in two days.”

  He pushed away from me a touch. “Not the only thing that happened last night, woman. Though, you don’t know that someone isn’t willing to bust a new window just to be belligerent. But, maybe you missed what I said late last night. The moment my cock sunk inside of you, you’re mine. If you sleep, you sleep here, even if I’m not.”

  The sincerity in his eyes made my breath catch. “I wasn’t sure, you said—”

  He kissed me silent, but it was entirely too short. “What I say now matters, so pay attention, Combes. As long as this is good, you do all your shit in here. Reading yourself to sleep, showering, whatever. Not on the other damn side of the house.”

  “So noted, but I don’t like it.”

  He sat up. “Come again?”

  I sat up. “You want me on your side of the house so you can wake me up and do shit with me. What happens when this goes bad?”

  “You picking a fight with me?”

  I closed my eyes, turned my head to the side and sighed. Looking at him again, I made sure my expression was neutral. “I’ve been burned before, Har. Badly. I can’t afford for something like that to happen again.”