Chrome: With a Heart Forged in Steele (Carolina Bad #4) (5 page)

The noise wasn’t the usual hum of high-powered tools or the clank of metal on metal, but a throaty female voice singing a sultry bluesy tune. I followed it by instinct, the woman’s voice dipping and rising, beguiling me.

Turning the corner, I momentarily lost the ability to do anything other than stare. Rayce was in the bay, alone, rocking her shoulders as she sang. Her back was to me as she crouched next to a new crotch rocket.

She seemed completely recovered from last night’s trauma and the morning’s incidents and was in full wrench-wench mode, and
holy shit
could she sing.

I must’ve made a noise—probably the groan of a man who wanted nothing more than to strip her naked and give her some good loving—because Rayce whipped around with her hand pressed to her heart.

“Holy crap!” She flicked up her chin. “You scared me.”

I tried to think of something to say, but I was too busy trying to keep my eyes in my head at that point. She’d ditched the coveralls and was in the tight jeans she’d had on in the morning. Apparently she’d ditched the black tank top, too, in favor of a white one.

Yeah. A white one with no bra because her nipples looked like pink smudges in the center of her way-more-than-a-handful tits.

I growled.

“Hello, caveman.” She placed her hand on her jutting hip.

“When did you change your top?” Standing with my arms crossed over my chest, I coasted my gaze down her body then up again, firmly settling on her unfettered beauties.

“When did you revert to being a Neanderthal?”

She was back to full ballbuster mode.

I liked it. Liked it so much I decided to bait her.

Instead of answering her, I strolled around the red and white Honda CRF 250 X. “New project?”

“This is a recovery.”

She had that right. She was gonna have to Frankenstein the twisted aluminum frame back to life. It was nothing like the other bike I’d seen—not her enduro but the Gas Gas strictly motocross, hardcore trial dirt bike waxed to a brilliant red, white, and black sheen.

“I need a back-up in case I total
the TXT.” She huffed one blue-streaked strand of hair from her face.

I flinched at the mention of crashing, but quickly shoved that old pain away.

Smirking, I dragged my fingers up her bare arms. “Need a hand with anything on it, little missy?”

“Little missy!” she spluttered, jerking beyond my reach. “Seriously?” Her eyes blazed like lethal fires. “I’m about to go pissy with a
steel
toe cap to your scrotal sac!” She stomped her boot.

I laughed uproariously. Shit, it felt good messing around with her.

“You are not funny,” she muttered.

Turning her back on me, she tightened down the screws on the carburetor, continuing to fume. “Probably too old to even
ride
a bike let alone know how to fix one . . .”

Quietly walking up behind her, I folded my forearms around her waist, over her tummy. I let out a low rumble of a sound when I pulled her into the cradle of my groin where my heavy cock pulsed strongly.

Rayce’s breath hitched as my forearms brushed the undersides of her tits.

“Actually, princess,” I spoke roughly into her ear. “Pretty sure I could run laps”—licking the side of her neck up to her jaw, I paused with my lips pressed against her—“around guys half my age.”

I grinded against her, my fingers grazing the undersides of her breasts. Her nipples rose into stiff buds.

“Can you feel what I have to give you?” I sucked the skin of her neck.

Her ass circled against me. “I never doubted you were a big boy.”

I sank down so my rigid cock rode right against her rear end, and she tossed her head back with a moan. With my hand on her belly, I pressed her harder against me. For a moment, we stood like that. Sexy, almost-fucking in the middle of Stone’s Garage. No sound but her moans and my grunts.

She turned abruptly and clutched my shirt in both hands. She arched into me, and more heat surged inside my cock.

“You wanna see me naked?” she asked.

“Yes.” My jaw tensed and I buried my fingers in her hair.

“You might wanna ask me out on a date or two first.” She nimbly ducked away from me, leaving me holding nothing but air.

“See, I’m old-fashioned like that, somethin’ you should know about me.” She closed her tool chest and gathered her jacket and backpack while I watched, dumbstruck.

“Close your mouth, Boomer.” She laughed.

“Actually, his real name’s Harold.” Stone chose that precise moment to appear.

“Yeah? And yours is Pain In My Ass,” I slung back at him the same time my block-like fist hit him in the ribs.

“Harold?” Rayce’s nose scrunched up, exactly how I felt about my real first name. “Harold.
Huh
. Guess that works for an
old man
.”

Aaaand
she laughed again.

With that she sauntered away.

“Damn.” I leaned a little to watch that ass sway. I couldn’t even figure out what the hell had just happened here.

All I knew was Rayce was hot.

I stood there grinning when I should’ve been glaring at Stone until I called out, “You’re welcome for your bike, princess!”

“Thank you,
Boomer
,” came her sweet reply from somewhere out in the dark parking lot.

Racy Rayce

HUNTER HAD COME UP with one hell of a cockamamie idea. Cockamamie. Jesus. That was what our mom had said whenever Brodie fixated on another harebrained scheme like giving Cat rides in his little red wagon before she was old enough to sit up.

But back to Hunter and his very own off-the-wall plan . . .
wellll.
Turned out when you lived most of your adult life outrunning danger, outgunning bad guys, then found the woman you wanted to settle down with, you wouldn’t let anything stand in your way. Especially when her life had been threatened because of you. Apparently you grew a big set of brass balls, too.

A week or so after the motherfucking MC Muerte raid, Hunter
Angelo
-no-longer-Sexton was instated as full Vice Detective in the Mt. Pleasant Police Department. That made two of our own who were fully legit: Hunter joining my almost sister-in-law Ashe on the force.

But that wasn’t the fucked up idea. Nope.

Detective Hunter Angelo decided to throw a surprise wedding for JB—Jessica—the Ducati Queen.

And he enlisted the MC’s help.

I sat slack-jawed while he laid out his plan to Tuck, Cole, Tail, Brodie, Handsome, and me.

Brodie hunched forward. “Wait. You mean you haven’t even asked her yet?”

“No. That’s bad, huh?” Hunter’s gold eyes turned black-dark as he cracked his knuckles.

I skidded my chair closer to Hunter. “You know what? I think we’ve got just the right person for the job.” I glanced at Tucker who gave me the affirmative. “What else do you need us to do, my man?”

Turned out he needed a venue.

No brainer.

The unofficial nuptials would take place at the Church of Retribution.

He needed a party planner. Lucy was FaceTimed immediately and totally on board. Hell, if the lady could spend half her time in a Candy Crush face-off with Brodie, she could squander a few in-between hours wedding planning. Besides, she was good with the details, which was why we’d hired her in the first place.

“She’ll need a dress.” Hunter shut his eyes, smiling wickedly. When he looked up, he stared at me. “Think Rayce would help take care of that?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“You contacting her, or me?”

I gulped down a burning shot of whiskey. “Think you better.”

“Why’s that?” he asked.

“Boom stutters whenever he’s around her. That’s why.” Brodie stroked his goatee.

I wrestled him from his chair and strong-armed him to the floor. “Say it again, bro.” I wrenched his neck in a headlock hold.

Just like the old days.

I grinned.

Coletrane guffawed.

“Some fucking wedding planners,” Hunter groaned.

“Break it up, kids.” Only Tuck had the nerve to clutch me by the back of my neck and Brodie by the tip of his ear, hauling us to our feet.

The barrel-bellied man with the wiry gray hair and the perfectly tipped handlebar mustache had been our father figure since our dad died. Cat, Brodie, and I had all been of legal age, but we’d still lost our way. He’d guided us with stern words, gruff love, a big heart. He’d been my dad’s best bud for more than two decades.

Without him, without Retribution, I didn’t know how we would’ve turned out.

Brodie and I straightened our shirts, wiped our mouths, sat back down.

“You two cool?” Hunter asked.

“As ice.” I daggered my
icy
blue eyes straight at Brodie’s identical ones. “Just a little sibling rivalry.”

“Because I’m gettin’ some and Boomer isn’t,” Brodie returned.

Aaaand
the whole wedding discussion dissolved into more thinly veiled insults.

Amazingly, we got it together, and in time.

The date.

The decorations.

The dress.

The deacon.

Just a few days before Christmas it was Surprise-You’re-Getting-Married Day, and almost everything was in place. One little detail Hunter forgot to nail down was in the Retribution repertoire and we had that one in the bag. The honor guard. We rode in formation for all important occasions: births, weddings, charities, rallies, burials. The last time we’d banded together like this had been Miss Myra’s funeral—Myra, my brother-in-law’s mimi. We’d flown down 17 North in Mt. Pleasant, streaming banners in memory of Nick’s grandmother’s life.

This time, we came together to honor the joining of two lives.

Our loud pipes rumbled like thunder through the silent December streets until we reached JB’s—
JailBait’s
—cottage. Five massive dudes dressed in black leather parked in formation in front of her house.

No mistaking us.

JB stuck her head outside the door as I approached in front of Brodie, Handsome, Tail and the rest of the guys.

“What’s going on?” Her voice trembled. Her velvety brown hair shimmered.

“Rayce here yet?”

“Yes. She brought some sort of dress for me.” JB let me pass inside and closed the door. “Why are you here? Where’s Hunter? Rayce didn’t say anything about you joining us.” She eyed me warily.

“Don’t worry, l’il momma.” I wiped my boots on the welcome mat.

“This isn’t another damn abduction is it? Because all Rayce would tell me is there’s a special party happening. And I don’t like secrets.” She used her stern kindergarten teacher voice on me.

“Nothin’ like that.” Bowing at my waist, I winked at her. “Why don’t you go upstairs and let Rayce get you ready. I’ll be right here, standing guard.”

“Get me ready for what?”

“The party, ’course.”

“Why should I trust you?”

“Because I got your back. And your man’s back.”

“Trust him already. I need to do some freakin’ magic up here!” I heard Rayce’s tough-
girrrl
growl float down from upstairs.

“I don’t like this, Boomer Steele.” Feisty JB prodded my chest, not making a dent in the muscle.

“You will.” I gave her a full smile, one that usually made the ladies speechless.

Go figure. Worked this time too.

JB shook her head. “Okay. But no more guys inside. And just because you’re the prez.”

I dipped my head in her direction. “Whatever you say, sweetheart.”

It felt like hours passed while the women did whatever it was upstairs. I was surprised the dudes outside hadn’t started a bonfire to keep warm.

I checked my watch.

I bet Hunter was having a full-fledged panic attack, waiting.

I chuckled.

I waited an amount of time that almost did my head in. The idea of Rayce, in the same house, half-dressed . . .

I climbed the stairs. They were so delicate and fucking dainty I felt like a giant navigating them. At the landing, I hooked left, and immediately ran into Rayce exiting the bathroom on a cloud of total hotness.

The hallway was so small she banged up against me, but not before my eyes spun with the vision of her in a dress, and my tongue must’ve rolled out cartoon-style.

“Boomer!” She spread her palms across my chest where my heartbeat thundered.

She had on some sort of number that ended just above her knees, and it was curve hugging through the top until it flared at the skirt. The gray and cream pinstriped dress with a deep red belt looked vintage, classy, and I just didn’t have enough mother-lovin’ adjectives to describe it. A floral pattern overlaying the stripes echoed the charcoal-colored tats on her arms. Her tits overflowed the top. Her hips rounded out below the slim waistline. And her legs?

Shit.

She wore fishnet stockings that ended in high heels. Make that ankle-length, black leather, high-high-high heeled boots with metal designs on the toes.

Her perfume dazed me.

Her dress goddamn amazed me.

She snapped her fingers in front of my face. “You in there?”

“You’re wearing a dress.”

Genius, Boomer. You are truly a genius.

Rayce pivoted around, astoundingly graceful. The skirt flipped up to reveal seams on the backs of her stockings. “Like it?”

Liked it so much I was considering banging her against the bathroom door. “Yeah.” I rubbed a hand over my mouth. “You could say that.”

Then she did something entirely feminine, a side of her I’d never truly seen before, and performed a little twirl that lifted the skirt up her firm thighs before she stopped in front of me, her face glowing.

I started sweating, right then and there. “Jesus. You’re gonna give me a heart attack.”

“Serves you right,
old man
.”

“I wanna be your old man.” Growling, I scooped her into my arms. “Been missing you.”

I wouldn’t say I was at an impasse with Rayce, but I’d hardly seen her in several weeks. That was going to end tonight, after I watched Hunter either crash and burn or end up a happily married man.

My lips slid up the curve of Rayce’s neck, and her skin tasted like hot womanly sweetness. I licked the shell of her ear, ghosted to the corner of her mouth, and touched the point of my tongue against the seam of her lips.

She parted them with a gasp.

I looked down at her with heavy eyelids, our mouths separated by just a breath of space. “Been dreaming about kissing you. Feeling your lips on mine.”

“Why don’t you?” she asked, all throaty and sultry.

“You don’t want it badly enough yet.” I backed away from her.

She looked at me with glazed eyes, her lips moist and glistening.

Placing my hands against the wall behind me, I curled my fingers, desperate to touch her. “Is JB ready, because if she’s not I’m about ten seconds away from spreading your legs and getting my face on your pussy.”

“That would ruin everything.” Her voice was shaky.

I shot forward, clasping the indent of her hip and running my hand up to cup her breast. “It really would.”

“Jessica! Get your ass out here before Boom ravages me!”

Dragging her wrists against the wall, I crushed my pelvis against her tight heat.

Rayce shuddered against me. “Oh, God.”

“Not God, princess. Just me.” Shifting my hips again, I dropped my lips to the top of her breasts that mounded above the dress.

She pressed against me, gasping my name.

A door creaked open down the hallway followed by a, “Holy Hell, Rayce!”

I jerked back.

“Jesus. Looks like you two could use a bedroom.” JB stood just outside her doorway.

She was not wrong.

I cleared my throat and struggled to get my racing pulse under control. Not to mention my cock. It was an obvious, hard, throbbing length inside the tight black leather pants.

Cleared my throat again. Did
not
look at Rayce.

“Yep. So. It’s time to hit the road, girl.” Rayce held out her hand to JB.

“I’m not so sure about this . . .”

“Shut it, JB. You’ve been bitchin’ all day
while
being dressed up, made up, and primped up. You’re coming with us if Boomer has to hogtie you and throw you over his shoulder.” Girlfriend with an attitude winked at me while she told off JB.

With a final glare at the pair of us, JB let us lead her out of the house.

Unfortunately, once she caught sight of Tucker, Handsome, Tail, and Brodie milling around their motorcycles, she slammed to a stop.

“But that’s all the Retribution officers! I didn’t realize
all
of you were here.” She whirled on me. “What’s really going on?”

Oh. Hell. No.

I was not getting caught in the middle of Hunter’s
My Big Fucked Up Wedding Surprise
.

“At least tell me where we’re really going,” JB pleaded.

“To Church,” I answered.

“What?” she shrieked.

“Calm your tits, JB. He meant Retribution.” Rayce zipped her leather jacket and grabbed her helmet.

“I still don’t like this, Boomer Steele.”

I made sure the soon-to-be-missus straddled her Ducati before I headed over to my 1948 Vincent Black Shadow.

As I strapped on my brain bucket, I caught Rayce staring at me, her eyes like hazel pools of honey.

Oh yeah. The woman hadn’t seen me on my ride before. The bike was a thing of beauty and sexy as fuck. Completely restored, there were only two words needed to describe it.
Wet. Dream.

I winked at Rayce before I hopped on and started the engine. With the motor gunning hard, I gave the signal.

We fell into easy formation. Brodie and me at the forefront. JB and Rayce behind us. Tucker and Handsome next followed by Tail who took up the back.

That December afternoon we streamed across Mt. Pleasant. The thunderous call of big pipes brought folks to their storefronts, their porches, their front yards with waves and whistles and thumbs-up.