Foolish Riot (Riot MC Book 5) Page 14

My lungs seized at his insinuation, and I didn’t know what to do with that.

  His legs squeezed mine. “So, you’re stayin’ in my room,” he declared.

  “And you’re staying…?”

  “In my room,” he said, as if I were dense.

  Reflexively I bit my bottom lip, and he chuckled.

  “Yeah. Feelin’ the same way, baby.”

  Fuck a damn duck. I’d gone from one fire to another without even realizing it.

  In a louder voice, he said, “Either way, here or there, you’re gonna be in a bed and I’m gonna be in that bed too.”

  Um…whaatt?

  “That really is not a good idea. Seriously, it’s the worst idea I’ve—”

  “Too fucking bad, Cereal-girl.”

  “Cereal?”

  “Trix are for kids, babe.”

  I wanted to flirt back with him, but that would definitely be wrong.

  But I couldn’t help smiling at him anyway, which brought to mind my retort to him from so many years ago. “Hardy, har, har,” I mumbled.

  “Right,” he murmured, and in any other time or place it would’ve been damn sexy in a sultry way.

  Shit! We weren’t even in range of a bed and he was turning me on.

  I was not that woman. I would not cheat, even if I wanted to be free of Roll as soon as possible. Without a doubt, though, my resolve to keep to myself was being tested.

  With a sigh, I said, “Fine. But no funny business, Joke-man.”

  He bit back a chuckle. “Joke-man? Explain.”

  “Hardy-har, har. What else gets you there than a joke?”

  His eyes glimmered at me. “Won’t be a joke, me in your bed if you don’t set the ground rules. You’re lettin’ me push the bounds quite a bit here. For a woman who has waited over nine years on her man, this doesn’t tell me good things.”

  “I wasn’t letting you do anything. You were flirting.”

  “Bein’ claimed means you don’t flirt back or allow any leeway with a man that could be misinterpreted.”

  Not only was he right, I knew he was right about that shit. There was some twisted part of me wanting to push those limits. All of those limits.

  The worst part was I didn’t know why I wanted to push the limits. Everything I was doing now spit in the face of what I had always wanted. For ten years, Roll was it, but now what? His hand had been forced to claim me and I knew I didn’t like that.

  Roll

  Roll was pissed as hell, and the worst part of it was that he didn’t know who the hell to be more angry at: himself, his brothers, or Trixie. All of that bullshit Trixie spewed at him this morning, and he had to go and fuck up by not being aware of her presence. Any other damn time, he knew when she entered a room. Partly that was because she was heavy-handed with her expensive perfume and always had been, but mainly it was because he was never able to keep his eyes off of her.

  That first night when he saved her shit, he had been watching her intently. He was debating making his approach when the weasel got to her first and then led her to the two other dickheads. His temper was a fiery inferno that night when he saved her, and he didn’t give her a second glance because he couldn’t trust himself around anyone.

  Months later, he fucked up again when he assumed she was jailbait at the Leatherneck compound.

  It wasn’t long after that, that his brother Raymond ran into issues getting his wife pregnant a second time. When it looked like sperm count might be an issue, Roll mentioned it during his annual check-up. That was how he found out he was sterile. Life, being the fickle bitch she could be, sent Trixie right back to him, only to play the cruelest of jokes on him making him listen to her and Har…and then Brute as well. Knowing he would never get his own chance at a family, he figured that was for the best, but hell if he could keep himself from confronting her that morning-after.

  Now, she was running off to Biloxi. He didn’t know why, and he couldn’t even follow her ass because he had to stay in town. The lawyers were confident they could get him off at his hearing tomorrow, but he would put all of that in jeopardy if he left the state.

  He was standing in the common room with his hands braced against the edge of the bar. His head was bent as he debated what he would do next. He wanted to pummel something. No, actually, he wanted to pummel someone, and his name was Blood. It shouldn’t have surprised him that he set that shit up. He still hadn’t found out from Trixie what the story was with the three of them, but he knew he did not like it.

  Feeling more than one presence near him, Roll lifted his gaze to see Cal, Volt and Blood standing near him. He shot a steely look at Blood, but turned to Volt. “Don’t know what you want from me right now, but your,” he jerked his head toward Blood. “second-in-command can fuck the hell off. I don’t care if that’s disrespect or not. He showed me the ultimate fuckin’ disrespect by gettin’ my woman out of the state without so much as talking to me.”

  Volt held Roll’s eyes for a moment before he spoke. “No question this shit is all kinds of fucked up, brother. But, you give our VP a moment, I think you’ll find he’s done you a solid.”

  Roll kept silent, but answered with a lift of his eyebrow. Volt moved his head just enough to signal Blood to talk.

  “She’s gonna be led to their clubhouse, but they’re bringin’ her right back, first thing in the morning. Should get here while you’re being arraigned. So, she gets to put some distance between you and her, as well as her and the Devil Lancers.”

  “Somebody follow her ass to make sure the Lancers aren’t following her?”

  “Five Biloxi brothers are waitin’ at the Mississippi Welcome center. They’re keepin’ an eye out for her Vixen, and they’re gonna box her in. She’s got a tail, they’re gonna know it, and deal with it, before leading her to their compound.”

  That was slightly reassuring. It wasn’t foolproof, but it was better than nothing.

  “They know she’s been claimed?” Roll directed his question to Volt.

  “They do,” he replied, but it sounded cautious, and that was unusual from him.

  Blood sighed and Roll glanced his way. “Har heard what I told him. He asked three times for clarification. Made certain: she isn’t wearing your cut, and hasn’t been presented with your cut; and since she’s not wearing a cut, technically isn’t an actual old lady. Just ‘claimed.’”

  Roll’s grip on the bar tightened but it gave him no solace. This was another reason why he didn’t pursue long-term relationships. It required a level of trust he was leery of giving to anyone other than his brothers. Yet, here he was, standing at a bar, telling himself he had to have just that, a very high level of trust in the woman he loved to be loyal to him, when she undoubtedly believed he was anything but loyal to her.

  “Fuck,” he hissed, turned on his heel and went to his room.

  ***

  Roll picked up his phone, and put it down again. It was the fourth time he’d done that little exercise in the past hour. It was fuckin’ ridiculous. His niece probably had her shit tighter than he did right now. No way would she be thinking about texting or calling only to set the phone down for almost fifteen minutes, just to pick it up and set it down again. The urge to throw the phone across the room stole over him, but having just replaced the damn thing less than a month ago, he knew that was a bad idea.

  His mind would not let go of the many ways Har or Brute, or God forbid both of them, could be fucking with Trixie’s mind. Again, he had to hope and pray she wasn’t being fucked outright by them.

  This was not him.

  He did not sit around dwelling on what might be happening or could be happening. He needed to do something.

  Grabbing his phone again, he pulled up her contact information and called her. It went to voice mail after three rings. Dammit!

  “Trixie. We need to talk. I’m sorry you heard what you did. It was out of context, baby. You do not understand, and I need you to understand. If after that, you still want…” He couldn’t fini
sh that thought. He hurried to finish his message before the automated system cut him off. “Please, woman, give me the chance to talk to you. Drive safe, baby. I love you.”

  Martina Adams from the club’s law firm texted him with the time to show up for court. It was an early appearance. Roll needed to go to bed. He put his cut on the wing chair near his bed, stripped off his shirt and jeans, but he couldn’t bring himself to get ready for sleep. His woman was an hour behind him, being in Biloxi. There was that minimal chance she might call him. Forty-five minutes later, he still had heard nothing.

  Before he went to brush his teeth, he texted her.

  Fucked up. I know it, you know it. Baby, give me a chance. Please. Love you.

  He hesitated, but sent the text anyway. Only then did he take care of his bathroom business. When he pulled the sheets over his body and turned off the light, she still had not responded.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Trixie

  I followed Har, who was carrying my overnight bag, into his room. I moved to take it from him, but he tossed it to the floor near the bed, and closed the door behind me.

  “So. It’s been a while, but it’s not like I haven’t seen you at Daytona and shit. Why’d you change your hair?”

  I shrugged. “Lookin’ to move up at work. Figured—”

  “Nope. You aren’t pullin’ shit with me.”

  Dammit. It might’ve only been one night, years ago, but you can learn quite a bit about a person when you spend hours upon hours with them in bed. Which meant, I shouldn’t have been surprised by his observations and subsequent declaration that I couldn’t bullshit him.

  I sighed. “It was time for some changes.”

  “Because?” he asked, letting it hang.

  “No because, man.”

  His stern gaze spoke volumes about my ability to duck his questions.

  “Was it the attack, or was it Roll?”

  That was a question nobody back in Jacksonville had bothered to ask me. Boy, it was hard to realize just how damn stupid I had been at nineteen. I really should’ve set my sights on Har. If he ever decided to settle down, the woman who landed his fine ass would be lucky in so many more ways than just one.

  His eyebrows arched, telling me he was getting impatient with me.

  “Maybe both,” I said, but it came out sounding like a question.

  He sat down on the bed. “So he claimed you. Are you cool with that?”

  I looked down at him as he leaned back on his hands. “It don’t matter.”

  He gave me his stern no-bullshit look, but mingled it with a smile.

  My eyebrows furrowed. “What’s with the smile?”

  He shook his head. “I’m not the kind of man you should say that shit to. And by that kind of man, I mean a man who’s had you virtually every which way you can be had.”

  There was that heavy thing on my chest again. God, this was embarrassing and not embarrassing at the same time. He looked really good on that bed, and I knew I needed to get out of there.

  “You know I don’t mean it that way. He’s just… Actually, I’m just over it. If it weren’t for this,” I held my arm out with the inside of my forearm facing him, but I ignored his jaw clenching at the sight, “I would be putting more and more distance between me and all things Riot MC. Now, I can’t get out until this shit’s wrapped up.”

  He sat forward, putting his elbows to his knees, with a hard look in his eyes. “You are not serious.”

  I folded my arms across my chest. “I am. And I’m hungry, so is there anything to eat around here?”

  He stood, shaking his head, moving toward me. I realized Har had become more muscular over the years. They say love is blind, but I was beginning to think love was blinding. Had I not been in love with Roll all these years, perhaps I would’ve realized letting Har slip through my fingers was a bad move.

  “Gonna let that subject-change slide, but I’m not done with this subject. Whatcha in the mood to eat? If we don’t have it, I’ll get a prospect to go get it.”

  Half an hour later, I was eating jambalaya, and could smell the beignets waiting to be devoured for dessert. Har was sitting opposite me at the high-top table in the common room. He’d already inhaled his shrimp po’boy and was taking a long pull off his beer. The look on his face said he found me entertaining, but he still looked pensive.

  I focused on my food, but the way he put down his beer bottle got my attention.

  “Shoulda clocked you bein’ a vixen way back when, but why a ‘Venom’ vixen, Trixie?”

  Normally, authentic jambalaya was my kind of comfort food, but at his question it formed a sour ball in my gut.

  I shrugged a shoulder. “Let’s just say, in my life, killing them with kindness has never worked out for me. Even being gruff with people doesn’t get them to back the fuck off, but when I put a fair amount of venom in my words and tone, it always gets the job done. That makes me a bitch, so be it.”

  As he spun his beer bottle on the tabletop, his eyes narrowed marginally on me. “Always had to prove yourself.”

  I shook my head. “I wouldn’t say that, though in some ways that’s true, too. But, in biding my time waiting on Roll, plenty of bikers saw me as a run-of-the-mill sweet-butt, and I’d put them in their place definitively. When Volt saw me do that the first time, he made a comment about how impressive a vixen was with venomous ways, and Blood called me the Venom Vixen. When I bought my car, the first really nice thing I’ve ever had in my life, something told me I needed to make a statement to protect it.”

  There was a strange look in Har’s eyes that I couldn’t identify. Before I could think on it too much, he nodded to my Styrofoam container.

  “Eat up, babe. Beignets suck when they’re cold, so you need to hustle.”

  ***

  The next morning I woke up disoriented, which was not surprising given how dark the room was. What made me less disoriented was the unfamiliar weight on my waist. It was unfamiliar because it wasn’t Roll. Which immediately reminded me I was in Har’s bed.

  Then my mind recalled the moments before I fell asleep. Har let me go to his room to get ready for bed. When I came out with a clean face, brushed teeth, and wearing my fuchsia cami and black-and-fuchsia striped short-shorts, Har had just closed the door to the room. I froze mid-step, but he took me in and his eyes closed for a long time as he sighed. When he opened his eyes, he jerked his head to the bed, and I scampered into it.

  By the time he came out of the bathroom, I had the covers over my shoulder and I was rolled away from the bathroom door, curled in the fetal position. Har sauntered around the bed and into my line of sight.

  “You’re on my side, Trixie. Move.”

  That would be my luck. Trying to minimize the awkwardness, and I had to settle into his side of the bed. I looked at him as I shook my head at my stupidity, but his arms shot under me, his knee planted on the bed, and he forced me to the center. He drew one arm out to lift the covers, threw his legs under, and then that arm wrapped over me to pull me flush with his hard body.

  “Sucks when people are right,” he muttered.

  My hands were trapped between us, but I still used them to try and push away. His arms squeezed.

  “Right about what?” I asked, when the silence continued.

  “My road name. I like to cause harm, even when that means I’m harming myself.”

  “Harming yourself?”

  His green eyes locked with mine and I saw the heat in them seconds before he lowered his lips to mine. It was a really good kiss, and I couldn’t help but kiss him back because of that. His hands began to roam, and that felt good too, but in the back of my mind something was off. Then it hit me that it was a good kiss, but it wasn’t the best kiss because the best kisses I ever had only came from Roll. I pulled away, and Har’s eyes focused on mine.

  “Dammit,” he whispered.

  My lips pressed together in disappointment because I never wanted to do something like this to any man, bu
t especially not him. His hands moved to my upper waist and he squeezed me.

  He shifted to his back, but kept me pinned to his side with one arm. “Go to sleep. I won’t do anything else, but I had to see where things stood.”

  Now it was the next morning. My eyes adjusted to the darkness, and I realized there was faint light coming from a street lamp outside. I was facing Har’s bare chest. It was broad, sculpted, and beautifully inked. The Riot MC logo took up his left pectoral muscle, and it looked fantastic there, because it moved with his steady breathing. That movement said it all. Har breathed Riot MC. Warmth filled my belly at the thought, and I knew I had to turn away. With extreme caution, I rolled to my other side. I blinked more than once because there was another body in the bed rolling toward me…

  Brute.

  How in the hell did this happen?

  My body strung taut, such was my surprise at seeing his sexy, but menacing, smile pointed my way. I wanted to jump out of the bed, but I also wanted to let Har sleep. This was not a situation I saw coming when Har said I’d be sleeping in his bed. I was positioning my forearm to slide out from under Har’s arm when Brute spoke.

  “Just like the last time, as I recall. You sleep curled into him, and wake up to roll into me,” he murmured.

  The weight was back in my chest, but now it was burning because the humiliation was mingling with sheer anger. Before I could retort or even move a muscle, Har spoke in the harshest tone I’d ever heard from him.

  “What. The. Actual. Fuck. Brother?”

  Har’s arm left my waist and the room was drenched in light from his nightstand. I was still frozen in shock, but I noticed Brute’s eyes glittering at Har.

  “What the actual fuck, what, Har? Last time she was in a bed with you, we shared her.”

  “We ain’t shared a woman in nearly nine years, so you damn sure aren’t welcome in my fuckin’ bed. Even if you fuckin’ were, sneakin’ your ass in here is not on.”

  Talk about being stuck in the middle.

  Har’s tone had nearly scared the piss out of me, so my bladder was screaming at me to get to a toilet. I wanted to leave the bed, but just the look on Brute’s angular face told me I didn’t want to interrupt their stare-down.