Steel Justice (A Romantic Suspense) (3 page)

After the Liberators murdered one of my crew members and shot Flint, the MC made the decision to permanently take them out.

By whatever means necessary.

Unfortunately, we were only partially successful. Several Liberators were killed during a shootout. A few others were arrested for the prostitution of young girls for sex and pornography.

Even after all this, the leader of the Liberators, Big Roy, and his top crew members managed to escape. Someone from the police department tipped them off before the raid. Being the fucking cowards they are, they let their newest members take the fall for the club.

The Liberators have been in hiding for months now. Nobody has seen or heard from them. Or if they have, they sure as hell aren’t talking.

The thought of Big Roy still out there somewhere eats at me like a festering wound every single day. I know he will show his ugly face sooner or later. He isn’t the type of man to hide out in a mountain cabin forever because he likes terrorizing people too much to lay low for long. When he comes out of hiding, I’ll be there waiting for him.

Roger doesn’t need to know any of this though. I believe in sharing information only on a ‘need to know’ basis.

“Nothing major happened,” I finally answer, downplaying the situation. “Same old shit, you know. The FBI is looking for them, so I highly doubt they will show up here. You don’t need to worry about it.”

“Good to know. I don’t want any trouble this week.”

“That makes two of us.”

***

F
lint spots me trying to make my way through the crowd and waves me over to join the rest of the MC. From the flushed looks on their faces, I guess the other members of the Steel Infidels are already on their fourth or fifth drink.

I’m a little surprised and pleased to see that Flint has obviously imbibed his fair share of alcohol, too. Now that he is engaged, he tries to keep the partying down to a minimum.

At least when his fiancée, Kendra, is around.

I know better than anyone that there is still a wild streak in my brother that can never be fully tamed. Kendra probably senses it as well. To her credit, she loves and accepts him the way he is without trying to change him. She is a great asset to the club and has shown her loyalty many times over. Flint is damn lucky to have her. 

I don’t know many women who would be willing to put up with us. The life of an old lady in a motorcycle club isn’t easy. There are rules to follow and a strict chain of command. The men run the show and the ladies follow with no questions asked. It is either put up or get out.

The motorcycle club always comes first.

No matter what.

“Any alcohol left for me?” I ask. “Or did you boys drain the bottom of the barrels already?”

The men step aside to make room for me between them. I turn to Flint. “I see you’ve already had a couple.”

He laughs and lifts the glass. “I’m making the best of my limited time left as a single man. Time is slipping away like the sand in an hourglass. I can’t waste a second.”

I clap him on the shoulder. “That’s the spirit. Kendra is going to make you toe the line once you two are married. So you had better drink up while you have the chance.”

Flint drains his glass and slams it on the bar. “You’re right, and I couldn’t be happier about it.”

I take a mental count of the group and notice one member is missing. Not surprisingly, it is our other brother, Sam. He is the youngest member of the MC and at times can be completely out of control. Sam loves the ladies more than anything else in this world, and they love him. This makes for a continuous shit heap of drama where he is concerned.

I’ve been woken up in the middle of the night more times than I can count by women on our front doorstep crying over Sam. If it gets much worse, we may be forced to move to a secret location deep in the caves of Afghanistan.

“Where the hell is Sam?” I ask. “I thought he rode over from the hotel with you guys.”

“Oh, he did,” Flint answers with a slight slur to his voice. He turns around on the bar stool to look for him in the crowd. “He’s here somewhere. Look for a cluster of women with big titties and you’ll find Sam tangled up right in the middle.”

“Speak of the devil. Here comes the little shit now.”

Sam wanders up with two big-breasted blondes, one hanging tightly onto each of his tattooed arms. He pulls back and punches my shoulder hard in greeting. I resist the urge to rub the stinging spot.

“What took you so long to get here, Jesse?” he asks. “Sorry, we had to start the party without you. We tried to wait for you, but you know how it is.” He shrugs in explanation. “Time is wasting and all that.”

I try not to stare at the large breasts of the girl closest to me. Damn! She isn’t wearing a bra, and her tight red t-shirt is doing little to conceal her ample tits and hard nipples.

“Who are your friends?” I ask as she slides a little closer. As usual, Sam isn’t wasting any time hooking up. Some things never change.

“This is Molly and Christina,” Sam answers, pointing to one and then the other. “Or is it Christina and Molly? My apologies girls, I get confused by your beauty. They’re in town all week for the rally.”

“We’re with a group of traveling strippers,” Molly explains. “Next week we’ll be moving on to Daytona Beach. It’s a fun gig. We get to go different places and do all kinds of different things.”

Oh, I bet you do.

“Sounds like an interesting job,” I say with a polite smile.

“We’re here for the Miss Panama City Bike Rally contest tonight.”

She giggles for no reason, and I gulp as her breasts threaten to spill out of her shirt. “First prize is a thousand bucks, so we signed up as soon as we heard about it. The contest should start in a half hour or so. You should all stick around and cheer for us.”

“Don’t worry, we’re not going anywhere,” Sam says. “We wouldn’t miss it for the world. Would we, guys?”

The rest of my crew grin and quickly agree. “Oh, no. We’ll be right here,” they all say. “Cheering for you gals.”

I turn back to the bartender and order another round of drinks for everyone.

The bike rally is already off to a terrific start.

––––––––

“G
ood God almighty! Look at the tits on that one.” Sam points to the first contestant stepping up on the stage for the Miss Panama City Biker Rally contest.

The contestant is a typical biker gal: long jet-black hair, a couple of tattoos on her shoulders, and a pierced navel. She’s wearing hot pink shorts that ride three quarters of the way up her hefty ass and a pink bikini top that barely covers her dark nipples.

Definitely not my type.

The crowd of wasted bikers obviously think differently. They push closer to the stage, whistling and clapping as she struts around in her ridiculously high heels. At one point, she wobbles and for a second it looks like she might twist her ankle.

“Damn! She’s going to fall flat on her ass,” I say to Sam, who snickers. “Whoops! No, she’s up on her feet again. Good save.”

The chick recovers quickly. To cover up her clumsiness, she turns her back to the audience and bends over dramatically, giving the men closest to her a glimpse of skin barely concealed by a thin line of fabric.

“That will score her some big points with the judges,” Sam says. “They’ve already forgotten she almost tumbled off the stage. Who needs beauty and grace when you can show a little pussy instead?”

“Let’s give it up for Trixie!” Roger barks into the microphone from the side of the stage. “Hell of a way to start the contest. Right, gentlemen?”

The men roar their approval. The next contestant, a carbon copy of the first, only in a different outfit, begins to shimmy and dance her way across the wooden platform.

Bored, I turn away from the contest.

I’ve seen it all before.

Dyed hair, fake tits, pussies shaved the exact same way.

Why do women all want to look exactly alike? Don’t they realize men need variety in their life? 

The other girls are patiently waiting for their turn by the side of the stage. They chat with each other as they smooth down thickly sprayed hair and adjust their bikini tops to show the maximum amount of cleavage.

None of them interest me either.

Too bad, because I’m horny as hell and am counting on getting laid tonight.

What catches my eye is the girl standing behind a huge cooler of ice and beer set up near the corner of the stage. She is tall with long brown hair and shapely legs that go on forever. My eyes follow those legs up from her high-heeled leather boots to the curvy ass in a blue jean skirt. A flag-themed cowboy hat sits on her head.

Her tits, barely covered by a white bikini top, are large, pillow soft, and obviously real. Even from way back where I’m standing, I can tell they’re not pumped full of stiff silicone shit. I can’t help but imagine what it would feel like to sink my teeth into the lush globes and roll the thick nipples with my tongue.

My cock stirs against my jeans.

Oh yeah, I’m interested now alright.

I wonder how much sweet-talking it will take to talk her into going back to my hotel room after work. I’m already thinking of how tight her pussy will feel when I sink balls deep inside.

Maybe I’ll ask her to leave the cowboy hat on while I fuck her hard from behind. Those sexy-as-hell black leather boots should stay on, too.

If I had to guess, I'd say she is the type of gal that will act all coy and tell me no at first.

I won’t let a little thing like that stop me.

I’m a man who loves a challenge and besides, I haven’t found a woman yet that wasn’t eventually willing to spread her legs wide for me. And after one good fuck, they always come back begging for more.

Finding a woman to fuck isn’t my problem.

Finding a woman who keeps my interest the next morning definitely is.

The girl smiles and laughs while she hastily pops the tops off bottles of beer and hands them to waiting customers. Dollar after dollar falls into her tip jar. It is almost full and the night isn’t halfway over.

When the last customer in line steps away, her smile instantly drops. I watch her tuck a strand of brown hair behind her ear and adjust the cowboy hat. Her whole demeanor changes when she isn’t putting on a show.

I’m intrigued by her even more now.

She clearly doesn’t belong here. Any fool could see that.

Whereas the other girls exude dirty sex, she projects almost a sense of innocence and purity. Not something you expect, or even want to see, working at a bar loaded with bikers.

I bet she thinks she looks sexy with her high-heeled leather boots and short skirt. And she does, in her own way.

Hot as hell in fact.

Just not in the way she thinks. She reminds me of a juicy, ripe Georgia peach waiting to be plucked from the tree.

I start making my way across the room, telling myself I need another beer. Truth is, I want a closer look at those sweet tits.

Other men obviously have the same idea, and a long line quickly forms in front of her. A man wearing a muscle shirt with a red bandanna wrapped around his head leans forward for a better view down her bikini top. I want to slap the shit out of him and choke him with his bandanna. If he does it again, I might do exactly that.

The girl keeps up a steady stream of flirty banter with the men who reach the front of the line. I notice she is careful to treat them all the same, thanking each one politely for their compliments, even the lewd ones, and laughing at their jokes.

The girl is good at her job. No wonder her tips are piling up.

The longer I watch her, the more I want to sling her over my shoulder and take her back to the hotel. Or upstairs, if there is an empty room, or even a broom closet. I’m not picky about the location. As long as I can get a good angle, I’m pumped and ready to go.

Finally I reach the front of the line and it’s my turn to order. She looks up at me and smiles. It seems genuine, though the smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

I never have any problem getting ladies to do exactly what I want them to. There’s nothing to make me believe this pretty gal will be any different.

For some reason, the thought leaves me slightly disappointed. Occasionally it might be nice to have to work for it. 

Love them and leave them wanting more is my rule.

Take her home, do the dirty, and kiss her goodbye. Hell, if she’s a fantastic lay, I might even buy this one breakfast. 

“Hey gorgeous,” I say, suddenly and inexplicably at a loss for anything more clever.

“Hey yourself,” she responds. “How many bottles of beer do you need?”

“Just one.”

She pulls an ice-cold beer out of the cooler, pops the cap, and hands it to me. “You’re a big drinker, I see,” she says with a wink. “That will be five bucks.”

I hand her a ten-dollar bill so she can see me put the five in change into her tip jar.

“I’m usually a whiskey man,” I explain. “I’m only ordering beer so I’ll have an excuse to see your beautiful body up close and personal.”

“I appreciate that,” she says. She smiles politely and looks over my shoulder at the next customer.

“What can I get you?” she asks the man standing behind me.

Damn! Did she really brush me off that fast?

I blink in surprise and turn around to face him.

“How many beers do you need?” I ask. “I’m buying if you’ll move along quickly.”

He laughs and slaps me on the back. “You got it, buddy. I’ll take two.”

I fork over more money and she hands him the bottles. “Hope you get lucky tonight,” he says before walking away.

For a brief moment, we’re alone. I know it won’t last for long. Not unless I want to keep buying beer for a line of guys all night. I better make my move fast. Like Sam says, time is wasting.

I lean closer.

“So I was wondering, what you are doing after work tonight, sweetheart? Got any big plans that can’t be cancelled?”

She rolls her eyes at me. “You were wondering, huh? You and about a hundred other guys in here. No offense, but you’re not the first person to ask me that exact same question tonight.”