Dangerous Ignition, page 3
He’s going to have to toughen up if he wants to survive the Demons’ initiation.
Benny’s behavior was why Pearce had started following him. His uncle had wanted Benny to stand on his own feet and gain both balls and a backbone.
“He’s too soft,” his uncle had muttered one night.
They’d been sitting in the man’s makeshift office at the back of the clubhouse. His uncle often stayed back late to finish business or just unwind from a long day. Sometimes Pearce would stop by to spend some time with him. He didn’t get much opportunity now that he lived in his own apartment. They didn’t speak much when he visited, but a drink was always poured and cigarettes lit.
A sole lamp on the desk had given a golden glow to the room. His uncle had his booted feet resting on the desk and his head tilted back. His jacket had been tossed over the back of the chair, leaving him in a black singlet and pants. His tanned and muscled arms were more sparingly dotted with tattoos than Pearce’s, while his knuckles and the back of his palms held faded ink.
Pearce had flicked his ash into the black ashtray before replying, “Don’t know where he gets that from.”
His uncle had snorted. “Well, he gets it somewhere. And it needs to be knocked out of him if he wants to try for initiation.”
“I can take him out more? Try to harden him up?”
His uncle had seemed to mull over the words before deciding, “Keep an eye on him. If he can’t man up, I want him elsewhere.” He sighed. “I don’t play favorites. He stands up on his own or he fucks off. I’m not here to babysit…and neither are you.”
“Sure,” Pearce had agreed.
His uncle hadn’t looked at him, but the approval had been obvious in his words and voice. “Good man.”
Pearce had smiled before taking another drag. Their conversation had faded, but Pearce had stayed for another hour. He’d always found comfort when sitting with his uncle, even if the outcome of that meeting had proven more harrowing than Pearce could have expected.
Pearce rubbed a frustrated hand over his brow. Benny’s choice of sleeping with the enemy couldn’t even be twisted into a benefit. He didn’t have the hardness or cruelty to play with Angelica that way. If he was able to convince Rico that Benny was as stubborn and rebellious as Angelica, it might improve Benny’s lackluster reputation. But to get to that point, Pearce would have to speak with Rico.
Somewhere discreet and safe. There can’t be a repeat of what happened in that hallway.
The sound of a familiar engine turned Pearce’s head. Benny’s bike came to rest behind him and Pearce took another drag before throwing his cigarette away. He turned on his bike and slipped on his helmet. They rode away from York Street and back toward the center of their territory.
Pearce would escort Benny home and get Rico’s number from the teenagers. He hoped his iron control would be back in place by the time he met up with Rico. Pearce couldn’t afford another incident like what had happened earlier.
* * * *
When he received the number from Benny a half-hour later, Pearce was in his apartment. He’d already considered his approach carefully and he didn’t second-guess his decision.
Westwood Park. 2 a.m. North gate.
Despite the name, the park wasn’t in the west or in Angels’ territory. It was one of the few neutral border points between them. The council didn’t lock the gates, which made it a place very few wandered around at night. It would give them seclusion and privacy, and if they saw anyone, a single glimpse at their clothing would be enough to send them walking in a different direction.
It took a few minutes for the man’s reply.
2:30.
Pearce narrowed his eyes. He didn’t know if it was an attempt at control or a genuine request. He grappled with the urge to fight against the changed time. It wasn’t because Rico was his enemy. It was the same desire that had gripped him in the hallway.
Don’t you fucking dare.
He needed to focus on untangling the current problem, not creating whole new ones. He also didn’t want Rico off-side.
Fine.
Rico gave no further response, leaving Pearce to wait until nightfall. He didn’t tell Benny what was happening. He knew his cousin would ask to come, and Pearce didn’t want the added complication. It was dangerous enough meeting an enemy in an isolated, heavily shadowed spot at night.
Frankly, it was a perfect opportunity to murder him.
But he couldn’t make the idea hold weight. The Angels wouldn’t want a war any more than the Demon Riders, and if they did, they’d target a more influential member and kill them publicly. The only reason to meet was to solve the problem.
His confidence in his deductions found him at Westwood Park ten minutes before the prearranged time. He scoped out the park for any sign of additional Angels of Mercy members, but all he found was a homeless man and a junkie.
Selecting a large tree near one of the gates, Pearce rested his back against the trunk and lit a cigarette. Pearce knew the light would be a beacon in the darkened space, but he felt certain that if Rico came, he wouldn’t be intending to shoot him.
Pearce didn’t check the time as he waited. Instead, he breathed in smoke and thought about the past.
Ten years ago, Rico’s dark hair had been longer and prone to falling over his forehead. He’d brushed it back often after sex, wiping away the sweaty locks and flashing a smile. One night, they’d even drunk the minibar dry, fumbling to get clothes off and laughing into each other’s mouths. It had been the most inelegant sex he’d ever had. They’d come on their half-unbuckled pants. Hours later, they’d kissed in bed, sharing a lazy smoke as they spoke about anything that crossed their minds.
How people change.
The reminder soured his taste, and he flicked the cigarette to the ground, crushing it under his boot.
Approaching footsteps had him stilling. He went for his hidden handgun as he waited for the person to be illuminated. There was a streetlight outside the park that cast enough light that Pearce could recognize Rico as he stepped through the gate. His hand was also near his gun. Pearce pushed off the tree.
“Hanthorn.”
Rico turned to him. He was too far away for Pearce to make out his expression, but his hand lowered fully to his side. Pearce copied him. Rico closed the distance but stopped a few feet from him.
“Walton.”
They fell silent. It was the first time they’d been truly alone since they had been teenagers. Pearce had catalogued him in the hallway, but even obscured by darkness, Rico’s stern features and posture exuded masculinity and power. His looks had only improved with age.
“Let’s get this over with,” Rico grunted.
Pearce refocused his attention. He’d spent the afternoon thinking over the logistics and structure of how they would keep the kids from being found.
“They can’t remain in the same places,” he said. “They’ve changed their venues, but they stay on York Street. It made them easy to locate.”
Rico grimaced. “She mentioned that.”
“We’ll alternate venues,” Pearce instructed. “They can’t be in our territories.”
“I know some places in the city’s north,” Rico explained. “Discreet and far from where either club would go.”
Is that where you select your lovers? Anonymous fucks who don’t know who you are?
“They’re not seeing each other more than once a week,” Rico added.
“Agreed.”
They quieted and Pearce took the chance to further observe Rico. His leather jacket was zipped up to his neck. It kept all but his hands hidden. Unlike Pearce, the backs of his palms were free from ink.
What about him has changed that I can’t see? More tattoos? Scars? How much better does he fuck with practice?
They were questions he shouldn’t give a damn about, but Rico ignited a dangerous curiosity within him. Normally, he did what was best for the club without deviation. This was good for no one, and yet, Pearce had no ability to resist.
“You use the north for your hook-ups?”
Rico glared. “None of your fucking business.”
“Thought you’d have picked a wife by now.”
“Don’t act like you know me, Walton.”
The statement irritated Pearce. He might not have spent much time with Rico, but he’d understood enough.
“You hate the pain from tattoos,” he stated. “Your father’s good opinion means more to you than anyone’s.” Pearce smirked. “You liked sucking my cock.”
Rico grabbed Pearce’s shoulder and shoved him back until he slammed against the tree. Pearce grunted as Rico entered his personal space, crowding him against the bark.
“Shut your fucking mouth, Walton.”
“You liked my mouth ten years ago.”
Rico’s fist flew. Pearce was quick enough to dodge out of the way. It hit the bark and Rico tried again, but Pearce caught the man’s fist. They grappled as Rico continued to go for him. Pearce kicked at his shin, making contact and causing Rico to snarl. Neither of them reached for their guns or knives, however, as they struggled. Pearce had always been wily and fast, outmaneuvering and defeating men twice his size, but Rico was strong. Rico worked fast to gain the upper hand and slam Pearce back against the tree.
Pearce grunted and struggled against the grip on his arms. Rico squeezed them in warning. His leg slipped between both of Pearce’s then their chests pressed together. They were close enough to feel each other’s breath. Pearce’s cock was already hardening, and he yearned to slacken in Rico’s hold. But it was a fucking enemy who had him pinned.
“You need to learn to shut your mouth,” Rico growled.
Pearce bared his teeth. “I don’t take orders from you, Hanthorn.”
Rico’s expression shifted minutely. Pearce half-expected a fresh punch. He did not expect Rico to shift his leg and press up. Pearce’s breath caught over the pressure to his stiffening cock.
“Fuck,” Rico cursed.
A second later, Rico kissed him. Pearce groaned at the violent embrace. He tried to break Rico’s hold to touch him, but a harsh pressure on his wrists acted as a warning. Pearce shuddered, but despite a yearning to give in, a decade of self-control kept him from fully submitting.
Instead, he sucked Rico’s questing tongue deeper into his mouth and tilted his head, deliberately scratching his beard over the man’s clean-shaven face. Rico seemed to stifle a moan before yanking his mouth away. Pearce opened his eyes. Rico hadn’t let go of him, but he’d turned his head. Their breathing was uneven, and Pearce’s cock was aching for stimulation.
“Fucking Jesus,” Rico said. “We’re stopping.”
Despite his words, Rico didn’t let him go. He lifted his head, and even with the darkness, Pearce could see his lust. The bulge of Rico’s hard cock against his thigh was too tantalizing to ignore. He had spent too long having unsatisfying fucks with men he could never let dominate or breach him. Rico had seen him at his most carefree and vulnerable.
He had everything to lose, but with his cock aching with arousal, it didn’t feel like it.
Pearce twisted his wrist against Rico’s hold. The grip loosened and it was enough for Pearce to slip his hand between their bodies and cup Rico’s clothed cock. Rico grunted. He also arched forward rather than shoving him away. Pearce shifted closer, his beard brushing the man’s neck as he traced Rico’s jaw with the tip of his tongue.
“Are we stopping, Rico?” Pearce asked. “I think we’ve only just begun.”
He squeezed again before palming the man through his jeans.
“Fuck,” Rico swore.
Pearce kissed Rico again. He bit at the man’s bottom lip, inspiring him to gasp. Pearce deepened the kiss with his tongue, and Rico let his wrist go to tangle his fingers in Pearce’s hair. He yanked harshly on the strands, and Pearce moaned. He fought the impulse to go lax at the gesture. He fumbled as he pulled down the zipper of Rico’s jeans and popped the button. He shoved down the man’s pants enough to pull out his cock.
Pearce broke the kiss to demand hoarsely, “Get out my dick, Rico.”
He wasn’t prepared for Rico to let his hair go only to bodily push him backward. The little distance he’d gained was lost, and his back collided with the tree again. Rico crowded him against the trunk. Pearce’s erection throbbed over the manhandling.
“Get your own dick out,” Rico growled. “You want this so fucking bad, Pearce? Let me see how hard you are.”
Pearce shuddered at hearing his name. Rico’s voice had been sharp on the ‘P’ but almost went breathy by the end. Pearce obeyed without thought. He left Rico’s cock to get his pants undone. Desire pumped through his body, leaving his knees weak and his attention narrowed onto his soon-to-be lover. His cock was erect and weeping with arousal. When he got it out, Rico stepped back, allowing the cold night air to rush into the space between them. Pearce’s cock throbbed under the gaze of his enemy.
Rico lowered his hand and circled Pearce’s shaft. The first drag was electrifying, and Pearce tried to choke down a moan. Rico gripped him tighter, his motions turning rough. Pearce loved it. He jerked his hips forward, chasing more harsh friction. In response, Rico’s arm pressed against his chest, forcing him back against the tree.
“You’re fucking desperate, aren’t you?” Rico questioned.
He twisted his wrist on the head and Pearce’s hips stuttered. Rico huffed a laugh.
“Who’d have thought you’d be like this?” He leaned in, his lips grazing Pearce’s ear. “Never had a good fuck since I’ve been gone?”
Pearce’s stomach dropped. The question sounded teasing, but it hit far too close to the truth.
“You’ve touched my dick,” he snarled. “You aren’t a good fuck.”
Rico’s exact expression was lost to the darkness, but the violent way he pressed forward to kiss him had Pearce moaning. Cupping the back of Rico’s neck, Pearce held the man’s mouth in place. His lover picked up his hand’s pace as their tongues grappled for dominance. Rico seemed to be trying to take control of his mouth. To own it. Pearce wanted to let him.
When they broke apart to gasp a breath, Rico growled, “Get your hand on me.”
Pearce scrambled to comply, and when he grasped it, Rico released a groan. Pearce stroked in time with Rico’s motions. The tight space left little room to work, but it only added to the intensity. Sweat dripped down from Pearce’s temples to collect on his neck. Their harsh breaths and bitten-off moans seemed loud in the quiet.
Anyone can find us. Anyone can see Rico Hanthorn stroking me off—and I don’t care.
His erection was straining with need, every slide over sensitive skin tightening his balls.
I need this. I need him.
Pearce increased his speed on Rico’s dick, knowing he wouldn’t last much longer, but wanting Rico to finish with him. Little moans and sounds kept falling from his lips with every breath. Pearce was already so tightly wound that his hips were jerking forward uncontrollably.
“Yeah,” Rico breathed. “Fuck yeah…like that.”
Pearce continued whimpering. His wrist was aching from the angle, but he didn’t want to stop stroking Rico’s erection. He felt moments from climax and hoped Rico was the same.
“Come, Pearce,” Rico growled.
It triggered him like nothing ever had. Pearce came unexpectedly and with enough force to make him see stars and slump against the tree, panting as he came down from the high.
“Fuck,” Rico groaned.
He shifted his arm from bracing against Pearce’s chest and Pearce fluttered his eyelids open. The streetlight bathed Rico in light and dark. He had a palm against the trunk of the tree while the other fisted around his cock. The tip of the head caught the light, only to be hidden by each slide of Rico’s palm.
Pearce had to lock his knees to stay standing. He wanted to drop to the ground and feel that cock fucking deep into his mouth. He yearned for hands in his hair as Rico ordered him to swallow and take more of his dick inside.
Pearce couldn’t give in to that temptation, but he could do something.
He batted Rico’s hand away and grasped the man’s cock again. His lover grunted and Pearce closed the gap between them, kissing Rico and silencing his sounds of pleasure. Increasing the speed of his strokes, his lover soon made a hitched noise against his lips. Pearce continued to smother Rico’s vocalizations, and when Rico’s cock stiffened and pulsed between them, Rico’s moan was caught amid the slide of their lips and tongues.
When they broke apart some moments later, they both had to catch their breath.
Pearce released Rico’s cock and leaned back. He ran his gaze over his lover, admiring the sight—until a beam of lamplight highlighted an Angels of Mercy patch. Reality hit hard enough to wipe away the afterglow and drop a block of lead into his stomach.
Jesus, fuck. What the hell have we just done?
Chapter Three
Rico rarely felt sated or good after sex. Usually, there was an undercurrent of irritation. His hook-ups were always lacking, and when the orgasm was over, he wanted them gone. He’d never been able to pinpoint why they never satisfied.
But a quick hand job with Pearce Walton and he felt better than he had in a long time. But the hazy satisfaction of the afterglow didn’t last long, not when he glanced up and caught his lover’s face. Even shadowed and with the man’s beard, he could see that Pearce had paled. If that weren’t enough to jog his memory, the man’s many rival patches and insignias did the job.
You fucking idiot.
Disgusted with his actions, Rico hastily tucked his spent cock back into his pants. He looked around, but no one was nearby.
Thank Christ.
He heard rustling and noticed Pearce fixing his clothes. He waited until Pearce was finished and had met his gaze again.
“This never happened,” Rico insisted.
Pearce nodded, but his agreement didn’t lessen the sick, frustrated feeling in Rico’s stomach. It was one thing to have fucked Pearce in the past before he’d known the man’s allegiance, but now he was as stupid as Angelica.
