Rush - Blue Devils MC Book 2 (Book 1 Included FREE for a short time only!) (24 page)

~ Lain ~

Ella suddenly went white on him. He reached across the table, alarmed.

“Are you okay?” he asked, holding her arm. Since he’d gotten the lemonade down her, she’d come back from the dead - the color returning to her cheeks, normality returning to her speech. Everything was fine.

But now, she’d gone back to sheet white again, and weirdly silent. He could tell already that Ella wasn’t someone to hold back. If she thought something, she said it. She probably talked in her sleep.

Out of nowhere, she turned and smiled at him, a 1000-watt smile directed right at him. His stomach flipped - dammit she was sexy - but he knew she’d intended just that response.

“No, everything is great,” she said, over-enthusiastically. He stared at her. What kind of bullshit was she pulling on him?

“Let’s head out - I’d like to go take a shower at my hotel and clean up, if you wouldn’t mind.”

“Sure. Fuck. Whatever.” He stood up and strode towards to the front cash register, ignoring her. After he paid the bill, he walked out the front door, not bothering to hold it open for her as he went. She was fucking lying, and it bothered him a little more than it should have to realize that. And
that
bothered him even more. He shouldn’t care if Bitch Reporter from New York City was lying to him. In fact, just that morning, he’d expected exactly that from her. So why was he suddenly allowing it to affect him?

He brought the Lobos to life and let it idle for a moment to give the AC a chance to catch up. They’d scored a parking spot in the shade, making it a little easier on his truck to cool down.

“I’m sor—”

“I’m dropping you off,” he cut her off. “Then you can shower or whatever the fuck you want to do. I’ll pick you up at ten o’clock tomorrow.”

“Ten? Isn’t that a little late?”

“Honey,” he said sarcastically, “we’re motorcyclists, not bankers. We don’t keep regular business hours. If you want to go to the clubhouse at eight in the morning, you’re going to find yourself staring at a bunch of empty bar stools.”

“Oh.” They rode in silence to her roach motel. Lain had been surprised when Brock had told him that Ella would be staying at El Rancho Motel.
Pout
certainly didn’t waste money on accommodations for their reporters. He pulled up in front of the office and got out of the truck without saying a word, following her into the building. She got checked in - A13 - and got the key for the room.

He walked back out to the truck and chucked her bags on the ground. “Be ready at 10 tomorrow,” he tossed over his shoulder before climbing into his truck and driving away. He knew he was being a complete asshole but couldn’t bring himself to care. She wanted to lie to him, she could deal with the consequences.

Before he even realized it, he’d pulled up into his spot at the clubhouse. He couldn’t even remember the drive over. That was scary shit, driving on auto-pilot.

That was scary shit, enjoying a reporter’s smile.

He cut that thought off right there. Brock would want a report out of him, and he would have to give him that before anything else.

Lain found him wrapped around the cute blonde sheep who’d been hitting on him the other night. She was moving up in the world, from VP to Pres. What-fucking-ever.

“Brock, I’m back,” he announced loudly over their tongue slurping duel.
Fucking get a room already.

Brock looked up and slowly brought his eyes into focus through a haze of lust. “Oh,” then seconds later, a more coherent, “Sorry darlin’, I have to go talk to Lain for a moment. Don’t you move a muscle,” and smacked her on the ass. She grinned flirtatiously up at him, and then turned that wattage on Lain. He had the sneaking feeling she’d be all over a threesome.

He turned and walked away, back to the chapel. He and Brock sat down at the table that dominated the room - stainless steel and oversized, it was the home of countless club decisions.

“So, what happened?” Brock quizzed him. “Is she going to cause us problems?”

Lain hesitated for a moment. The unequivocal answer to that question was a
hell yes
, Ella was nothing but a bundle of problems with a little dash of fuckery thrown in for fun. She’d lied to him over lunch - dinner - linner -
fuck why did I allow myself to go there??
- and she was no more naive and stupid than a copperhead was friendly and cuddly. She was nothing but one fuckable delicious bundle of fucking problems.

“Nah, she’ll be fine. She spent a lot of time asking about the trucking business end of things. She never even hinted at any of the other shit we do.” It was amazing how the truth and the lie flowed together so well, and so easily. He shifted uncomfortably. Lying to his Pres wasn’t something he’d ever expected to do, and the worst part was, he didn’t even know why he did it.

Fucking fucking fuckety fuck fuck!

“Good,” Brock said, letting out a sigh of relief. “I knew I could trust you. Now, I’ve got a hot ass to hit. I’m loving the new sheep choices we’ve got showing up at our front doors,” he said, standing up. “God bless
Sons of Anarchy
- every girl wants to fuck a biker now. What’re your plans tonight?”

“I better head back home. I’ve got a lot to do tonight.”

“Oh!” Brock said, surprised. “There’s another new girl tonight - my blondie brought her in with her. I think she’ll be the perfect sheep - she seems open to experiments.”

Lain knew what Brock meant by that, and wanted no part of it. Brock liked it a little rougher than the women usually did, and they didn’t tend to stick around after he’d spent a night roughing ‘em up. Lain wasn’t into whipping and crying bitches begging for mercy, something Brock never seemed to wrap his mind around.

“Nah. I’m good. Thanks for offering. Maybe make it a two-fer?”

Brock grinned. “Two bitches to play with. Now there’s an evening I can get excited about. I think I even have a little extra blow in the back. They’ll do just about anything for a hit of the shit I have.”

Lain shuddered inwardly. Why the fuck you’d want to fuck someone who was strung out on drugs was beyond him. Brock hadn’t crossed over from dealer and distributor to user - yet - but he liked to offer it to the women
he fucked. He said it made them more pliable.

“I’m out. Catch ya tomorrow,” Lain said, before he said something he’d regret. He passed by the table with the blonde and her red-headed friend, and they both smiled coyly at him as he walked by. He gave them an abrupt nod of the head and left.

He was losing his touch, no question about it.

Chapter 6

~ Lain ~

He knocked on A13 and checked the time on his iPhone. Perfect - right on time. One of his biggest pet peeves was being late to anything.

Ella opened the door and shot him a smile. “Hey Lain! Let me grab my key and purse.” She disappeared for a moment and then reappeared. “Ready?”

He automatically moved to the side to follow her back to his truck but inside, he was reeling in shock. She was ready. On time. She didn’t make him wait for 15 minutes while she fucked around in the bathroom. She didn’t play any games. She was just…ready to go.

He watched her walk around to the passenger side of the truck and swallowed hard, then shifted himself in his jeans, trying to get comfortable. Her legs were a goddamn mile long, he’d swear it. She had on these short jean shorts that just barely covered the curve of her ass cheek and this top that was sheer and flowy and shit but clung to all the right curves. He had stupidly followed her to her side of the truck, entranced by her ass, and realized too late what he’d done. He closed the door behind her with a fake smile pasted on his face, and then jogged to his side.

He had to keep his head in the game. She was not an option. Them together, in bed, with those legs wrapped around him and his fingers wrapped up in her thick gorgeous blonde hair…

Fuck it!

He shifted himself one more time before opening up his door and climbing in.

None of this is an option. Just focus and keep your head on and stay away. Far away.

“Have you eaten breakfast yet?” His voice came out with a croak and he cleared it.

Far, far away
.

“No, they…ummm…don’t offer a continental breakfast at El Rancho.”

He finished her unspoken thought,
Or much else.
He was still in shock that her editor had booked her at such a shithole. Were all New Yorkers such dumbasses?

He pulled into the
Drive or Dive
parking lot. “Well, based on yesterday’s fiasco, I think we oughta start with some food.” She looked up at the restaurant through the windshield and he knew exactly what she was thinking.

“It doesn’t look like much, I know, but the food is better than it looks. And I’d rather that they spent money on the food than on the paint job. Let’s go.”

As he opened the door to the DoD, the smell hit his nose and he breathed in appreciatively. It flashed into his mind, unbidden - Ella, laying on a table, legs spread, her generous tits begging for him to play with them. He pours maple syrup over them and licks them off, sucks them off…

He snapped back to the present to find Ella was staring up at him, and the waitress too.
Oh God, I’m losing it, standing here daydreaming about Ella and maple syrup for fuck’s sake.

He knew they were waiting for a response and so he made his best guess at an appropriate answer.

“I’m good wherever,” he shrugged nonchalantly. The waitress cocked her head at him for a moment, but shrugged and walked towards one of the back tables. “Here okay?” she asked, snapping her gum.

“Yeah, fine,” Lain said and slid into the booth across from Ella. The snapping of gum threw him back to what he’d originally thought Ella was going to be like - a gum chewing, obnoxious New Yorker with an awful New York accent. And a chihuahua.

Well, one out of four ain’t bad. Yeah, her accent was awful, but otherwise…

“So, how did you sleep last night?” he asked, trying to keep his eyes locked on hers. Absolutely
no
looking down at her magnificent tits. She smiled painfully.

“I think the term ‘roach motel’ originated at El Rancho. I may not have seen any roaches last night, but I did find a scorpion. I may or may not have screamed at the top of my lungs.” She grinned at him. “The motel owner came running. I don’t think he appreciated me yelling my TripAdvisor review at him at two in the morning. If I live through this trip, I’m
so
going to kill my boss. I know the bastard chose El Rancho because it was the cheapest on the list. He grew up here in Copper Lode. He should’ve known better.”

Lain figured he probably did know better, but didn’t care. Dan had also placed his trust in Brock to protect Ella. He suddenly had an urge to kill Dan before Ella could get to him, so he could do it nice and slow. The bastard didn’t seem to give two flying fucks about his own reporter.

They enjoyed a delicious breakfast together, and Lain found himself slowing down. Enjoying it. Lingering. Ella made him laugh. And relax. He breathed a little easier around her. Which he so shouldn’t do, and he knew that, but somehow couldn’t make himself care. He shouldn’t relax around a reporter a week before a huge gun deal. He shouldn’t relax around a reporter who was smart and funny and easy to be around, because she could get under his skin and ruin everything.

But he couldn’t seem make himself stop.

Finally, they’d dawdled enough, so they headed to the clubhouse. He could tell Ella was nervous but he also knew the guys would love her as much as he did.

Love her?!

He almost slammed on the brakes.

Where the ever loving fucking hell had that come from?

He didn’t love her. He barely tolerated her. She was the enemy. She was going to ruin his MC. He couldn’t forget that for one moment.

By time they got to the clubhouse, he’d finally managed to get his head back into the game. Here was Enemy #1 and he needed to treat her like it.

“Come on, let’s go,” he said, heading into the clubhouse. She hurried to catch up with him - he could hear her footsteps behind him - but he didn’t slow down for her. This was exactly how he should be treating her - how he should’ve treated her all along. They entered the dark, smoky, cool interior of the clubhouse and he breathed a sigh of relief. He could finally dump her off onto someone else’s lap. He checked his phone - 11:15? Longest damn breakfast of his life.

He walked towards the guys clustered towards the back. “Hey everyone. This is Ella. She’s here from
Pout
Magazine
to do a news article on
real
motorcycle clubs. Brock invited her here, so be nice.”

Brock, who must’ve heard the talking, came walking out right then. He flashed his most seductive smile at Ella and then gave Lain a look that clearly said,
You’ve been holding out on me
. He held out his hand to Ella. “Welcome to the Blue Devils, Ella. You’ll really enjoy it here.”

She shook his hand and they chatted for a moment, and then Brock looked at Lain. “I’ve gotta get some shit done. I’ll catch up with you later.” He walked over to one of the bikers and started talking to him in a low voice and then walked out of the room. Lain turned towards Ella.

“Well, there’s your guys,” he said, gesturing towards his fellow MCers. “Fire away.”

He went to the bar and ordered a Jack and Coke. He could watch her from there; he could make sure she was okay without hovering too much. Or smelling her perfume too much. Breathing in her light, clean scent made him want to bury his nose in her hair.

Yeah, it was better if he stayed over here.