RAGE: President & First Lady Of The Death Dealers MC (2 page)

***Raven***

“Back off, asshole. I said I’m not interested.”

“Bitch! You can’t talk to me like that.”

“I just did.”

I turn away from grease-monkey minion number four and stare
down at my nails in disinterest. I swear they all think they’re God’s gift to
all females. Women like Lonnie make them feel like they’re kings and every
woman belongs in their harem. Well, not me. No, sir. The biggest idiot of them
all is the leader of the grease-monkey minions. Gage. What the hell kind of
name is that, anyway? Stupid biker thinking I’d be impressed because he’s the
stupid president of a stupid motorcycle club.
Estúpido
. I don’t care who
he is. Everyone else in this town either kisses his ass or cowers in his
presence, but he’ll get neither reaction from me. Why did he come after me?
Lonnie and Super Head were standing right there.
Shit. Now I’m even using
his terminology. I need to get out of here.

I push away from the fence and start making my way to the
gate. The scent of greasy burgers hits me as I walk past the grill and my
stomach growls in anger. That’s right. I haven’t eaten all day. What the hell;
two more minutes can’t hurt. What would be the point of coming to a barbecue
and not taking advantage of the food? The man at the grill smiles as I
approach. He’s wearing a cut, so I know he’s a member. He’s old, though,
probably a relic from the original members. He reminds me of my grandpa. He has
kind, green eyes and an easy smile. I give him a smile of my own.

“Aren’t you a pretty little thing? What can I get you,
darlin’?”

“Those burgers smell pretty good.”

“Aah.”

He points at me with the spatula in his hand as he grabs the
buns and adds a slice of cheese to one of the patties on the grill.

“That would be my secret ingredient.”

On one bun, he piles lettuce, tomato, pickles, mustard, and
ketchup, but I stop him when he reaches for the onion. He places the patty on
the other and sets it on top. He makes quite a production of it before handing
me the paper plate and a few napkins. I can’t help but giggle.

“Dinner and a show?”

“Only for you, little darlin’.”

Before walking off, I take a bite and give him a thumbs-up.

“It’s delicious.”

He bows and turns to another girl who wanders up. I walk off
and grab a Coke from one of the big drums filled with ice and drinks littering
the property. Time to blow this Popsicle stand. I wrap my burger in one of the
napkins and toss the plate in a garbage can. I move back in the direction I
left Lonnie to tell her I’m leaving, but I find her grinding on one of the
minion’s laps. They might as well be fucking. Disgusting. I don’t need to see
that shit while I’m eating. I walk right past her and decide to send her a
text. My burger is gone by the time I reach the gates. It was awesome. It’s
probably the best part of this whole day. I toss the napkins and half-empty can
of Coke, and pop an Extra gum in my mouth. I can’t wait to get home and curl up
with a good book. I haven’t walked five minutes before a motorcycle pulls up
alongside me. I look over and roll my eyes in disgust.
Great
,
the
minion
boss
.

“Where you off to, Raven?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“No, but I still want to know.”

I stop walking and turn to face him. He comes to a stop
also, places both feet on the ground, and switches off the ignition. Then, he
removes his helmet and hangs it on the handle bar.

“Why?”

He grins, revealing what I think are the most perfect teeth
I’ve ever seen. That prompts me to take a good look at him. He has blue eyes,
but not like mine. They’re darker, in both color and intensity. His hair is a
light, golden brown at the roots and more golden blond at the ends. It’s most
likely natural; he doesn’t strike me as the type to sit in a salon getting his
hair colored. It sticks out in different directions like he doesn’t comb it,
but somehow it works for him.

He has the features of a movie star and could beat out Brad
Pitt any day. His lips are totally kissable and I want to bite into his full,
lower one. The stubble on his face means he hasn’t shaved in a few days—more
than a five o’ clock shadow, but not fully grown. It’s sexy as hell. He’s tall,
too. Well, taller than me, but that doesn’t mean much since most people are
taller than me. I’m only 5'4". He’s probably 6'3", maybe 6'4",
and from what I see of his arms, he’s pretty ripped. Not in a body-builder sort
of way, but lean and defined. Not bad for a grease monkey.

However, there seems to be something dark about him.
Something dangerous. He’s trouble with a capital T-R-O-U-B-L-E, not just the “T.”
It’s not the motorcycle, the tattoos running down both arms, or the one peeking
out of the neck of his shirt. It’s not the leather, combat boots, or ripped
jeans. Even if he was the picture of a Stepford husband, wearing an immaculate
three-piece suit, it would still be obvious. He’s not someone you want to mess
with. There’s something sinister lurking behind those good looks. I can tell
just by looking at him that everything I’ve heard is true. He not only has a
reputation as a badass, but as a player. Women all over town, probably all over
the world, have stories about him—hit-and-run stories. I’m not about to become
one of his victims.

“Let’s just say I have an inquisitive mind,” he says.

“Go stick your nose in someone else’s business.”

His gaze travels over my body, lingering in places it
shouldn’t. The heat of his appraisal burns away my clothes, leaving me feeling
naked. The unconcealed lust sends a shiver down my spine. I may not want him,
but when a hot guy looks at you like that…
shiiit
.  His eyes meet mine,
and I shift uncomfortably but hold his stare.

“I want to stick it in yours.”

And the spell is broken. I scoff at him and continue
walking. I have neither the time nor the inclination to listen to his double
entendres. I only get a few feet when he grabs me. Again.

“What is it with you and grabbing people? You ever heard of
personal space?”

He tightens his hold and pulls me close to him. My heart
rate speeds up. He tilts his head to the side and gazes into my eyes. Just like
that, the spell is cast once more. I’m unable to look away.

“Why do you keep running from me?”

“I’m not running. I’m leaving, going home.”

He loosens his grip and jerks his head toward his bike.

“Hop on. I’ll give you a ride.”

I step back, shaking my head. He watches me, quirking a
curious brow.

“Nuh-uh. There’s no way I’m getting on that thing.”

His lips curve up, and suddenly all I can think about is how
beautiful his smile is. I can’t let that cloud my judgment. I need to remember
who he is and what he represents.

“What, you scared?”

“I’m not scared. I just don’t want people thinking I’m
following in Lonnie’s steps. I have to think about my reputation.”

“I’m only offering you a ride home.”

“Yes, but
your
reputation precedes you.”

He shoves his hands in his pockets and nods in
understanding.

“It’s just a ride. Unless, of course, you want to ride me,
too.”

He gives me a smug smile and I narrow my eyes at him.
He
thinks he’s so smooth.

“I’ve heard you’re a player. If this is how you pick up
women, there’s something seriously wrong with them.”

“Actually, they usually try to pick
me
up.”

“Oh, God. It’s worse than I thought.”

He chuckles and steps into my space once more. My body is
hyperaware of him. Why do I have to be attracted to the very thing I need to
stay away from?

“Let me take you home.”

“That’s okay. I’ll walk.”

I turn around but before I can take a step, his voice, low
and commanding, stops me.

“Raven, it’s getting dark and I don’t want you walking
alone. I’m taking you home.”

Beyond the arrogance of him asserting his perceived control
over me, there’s a level of concern in his tone that affects me. Why would he
care? He doesn’t even know me. It’s obvious he’s interested in me, but I’ve
made my position quite clear. Is he just looking out for my safety, or is it a
tactic to blindside me? I face him once more and he flashes a crooked smile.

“Look, Mr.…?”

“Mr.? How old do you think I am?”

“I don’t know. How old do you think
I
am?”

His brows knit in concentration and a bit of concern as his
gaze rakes over my body.

“How old
are
you?” he asks.

“Again, none of your business.”

“Fine. Don’t tell me. I’ll still give you a ride.”

“You’re not going to leave me alone, are you?” I huff.

“Nope.”

I sigh and shake my head in resignation.
He’s a
persistent fucker.

“If I’m going to get on that motorcycle with you, I need to
at least know your last name.”

He grins and takes my hand in his huge, rough one.

“Hunter. Gage Hunter.”

“Raven Alvarez.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Alvarez.”

“You, too, Mr. Hunter.”

“Gage… please.”

“Okay, Gage. You may call me Miss Alvarez.”

He chuckles and gives my fingers a squeeze. That’s when I realize
he hasn’t let go.

“So, it’s like that?”

I nod, but can’t help my smile. His attitude is infectious.

“Yes, it’s like that.”

“Okay, cool.”

He grabs his helmet off his bike and hands it to me. I don’t
see an extra one.

“What about you?” I ask.

“Don’t worry about me. Your safety is all that matters.”

There he goes again. What’s his deal?
“And why is my
safety so important to you?”

His brows furrow and he blinks at me in confusion. After a
few tense seconds, his facial muscles relax and he looks me straight in the
eyes. Everything inside me comes alive. With just a look, he’s made me feel
safe, cared for, and
wanted
. It should be illegal for men to look at
women like that. Then again, maybe not. It should be
mandatory
for all
men to do it.

“It just is.”

With unsteady fingers, I place the helmet on my head. My
reaction to him makes no sense.
I just met him, for Christ’s sake. I don’t
even like him.
After I adjust the chinstrap, he extends his hand to me. I
stare down at it with uncertainty. To tell the truth, I
am
a little
scared.

“First time?”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Yeah, but I’m honored to pop your cherry. Been a while
since I had a virgin.”

“Tsk,” I tut in annoyance. I just want to smack that smirk
off his gorgeous lips. He chuckles, but I
do
not
find him
amusing.

“Let me give you a hand. Put your foot here.”

He helps me on and I wrap my arms around his waist after he
climbs on in front of me. Several scents hit me—leather, motor oil, cologne,
and… man. Doesn’t sound like a very good combination, but Lord, it smells
heavenly right now. I stare at the logo on the back of his cut—a Grim Reaper
dealing the death card from a pack of tarot cards. The name of his club sits on
top of the logo, the state at the bottom. Death Dealers Georgia.

“You stayin’ with Lonnie?”

“Yeah. The address is—”

“I know where it is.”

Of course he does. He’s probably been there many times. I
don’t even want to think about
why
he’s been there. He starts the engine
and kicks up the stand. The thing sends vibrations through my entire body, but
more so between my legs. Not a good combination with this man sitting in front
of me. Looking over his shoulder, he gives me a crooked grin as he revs the
engine.

“Hold on tight and lean into the turns.”

The bike lurches forward, and I involuntarily tighten my
arms around his waist and press my thighs to his.
Does he have to go so
fast? Why did I agree to get on this death machine?
I squeeze my eyes shut
and visualize myself getting home—safely. We come to a stop and I tentatively
open my eyes. It’s just a stoplight. A few people on the sidewalk stop in their
tracks to gawk at us. Great. Just what I need. I turn away from their
penetrating stares only to encounter the same thing on the opposite side of the
street.  What’s the big deal? Hopefully no one can see my face clearly. I say a
silent thank you as we start to move again. Resting my cheek to his back, I
close my eyes, and try to concentrate on the one good thing about this ordeal—the
smell of him. Well, maybe two. His body feels good, too.

“We’re here, baby doll.”

I open my eyes and blink in disorientation. We’re in my
driveway. Shit. I was so lost in him I didn’t even realize we’d stopped moving.
I release him and reach up to remove my helmet. He puts the stand down and
climbs off, extending his hand to me. As I reach for it, he pulls away.

“You know, you look good sittin’ there on the back of my
bike.”

“I bet you tell all the girls that.”

He chuckles and shakes his head.

“You, beautiful Raven, are the first woman who’s ever ridden
on any of my bikes.”

Any
of his bikes? Just how many does he own?

“Yeah, right.”

“I’m serious. Didn’t you see all those people staring at
you?”

“I did. What’s up with that?”

“That’s why. They’ve never seen me ride with a woman.”

“Well, I hope they got their fill, ’cause it’s the first
and
last time I’ll be on this thing.”

He extends his hand again and I place mine in his. He
squeezes my fingers gently.

“It’s the first but definitely not the last, baby doll.”

I scoff at him and swing my leg over the bike. It’s dark,
but I need to get inside before anyone else sees me. My feet touch the ground
and my knees buckle. I fall forward but two strong arms catch me and pull me
against a hard chest. Instantly, my breathing accelerates. I keep my head down
because I fear what he’ll see in my eyes if I look up at him.