Biker Chicks: An Anthology of Hot MC Romance (2 page)

“Brats are done,” DeeDee said a minute later, leaning sideways to escape the heat of the fire as she turned the bratwurst sizzling on the campfire grill. “Ruby, get out the slaw. Mica, did you say you packed some chips? Wanna grab those and the plates for me?” She turned to look around, “Brandy, I know you had Hurley drop by to pick up dessert, so you’re off the hook for anything else.”

As the food and other things were brought out and organized, Carmela turned to DeeDee. “I’ll go let the poor boy know he can come make a plate. I still can’t believe you’re making him stay in the van.”

DeeDee leaned close and whispered with a laugh, “I can’t believe he’s letting us.”

Picking up her tequila cup, she let Mica pour another inch or two of the clear liquor, thanking her with a grin.
God, I love these women
, she thought. She had been away from home at college until recently when events around the Southern Soldiers had warranted enough concern for her father to force her withdrawal. Since then she had been locked away in their compound, not permitted to even go grocery shopping in town.

Of course, this trip too had been forbidden, but she had ridden off anyway, knowing her father would order men after her. That was why she was late to the gathering today, having barely evaded yet another friendly snare set for her, hearing the dismayed and angry shouts from the bridge as she passed underneath on a small country road. She knew it had been miles before they could exit the highway they were on, and by that time, she had been long gone, making up for lost time on the final portion of her ride.

She settled, leaning against the side of the van and listening to the playful shouts from her friends. Watching the women gathered in the light from the fire, seeing how their faces glowed against the darkness, Jess running wild through the group; it felt as if she were observing delight and joy in motion. Flickering flames cast a liquid light across them, forming shadows against the encircling trees. Those shadows larger than life, embracing arms stretching wide to promise support and love.

Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t realize for a minute there had been no movement from within the van. Her weight against the side had rocked it in place, which should have announced to the occupant that he had a visitor. With a sigh, she shifted the cup to her other hand, stretching out her arm to quietly knock on the door.

After a couple more minutes with no answering movement or noise from inside the vehicle, she knocked again, slightly louder. Same non-result. “Oh for fuck’s sake,” she sighed, “I’m hungry.” Twisting to open the door, she called, “Hello the van” –the panel moving soundlessly as it glided through the grooves– “it’s time to rise and shine” –smiling in expectation of surprised questions– “sleeping beauty.” The interior lights remained dark, disconnected or burned out, leaving only the light from the fire to illuminate the inside of the vehicle. Her gaze dropped, seeing a man asleep, stretched out on a thin mattress. A threadbare sheet twisted low around his legs his only cover, leaving most of his body on display.

“
Madre de Dios
,” she whispered, her gaze drifting slowly from his face to his body, down to the juncture of his thighs, then back up to his face. He was beautiful. There was no other word for it, the man was beautiful. Even in the uncertain light, she could see his hair was long and blond; it looked sun-bleached, slightly curly where the ends escaped from a rude ponytail, carelessly tied back with a leather thong. His face was handsomely symmetrical, arched eyebrows over almond shaped eyes, sharp cheekbones, and a square chin.

He had attractive black and gray half-sleeve tattoos, and on the shoulder facing her she saw a
Dia de los Muertos
sugar skull, inked with impressive detail. His arms and body were sleekly muscled, not bulked outlandishly, but toned in a way that let you know he was strong because he worked for a living, not a gym rat. Trailing her gaze lower, she let her gaze linger for a moment, staring where his soft, but still impressive cock curled in a bed of dark blond hair.

He didn’t move, but his stillness changed in a way that brought her gaze back to his face to find his eyes now open and studying her. With a silent groan, she turned away, giving him her back. “
Dios lo siento!
I’m so sorry,” she muttered, feeling her cheeks blazing with her embarrassment. “I was…I mean I meant…came to…wanted…”
Puta mierda
, she thought,
pull it together Mela
. “Dinner’s ready.” She finally got her words out, hearing him moving around behind her, probably pulling jeans up those long, muscled thighs…
Mela
, she scolded herself,
he’s a prospect, no matter how pretty. He would never look at you that way
.

Two hands settled on her shoulders and she nearly shrieked at the unexpected touch. They gently moved her sideways a step, fingertips trailing softly down the curve of her shoulders and upper arms. “Okay,” he said, and she immediately thought his voice was beautiful, too. That single spoken word caused her to shiver and she felt gooseflesh rise all along her arms in response. He asked, “Need anything from inside the van?” She turned to look at him and became mesmerized, watching him slip sock feet into boots.
So beautiful
, she thought. He finished and sat on the edge of the doorway looking up at her for a moment. He had put on jeans, but no shirt and she could see the dark swirls of those tattoos on his upper arms. “Well?”

Startled, she must have looked as confused as she felt because he laughed softly before asking a second time, “Need anything from inside the van?” That laugh caused the same kind of shiver to flow through her, and this time she felt a clenching low in her belly. Shaking her head, she answered him wordlessly, not even certain she could still speak. Most of her thoughts were jumbled, the only coherent ones to do, again, with his beauty.
How could someone so beautiful be called Hurley
, she mused, then shook her head. “Got that in one, doll.” She must have looked confused because he laughed. “You already said ‘no,’ honey.”

“Oh,” she forced out, trying to mask her embarrassment by lifting the cup of tequila and taking a drink.
Dios, he must think I’m an idiot
, she thought.

“Whatcha got?” he asked and reached out, plucking the cup from her grip. Sniffing, he made a face and turned his head sideways, then lifted the cup and sipped. He made a rough noise in the back of his throat as he lowered the cup, then lifted it and sipped again. “Mica’s good stuff,” he said with a grin, passing her the cup back. “I have my own stash I don’t tell her about. If she knew what I liked to drink, then she’d lecture me about fermenting practices and aging properties.”

“Umm hmm,” she agreed, still watching his face.
Beautiful
.

“I’m Hurley.” He gave her a chin lift, and then he unfolded fluidly and stood next to her, so close she could feel the heat rolling off him. “I’m with the Rebels out of Fort Wayne, but they use me to slog shit here and there” –he swung an arm out, indicating the van behind them– “such as food and amenities for hen’s parties in the middle of fucking nowhere.”

Rolling her lips between her teeth, she clamped down on them and nodded.
Say something
, she thought,
you’ve been around men like him all your life. Why has this hermoso gringo stolen your voice, chica?

“Normally when one person of a group or gathering introduces themselves, it’s courteous for the other parties present to reciprocate,” he said with a grin. “Let’s try this again, honey. Hi there, I’m Hurley.”

Cheeks blazing again, she dropped her gaze to the ground. Forcing her mouth to open, she took in a breath, and then said softly, “Mela. I’m Mela. Carmela, actually, but my friends call me Mela. Like mellow, but with an aah sound. Mela.”

She heard him move and saw his feet step closer, that heat raging hotter all along her body. His voice deepened, growing husky as he let the sounds of her name roll off his tongue, “Mela.” She darted a glance at him, saw he was looking down at her with a soft smile on his face. “My pleasure, honey.” His hand gripped hers and for a moment, the scene in front of her was gone and in the place of the beautiful young
gringo
her mind showed her a sweating, older Mexican man, hands reaching out to grasp her wrists. With a jolt, she jerked free and closed her eyes, opening them just in time to see him take a step back, probably assuming her reaction was to his touch. Which it was, just not in the way he imagined, not a rejection of him, but of her memories. “So…” his voice trailed off uncertainly, then picked back up, the look on his face lost in the shadows now, “you said dinner was ready?”

She nodded and before she could say anything he reached behind her, bringing out and putting on his cut. Then, carefully not touching her, he closed the van door before wordlessly turning and walking toward the fire. Away from her and her fears, leaving her standing alone.

Trailing him after a few minutes and rejoining the group, she accepted another slug of liquor and took a plate of food from Jess, who slipped in sideways for another quick hug. Hands full, she leaned into the gesture, both women laughing at the awkward embrace. “Wasn’t sure if we’d see you and Brandy. I hear from Slate that her business is booming.”

Mouth full of food, Jess nodded wildly, then swallowed and grinned. “She’s doing so well, but I always knew she would. Little piece of genius, my woman. Hooked my wagon to a rising star, ya know.” She paused for a moment, and then gestured casually. “So…what happened at the van?”

“Hmmm?” She lifted her plate and nibbled on the chips piled on the edge. Working one into her mouth without the use of her hands, she grinned around it at Jess, and then, mouth still filled with chip, “Wha chu mean?”

“Hurley came over here in a hurry like he was all manly he-man pissed off. I figured he tried to hit on you and you swirled him. Boosh, down the drain.” Jess giggled and pretended to press a lever with her middle finger. “Salute…and…boosh, take your swirly, mister Hurley.”

Shaking her head, Mela opened her mouth, but was interrupted by that same shiver-causing male voice. “She got an eyeful, then ice princessed on me, Jess. I suspect my package didn’t meet inspection.” Turning, she saw Hurley had walked up behind them, brat in one hand, and a beer in the other. “But maybe it was the label instead. Guess the lowly prospect never had a chance, huh, princess?”

God, she
hated
that term. Mela actually felt her chin tip down and knew a scowl had settled on her face. “Don’t talk about what you don’t know, pros,” she said coldly, turning away.

“Ohh. Ice burn,” Jess joked, sliding her arm back around Mela. Shuffling her feet, she turned them in a circle, laughing when they were again facing Hurley. Staring, he lifted his beer and drank, eyes never leaving her face. Mela felt Jess’ arm drop away and heard her say, “Well, alrighty, then.”

“So, enlighten me, princess.” He kept his voice low, apparently not intending anyone else to hear him when he asked, “Why’d you freeze up? Surely you’ve seen everything right? I’m not that hard to gawk at, am I?”

Looking up, she was again struck by how damned good-looking he was, even in the weak light of the fire. “You already know you’re easy on the eyes, pros. I just didn’t mean to burst in on you like that. Everyone deserves some privacy,” she said, her tone matching his. “But, I couldn’t imagine how anyone could sleep through all the noise this crew was making so I thought maybe you were sulking in there.” She glanced around the clearing, a half-smile on her face as she watched Jess dragging Brandy into the space between their tent and the fire, pulling her close to dance.

“It bothered me that they said you had to stay in the van,” she admitted, glancing up to find him still watching her intently. “I just…I don’t know…wanted to tell you it was okay to come out. That you didn’t have to. Stay in the van, you know? You were free to come and go as you please.”

“And that really mattered to you.” He sounded surprised and she nodded. Shaking his head, he said, “As you’ve pointed out, I am only a lowly prospect.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” she lied and saw his chin come up.

“Yes you did, princess. I get it; trust me, after the past year? I get it, putting me in my place.” He turned to look away from her, then back. “Prospect is on my back, but the club is in my blood, and my name isn’t prospect, it’s Hurley.”

She was silent for a moment. “I’m sorry. For opening the van without making sure you were ready, and for insulting your standing in the club. The Rebels trust you to keep their old ladies safe,” she said, gesturing out at the groups of women sitting, dancing, or reclining on blankets talking. “That tells me you are more than ‘just’ anything to your club.” Tipping her head toward her friend, she indicated Ruby. “Right there is your chapter president’s woman, but more than that, she is his life, taken from him once before. For him to trust her to you means something.” Turning to look at Mica and Molly, she tilted her head that way, then turned to look at him. “I know what those two mean to your national president.” She noted how serious his expression had turned, eyes locked on her face as he listened closely to her words.

“Each of those women is important to someone in the club, your brothers.” Putting down her plate, she turned, looking toward the edge of the clearing, where the woods began. “This is a secluded location, and it’s true that nothing about us being here has been publicized, but your national president clearly holds you in some esteem, because you are here” –she swept a hand out to indicate the women– “with all of them. Their lone protector for the weekend.”

“I didn’t think about it like that.” He shook his head. “Should have, but all the politics that go along with prospecting into a club kinda muddy things. They’ve had me shuffling between Chicago and the Fort, so it feels like double the pressure because I’m trying to please two chapters. It’s almost more than I can think about sometimes.” He shifted his feet, his voice low as he muttered, “I’ll head back to the van. Thanks for the insight, Mela. Food for thought.”

At her name coming from his lips, she drew a breath. “Wait,” she blurted, and then paused, suddenly awkward because she didn’t know what she had intended to say.