Revenge - Reckless Renegades 1 Read online

  But only for a moment.

  Only until his hands were hungrily moving over my body.

  Then I pulled away, slid down, got on my knees in front of him, reaching upward to undo his button and zip, keeping my eyes on his as I reached inside, freeing his cock, eating up the way a muscle started ticking in his jaw as my hand closed around him, thumb moving over the head before stroking him to the base.

  His eyes closed nearly to slits as my head lowered, as my lips closed around him, tongue lashing over the head before sucking him deep.

  His entire body jolted, hand slamming down on the back of my neck, fingers sifting upward, curling into my hair.

  There were many kinds of blowjobs a woman gives in her life. The obligatory ones - birthday, anniversary - and the thank you ones, trying to reinforce behaviors we like, or, of course, the I'm-on-my-period-but-he's-horny ones. None of them were negative per se, but they weren't all that enjoyable either. Near lock-jaw and choking were never fun.

  This, though, was none of those.

  This was something new, exciting.

  I wasn't sure I had ever been as into it as I was right that moment, so attuned to every catch of his breath, every hiss of pleasure, the way the fingers in his hands tensed.

  But before I was ready for it to end, his hand yanked hard at my hair, making pain spread across my scalp as his cock slid from my mouth.

  "As much as I'd like to come in that mouth of yours, babe," he said, hand sliding to my jaw, his thumb tracing over my swollen lower lip. "Right now, I need to be inside you," he added, reaching down to pull me back over his lap, his hand disappearing, fumbling for a second with his pocket and wallet before sliding a condom on.

  He'd come prepared.

  Maybe I should have been insulted that he assumed he would be getting some, but I couldn't bring myself to care with the need gripping my system, the aching pressure on my lower stomach that only he could ease.

  Finished, he grabbed his cock, sliding it up my cleft, tapping it against my clit until my chest was heaving, until my nails were digging crescents into his shoulders, until my hips were griding down into the sensation.

  Just when I thought I couldn't take it for another moment, his cock slid downward, pressed against the entrance to my body, pausing, waiting.

  "Fuck me, Sera," he demanded, pure desperation in his voice, something that made another impossible-to-ignore spark of need shoot through me.

  My hips pressed down, feeling his cock slide inside me with a little pinch thanks both to the fact that his cock was as impressive as the rest of him and the fact that I hadn't gotten laid in far too long.

  "Fuck," I hissed when he buried deep, making me take a few breaths as my greedy muscles tightened around him.

  Thayer's hands sank into my ass once again, fingers tight enough to bruise, using it as leverage to lift me up, then slam me back down.

  There was no more thinking then, just pure instinct, just mutual need, a shared goal, as I started to ride him. Harder, faster. Until both our bodies started to slick with sweat. Until my thighs started to scream from the movement. Until my whimpers became moans that became almost silent gasps for breath as my head buried in his neck.

  "Come, babe," he demanded, rolling his hips in circles as I continued sliding up and down him, feeling myself teetering on the edge for a long moment before I was finally shoved right over.

  There was nothing for a long moment save for the muscles contracting, the waves of pleasure they brought with them, the choked cry of his name from between my lips, then, finally, the hiss of his breath as his arm anchored over my lower back, shoving my body up, then slamming it down one last time, impossibly deep, coming with a low, sexy, growling curse.

  It took a long time for our conscious minds to come back, both of us just panting, boneless imitations of our usual selves.

  Thayer found himself before I could convince a single muscle in my body that it was fully capable of holding up my weight again.

  "Just think how much better it will be when it hasn't been two years since I had a woman."

  Better?

  God, I was pretty sure such a thing wasn't possible even as an aftershock - something I had only heard about from other women - racked my system.

  "You alright there, babe?" he asked, a cocky little chuckle in his voice as I just clung to him, unable to move.

  "If you don't mind, I think I am going to take a nap just like this."

  "Another time." There was no denying the slight stab of rejection, something foreign to me. Casual sex was casual sex, no big deal. Of course, I couldn't expect anything else from some one-percent biker. Nor, of course, did I want more. No way. But still, the dismissal bothered me more than it should have, making all the warm and fuzzy post-orgasm sensations fall away. Every muscle tensed at once as I lifted up, moved away, dropped down on the couch, reaching automatically for the vodka, possibly needing it now more than I had needed it before.

  If nothing else, it would silence the odd, niggling little voice that was saying that maybe I was so worked up because there was a little part of me that did want more than casual sex with the hot biker.

  But that was absurd.

  So numbing it with alcohol seemed like the smart move.

  Oblivious, Thayer got up, half yanking his pants up, moving down the hallway to the bathroom, coming back out a moment later, zip pulled up, but button still undone, giving me a gloriously unfair view of that Adonis belt I had known he would be sporting.

  "Alright. Let's go over the plan."

  "The plan," I repeated, brows furrowing.

  I was still bare-ass naked on my couch... and he wanted to talk about some kind of plan?

  "For getting my club back, getting your sister out."

  "Oh, right, that plan."

  Sure, I wanted to know that plan, needed to see how they were going to manage to go against a dozen other men with just three guns. But there was still that annoying, insecure little voice reminding me that my complete nudity should have been able to make it completely impossible for thoughts to form in his head.

  Maybe I needed to start hitting the gym or something.

  "As we know, there are twelve of them inside that club pretty much most of the time, save for when some of them head to the strip club to deal. From what I can tell from watching things, Fridays are the nights when most of the guys have to be working the club to deal with the demand. That's when we are going to go in. The three of us against three or four of them are odds I like a helluva lot more than twelve-on-three."

  "Wait, you're just going to... what? Charge in there and start shooting?"

  "Don't figure Doug is going to agree to a nice little sit down. Not after trying to take my brothers out. So, yeah, guns are necessary. We will take out the first round, then wait for the rest of them to come back, finish that job. The clubhouse is far enough in the middle of nowhere for the gunshots to barely be heard by the closest neighborhood. And even if they did hear, they'd likely think we were shooting at bear or coyote. There is a lot of that going on at this time of year. What? What's with the look?" he asked, shaking his head at me.

  The look?

  He must have been referring to my confusion mixed with shock and more than a slight sprinkling of anger.

  "You are going to just... storm in there out of the blue?"

  "Yeah, babe. Figure calling ahead might fuck with our odds a bit."

  I don't know what I had been expecting exactly.

  But I certainly figured they would find a way to get my little sister to safety before going in there and shooting people. First because, well, the bullets didn't always do great against Sheetrock. I couldn't help but picture my sister cuddled there in the bed, a sitting fucking duck, when they came in, created chaos, made bullets start flying, and one ripping through the wall to lodge somewhere inside her. Maybe even somewhere lethal.

  Second because, I don't know, I maybe thought they wouldn't involve her in murder and mayhem.

/>   I guess I had been giving them too much credit.

  Of course they cared about their odds more than my sister's.

  "What about Joey?" I heard myself ask, watching as he glanced over his shoulder at me.

  "What do you mean?"

  "I mean, the only reason I agreed to help you spy on your old club was to get my sister out. Safely."

  "We'll get her out."

  "Without a gaping bullet wound somewhere in her body?" I snapped, not caring how angry my tone was. I was angry. At him. So there was no reason to not let him be the recipient of it.

  "Relax. She'll be fine."

  "She'll be fine? Really? That is the best you have? And how can you guarantee she's going to be fine when you are going to start shooting? What if she panics and runs out of her room?"

  "We aren't going to shoot her, Sera."

  "You're trying to tell me that you are somehow going to all be able to keep your cool, and only shoot the people you're mad at? Get fucking real, Thayer."

  "Alright, I've had about enough of this," he declared, folding downward to snag his shirt, slipping it on angrily before gathering my drawings off the table, turning, making his way to the door.

  "Hey!" I shouted, making him turn on his heel at the door.

  "What?"

  "My sister is in there!"

  "Yeah, well, so is mine."

  And with that, he turned away again, opened the door, and disappeared, slamming it enough to make it rattle as he left.

  His sister was in there?

  We'd done a lot of talking over the weeks about the club, about the men, about some of the clubwhores.

  He'd never once mentioned the fact that his sister was somehow in that clubhouse.

  I understood that she owned the strip club, had maybe wondered why she was allowing Doug and the rest of the traitors to continue to do business there, but had been a bit too preoccupied with my own sister, her situation, to mention it, ask about it.

  Moving to stand, I did remember them asking about one woman in particular. Someone with bleach blonde hair, almost white, someone short and slight, someone with a septum piercing, tattoos, and green and golden eyes.

  Green and golden.

  It had gone right over my head when it was mentioned, just figuring they were fishing about someone's old lady or some prominent clubwhore.

  But no.

  No.

  She had green and golden eyes.

  Golden like her brothers.

  Like their father must have had.

  A father they all shared.

  They had a little sister inside, someone I had never seen.

  Why?

  Was she like Joey? Attached to one of the men, every single one of her moves dictated by him? Did they keep her hidden away when I was around on purpose? Because maybe she was in bad shape like Joey. Or maybe worse.

  I hadn't exactly understood the urgency in the past, why they felt like they needed to move in as soon as possible. I had chalked it up to pride on Thayer's part, having lost the club his father had left him, having lost the loyalty of his men.

  But no.

  The rush was because their sister was inside, had been inside from years from the sound of things. Having God-knew-what done to her.

  They wanted to save her just like I wanted to save my sister.

  A little voice reminded me that if they were willing to risk their lives by storming the place to retrieve her, then they were going to do everything in their power to make sure nothing bad happened to her when they were so close to saving her.

  That voice was drowned out by another one, a more cynical, yet more rational one. A voice that was screaming that there was no way they could guarantee her safety when they were going in there like they planned to.

  Both our sisters could end up dead.

  Then all of this was for nothing.

  Well, maybe not to them.

  They would still get their club back, their businesses back, their respect back.

  Maybe it had more to do with that than their sister.

  It made sense, of course, if they didn't have the same kind of bond with her that I had with my sister. For one, the woman they had asked about had been described as looking like she was 'about twenty.' That meant that Thayer, Hatcher, and Calloway were all considerably older. Likely around pre or actual teenagers when she had come around. I didn't know a hell of a lot about teenage boys, but I figured most of them were more into getting themselves into trouble and chasing girls than spending time with a screaming, vomiting, burping, stinking baby. Like I had done with Joey. Nor could I picture teenage versions of them sitting down and playing pretend tea party or brushing Barbie hair or teaching her how to hopscotch and jump rope. Like I had done with my sister.

  If the bond wasn't the same, maybe they were willing to take the risks that I, well, had absolutely no intention of taking.

  I was on my own with saving Joey.

  Decision made, I found my underwear and tee, slipping them on, then gathering my supplies, sitting down to start redoing the sketches, jotting down notes.

  Coming up with my own plan.

  I had never needed a man in my life before.

  I certainly didn't need one now.

  As it turned out, it was a lot easier to convince my mind of this while my body desperately tried to remind me of Thayer's touch no matter what I tried to do to forget.

  It was alright, though.

  As soon as I got Joey free, I would have plenty to focus on.

  I could move on.

  Well, at least, that was the plan.

  SEVEN

  Thayer

  "What's wrong with him?" Calloway asked, coming in from work, immediately reaching up to free his hair from the tie they forced him to wear during shifts, feeding him some line about how if a club-goer were to get riled, and he needed to step in, having his long hair free could work against him if someone wanted to pull it. They had clearly never seen Cal in a fight, hair flying free while he took down three fuckers at once.

  But he didn't want to hear my opinions on his job, so I kept my mouth shut about it.

  "Sera," Hatcher supplied.

  "Oh, you know, the woman we actually didn't need to kidnap in the first place," Cal agreed, going into the fridge for a beer. "What happened with her?"

  "If I had to guess, I'd say fucking happened," Hatcher told him, enjoying himself way too much.

  "And he's moping about it? Was it that bad? Don't worry about it, bro. I'm sure she understood you hadn't gotten any in a couple years. It happens to a lot of guys. You know... so I hear."

  It was the first time since I'd been out that I found anything even suggesting humor in Calloway.

  "The sex was fine." Fucking amazing, actually. Top tier. Best I'd had kind of shit. "She's pissed about the plan."

  "I get that," Cal agreed.

  He wasn't keen on it either. For similar reasons.

  Because of Bea.

  Because he was worried about her being caught in the crossfire.

  It wasn't that I wasn't worried. I wasn't the asshole he seemed to think I was. I didn't want Bea catching a bullet. I didn't want Joey getting one either. But there wasn't a way to get both of them out - if Bea would even leave willingly - without tipping them off, without them swarming us, taking us all down. And then who was going to help Bea and Joey?

  It wasn't an ideal plan, but this wasn't an ideal world.

  We had to be fucking adults and accept that.

  There was no way to get my club back but with violence.

  There was no way to get them out beforehand.

  Maybe once I had the place back, I would secretly work on an escape route from the basement for any possible future situations. Not that I ever planned on losing the club again, trusting people my gut told me not to trust. Things were going to be different. But for that to happen, we had to take the old guys out.

  Case closed.

  My brothers and I would make sure we didn't
aim toward the bedroom where it sounded like Joey was spending all her time.

  We damn sure weren't going to aim at any women.

  Could I make any promises? No.

  But there was no promise we were even going to get out of this unscathed.

  At least we'd had Sera for as long as we had. Before her, I was almost positive we'd all end up in supermax for even trying to execute our plan. Her information had been invaluable. Pictures of the guns we knew we were up against, so we knew to secure better ones. General locations for where the men were stationed at night. Thanks to the sketches, we literally had eyes inside. And I'd spent most of my waking hours watching them from the hills, trying to get to know everyone's habits. Like how the sole man - a bastard named Zack who Hatcher never got along with - who occasionally ran guard shifts at night tended to simply glance around both corners, then take a walk into the woods, smoking as he went.

  When the rest of the guys were at the strip club, and he was in the woods, that was when we had the best bet of getting in there, getting shit started. Get the girls out. Then brace ourselves for the second round.

  After that, we would have to handle the cleanup.

  It was honestly what I was dreading the most.

  All those graves that needed to be dug. I was realizing too late that we should have started digging them ahead of time, just have them ready when we needed them.

  Then all the blood that needed to get mopped up.

  It wouldn't be the first time - for any of us - and it likely wouldn't be the last. We'd all needed to get our hands dirty, had needed to take out violent competition, had been forced to handle traitors inside our club. Death wasn't something we took lightly, but we accepted it as part of our paths in life. This was a bit dramatic for us, sure, but we could - and would - handle it.

  Even unsavory tasks like burial and crime scene clean-up would be infinitely more tolerable when we were doing it in a club we finally ran again.

  Sure, it would be an empty club. Getting our numbers back up would take some time. In the meantime, we would cut the ties with the plug who was supplying the heroin and other shit we would no longer need. We would get control over Peaches again, make sure everything was being handled the way it had always been. No backroom blowjobs, no dancers working as prostitutes on the side. And making sure they got a fucking walk to their cars after their shift.