Cocky Biker, page 2
The Phoenix hottie wasn’t there. Which meant she was still in his room.
Was she sprawled out naked on his bed, fresh from the shower and resting after the ride? Was she presently in his shower, all long wet legs, cute ass, and great tits?
He held back a groan. It was pure torture not to be in his room with her. It was his goddamn pad. Another few beers, and it would take all his willpower not to let himself in and claim to have forgotten something.
“Mexicans are here!” Razor bellowed.
What?
The conversation stopped as though a switch had been flicked.
“Damn, I thought it was tomorrow,” Taff muttered, seeming to sober up instantly.
“They’re a day early, but that’s good.” Hudson slammed his hands on his hips and looked around. “Means we can get on with this before you goons are all wasted.” He scanned the room, seeming to make eye contact with every biker in there. “Rigor, get your translator. Razor, let the Mexicans in. Bring Arturo and his cronies straight to the office. I don’t want them poking around the compound.”
“Sure thing, boss.” Razor disappeared.
“The rest of you,” Hudson said. “Keep it calm and quiet. We need this deal. We have debts to pay, and this will get us in the green again. More than in the green if we play our cards right.”
“All calm.” Jayden held his palms up. “We know what you need from us, boss.”
There was a murmur of consent.
Wyatt knew it was for the best the meeting got underway. A few beers had been consumed, but none of the hard stuff, which meant there was a chance tempers would stay under control. Old rivalries would remain buried, even if they were only a whisper beneath the surface.
He drained his beer then set it on the sticky surface of the bar. “Another, Nina, honey.”
“Sure.” She popped the lid and passed it to him. “You’re gonna have to pay your tab sometime, Wyatt.”
“I’ll get to that tomorrow, when I’ve got some cash.”
“You better, the books get done soon. You know how Brooklyn likes everything straight.”
“Yeah, I know.” He took a sip as the rumble of the Mexicans’ bikes reverberated around the walls. Soon they’d swagger in, talking in fast, strongly accented Spanish as if in code.
Wyatt didn’t like them. Didn’t trust them. He knew Hudson didn’t either but needs must, and whatever deal they were presenting had to be good for the Barbarians to be entertaining them.
“Hi. I was told I could get a cola here.”
Wyatt turned at the sound of a female voice. His stomach tightened.
The long-legged beauty was standing right next to him, her bare arm almost touching his.
“I’ll get that,” Wyatt said to Nina with a nod.
“Thanks.” The beauty smiled.
“What’s your name, gorgeous?” Wyatt grinned and leaned his elbow on the bar.
Her long lashes lifted as she stared at him with the bluest eyes he’d ever seen. They were ringed with a darker blue around each iris, reminding him of water deepening. She swiped her tongue over her glossy red lips but didn’t speak.
Like that is it? Sick of bikers.
He refused to be disappointed. He wasn’t like the other assholes who’d obviously jerked her around in the past. “You know my name?”
“No.”
“You should.” He twitched his eyebrows.
“Oh, yeah. Why?” She took the cola Nina handed over.
“’Cause, babe, you’re gonna be screaming it later.”
She paused with the drink halfway to her mouth. “You have to be kidding me.”
“I never joke about satisfying a woman.”
“For God’s sake. Why the fuck did I ever come here?” she muttered.
“Hey, Belle, we need you.” Rigor clicked his fingers her way.
“Belle,” Wyatt said. “Pretty name for a pretty lady.”
“Does your mouth ever stop spewing this shit?” Belle frowned at him.
“I only speak the truth.”
She gave him a look that had he been a weed on the sidewalk, it would have caused him to wither and die in an instant. But Wyatt wasn’t a guy who gave up easily. Hell, he wasn’t a guy who give up at all, and the greater the challenge, well, it just made him all the more determined to win.
And it had been a long time since he’d set himself a challenge like Belle.
She slid through the crowd to join the president of the Phoenix chapter.
Is she his woman? Damn it.
Wyatt’s heart squeezed. That could complicate things. Could make things even harder. Not that it would stop him.
“She’s his sister.”
“What?” Wyatt studied the huge guy next to him. Built like a brick shit house with a beard that looked as though it could house a few birds’ nests. He recalled his name was Teddy. He’d met him at a rally a few years ago.
“Belle, she’s Rigor’s sister.”
“So?”
“So, I saw you hitting on her.” Teddy wrinkled his nose and drew down his eyebrows.
“And that’s your business because…?” Irritation nipped at Wyatt’s nerves.
“’Cause she’s here in an official capacity. Club business.”
“Really?” Wyatt huffed.
“She’s a damn good interpreter, trusted one too.”
“Good for her.”
“No, good for us.” Teddy’s voice was a low growl.
“She your old lady?”
As if she’d go for this hulk.
“No.” A crease formed on Teddy’s brow. “But I look out for her. Make sure assholes like you don’t think she’s an easy ride. Know what I mean?”
“Listen, man, caring is all well and good, but don’t get in my way.” Wyatt paused. “Got it?”
Teddy said nothing, just glared.
Wyatt pushed past him, knocking his shoulder into his arm as he went. Probably not the wisest move in his life, but this was Wyatt’s home turf, and he had a seat at the top table. He wasn’t going to let some over-protective dude mess up his chances with a hot chick even if he was the size of a grizzly on steroids.
No fucking way.
The select few moved into Hudson’s office. There was only one window. It looked into Nina’s, or it would have if a horizontal blind wasn’t drawn over it. The bottom two slats were bent at an angle. The walls were dark, and on the back one, a large Devil’s Barbarians flag was tacked to the wall. It held the image of a hooded grim reaper with its eye sockets full of red, orange, and yellow flames.
Hudson and Rigor sat at opposite ends with Belle next to her brother. The five Mexicans took the right side of the long wooden table, and the most senior Devils sat on the other. Beer bottles and smokes were stacked on the surface. Taff had a club sandwich on the go, pickles and mayo spilling from it.
Wyatt had hoped to get a spot next to Belle, but he was too slow and ended up beside Hudson. The only way he could see her was if he leaned forward.
He leaned forward.
She held a pen, and although she was chewing gum and staring into space, he got the impression she was listening to the Spanish chatter. Wyatt could barely pick up a few words. They spoke so fast, as if to purposely confuse. But then again, he’d never bothered to learn anything other than English.
She wrote something and nudged her brother.
Rigor lifted his shades to the top of his head and read it. There was no reaction. Instead, he pulled a cigarette from his cut pocket and lit it. Blew out a shoelace-thin stream of smoke.
“So, let’s get to business, guys,” Hudson said, winding his fingers together and slotting them beneath this chin. “I’m sure you’re dying to know how much money you can make out of us, Arturo.”
Arturo chuckled. “I think it the other way around, mi amigo.”
“Yeah, that’s it.” Taff pointed at Arturo. “Friends. We’ll help you out, you help us out.”
Arturo smiled while the biker to his right—goatee, fading black eye, large diamond earring—muttered something.
Again, Belle wrote.
Rigor read it.
“What’s she doing here?” Arturo pointed at Belle. “You gone soft, all this feminist shit finally got to you and you’ve let one with tits become a brother?”
“No.” Rigor laughed. “She’s our secretary, keeps notes.” He tapped his head and nodded at Hudson. “He’s not as young as he used to be, gets confused.”
Hudson’s eyebrows pulled low, four lines plowing over his forehead.
Wyatt held in a chuckle.
Belle looked straight at him. Those piercing blue eyes of hers, lined with heavy kohl, were like lasers homing in.
Wyatt’s heart did a weird flip, and he let a smile grow on his face.
Quickly, she looked away, blew a pink bubble until it popped on her lips, then pulled it off with her teeth and tongue.
He shifted on his seat, his cock heating. Fuck. When did gum become so damn erotic?
“So, it’s weapons,” Hudson was saying. “What and how many?”
“Four cases, Glocks, AKAs, shotguns.”
“How big’s a case?” Hudson asked.
Arturo smiled. “Big enough.”
“We need details,” Rigor said, “like how much cargo we gotta shift, you know.”
Again, Goatee Guy spoke, this time in Spanish, fast and mumbled.
Belle didn’t write anything. She was smart, she knew they’d catch on to what she was doing—interpreting their private comments.
“It’s enough to do you a solid fifty grand,” Arturo said. “Which is what we’ll sell for. You make a good bargain for yourself selling it on, you’ll make a good profit.”
Belle wrote.
Rigor’s gaze flicked toward it.
“It’ll cost us to get rid of serial numbers,” Rigor said, tapping his bottom lip as though thinking. “Costly to get over the border before that.”
“And we need time to find the right buyers,’ Hudson added, his eyes narrowed. “That’s a lot of weaponry.”
“We’ll take it all off your hands for twenty,” Rigor said.
Arturo laughed. “You really going to waste my time like this?” A hum of Mexicans’ conversations rose in the room. Shaking of heads, muttering. Eyes rolling.
“I’m guessing you guys didn’t pay more than ten for this stash south of the border,” Hudson said, his attention landing briefly on Rigor.
Rigor gave the merest of nods.
Belle was writing.
“So that’ll give you one hundred percent profit,” Hudson said. “Take it or leave it.”
“We’re leaving it.” Goatee stood, his chair legs scraping on the floor.
Arturo sipped his beer then chewed on his bottom lip. He remained seated.
“Come on, guys,” Hudson said. “You won’t get much fucking better than that, and to tell the truth, and what you already know, we’re the only goddamn option. Ain’t no other fuckers around here willing to risk transporting illegal weapons over the border, or with the know-how and contacts to move that much shit.”
Goatee scowled and spoke in Spanish, a few other Mexicans added to the conversation.
Belle wrote. When she looked up, she looked straight at Wyatt.
It surprised him that she did … again. Was she just playing the game of looking distracted as her brother read what she’d written? Or did her attention keep swinging back to him of its own volition?
Fuck, he hoped it was the latter. He wanted her attention. All of it.
The sooner this meeting was over and he could buy her a proper drink and get to know her, the better. Surely it wouldn’t go on too long. These guys were assholes.
“Twenty-five,” Arturo said, folding his arms.
“Twenty is our last offer,” Hudson said. “More than that and it won’t be worth our effort.”
“It’ll take at least five to get an officer at border control to look the other way.” Teddy tugged on his thick beard. His intense gaze was stuck on Arturo. “And we pick the wrong dude, could be ten years behind bars for two of us.”
Arturo sighed and looked up at Goatee. “Sit, will you?”
“This is shit,” Goatee said with a heavy accent. He sat.
“We can do twenty if you pick it up within three days.” Arturo nodded, his lips a thin straight line.
Hudson and Rigor shared a look. Rigor scratched his ear.
“Deal,” Hudson said.
“And cash, when you come for it. Dollars,” Arturo added.
“Naturally.” Hudson nodded.
“We’re done,” Goatee said, scowling. “Adios.”
Wyatt chuckled. Goatee clearly wasn’t happy, but it wasn’t his call. He wasn’t president.
“Wait.” Carter pulled a folded-up piece of paper from his cut pocket. “Got something else for you.”
“Oh yeah?” Arturo raised his eyebrows.
“Yeah. This guy. Dale Devin.” Carter unfolded the paper to reveal a mug shot of a skinny bald guy with a scar slicing his right eyebrow in half.
“What about him?” Arturo asked.
“I shared a cell with him for a year,” Carter said. “Time wasn’t enough for this asswipe. He’s a sick pervert.”
“So why didn’t you do something about him?” Arturo asked.
“He wasn’t worth doubling my sentence.”
Goatee stood. He put his hands on his hips, revealing his gun.
“And what’s that got to do with us?” Arturo asked, glancing at Hudson, Rigor, then back to Carter.
“Asshole has a kink for kids.”
“Go on.” Arturo scowled.
“Kept two Mexican girls in his basement for months for his own warped pleasure.” Carter paused and shuddered. “Ten and nine years old.”
“For fuck’s sake,” Teddy muttered and banged his palm into his fist. “Sick fuck.”
“And now he’s living in Mexico, near Tijuana as it happens.” Carter tapped the photo.
“He should never have seen the light of day,” Wyatt said, beating down the red-hot anger that always gripped him whenever he heard about kids or animals being hurt. “Should have rotted behind bars then thrown out for the dogs.”
“I agree,” Carter said. “But that hasn’t happened. He’s a free fucking man. Free to do it again.”
“You know where in Tijuana?” Goatee asked, tilting his chin.
“East,” Carter replied. “He’s working in some repair shop apparently. I put out feelers.”
“You really hate this guy, huh,” Arturo said.
“With every beat of my heart.” A tendon flexed in Carter’s cheek. “Took a lot of willpower not to castrate him when he was sleeping.”
“It’ll be done by the end of the week,” Arturo said, taking Dale Devin’s image and putting it in his pocket.
“Castration will be the least of his problems when I get hold of him,” Goatee said, then muttered something in Spanish. “Consider it done.”
Arturo stood. “Pleasure doing business with you guys.” He shook Hudson’s hand.
Hudson nodded. “We’ll be in touch about the where and when.”
“Three days, or the deal is off.”
“It’ll be three days,” Rigor said, standing. “I’ll see you guys out.”
Rigor squeezed his sister’s shoulder. A silent thanks for her secret translations? Teddy smiled at her as he also stood.
“Oh, and you guys,” Arturo’s sidekick said. “Enjoy the rally.”
“Pierce?” Hudson frowned.
“Si.” He chuckled. “We can’t rally this year, but the next, si, we will go.”
The air seemed to suddenly crackle. As if electricity had been released. Wyatt raised his eyebrows at Carter, who returned the look.
“You want trouble?” Hudson asked.
Arturo chuckled. “What can I say, my brothers get bored easily and they want to see what goes down at Pierce each year. I’ve heard a hell of a lot of stories.”
“There’ll be a lot more with you there,” Carter muttered.
Arturo ignored him, pulled a cigar from his cut pocket, and gripped it between his teeth. He smiled around it.
“Life’s too short to be bored.” Hudson nodded at the door. “Drive safe. We’d hate anything to happen to our valuable business partners.”
Wyatt hid a smile. The sarcasm dripping from Hudson was almost comical.
The Mexicans left with Rigor and Teddy, and the tension in the room dissipated.
“Shit’ll hit the fan if they ride into Pierce,” Carter muttered. “Too many old scores to settle with too many clubs to mention.”
“Let’s worry about that next year. Right now … damn that’s a lot of gear to shift here there and fucking everywhere,” Taff said and picked up the last of his snack. A blob of mayo sat on his lip.
“Risky,” Wyatt added. His attention was on Belle as she closed her notebook and poked the pen into the spiral metal spine. “But worth the risk.”
Am I talking about the guns or Belle?
It was clear she had a protective brother and friend. Damn it. She likely had a whole chapter who looked out for her like the Hounds of Hell.
“We’ve got no choice,” Hudson said. “We need the income. We’ve got debts.” He shrugged. “Thanks for your help, Belle.”
“Anytime.” She stood and smoothed down the front of her tiny denim shorts. Her long tan legs were worth dying for. What Wyatt wouldn’t do to lick them from ankle to thigh then stay and enjoy himself between them for a while. Hell, it would be his idea of Heaven. Heaven and paradise rolled into one.
“You need me for anything else?” she asked, her gaze sliding past Carter to Wyatt.
He grinned as a whole load of particularly dirty things he needed from her came to mind.
“No, doll, we’re good.” Hudson gave a wave of his hand. “Go do girl stuff.”
She turned with a flick of her hair and strutted from the room. Wyatt stared at her ass, his mouth practically watering. There was no doubt about it, he wanted this woman. It had been a while since he’d hooked up with anyone, but even so, he couldn’t remember the longing being this intense. It was so intense, it was painful. He tugged at the front of his leathers, wishing for more room.
