Rush - Blue Devils MC Book 2 (Book 1 Included FREE for a short time only!) (27 page)

She doodled around the edge of the paper, thinking.

In the end, she closed her laptop and shoved her notes into her laptop bag. She had to give up for the evening. It could be any of a million crazy ideas, and without any more evidence, she’d just be spinning her wheels. She changed into her PJs and crawled into bed, curling up with
No Angel: My Harrowing Undercover Journey to the Inner Circle of the Hells Angels
.

She sure knew how to pick a nice vacation read.

Chapter 9

~ Lain ~

Lain drove back to his apartment, cursing under his breath as he went. Inviting Ella out to Copper Lode was just about the most dumbass idea Brock had ever come up with. Ella wasn’t stupid. Ella saw that every person in that clubhouse was glancing back at Brock before telling her what time of day it was. She knew the club was hiding something from her - he could see it in her eyes. It was just a question of how much she’d figure out before heading back to New York City.

And then, to have her ask Brock about becoming president…she couldn’t have known what an awful question that was. No doubt Brock thought Lain had put her up to it, just to be a jackass.

Fuuucccckkkkk…

The club had been divided after Brock’s dad died, with many of the members wanting Lain to become president. Brock had always been a little more willing to break the law and run roughshod over the rules than either of their fathers or the other members had been comfortable with.

But Lain also knew that if it came down to it, Brock wouldn’t back down from what he saw as rightfully his. The club would be split in two, and Lain just couldn’t let it happen. So he had approached Brock with a compromise - Brock could be president and Lain would be his vice-president. Brock agreed but Lain knew it’d always rankled Brock that members of the club had wanted Lain more, and had been willing to fight for him.

Ella had no way of knowing that Brock’s pride had been hurt, and even now, years later, he was touchy about it. Based on Brock’s dickish response, she’d figured out that something was wrong but how could she know any more than that? And Lain…he wasn’t sure he wanted to tell her. Brock would flip the fuck out if Lain told her anything more than two-word answers when it came to club business.

For all of Brock’s street smarts, he’d never been able to read people well or figure out what made them tick. It would require too much empathy and willingness to see things from other people’s viewpoint. He seemed to honestly think that telling Ella absolutely
nothing
would keep her in the dark, she would go home, and everything would be fine. How Brock could cling to this idea, even after meeting Ella, was beyond Lain.

Yup, Brock was being a real dumbass.

Lain pulled into the parking lot and headed into his apartment. Night was falling and so everything was finally starting to cool off a bit, but a nice stint in front of the AC would be a great way to end the day.

Before he settled in for the night, he hopped in the shower to rinse off. As he scrubbed down, he closed his eyes, leaning against the shower wall as he ran the soap over his body.

And almost by magic, there she was. Smiling. Green eyes crinkling in the corner. Biting her lower lip in concentration. Long eyelashes sweeping closed, cutting off his view into her world, until she opened her eyes again, looking into his.

And God, her
curves
…his hand ran down to his cock and he began running a soapy hand over it as he remembered every detail of her amazing body. She had these tits that he couldn’t decide what he wanted to do with them first - bury his face between them or suck on their pink tips. Her stomach would be soft and welcoming. And damn, did he want to fuck her ass…

He hadn’t fucked a sheep, a prostitute, or even a knot hole in the fence since meeting Ella. This was ridiculous. Why was he letting a New York bitch wreak havoc on his sex life like this??

Because she’s not a bitch. She’s not a sheep. She’s not going to fuck Brock or you or anyone else for a hit of crack. She’s fucking smart and funny and too fucking sexy for her own fucking good.

It was steamy in the shower as he ran his hands over his cock, stroking, imagining her mouth on him, sucking, soft pink tongue on his dick…

He spurted load after load over his hand and down the drain. He leaned against the shower wall, letting the hot water rinse his seed and his stress away.

Chapter 10

~ Ella ~

Ella woke up and stretched. She’d had the most amazing dream about Lain. He’d been kissing and nibbling his way up her right leg when…the person in the room next door had started thumping around, waking her up.

Dammit!

She headed to the bathroom to shower and get ready. As she did, she thought back, past her delicious dream, to yesterday. So far, she’d made almost no progress on either article. Unless Dan wanted an in-depth article on the joys of authentic Mexican food, she really was in trouble.

She’d been sent to Arizona to do an article on Brock, but he’d passed her off to Lain. Lain was certainly drool worthy and she knew Dan wouldn’t mind a photoshoot and article about him instead, but did she really want to focus on Lain? Did she really want to offer Lain up as fresh meat for all of the
Pout
readership to fantasize over? Focusing on a motorcycle club member and writing an article that made him seem delicious enough to eat was fine…right up until she wanted to eat him up herself.

Dammit!

She was
not
supposed to get attached to Lain! She couldn’t feel possessive over him. He was the focus of an article, nothing more, nothing less. When he read her article in the
Huffington Post
, exposing the Blue Devils and their deal (if one really did exist) with the Chupacabras, he was never going to forgive her. She couldn’t let things get even more complicated between them.

And she sure as hell couldn’t allow him to nibble his way up her legs.

With that firmly etched in her mind, she dressed and styled her hair with 10 minutes to spare. Not too bad. But with nothing left to fuss over, she stood at the front window and stared out into the parking lot. Beige adobe-style buildings as far as the eye could see. It was boring and dull and it almost hurt her eyes to look at it. After the hustle and bustle of New York City - the smells, the lights, the energy on the streets, it was hard to believe that this was even the same country. Dusty, brown, dead, dull…

The only green she’d seen was on their ride up into the mountains. She longed for another ride, the wind rushing past, the storm clouds boiling in the distance, and no threatening looks from Brock.

The honk from Lain snapped her out of her reverie. He’d pulled up on his Harley in front of her room without her even noticing. As she grabbed her purse and slipped on her sandals, she quickly reviewed the game plan: Whether it was Lain or Brock or both who would answer questions, she
had
to start getting some information out of them, or she wouldn’t have a job when she got back. She had to stay focused, and she absolutely, positively, under no circumstances whatsoever, should fantasize over Lain’s biceps.

Or stomach muscles.

This seemed rather straightforward when she was standing alone in her motel room, but as she swung her right leg over to mount the bike and wrapped her arms around Lain’s waist, it suddenly became much more…complicated. She placed her cheek against his back, snuggling in, breathing in leather and aftershave and a clean desert smell that was unique to Lain. She closed her eyes.

She’d worry about keeping him at arm’s length later, when she didn’t have her arms wrapped around him.

They grabbed breakfast burritos at a local Mexican restaurant - another revelation that Mexican food could be a breakfast food also! - and as they ate, Ella asked Lain increasingly more specific questions.

“Do the Blue Devils have income streams other than the trucking business?”

“What do you think about having Brock as the president - has this worried you?”

“How can the Blue Devils afford to have members sitting around in a club all day? Don’t you guys need them out driving something somewhere?” She waved her burrito around to emphasize her point when she asked this question, and then decided that she’d ignore the fact that she’d chucked potatoes and bacon around with her movement. If she pretended it didn’t happen, then it didn’t happen, right?

Lain…Lain was killing her. His answers fell somewhere between evasion and downright refusal to answer. He didn’t answer the question of the club being able to afford to have members sitting around, but he did open up about their drivers.

“Actually, most members don’t drive for us,” he said, his eyes lighting up with the excitement that came with finally having something he could say. “When the Blue Devils first started, the idea had been to have the members all get their CDLs and have them drive for the trucking company as a job. After all, the Blue Devils were formed in order to give Vietnam vets a way of integrating back into society, right? And there are still members who do that.

“But when I took over the trucking part, I realized that so many members just didn’t want anything to do with it. They joined because they loved taking apart motorcycles and riding and Harleys. They didn’t join so they could be stuck behind the wheel of a semi for days at a time. So I removed that requirement and started hiring drivers who weren’t members, and allowing members to quit driving if they wanted.

“Like I told you before, this caused a big stir at the time - some of the older members were pissed off at me for a while - but eventually, things smoothed out and the trucking business has become much more profitable. And members have been given the ability to do what they want - ride a motorcycle.”

Lain finished and then stared at her, a little wide-eyed. She could see it in his eyes - shock that he’d told her so much. Had he told her too much? Had he said something he shouldn’t have?

She snapped her notebook closed that she’d been taking notes in and smiled at him. Lain would open up to her yet, if it killed him to do it.

“You ready to head to the clubhouse?” she asked brightly. He nodded without saying a word and they headed out the door. As they stepped out of the restaurant door and hit the wall of heat that had already built at 10:30 in the morning, Ella fanned her shirt.

It was going to be a long-ass morning.

~ Lain ~

As they rode to the clubhouse, Lain cursed himself. With no other woman did he open up like that. What possessed him to shoot off his mouth and tell her about CDLs and members feeling forced into driving and the difficulties that had come with that change? She didn’t care. Females didn’t care about shit like that. He’d fucked a hundred hot sheep who were shared among all of the Blue Devil members. Sheep were given that name for a reason - they were females who didn’t think for themselves. They were there to fuck, and they fucked any man with a cut on, sometimes multiple men in a gangbang. Willing or not, all of their holes were used, and used well.

But…

Ella wasn’t a sheep. Ella cared about CDLs and members being pissed and the headaches that came with managing a trucking business. Ella had been interested and inquisitive and her eyes had glowed with fascination. She hadn’t been politely listening - she’d been truly curious.

Which was 95% of the problem, of course. He wasn’t supposed to be telling a reporter
anything
. Brock had barely given them permission to give her the name of the club, and Lain was sure that only happened because it was stitched into their cuts.

But Brock had been crystal clear on the topic - no sharing of
any
information, no matter how big or small, with Ella. They couldn’t let anything slip that might lead her to the realization that the club was dealing in drugs and guns. She couldn’t find out that they had this deal going down next week with the
Chupas
, the biggest deal the Blue Devils had ever put together.

The stonewalling though…instead of throwing her off the trail, it just seemed to encourage her questions. He didn’t know how much longer he could hide shit from her.

As they wound their way through the streets, Ella hanging on tight, pressing her amazing tits against his back, he got uncomfortably hard. At a stop sign, he shifted on the seat, trying to adjust himself without actually looking like he was adjusting himself. He took her the long way to the clubhouse because…well, because her tits felt amazing. With her arms wrapped around him, he felt like he could accomplish anything. With her arms wrapped around him, he felt free. Free in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Finally, they pulled up to the clubhouse and Lain turned off his Harley. The rumble of the engine gone, he felt a certain loss. The feeling of freedom and fuck it and the high that he got from Ella’s body pressed against his was just gone.

She swung her leg off and unbuckled her helmet, then pulled her purse out of his saddlebag. He stared at her, unsmiling, as he unbuckled his helmet. She was too goddamn beautiful for her own good. Last night in the shower, he’d forgotten how delicious her legs were by half. And how much he wanted to shove his hands into her hair and hold her as he fucked her.

Goddamn motherfucking son-of-a-bitch
.

There was no way he could get off the bike sporting a boner. He had to send her in ahead of him until he could get his dick to calm the fuck down. Maybe he’d take a ride that afternoon to let off some steam. Without her. And her arms and her tits and her legs pressed against his.

“Go on inside - I’ll be there in a moment,” he said, his voice gruff. She pulled back, startled by his manner but he didn’t care. He had to get rid of her before he made an ass out of himself.

“Go on in. You know where to go.”

She gave him a hurt, befuddled look, and then walked away without a word of protest. He watched her ass as she walked away, and then closed his eyes and groaned. Watching her sweet ass was
not
helping the situation.

Lain thought of his mother and the logistics of transporting freight across country borders and how Brock was making him act like an ass to Ella, until he felt his dick subside. There, that was better. He parked his bike under the sliver of shade available and then headed into the clubhouse.

There, his blood ran cold. Brock was leaning over Ella, focusing his smile and attention on her. She was smiling back up at him. “Yeah, I’d love to do a photoshoot of you today,” he heard her say cheerfully. They headed outside, Brock with his hand on the small of her back, winking at Lain as they passed. Ella didn’t meet his eyes; her back was straight, eyes forward. Oh yeah, she was pissed.

Brock considered her to be fair game. He figured she’d be like the other sheep who were willing to fuck any man in the club, all for the privilege of being able to claim that she’d slept with a Blue Devil.

But Lain knew she wouldn’t. Ella was not a sheep. Ella was not willing to be passed around from member to member.

Without a moment’s hesitation, he turned on his heel and went back outside. He had to watch the photoshoot. He had to make sure that Ella was okay.

As he walked though, he began to question his motives. He’d never felt protective of any other hot chick who’d come to the club. He had never felt like he had to protect any of the other sheep from Brock. Why was he so protective of Ella? He came around the corner and saw Brock on the bike, posing, Ella with a camera in hand. She must’ve been carrying it in that giant bag she called a purse.

“Okay, turn your right arm a little,” she said, and then moved Brock’s arm down a little. “Tilt your head…there, that’s perfect.” The shutter was going wild on the camera, and Lain wondered how many photos she was taking per minute. Did she really need that many photos of Brock?

He tried to tamp down his jealousy, but he found it ridiculously difficult. “Smile a little more,” Ella called out. “There, our readers are going to love that.”
Click click click
. “I’d like to have some close-ups of your biceps and tats on your arms with your hand gripping the handlebar. Here, like that. Perfect!”
Click click click
.

Lain gritted his teeth. She didn’t have to seem so…happy with it all. Didn’t she know Brock was a bastard who beat the women he slept with? What if he talked her into his bed and she woke up in the morning with bruises all over her body? There was no way she’d leave that out of the article she wrote.

What would happen to the club?

And what would happen to her?

And goddammit, why was he more worried about her than he was his club?

“That’s probably good,” Ella said, smiling up at Brock. “Thanks for being such a good sport and so willing to work with me on this. Did you have anything you wanted me to include in the article?” She whipped out a recorder out of her purse and hit record as Brock rattled on about how much the club meant to him and brotherhood and all of the other shit that Lain didn’t even know if Brock believed. Apparently, having Ella’s full attention on him and her camera taking every goddamn photo from every goddamn angle possible had completely wiped all worry about her from his mind. Here was someone who was fawning over him, and Brock loved every moment of it.

Lain hated every moment of it. He felt his hands ball into fists. He didn’t know how much more torture he could take.