“The guy hit you?” Viking grumbles, stunned, his face turning from friendly to grim.
“Yeah. In his defense, I punched him first. The dick ran into my rear end when we were racing, and it’s prohibited at The Pit, for safety. Needless to say, I was pissed.”
“I understand.” His stare lands back on Mercenary. “I thought you just popped off, being a loose cannon. My mistake brother. I would’ve done the same thing had I seen it.”
Mercenary waves it off as no big deal and Chaos sets my drink down.
“Thank you,” I repeat and take a long gulp through the straw. I’m suddenly thirstier than I’d originally thought, and the mixed beverage goes down smooth and refreshing. The racing, fucking, heat, and not to mention everything with the rival MC, has really been a lot to take in.
“You had the Iron Fists knocked out before you drug them inside, right? They didn’t have a chance to touch you or talk to you?” Viking presses on, switching subjects quickly and I shake my head, reassuring him. “Good. I think it’s probably safer if you two start staying here at night.”
“But who will watch The Pit?” I sputter, caught off guard by his suggestion. He wants to protect me? What is it with these guys thinking I can’t handle my own problems? Where were they when I was a ten-year-old living on the streets? I guess they were kids, but still, it would’ve been nice to have someone back then.
“I’ll have my guys ride by randomly, and I’ll also have a chat with the sheriff. See if he and his deputies are willing to drive by a couple times a night when he patrols as well. It won’t be left abandoned or anything.”
“You’re friends with the sheriff? Aren’t cops and bikers supposed to hate each other?”
“In most cases yes, but not in ours. Our alliance benefits the community, and the people’s safety around here is important to all of us.”
I turn to the silent man beside me; he’s usually not this quiet. “And what do you think of all this?” He’s normally first to voice his displeasure about anything to me, it seems.
“Viking’s suggestion makes sense.” His beefy arm falls across the back of my barstool. The heat coming off him so close it makes me shudder as the air conditioning kicks on, and the two temperatures clash against my skin at the same time. “The guys today make five Iron Fists disappearing, all while watching you.”
His thumb trails over my spine, his sky-blue irises full of scorching heat as he gazes at me. “That’s a large enough group to be noticed and to take out retaliation. If they decide to hit back, they’ll rape and kill you, if you’re lucky.”
My mouth drops open. “If I’m lucky?” That’s not my idea of luck, nor should it be anyone’s.
He nods. “They could keep you alive and torture you for who knows how long, along with continued rape throughout the club members. Maybe after so much, they decide to sell you off so some twisted fuck can continue doing the same sort of abuse.”
“Holy shit,” I gasp and swallow the sudden lump in my throat. “How did I get in the middle of this and how can they get away with that?” The fingers on my right hand float toward him, eventually landing on his thigh, unconsciously seeking out his strength.
Viking interrupts. “You started making money. In our world when it comes to gambling, racing, drugs, that sort...if you make enough money, you get noticed. It was their fuck up believing that you’re an easy target without someone watching your back.”
“This is bad. All I wanted to do was run a clean track where people could relax, place some bets, drink a few beers, and watch races. I don’t need these assholes coming and screwing it all up for me. And I damn sure don’t like having my place bombed for their sick entertainment.”
“Well, it may take some time, but we’re working on getting rid of this problem. Luckily you’ll be able to benefit from it as well.”
“By staying here, do you mean with cupcake?” I tilt my head toward the broody biker at my side.
“Cupcake?” Viking snorts out a chuckle and Mercenary grumbles while shooting me an unamused side-eye.
I nod, glancing at the both of them. Mercenary’s the only man I call cupcake. At first, I did it to piss him the hell off, and it worked flawlessly. It quickly morphed into me calling him cupcake ‘cause he was pretty sweet to me when he wanted to be. And now, well...it’s because his cocks as thick as a damn cupcake. The fucker’s got a massive sized dick. I could stuff myself with it all the damn time and be peachy keen.
“Listen, doll, Merc here,” he gestures to the man in question, “claimed you out front. He essentially made you his ol’ lady since he fucked you in front of the entire club and then made you admit that you’re his.”
I blow out a breath, pretty confident I know enough biker lingo to understand what he’s getting at. I ask anyway, just to be certain. “What does that mean?”
“You belong to him; you’re a part of this club.”
I jump to my feet, my thoughts confirmed and my fist slams into Mercenary’s rock-hard bicep. “You ass!”
He stands, towering over me. “Woman, don’t make me take you over my knee.”
I sputter, my cheeks growing warm with my irritation at this bossy-ass man. “You’re off your damn rocker if you think I’ll put up with your macho shit!” I yell, and he moves like a freaking ninja, catching me off guard. I’m good at defending myself when I’m expecting it, but Mercenary whips me up in his solid arms, hiking me to hang over his wide shoulder. I curse him loudly, and his brothers throughout the bar snicker. His hand lands on my ass—hard.
“Shut the fuck up, Chevelle!” he commands, and his MC brothers laugh even louder at his disgruntled boom. He grumbles, “I’ll catch you later Vike, obviously this bitch has been without my cock for too long. She gets mouthy; I have to go fix it.”
“Remember what I said,” Viking responds ominously, and I flash my middle finger at Mercenary’s back. He can’t see me, but it still counts.
I let out my own growl, hanging upside down but I have a feeling that with all the noise in the bar, that I sound more like a pissed off kitten as Mercenary stomps away, taking us to his room.