Rush - Blue Devils MC Book 2 (Book 1 Included FREE for a short time only!) (38 page)

~ Ella ~

In a daze, Ella watched as the EMT personnel loaded Brock onto the stretcher and carried him outside. She’d never seen a dead person in real life before. Other than the ones in caskets, of course. Who died of natural causes, not of gunshot wounds inflicted by her boyfriend.

Boyfriend?!

Was he her boyfriend? What…what were they to each other? She sat down heavily on the bed, the music (that’d somehow, she noted absentmindedly, restarted, despite the alarm clocks laying in pieces on the table), the chatting, and the loud, alcohol-fueled laughter all swirling around her. Although it seemed odd on the surface to be celebrating after such an awful event, she realized that the members were celebrating their survival. These were men who lived on the edge, and tonight, they’d beaten the reaper one more time, against all odds.

And they also had the almost magical ability to produce alcohol out of thin air. She hadn’t seen a bottle or beer can the whole time during set-up, and then…magic. The alcohol appeared and the drinking started. A talent, really.

“How you doing?” Rush asked, startling Ella out of her thoughts. He sat down next to her, pushing his blond hair out of his eyes. She’d not spent much - okay, virtually any - time around Rush, but she felt like she already knew him. Lain trusted him implicitly, and although he hadn’t said as much to Ella, she wouldn’t be surprised if he made Rush his vice-president.

“Good,” she finally said, realizing she’d waited too long - awkwardly long - to answer his simple question. She glanced around the room, carefully averting her eyes from the blood splatters on the walls and floor. “I’ve not…” she swallowed hard, “ever seen a dead man before. Not a bloody one anyway. They don’t usually lay them out in the funeral parlor with blood and guts on display.” She smiled with grim humor at Rush and he threw his head back with a laugh.

“No, I don’t suppose that’s common practice,” he finally said as his chuckles died down. He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, leaning his head against hers. They sat there for who knows how long, Ella just reveling in the feeling of safety, her eyes drifting shut as the adrenaline wore off and her energy waned.

“Hey, you hittin’ on my girl?”

Lain’s voice broke through the sleepy haze that Ella had wrapped herself in. She sat straight up as Rush laughed, his arm dropping from around her.

“Just giving a pretty girl a hug,” he said, standing up and punching Lain’s shoulder lightly as he passed.

“Find a different pretty girl to hug,” Lain growled, and scooped Ella up into his arms, carrying her through the motel room to a chorus of cheers and whistles. Lain seemed to ignore the noises but Ella’s face turned brilliant red. For the thousandth time in her life, she cursed her fair skin that showed her blushes so easily.

He started to head towards the adjoining room, carrying her as easily as he’d carry a feather pillow, but then stopped, realizing that the cops and chief had taken up residence in the room, apparently using it as their headquarters for the investigation. He walked out the front door, into the parking lot, and down towards the motel office instead.

“Lain, put me down,” Ella said, beating his shoulder lightly in protest as he walked. She was torn between hiding her face against his shoulder and beating him more. So she settled for both.

He ignored her protests, only putting her down when they got to the motel office door and he couldn’t figure out a way to open the door with his hands full of her. He grabbed her hand and pulled her tightly against him, and then opened the door of the office, her hand in a death grip.

The proprietor came up to the front desk.

“Lain, I ain’t happy!” he started yelling. “You wanna rent two rooms and the next thing I know, I’ve got gunshots and broken windows and cops and dead bodies being carried through the parking lot. I ain’t had a chance to look at the rooms yet, but I know there’s blood all over the place and I have to pay to clean that shit up, you know. It doesn’t just magically disappear. And this kinda shit ain’t good for business! I hafta make a livin’, you know?”

He opened his mouth, apparently not done yet, but Lain let go of Ella’s hand and pulled his wallet out. “I know. I’m real sorry, Fred. Here, I want to pay you for your troubles.” He pulled a thick stack of bills out of his pocket and Ella’s eyes grew wide. He was pulling out more cash than she’d ever seen in one place before. He laid the money on the counter and then pulled out a few more Grants and laid them on top. “And that’s in case any newspaper reporter comes sniffing around. I want you to forget tonight ever happened.”

Ella snorted, unable to believe her eyes. Here was her -
boyfriend??
- paying off a motel owner to forget someone like her even existed. Lain looked down and winked at her. Grinning, he looked up at Fred and said, “Oh, and this,” he pulled out a Franklin, “is to rent another room for the night.”

Mollified, Fred picked up his thick stash of cash and pocketed it. “Well, I’m sure I’ve got another one. You want it right next to the two you already have?”

“Oh God, please no,” he said drily. “I think that may keep me from my…uh…planned activities.”

Fred gave a leering grin at Ella and said, “Of course, of course.” Lain cleared his throat loudly, and suddenly Fred involved himself in finding a key for their new room, his grin gone.

“So what’s the story gonna be?” Fred asked. “If I’m gonna help you keep reporters at bay, I oughta at least know what the official story is.”

“Well, Brock was cleaning his gun, and somehow, he shot himself in the back of the head with it. I guess you can never be too careful with a loaded firearm, eh?” Lain said drily.

Fred chuckled and handed the room key over. “Number 12, down at that end of the parking lot,” he said, pointing towards the road.

“Thanks, Fred,” Lain said, and, recapturing Ella’s hand, he dragged her back out of the office and towards the motel room.

Pulling her into the dark, cool room, he shoved the door closed and pulled Ella tight against his chest. Stroking his hands through her hair, he asked softly, “You okay?”

She smiled, her cheek pressed against his chest, listening to his heart thump in time with hers. “Yeah,” she said, almost a whisper. “I’m okay.”

“I shouldn’t have let you be there. I don’t care how much you beg and plead, the next shoot-out, I’m hiding you at my mother’s house until it’s over. In
her
bedroom closet.”

Ella pulled back and stared up into his eyes. “Is there going to be another shootout?” she asked.

“Well, I guess not. God, I forgot already that we’re going straight. Damn, this is going to be a lot to wrap my mind around - the Blue Devils doing it right. Like we shoulda been doing all along.”

He pulled her arms up so he could remove her t-shirt, then reached around and unhooked her black lace bra. “Not,” he said in a husky voice, “that I mind such a sexy bra on you, but I thought we ought to get…comfortable.”

“Right. Comfortable,” Ella echoed, laughter in her voice.

He unzipped her jean shorts and pulled them down, letting them pool at her feet.

“
Real
comfortable,” he said as he pulled her matching black lace panties down. “I’d hate for you not to be…uh…comfortable.” He swallowed hard as he stepped back, his eyes following her curves down and back up again. He yanked his cut and t-shirt off, then dropped his pants. He was going commando, something that allowed Ella to admire his half-erect cock with great enthusiasm. It grew ever larger under her appreciative gaze.

“Ella…” Lain said, his voice cracking under the strain. “I was going to just hold you and make sure you were really okay. I didn’t want to push myself on you - not after what just happened.”

Ella reached forward with eager hands and surrounded his now fully hardened cock in her hands. “We can do the tender stuff later, promise,” she said, her voice breathy and sexy as fuck. “But right now, I’d like you to console me another way.”

She stroked her hands up and down his length and he threw his head back in pleasure.

“Oh fuuuucccckkkk,” he hissed. “Yes, I—”

She placed a finger against his lips. “I think we’ve done enough talking for the evening.” She walked him backwards towards the bed, and then pushed him down onto it and crawled up his thighs, straddling him. “I think,” she leaned over and kissed the tip of his cock, “that it’s time,” she kissed it again, “that you,” she flicked her tongue against the tip, “let someone else,” a little deeper into her mouth this time, “be in charge.”

She took his full length into her mouth and he groaned in ecstasy as she ran her mouth up and down its wide, full length. She swirled her tongue on the tip and then dove back down, sucking as she went. He bucked his hips, groaning.

“Ahhh…Ella,” he half-yelled, half-moaned.

She popped her mouth off his cock. “Oh no you don’t,” she said, mockingly stern. “If you can’t keep quiet, I may be forced to stuff something into
your
mouth.”

He lifted his head off the covers and she was sure he was about to say, “Like my bandana?” when she talked over him. “Like my panties,” she said with a wiggle of her eyebrows.

“Argh!!” he groaned, flopping his head against the mattress. She grinned, a little too evilly probably, and jumped off the bed. She hadn’t planned on doing this but once the words escaped her mouth, it just seemed like the perfect, sexy revenge for their camping fuck.

She grabbed her lace panties off the floor, wadded them up, crawled up beside Lain, and popped them into his mouth. “Much better,” she said with satisfaction, and then began working her way down his body, sucking and nibbling across his tats and his washboard stomach. She worked her way back down to his cock and began sucking on it again. He reached out, stroking his hands up her thighs and into her wet center. He ran his fingertips up and down her, dipping into her wetness and back out again.

She couldn’t stand it any longer; she swung around to face him, and eased her body down over his cock. “Yeessss…” she groaned happily as he filled her up. She began moving up and down, enjoying every stroke of his hard length inside of her. He reached forward and grabbed her hips, guiding her, pulling her, pushing her towards ecstasy. The fever pitch got higher and higher inside of her, she was…she was almost…

“Yeeeessssssss!!!” she yelled, her back arching, her world exploding into a million different colors. Lain jerked his hips upwards and she felt him spray her with his seed. His hands gripped her hips tightly as they climaxed together, wave after wave washing over her.

Finally, she drifted down to reality and lazily opened her eyes and smiled down at him. She reached over and plucked out her panties. He ran his tongue over his lips to remoisten them.

“So, am I free to gag you anytime?” she asked teasingly.

“Anytime,” he said, pulling her down against his chest, their sweat sticking them together.

And for once, Ella didn’t mind being sweaty. She closed her eyes and slept.

Chapter 28

~ Ella ~

Ella woke up slowly. The room was gradually brightening as the morning sun began pushing its way into the motel room. She rolled over and faced Lain, watching him as he slept. His dark stubble sweeping across his face was fingertip enticing and she wanted to stroke him awake across his full pink lips.

She reached out and then hesitated. She better not – he’d had a hell of a day yesterday. It wasn’t every day that he shot his childhood friend and club president. He deserved to sleep as long as he wanted.

She slipped out of bed and into her wrinkled clothes from the yesterday and went to stare out into the uninspiring parking lot.

What was she going to do?

What was she going to
do
??

I can’t write an investigative piece on the Blue Devils and risk sending him to jail. Not to mention that he’d never talk to me again. Revealing the inner workings of the Blue Devils to the world as a whole…I can’t do it. He’d never forgive me.

And Dan…Dan may not even want my puff piece anymore. I did hang up on him and then turn off my cell phone last night. He may be really pissed.

I may not have a job.

That stark realization took her breath away, until she realized:

I may not
want
that job anymore.

She stared unseeingly out into the parking lot.

What was she doing here? What did she want? It was her moment of truth - Lain or New York City? A man she’d only known for eight days, or a journalism career she’d worked towards for years now?

Really, how could she choose him over her career in New York City? People didn’t do things like that. Not after eight days.

Okay,
sane
people didn’t do things like that.

She closed her eyes and imagined getting on a plane (for real this time) and going home to her tiny New York efficiency. Back to her puff pieces at
Pout
.

Back to loneliness.

The tears trailed down her cheeks as she faced something she’d been avoiding for almost her entire adult life: She was miserable in New York City. Despite being surrounded by 8 million people, she was lonely. She was miserable. Her friends were all obsessed about celebrities and hemlines and the most popular heel style on boots this year. She hated worrying about whether she’d be mugged on the street or her apartment would be broken into or if the guy following her up the street was just a guy, out for a walk, or a guy with a different purpose in mind.

How did she get stuck in a world that just didn’t fit her?

I’d been so busy trying to “live the life” of a young, hip New Yorker, I never stopped to realize that it was a life I didn’t want.

Alright, so
Pout
is out. Even if Dan is still talking to me, I’m done. But what about investigative journalism - what I’ve always wanted to do?

She thought back over the last eight days. Truthfully, she’d sucked as a journalist. She hated being shot at (or more succinctly, being shot near - Brock never even knew she was in the closet). She sucked at asking questions without the focus of her investigation finding out in three minutes or less. She sucked at asking questions, period. She’d felt like a little kid playing a spy game with her friends when she’d attempted to go undercover.

Maybe with time, she’d get better.

But did she want it?

She heard Lain rustle the sheets behind her and she turned, startled. He settled further into the bed, his head buried between the pillows, only one muscled shoulder showing above the sheets. He was still asleep. She could still think.

She turned back to the window.

She didn’t want to live in New York City.

She didn’t want to be a journalist, either of the serious or the lipstick variety.

She didn’t want to leave Lain.

Insane or not, she never wanted to be without Lain again.

But what the hell was she going to do in Copper Lode, Arizona? She had no marketable skills, other than journalism. She sure as hell didn’t want to get stuck working the cash register at the grocery store.

And then the solution popped into her head. She didn’t know why she hadn’t thought of it before. It was perfect.

She grabbed her phone off the table and walked outside, away from the now lightly (and adorably) snoring Lain.

She turned on her phone and watched as the screen went crazy. Texts, phone calls, and emails flooded her lock screen.
Where are you? What is going on?
Copper Town News
says Brock died last night??? CALL ME!

Instead, she pulled up her browser and looked at the newspaper article herself. Only the basics were covered, and even then, they were mostly wrong. She wondered how much the reporters at
Copper Town News
believed what they wrote, or if they just swallowed the lies without thinking.

Finally, she’d procrastinated enough. She called Dan.

“What the hell is going on!! You fucking hang up on me and then turn off your goddamn phone and then I read in the newspaper that Brock killed himself while cleaning his gun, which is the biggest load of bullshit that I’ve ever read - Brock knew how to properly handle a gun since grade school. There’s no
way
that’s what happened. And my reporter, who’s in fucking-Copper-fucking-Lode, Arizona has gone MIA on me and I don’t know what the fuck to—”

Finally, realizing that he wasn’t going to run out of steam anytime soon, Ella interrupted.

“Dan.”

“—think because that could mean—”

“Dan!”

“—anything - she could be dead, she could be—”

“DAN!!”

Finally, blessed silence.

“I am alive. In case you were curious. And I am fine. I’ll get you the article by the deadline, and I’ll leave Brock and his death out of it. I don’t think our readers want to read about how violent motorcycle clubs can
really
be, along with the hottest new color this season.”

Dan said nothing, which meant he was admitting he thought she might actually be right. He’d never say that - that was just a crazy idea to admit that someone else could be right - but tacit silence meant just as much in Dan’s world.

“But after this article is done, I’m done. I’m quitting
Pout
.”

“WHAT?!” he roared back to life. “You can’t quit!! I gave you your start in journalism. I took a chance on you when you were fresh out of college and no one else was hiring.”

“And you paid me shit because you knew I had to accept it,” Ella said calmly. “I’m done working for peanuts.”

Click.

Her phone began to ring again. She turned it off. He could enjoy her voicemail message. Again.

She walked back into the hotel room and saw Lain had sat up, the sheet falling to his waist, revealing his gorgeous chest. She got sidetracked for a moment, staring at it. Goddamn, he was sexy.

“What’s going on, darlin’?” he asked sleepily. He scooted over in bed and patted a spot next to him. She slid into bed and curled up, placing her head on his lap. Suddenly, her confidence that she should stay here with Lain seemed…arrogant. Lain had never even hinted at anything more than sex and fun between them. She couldn’t assume he
wanted
her to stay here.

“Just talking to Dan. He read the
Copper Town News
this morning online because he was worried when I didn’t call him back last night, and he saw that Brock had been…was dead. That really didn’t help out with the freak-out factor, so I had to call him back and assure him I was still in the land of the living.”

Not brave enough to ask about what was
really
on her mind, Ella asked, “So, what’s going to happen with the
Chupacabras
? You guys were supposed to deliver those guns last night at midnight. I can verify that you were most definitely
not
delivering guns to Mexican mobsters at midnight last night—” she felt his chuckle rumble through his chest — “so what’s going to happen? They don’t seem like the kind to forgive and forget.”

“I probably have a bounty out on my head,” Lain agreed drily. “I’m going to meet with the rest of the crew and decide how to handle this. It may…get dicey.”

Ella nodded, rubbing her head against his rock-hard abs with every nod. She was soooo tempted to turn her head and nibble her way up his stomach and suck on his nipples and…

But no! Her plane flight left tomorrow, back to New York. It was do-or-die time. Taking a deep breath, she sat up and looked him in the eye.

“Lain, where is this,” she gestured between the two of them, “going?” She bit her lip with worry. She was taking a huge leap of faith here, and asking him to jump off with her.

What if he didn’t want to take the chance? What if this was nothing more than a fuckfest?

What if she had to go back to New York and pretend none of this ever happened?