SLAM HER (5 page)

Something that would send everyone over the fucking edge.

Something that would make my revenge permanent.

I was going to get Belle pregnant.

My mind continued to race. It was a wild mix of rage, anger, and lust. Shit, I was lusting for this bitch already? Maybe I could smell that untouched slit between her legs. I couldn’t imagine it being true, but goddamn, if it was, she was going to be wicked tight. She was going to need me to take it easy on her, which I could do, but only for a short time. I could already feel her clawing at my shoulders and biting my chest to keep from screaming too loud.

My left hand gripped the edge of the table. I felt my teeth gritting as we stared at each other. It was pretty damn obvious she remembered who the hell I was too.

“Brother, you need to calm down,” Knox said. “You can’t be mad at her for anything. Play this right.”

“Shut up, Knox,” I whispered.

Belle took a step toward the table. Then another.

Come to me, babe. Come to me so I could ruin you.

She took one more step and then a hand shot out from two tables behind us. I watched as the hand swung and cracked Belle, right in the ass.

She jumped, then froze, and looked down at the table.

“I need another drinks, tits,” someone said.

That’s when the anger hit a boiling point.

Belle’s face turned red and I could tell whoever just touched her was not welcomed to be doing so. I pulled at the edge of the table to get out of the booth and kill the fucker that just touched Belle, but Knox stopped me.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he said. “I saw it too. Let that one go.”

I looked at Knox, my body seething with rage. “I can’t.”

“You can’t get into trouble. Go with the flow of the night, brother. Remember.”

I forced myself to sit still for a few seconds. I listened to the way this asshole talked to Belle.

My Belle.

I looked at Knox again and then looked up at Belle as she approached our table.

Her fingers touched the table. “I’m so sorry, guys. Can you hold for another minute?”

“Sure thing, Belle,” I said to her. “Take your time.”

She kept walking but looked back at me and she stumbled.

“Real smooth,” Knox asked. “She’s going to want to know how you know her name.”

I ignored Knox and watched as the asshole from the other table stood up. He ran a hand through his hair. “I’m going have a ciggy. Fucking lame place won’t let ya smoke. Fucking losers.”

The guy turned and walked to a side exit.

That’s when I stood up from the booth.

“Slam,” Knox growled.

“Order me a burger. I’ll be right back.”

“You can’t get into trouble…”

“I’m not getting into trouble,” I said. “I promise.”

“Your promises are worth dick.”

“Burger,” I said. “Load it up. And get me a fresh beer, I’m going to need it.”

I walked away, expecting Knox to chase me down.

But he didn’t.

That was a good thing.

Nothing was going to stop me.

Don’t get into fucking trouble?

Fuck that.

I was trouble… the worst kind…

eight

(belle)

*NOW*

My heart wouldn’t stop pounding.

He was here.

The guy. The so-called bad guy. The biker guy. I’d met him twice but never got his name. I’d never forget his size, his face, or the logo on his leather. And he was in the restaurant, his eyes all over me.

Better yet - he knew my name.

I was the daughter of a cop so my instincts kicked in and I wanted to know how he knew my name and why he was there.

I hurried to get that table of assholes more drinks.

When I got to the table I saw the biggest asshole - the one who smacked my ass - wasn’t there.

“Let me ask you something,” the other asshole said. “How fucking far away do you have to go to have a cigarette?”

“Excuse me?”

“My buddy went outside for a cigarette five minutes ago,” he said. “You have some made up law that you have to be a mile away?”

“No,” I said. “Just not inside.”

I walked away to the table where
he
had been sitting.

I noticed
he
was gone too.

Oh… shit…

The other guy looked at me. “Darlin’. We’re ready to order.”

“Where’s…”

“Slam,” he said. “I’m Knox. Your face tells me you have an idea of who we are. Keep it at that. So that’s going to be two burgers… with the works. How’s this place with burgers, darlin’?”

“Uh, yeah,” I said. “I mean, they’re great. Made fresh. Not frozen.”

“Good. Really good. Oh, and before I forget, let me get a chicken parm, to go, and make my burger to go. Slam is eating solo tonight. He’s got plans right here.”

My head kept spinning. My heart kept racing.

I needed to calm myself.

From the corner of my eye I saw
him. Slam.
What a name. I knew it couldn’t have been his real name, right? Nobody would name their kid that. Then again, this guy…

I had forced myself to forget his name the first time he told me it. This time, I would never forget it.

He was like a monster stomping along the floor. His shoulders were so big, so round. His eyes dead set on me. I took a step back and he stopped right at me, towering over me.

“Hey, babe,” he said.

His voice was rough but felt like butter through my body. Everything ran down and sent a trembling feeling right between my thighs. I was almost a puddle because of two words.

I stared up at him, turned and yet terrified.

“Uh, hey,” I managed to get out.

“I have everything ordered,” Knox said. “Got my food to go, and something for Ana.”

I saw Slam grin and then he eyed me again. “Fresh round here, babe?”

He moved his left hand and I saw his knuckles. They weren’t swollen, but definitely ripped up with cuts. He quickly grabbed a napkin and put his hands under the table.

“I’ll be right back,” I said.

I turned and hustled away toward the bar area. But then I made a quick turn and rushed out the side exit. I looked left to right but I didn’t see a thing. I took a few more steps and that’s when I saw a foot. On the other side of the alley, next to a dumpster. As I slowly approached I feared the worst. Slam had killed that guy from the other table. But why? It couldn’t have been because the guy slapped my ass, right? Slam wasn’t at the restaurant to defend me. Those guys were serious trouble. The entire group of them -
Reaper’s Bastards
- were all but trouble.

I’m talking murderous trouble. They had members in prison for life. They had members dead. The ones alive were just waiting for their time to come. Either a bullet from an enemy or a set of handcuffs would set their future.

When I saw that it was the guy that smacked my ass, I let out a gasp.

But he wasn’t dead.

He was just beaten up.

He sat there, looking dazed. His nose and mouth were bloody. His shirt ripped halfway down his body. He reached for me with shaky hands.

My mind played out the scene. If I called the police - or my father - then what? Slam would be taken away in cuffs. That would get another one of these guys off the street.

“Who did this?” I asked the guy.

“Someone passing by,” he said and coughed. He turned and spit blood on the ground and groaned. “Guy in a black hoodie. Took my wallet and keys. Slammed me off the wall…”

Slam.

“A black hoodie? You’re sure?”

“I fucking saw what I saw!” the guy squealed at me.

Then he broke down in tears.

I ran back to the restaurant and went into the kitchen. I whispered to Hector that someone had gotten beaten up outside. He nodded and said he’d call for someone to help. I then left the kitchen and went to the table where the other asshole sat.

I told him that his friend had been mugged outside.

The guy exploded on me, asking me what kind of shit hole restaurant we were running. I tried to apologize but he spat fire at me, getting way too close for comfort. For a split second I caught myself wanting to say that his friend deserved it.

Then I heard a booming sound and me and the asshole looked back to see Slam rising up from the booth again.

“Is there a problem?” he asked the asshole.

“Who the…”

“Careful,” Slam said. He flexed his fists and sent a clear signal he wasn’t done fighting for the night.

Suddenly, the asshole shut up.

And he ran away.

I stared at Slam again, this time with a little distance between us.

“Do you have a black hoodie?” I asked him.

He slowly shook his head with a shit eating grin.

I shivered.

Still turned on… still terrified…

“How about those beers, babe?” Slam asked me.

“Sorry,” I said. “I’ll be right back. With beer this time.”

I forced myself right then to get back to normal. To finish out my night. The gossip in the kitchen was all about the police coming to get the guy that Slam beat up. I waited for the cops to come looking for Slam but they never did. The asshole stuck to his story that someone in a black hoodie jumped him and ran down the alley with his wallet, keys, and his cell phone.

Each time I went to the table, I felt Slam’s eyes devour me.

He didn’t say a word to me though, which made the tension ever greater.

It made no sense there was tension between us though.

He was a filthy criminal biker.

I was the daughter of a cop.

Even still… somewhere inside me… I wanted to know…

Did Slam beat that guy up to defend me?

I thought they were finally going to leave, but then things got worse. I could tell everyone in the restaurant was uncomfortable with the Reaper’s Bastards members there. They brewed trouble and spit it like fire.

As Slam reached into his leather cut thing, I feared he was going to bring out a gun. Instead, it was a pack of cigarettes. I watched in awe as he lit one up, clearly going against the law of no smoking. It wasn’t the restaurant that made that up, it was the state.

Behind me, I heard someone clear their throat.

It was Marco.

He looked sweaty and afraid.

Were they here because of Marco?

“Get them the fuck out,” he said to me. “I don’t care how. Call the police. Call your fucking father, Belle. Get them out of my restaurant.”

“I thought they helped you,” I blurted out.

Marco’s eyes went wide. He stepped toward me, his pointer finger high in the air. He came close to touching my nose. “Listen here, my business is my business. Right now, those two guys are not good for my business. Get. Them. The. Fuck. Out.”

Marco sped away and I was left to clean up another mess. I was used to it, but not quite of this caliber. Just walk up to a couple bad boy bikers and kick them out? Slam could lift me with one finger and toss me across the restaurant.

Why did that turn me on to think?

I shook my head and walked to the table, trying to come up with a little fire.

When I got to the table, Slam looked up at me. He knew what he was doing. Like a child breaking something on purpose just to get attention.

“You can’t smoke in here,” I said.

“Says who?”

I sighed. “It’s the law.”

“I don’t see any signs.”

“I don’t see any signs against killing people, but that seems to happen, too,” I said.

I started to sweat.

Challenging a guy like this was dangerous.

Slam laughed. “When I’m finished, I’ll put it out.”

“No. Put it out and leave. Right now.”

“You’re kicking me out, babe?” he asked.

“I’m not your
babe
, okay? Just leave. Because if you don’t, it’s going to cost me my job.”

“I feel terrible,” Slam said. He defiantly put the cigarette back between his lips and sucked on it. He blew the smoke at me and curled his lip. “So terrible.”

I felt my hands ball up tight. This guy was not the focus of my rage. All the bad that happened to me. The way my father treated me. The fact that the world cared so much that I was a virgin. And now I had this asshole being a prick to me. For a moment I thought I was going to thank him for knocking that guy around that slapped my ass.

Now?

Fuck him.