Harm's Way: Riot MC Biloxi by Karen Renee (best life changing books .TXT) 📗

against his ass and my breasts were tight against his chest.

“Better,” he said, and I could hear the smile in his voice.

He started his bike, and a new thrill shot through me. My hips fidgeted, and Har laughed. Feeling his laughter through my hands and my torso pressed to his gave me a different thrill.

Besides that first time when I was ten, I hadn’t ridden behind anyone. My arms around Har, and the feel of his bike beneath us, I knew this ride would be epic.

On the open road, I learned I was not wrong.

While the ride was epic, it was also too short. As he pulled into the forecourt, I frowned. I always thought not being in control of the bike would freak me right the hell out, but behind Har, it felt good. Better than good, right.

I sighed as he shut down the engine.

He patted my thigh. “You first, babe.”

While standing at the side of the bike, I took off my helmet and watched him dismount. When he saw my face, a slow smile spread across his. “Yeah. That’s what I like to see. We’re gonna talk about that when all this shit is through.”

“Talk about what?” I asked as he put his helmet on the bike seat.

He arched a brow calling bullshit, but said, “You being on my the back of my bike. The way it fuckin’ should be.”

My eyes widened and I opened my mouth to start in, but he put his finger on my lips. His other hand grabbed my helmet and put it next to his.

“Later, hon.”

I walked toward the clubhouse, but he grabbed my hand to whirl me in the opposite direction.

“You say nothing until I give you the nod, got it?”

“Sure thing.”

We rounded a medium-size pre-fabricated metal shed, and the prospect who delivered the groceries stood guard at the door.

He nodded to Har, but asked, “What’s she doin’ here, President?” His face shifted immediately to regret. “Sorry, sir. I shouldn’t—”

Har shook his head. “No. It’s good you asked. She made a case for getting a few licks in, and I’m giving her a shot.”

The prospect looked skeptical, but directed the look at me.

Har chuckled. “Work on your poker face, prospect.”

“Yes, sir,” he said, as he unlocked the door for us.

Two steps into the room and I stopped dead. Joules, Brute, and Roman were inside, leaning against the wall. A thin blonde-haired woman sat in a cane-back Bentwood cafe chair. She had a navy-blue bandana stuffed in her mouth and her eyes were narrowed to slits. A pungent odor hit me, and I noticed a bucket under her chair. I almost felt sorry for her.

Almost.

My gaze moved to the left and I saw a man seated in an identical chair. I fought my head rearing back because he didn’t look anything like Wycliffe. But as I took in his features, I realized he was Wycliffe. He’d let his kinky-curly hair grow out, a drastic change to the clean-cut appearance I knew. Stubble lined his face. When his dull brown eyes caught mine, the skin crinkled around his eyes as if he were smiling around his gag.

This was a bad idea.

Har hooked his arm around my neck and turned us both so he could drop his face to mine. His eyes seemed to glow.

“Don’t let them see you sweat, Combes. You wanted this. I’m giving it to you. Don’t make me regret it, baby,” he said in a whisper so faint I strained to make out all his words.

I nodded.

His grip on my neck tightened, his other hand cupped my cheek and he planted a hot and heavy kiss on me. The moment my hands hit his sides, he pulled back and smiled. “Let ’im have it.”

Brute shoved off the wall, folded his arms across his expansive chest, and glowered at us with all his might. “What in the hell is she doing here?”

Tension filled the small room.

I heard Roman breath in sharply through his nose.

Joules muttered under his breath. “Show respect, Brute.”

Brute shook his head and his familiar brown eyes glared at me. “You need to get the hell out of here, Steph. That fuck doesn’t deserve to breathe, let alone breathe the same air as you. Know you’re stubborn as all hell, but for one goddamn time in your life you need to let a man handle this shit.”

Little would Brute ever know, he was that close to convincing me to leave. But pointing out my stubborn nature and insisting I ‘let a man handle’ my shit was the wrong thing to say. I returned his glare, but swung a questioning gaze over my shoulder to Har. He had angry eyes pinned to Brute, but he felt my look. His head tipped just enough to tell me to get on with things.

As I walked toward Dixon, I saw Diana’s bound feet extend out and I stopped. I tilted my head down to give her a glare. She made muffled noises behind her gag. Part of me wanted to hear what she had to say, but the other part of me knew it wouldn’t be worth hearing.

When I pulled even with Dixon, I shot a look over my shoulder to Joules. “Would you mind taking his gag out? I need to talk to him.”

Joules grimaced. “Lady, if you’re after that original—”

I shook my head. “I resigned myself to the original being gone a long time ago. As easy as it is to make copies, it’s a lost cause. But I know I’m not his only mark. So, I want to ask him some questions.”

“My president’s sanity is the only question worth asking right now,” Brute muttered.

Like a flash, Roman shoved Brute against the wall by the lapels of his cut. As big and brawny as Brute was I couldn’t imagine how much force that required, but then I noticed Har was at Roman’s back trying to shove Roman out of his way.

Yowza.

Every time I thought I knew how deep their brotherhood ran,