They were who they were.
They did what they did.
They didn’t even have a schedule at the shop or in the garage. The only ones who had to make sure the shop was covered were the prospects. Everyone else pitched up when they felt like it and did what they felt like doing. It was commitment to the brotherhood that got their asses where they were needed to get any job done.
Riding with a brother and checking in was not going where the wind took you.
It was not doing whatever you wanted when the spirit moved you.
This was not the life they’d signed on for when they’d earned their patch.
This was not free.
Snapper sensing a tail . . .
It was now unavoidable.
And not a man in that room liked it.
But they liked it less Snap sensing a tail.
“We all good?” Tack asked.
There were grunts, “yeahs” and other shit indicating they were all good.
Rush scanned the table.
No one was good, but they were all on the same page.
Except Joke.
Something was bugging Joke.
Rush studied his brother as his dad said, “Good. We’re done.”
Men started to move, including Rush, but his gaze swung from Joker to his father when he heard Tack call his name.
“Hang a minute,” he ordered.
Rush nodded and settled back in his seat.
“Joke,” Tack called. “A word.”
Of course, his dad didn’t miss Joke not being right.
Joker moved to Tack as the rest of the men moved out.
Rush leaned back in his seat and kept his eyes on his dad and his brother.
Tack stood when Joker made it to him.
“You’re pissed,” he remarked.
Joker laid it out.
“Should be ridin’ with the guys to the meet.”
“Carissa’s gonna have your baby any day now,” Tack pointed out.
“Keely’s knocked up too and Hound is ridin’ with you.”
“Keely’s not that far along,” Tack replied. “Carissa is due next week. If that goes down, you need to be free to get to her and your brothers don’t need to be in a position you have to take off, we’re down a man.”
Joker looked to his boots.
That meant he agreed.
“This is gonna be done soon,” Tack told Joker.
Joker lifted his head. “I fuckin’ hope so.”
He jerked up his chin at Tack, dipped it at Rush, then he rounded the table and walked out the doors.
Tack sat down and looked at his son.
“Bud, I need you to phone your mother,” he stated.
Rush sat up straight. “Why?”
“I called her a while ago. Left a message. Told her to get down to Denver. We’d cover her, keep her safe while bodies are dropping. She didn’t call back.”
Fuck.
He hadn’t thought of that.
Naomi was so not Chaos anymore that it hadn’t crossed his mind.
“Spoke with Pope,” Tack shared. “He says she’s up in Spooks’s shit to take her back, so I know she’s still breathing. She’s not my biggest fan, but she might pick up, you phone. Get on that. Get her down here. Get her covered.”
Rush nodded. “I’ll phone.”
Tack nodded back.
“Tab’s gonna be pissed as shit everyone’s met Rebel but not her,” Tack continued. “I’d get on that, I was you.”
Rush nodded again.
He also needed to check in with his sis. She’d gotten it together after losing Natalie, but she was still struggling. He had to keep his finger on that pulse.
“I’ll call her too,” Rush told his dad, then said, “Heads up about Valenzuela, he’s into Rebel.”
Tack was visibly unhappy. “Come again?”
“Told you all about the convo with him and Rebel this morning. What I didn’t say was that he didn’t mind at all she was shutting down production. Offered to help out if there was anything she needed. He’s totally into her. The man wants in my woman’s pants and I do not have a good feeling about it, and not only how I’d naturally not have a good feeling about it.”
Tack nodded. “I hear you.”
“He finds out who she is, what she was up to and that she’s taken up with a brother of Chaos, he’s not gonna like it.”
“He doesn’t have a choice. But hopefully by the time he learns all that, he’ll be outta commission to do anything about it.”
Yeah.
Hopefully.
That made Rush nod.
“Right. We done?” Tack asked.
“We’re done,” Rush told him.
“Later, son,” Tack said, pushed out of his chair on a sigh, came to Rush and wrapped his finger’s around his son’s shoulder for a squeeze before he strolled out.
Rush dug out his phone.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d phoned his mother.
He still didn’t hesitate to make the call.
He got her voicemail.
“Mom? Rush. I know Dad called, you didn’t call back. You need to call back, Mom. Shit is happening and I want you safe. So call me as soon as you get this. Yeah?”
He took in a big breath as he disconnected.
Then he moved down on his contacts and found his sister.
A Successful Afternoon
Valenzuela
He was going to come.
And he was going to do it hard.
Interesting.
His fingers tightened around the leather straps binding his wrists, his arms spread wide and stretched so he felt pain in his shoulders. His toes curled, digging into the bed, pulling at the straps around his ankles, furthering the pain at his inner thighs that were overextended. His breath came heavy through his nose since his mouth was gagged, his forehead digging into the mattress.
And his hips moved uncontrollably, humping his aching cock against the silk sheet under him until everything stiffened, strained. His balls drew up so tight, he felt piercing pain before he bucked violently against his bindings, his head jerking back, and he experienced the sweet release, grunting against the silk in his mouth, warm wet suffusing the area at his stomach.
It kept coming, that release. His body beginning to jerk, the bindings digging into his flesh, the noises from his mouth escaping around the cloth as he saturated the sheet under him, his movements almost desperate, the rubbing of his cock against that warm, sodden silk that felt almost like a pussy and getting more of all the rest.
All of it.
And it went on so long, in some small part of his brain that was not about his orgasm, he actually felt genuine fear it would never stop.
It stopped and his body sunk lax into the bed.
He set his face to the sheet, eyes closed, and drew deep at his nose.
It took some time to register what was causing the gratifying feeling he was still experiencing.
His eyes opened.
“Like that?” her voice purred at him.
He stared up close at the red sheet.
“They always think they won’t like it,” she murmured victoriously. “But they always like it.”
His fingers tightened again on the straps.
“Wonder if I can make you go again that hard if I keep doing this,” she said, continuing to glide the large, rubber phallus in and out of his oiled ass. “But sad to say, your time is up. You’ll have to book me again. Double up. I’ll keep this goodness going and we’ll see.”
He gritted his teeth on his gag as she slid the cock from him.
He felt her move from where she was kneeling by his hip on the bed and turned his head.
He watched her saunter into the bathroom, her short, shiny pleather skirt looking cheap, because it was. Fishnets held up by suspenders. Thigh-high, shiny red leather, spike-heeled boots. Pleather bustier with a variety of thin straps that led to a thick one around her neck, the whole garment dotted with studs. Gauntlets with more studs that ran from wrists to elbows.
A good deal of auburn hair.
He’d told her no ridiculous outfit.
When he’d arrived, he’d seen that she had defied his instructions, but he’d been interested enough at what would result from their session to allow that defiance.
He’d also told her no ass play.
She’d gagged him, and he had been fine with that.