Sons of Mayhem 2 Chaser (Sons of Mayhem Novels, #2)
Read Sons of Mayhem 2 Chaser (Sons of Mayhem Novels, #2) Online
Authors: Nikki Pink
Tags: #biker romance, #sons of anarchy, #bikers, #new adult, #romantic suspense, #MC Romance, #bad boy romance, #motorcycle romance
Sons of Mayhem Novels
2: CHASER
Sons of Mayhem Novels, 2
By Nikki Pink
Published by Nikki Pink, 2014
––––––––
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
SONS OF MAYHEM NOVELS 2: CHASER
First edition. April 9, 2014.
Copyright © 2014 Nikki Pink.
Written by Nikki Pink.
Sons of Mayhem 2 Chaser (Sons of Mayhem Novels, #2)
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CHAPTER ONE
R
ed
Robbie “Red” Dugan squeezed the throttle of his new motorcycle - a Harley Davidson Dyna Wide Glide - and let out a whoop as the engine screamed and the bike flew down the desolate highway. The girl behind him dug her fingernails into the front of his jacket and pressed herself tight against him. As they soared through the night there was nothing left in the world but the two of them and the roar of the engine.
They had met in a local bar. She was looking to party and what red blooded young guy isn’t?
Apparently she liked what she saw when Red pulled up on his obnoxiously loud motorcycle. He’d barely had time for a bottle of beer before she was yanking insistently on his hand, telling him to hurry up and finish the bottle, telling him to show her his motorcycle, telling him to take her home.
Of course he’d obliged. Who wouldn’t? She had a tight body, she was insistent, and she was into him. But the thing that had most intrigued him about her was her wild eyes - eyes that spoke volumes more than her mouth did. Eyes that said,
I want to fuck you or stab you, guess which?
Eyes which an older, wiser man would have been wary of.
Don’t stick your dick in crazy
, had always been Red’s old man’s advice, and it was advice that Red as a dutiful rebel son had done his best to ignore - when he could find some crazy that would oblige him, that is.
They soon reached her part of town, an older suburb full of run down one floor ‘starter homes’, most of which looked like they’d be better for starting a fire than starting a family. He turned the motorcycle onto her street and they slowly rolled down the road, the putt-putting of the bike filling the otherwise quiet evening air.
“Which way?” Red yelled over his shoulder.
She didn’t answer in words, instead she squeezed his arm and pointed to an unlit house coming up on the right-hand side of the road. He nodded as he gunned the engine gently, his light touch still being enough to cause the bike to let out an aggressively loud roar in the silent night air, and guided them into her driveway. He stopped behind a beat-up old Honda Civic which looked like the kind of vehicle that had seen better days ten years ago, let alone now. He wondered how she had gotten to the bar, and if her car even ran.
After they pulled to a stop Red lowered the kickstand of the motorcycle. In half a second she’d hopped off the bike and was tugging insistently on his hand, her short nails digging into the skin.
“Come on,” she said tugging, “let’s get inside.”
He grinned at her. “You don’t waste any time do you?”
“Stop talking. If I wanted to talk we would have stayed in the bar.” The young woman yanked his hand again as she drew him forward toward the front door of her house. Red smiled to himself and shook his head from side to side, hardly believing his luck.
She dragged him inside and as soon as the door was closed behind him she spun around and stared into his eyes. They faced each other, and Red could see a wild look of desperate longing in her eyes. She wanted him, she needed him, and she was going to have him. Any chance of a say in the matter was over now that he was in her lair.
Her hand latched onto the big metal buckle of his brown leather belt and she began to drag him willingly through the small, rundown house. There was nothing on the walls and the place hardly looked lived in at all. Into the bedroom they went, and in front of the large queen-size bed, covered only in a thin sheet, she furiously tore her clothes off.
Red gave an internal shrug to himself and, keeping his eyes on her, followed suit. With furious speed they each removed their garments, and as soon as they were naked the girl grabbed him by his engorged manhood and yanked him forward onto the bed, causing him to let out a yelp of shock, pleasure and pain. He could tell he was going to be in for quite a night.
The windows were un-curtained and dim streams of incandescent light streamed inside from the streetlight a few yards away outside. If anyone decided to peer through the window they could see everything, but she didn’t seem to give a fuck. Who goes peering through windows at night anyway?
As he lay back on the bed and she took him in her mouth he realized he didn’t even know her name. “Oh, fuck yeah!” God, he loved this life.
D
ewey
He had arrived five days earlier, choosing a place to stay well outside of town. Somewhere quite and private. Somewhere without staff, or a check-in or check-out time. Somewhere no one had been in years, seemingly.
He wasn’t ready to see her yet. It had been so long since they had been together, but he wanted to cherish the gentle ache of being apart for just a little longer until he could sweep her up in his arms again and take her home.
He hadn’t seen her in so long he needed time just to see, just to watch, just to get to know her again before he revealed himself and they could be reunited.
Why had she run here instead of going home, he had wondered? He had smiled softly and sighed when he realized the answer. It was obvious. She was embarrassed and ashamed. After all that had happened it would have looked bad for her to be seen with him. So, darling that she was, she had run away, run away from
him
, her love, to start a dismal new life. All to protect him. That she would do that for him was truly something special. She was a saint. He really didn’t deserve to have the honor of calling her his fiancée.
So far he had bided his time, watching her settle in to her awful little shack of a house. When she went out he let himself inside (she had a key hidden outside under a rock; he now had a copy in his pocket) and let the ghosts of her presence - the faint hint of her lingering perfume, the smell of her unwashed clothes heaped in the laundry basket - rush through him.
He had planned to see her soon.
He imagined their reunion. She’d open the door to find him there, flowers in one hand and a basket of gifts in the other. Next to him would be a boom-box playing their song, the one they had danced to at their senior prom, before they had been separated.
Tears of joy would pour down her face and he’d kiss them off. Imagine her face when she saw him at the doorstep? At first she’d refuse to go with him, tell him to start his life afresh, to find someone else.
Perhaps she’d even pretend she didn’t want to see him. Like in the letter she’d sent him from prison. He shook his head sadly at the memory. She hadn’t meant it, of course.
But he wouldn’t take
no
for an answer. After all, they were meant to be together, forever, weren’t they?
They’d leave this awful little house in this awful little town and he’d take her home. Who cared what everyone else thought? Damn them all. Damn them all to hell.
But then something happened.
She went out one night and when she came back she wasn’t alone. She was driven home by a disgusting, ratty motorcycle enthusiast.
What on earth was happening, he wondered? It couldn’t have been consensual. It couldn’t
.
The man must have slipped something in her drink.
He watched as she knelt above his spread-eagled body, taking him into her mouth, her head bobbing up and down as she ran her hands up his thighs and cupped him.
She clearly wasn’t in a right state of mind. What was happening?
They both sat upright on the bed, her impaled upon him as she dug in with her nails and raked his back leaving angry red marks behind.
This couldn’t be. No, no, no. She loved only him.
Her head and neck arched back and her mouth opened wide as she screamed with pleasure.
It was pain. She was screaming for help. But she wasn’t.
“I’ll fucking kill him.” The man, tears streaming down his face, couldn’t watch any longer. He turned off his camera and stalked away, his mind churning furiously.
“She’s mine. She’s mine. She’s
mine.”
He kicked at the sandy dirt. “She loves
me.”
Under the light of the half-moon he stalked away to his nearby Toyota. He had supplies in there. Supplies he would need.
R
ed
Some hours later Red pulled himself out of the bed, his head hazy and his body aching. The crazy bitch was passed out. Finally. He’d begun to worry she was never going to be satisfied, never let him go until she’d drained him dry and left him a moistureless husk. He began to pull on his clothes and let out a whispered “Fuck” when he kicked over the empty bottle of whisky that had been half full when she produced it earlier, during their first pause.
He pulled on his clothes, wincing occasionally as he did so. She had grabbed, pinched, bitten and scratched him much more enthusiastically than he was used to, and he knew he would be thinking about her for days to come every time he grimaced in surprise at some freshly re-discovered sore spot. He grinned to himself. He had a feeling he’d be looking back fondly on this night for a long time to come.
Red let out a soft sigh as he gave a final look at the passed out naked girl lying on the bed, her skin seeming to glow orange from the incandescent light which dimly lit the room from outside. He kind of wished he could stay longer, but he had a big day coming up.
Red crept out of the room as silently as a man could in heavy boots, creaking leather and a bulky metal key-chain hanging from his jeans. He knew that if she woke she wouldn’t let him get away that easily, no way.
Standing on the porch of the small ramshackle house he took a moment to admire his motorcycle in the driveway. It looked even better than the woman inside. It’d taken a long time to save up for her, but god damn she was worth it. He shook his head in disbelief at the night he had just had, and just how damn lucky he had been recently. Maybe it was the bike, his new mistress and mechanical lover, bestowing luck upon him. If that was the case though, he must have pissed her off by cheating on her with the vixen inside - his luck was about to change.