Bear (Kings of Carnage MC - Prospects Book 4) Page 2

  “Thanks.” I climb in beside him and buckle up my seatbelt. If he’s anything like his boss, I may need it. “You know the Kings of Carnage clubhouse on the outskirts of town?”

  “Yeah, you could say I’ve been there a time or two.” He grins as he pulls out of the lot.

  “You ride?”

  “Nah. I thought about it, but Jupiter talked me out of it.”

  Oh, I’d just love to know Tink’s opinion on riding. “How’s that?”

  “Well, she can be pretty convincing when she wants to be. Let’s just put it that way. She’s always coming up with reasons we shouldn’t do stupid shit.”

  I huff and stare out the window. Uprising is just like any other small town I’ve passed through between here and Tennessee. The townsfolk take pride in their community—that much is obvious from the manicured lawns to the fresh paint and the trimmed Cherokee Rose bushes—but no town ever came close to the beauty of the Appalachians.

  “What’s her deal? She seems kinda uptight.” Especially since she looks like a fucking centerfold and far more likely to be posing for a calendar hung in the garage than actually running the place.

  “Jupiter?” His eyes dart from the road to me and back again. The corners of his mouth turn down. “Why are you askin’?”

  “Just curious.” I shrug, then grab the frame of the window and pretend I’m real interested in the view as we fly through Main Street.

  “Then you best get uncurious,” Bobby Ray says with a low growl. “My little sister don’t date bikers.”

  Sister? Thank fuck I didn’t say anything incriminating. I’m sure Tink would fly her itty-bitty self over to the clubhouse in a fit just to tear me a new asshole. I inhale slowly and take a beat to disguise my irritation before I ask, “There somethin’ wrong with bikers?”

  Bobby Ray purses his lips. “Look, I don’t got no beef with you or the Kings, but I know Jupiter. She ain’t interested.”

  “That her talkin’, or her big brother?”

  He grins. “Well, you can try to shoot your shot, but she’s not backwards about comin’ forward. If I know my sister at all, the fact that you’re riding with me right now means you pissed her off good.”

  I huff. Like I give a shit if the angry feminist is pissed at me, I’m still gonna get her naked.

  I don’t have time for bitches anyway. I’m here to help out a fellow charter and to put as much distance between me and my lying, cheating fucking ex McKenna as possible. The last thing I need is another bitch twisting me up on the inside. I’m married to the goddamn road, to my bike, and I have no intention of putting down roots in rural Georgia.

  But I do have time to bang that attitude right out of her. Besides, even angry feminists have needs.

  We round another bend as we leave downtown behind, and the buildings give way to a thicket of trees. The clubhouse gates come into view.

  Bobby Ray pulls over to the shoulder. Clearly, he has no intention of going up the drive. Probably for the best—civilians showing up unannounced are never a good thing. And I’m sure I’d hear all about it if I let Tink’s brother meet the wrong end of a .45.

  “Thanks for the ride.”

  “Yeah, no problem, man. We’ll call in a few days when your bike is ready.”

  Great. Now I’m going to be riding bitch.

  I nod and climb out of the cab. Bobby Ray throws it in drive and turns the truck around. I watch it disappear down the dirt road, then I head up the drive and inside the gate.

  “Dude,” Sterling claps me on the back. “What happened to your bike?”

  “Piece of shit broke down on the way back from Atlanta.”

  Ruin pushes off the side of the clubhouse. “Was that Jupiter who just dropped you off?”

  I fucking wish. I grit my teeth. “Bobby Ray.”

  “Oh shit.” Sterling’s smile is fucking Colgate-worthy. “What’d you do to piss off the boss lady?”

  “How much time you got?”

  The guys laugh like I’m the butt of some stupid joke.

  “You are never tapping that,” Saint says, a cigarette dangling from his lips as he lights up.

  “Sorry, brother, but I think he’s right,” Mako adds unhelpfully.

  “Never,” Ruin adds.

  “Ever.” Sterling laughs.

  “Are y’all fuckin’ done, now?” I ask impatiently.

  “Nope,” Crow says. “But I’m pretty sure you are.”

  Fucking assholes.

  They can laugh all they want but I’m not gonna give up until Tinkerbelle is bouncing on my big, fat dick. I’ve just got to find a way through her fucking impenetrable, man-hating shield first.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Jupiter

  “Hey Juju.” My brother Jeb sticks his head around the doorframe to the office. When Jeb was a baby, he couldn’t quite make out Jupiter, so he called me after his favorite candy and it just kind of stuck. It’s still one of my favorite things about him—although—it seems like all my brothers call me that now. “You about done with that Harley?”

  “That’s what I been asking for days,” Bobby Ray shouts from the workshop.

  I flip him the bird, even though I know he can’t see me. “No. I haven’t even started yet.”

  My youngest brother’s throat bobs as he swallows. “Um ... is there a reason? The part came in two days ago.”

  I glare at him. “How about because I’m busy as fuck, and I’m the only one who seems to be able to file paperwork around here. What is this receipt I’m looking at for the diner?”

  “I think Liam got it in his head that he could pay for lunch on the company card to impress that new waitress.”

  “Well, Liam can see how impressive it is when I dock it from his pay!” I shout the last part, though I know he can’t hear me above the engine hoist. “I swear to God, if it wasn’t for me, you boys would have run Daddy’s garage into the ground by now.”

  “Come on, Juju. It’s not like this hasn’t always been your place.” He gives a humorless laugh. “Your name is on the damn sign.”

  “What’s your point, Jeb?”

  “Nothin’.” He shakes his head and runs a hand over the sporadic stubble on his jaw. As the second youngest of four and fresh out of high school, Jeb keeps growing that damn thing as if he needs to prove he’s now a man. “Um ...” He clears his throat. “That biker keeps comin’ by to check on your progress, and he’s ... er—”

  “Well, unless that biker wants to take his shitty Harley somewhere else, that biker can just keep coming to check on his bike. I’ll get to it when I can,” I say impatiently and glance back down at my paperwork.

  “Now, is that really any way to treat a client?” a gruff voice asks, and I jump in my seat.

  Tennessee.

  My stack of receipts flies from my hand and rains down around me. I stare at those clear blue eyes so full of mirth, and I want to punch the big, handsome son of a bitch.

  “Didn’t mean to scare you, Tink.”

  “You didn’t.”

  “Uh-huh. That’s what them papers flying everywhere means.” He enters my office and grabs the door handle, moving to close it.

  Jeb’s brows shoot skyward, and he turns to leave. “I’ll just ... um ... go.”

  Tennessee closes the door, affectively shutting out my brothers and the garage beyond. “That’s better.”

  “Do you mind?” I ask, pushing to my feet. “You can’t just come in here and—”

  “Shh.” He turns the lock on the back of the knob and heads across the room. Tennessee’s completely unfazed by my protests, he pulls the vacant chair from the corner and sets it in front of my desk. He parks his ass in the seat and then his chunky motorcycle boots land on the cedar, depositing mud and debris on my paperwork.

  I see red. “What the fuck is your problem?”

  “I’m a biker.”

  “Uh ... yeah. Look, I know you clearly don’t think much of the female population, but here’s a tip—we don’t need you to dra
w us a fucking diagram.”

  “You didn’t let me finish.” He tilts his chin at my chair. “Sit down.”

  “In case you hadn’t noticed, this is my office. I don’t take kindly to men ordering me around in it.”

  “Really? So I guess you’ve never had sex in here, huh?”

  “I work with my brothers.”

  “Oh, come on. Tell me you don’t love getting off on the idea of getting caught. Tell me you don’t want a man to grip your hair, bend you over that desk, and fuck the shit out of your sweet little pussy until you’re seeing stars.”

  My mouth drops open as heat floods my core. Fucking asshole. I had thought about that. In fact, since I met him three days ago, I’d spent too many hours at this desk imagining the way he’d feel pounding into me, his big body engulfing mine. But as pretty as he is with his muscles, tattoos, scars, and all of that hair, I am never having sex with this man. I’d probably wind up stabbing him right afterwards because he couldn’t keep his damn mouth shut.

  I sit heavily in my chair and ask, “Do you have a fucking point?”

  “You mean besides the fact that you need a good hard, cocking?” he asks. I open my mouth to protest, but he goes on, “I need my ride. A biker without a bike is just fucking sad.”

  “I appreciate that, but as hard as this may be for you to hear, you’re not the only customer we have right now.”

  “I’ll double whatever you’re charging.”

  I frown. “Are you crazy?”

  “Maybe, but I got shit to take care of, and I need that bike.”

  “I don’t know what to tell you—”

  “Tell me yes.”

  I don’t think we’re talking about his bike anymore. I’m not saying yes to anything this man is offering—he’s a sexist pig—but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t get off on the power he’s giving me. “I’m sorry. I can’t do anything for you right now, but I’ll have one of the guys call you when she’s ready to pick up.”

  He narrows his eyes and uncrosses his ankles, removing them from my desk and setting his heavy boots on the floor with a thud. He stands to his full height, and it feels like my neck just keeps tilting up, up, up, until I meet his gaze. He leans forward and presses his palms into the tabletop, bringing his face closer to mine. “I’ll be back tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that. I’mma keep comin’ back here until that ‘no’ becomes a yes.”

  I lean forward, too, until my face is just inches from his. “You’ll have your bike when it’s ready, Tennessee. And as for that ‘no,’ it will never be a ‘yes.’ Ever.”

  He grins. “Come on, Tink. You don’t believe that any more than I do.” Bear stands and heads to the door, unlocking it. “See you real soon, darlin’.”

  I scowl in response, but he’s already gone. I shove away from the desk and push to my feet. Fucking redneck asshole. I’ll show him no. I storm out of my office and shove into my coveralls.

  “You okay, Juju?” Jeb asks.

  “You know, a little warning would have been good.”

  Jeb winces. “I tried, but he was right there. What the hell was I supposed to say?”

  I glance around the workshop, my eyes landing on the sleek black Harley before I decide to hell with the fucking biker and instead, I turn and search the board for the keys to Sterling’s Charger. They jostle one another and the metallic clang of the keys all banging together tweaks my already frayed nerves, putting my teeth on edge.

  “Uh-oh. She’s on the warpath. Take cover, boys,” Liam warns.

  “Fuck all of y’all.” I give them the finger.

  “Hey, I didn’t say anything.” Grant—the only member of staff who isn’t one of my brothers—frowns.

  “You didn’t exactly help,” I say, exasperated. “You know, there are four big, burly guys in this workshop and not a single one of you thought to stop a strange man from walking into my office.”

  “Not to sound like a pussy, but have you seen him?” Jeb grimaces.

  I roll my eyes. “Oh, I’ve seen him.”

  “I bet you have.” Liam nudges my shoulder with his elbow. I slam my fist into his bicep. “Ow!”

  “I don’t get it. Why don’t you just fix his damn bike?” Bobby Ray closes the trunk of a blue 2012 Honda Civic and leans against it, wiping the grease off his hands with a rag. “Then he’ll stop coming in here.”

  I narrow my eyes. “Wasn’t that same Honda in here last week, and the week before that?”

  His brows pinch together. “What? No.”

  “It was. AAC 7165. I remember that license plate. Why the hell is this car in my shop again, Bobby Ray? I trust that when a vehicle is returned to its owner, everything is perfect. Therefore, it shouldn’t need to come back to us until it’s ready for another oil change.”

  “I know.” Bobby Ray balls his hands into tight fists, sweat beading on his upper lip. “I forgot the leak in the radiator, but it won’t happen again.”

  “It’s coming out of your pay.”

  “Oh, come on, Juju.”

  “I mean it. Shit like this is the reason we’re runnin’ Daddy’s garage into the ground.” I turn and look at all of the boys. “We need to start being better, working harder, stop goofing off, and stop fucking making mistakes, or all of us are going to be out of a job.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Grant says.

  Liam rolls his eyes.

  “And don’t think I didn’t notice that receipt for a ‘business lunch’ on my desk, Liam,” I say. “You can pay for your own damn cheeseburger.”

  “Whatever.”

  I tie my hair up with an elastic and glance again at the Harley in the corner of the workshop. I think about making a start on it, and then that biker’s annoying grin flashes before my mind’s eye and I head for the Dodge Charger instead. It won’t hurt the smug bastard to wait a little longer. Who knows? Maybe it’ll teach him some much-needed patience. I lift the hood on the Charger with a grin stretched from ear to ear.

  I can hardly wait for tomorrow’s visit.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Jupiter

  One week later

  “Bobby Ray?” I close the door to the office and throw my purse over my shoulder. The lights on the shop floor flicker, and I let out a sigh. I’ve been asking Bobby Ray to take a look at those lights for more than two weeks now. I’m just about to retrieve the ladder and fix it myself when the gloss of a shiny red chrome truck catches my eye. There is a brand-spanking-new F-150 sitting in the middle of the shop floor that I don’t remember seeing any paperwork for. I do a lap around the car and pop the hood. I don’t get crazy about trucks like some people do—I am hard up for pure American muscle—but there’s something about this truck that just screams power, and I am wet just thinking about it.

  I sigh as I run my hands over the twin-turbo engine. “Hey there, pretty lady.”

  I wonder how she handles on a track. I’m just about to set my bag down and slide into the driver’s seat to see if those 450 horses are really as fierce as everyone says they are when Bobby Ray comes tearing in from outside. “Hey, hey. Hands off the merchandise.”

  I pout and step away from the vehicle. “What is she in for?”

  “Oil change.”

  “This is a brand-new car.”

  “Customer’s a pedantic fuck and wants it changed.”

  I narrow my eyes. “Who’s the customer?”

  This is a small town, and I would have noticed a shiny new Raptor driving around. Hell, anyone in this town with half a heart would have brought this baby right to my door before they even drove it home.

  “Some rich guy in Atlanta. Now, can you leave already? I’d like to get this done and get out of here before all the food is gone.”

  I hold my hands up in a placating gesture. “Okay, I’m going.”

  “Besides, it’s Tuck’s turn to cook the family Friday night meal.”

  All the blood drains from my face. “Oh, god. I gotta go to the market and get supplies in case
it’s as inedible as last time.”

  We began the Friday night tradition not long after Mama and Daddy died, but since Tuck is the youngest and still in high school, we never expected him to take on the task by himself. Poor Tuck. You won’t find me in the kitchen much, but even I know how to keep toast from burning.

  I bite my lip. “On second thoughts, maybe I should wait until you’re done, and we can grab a bite from the diner next door before we get home.”

  “Or maybe you could leave now and prevent him from burning the pot roast this time.”

  “Who burns a pot roast?”

  “An eighteen-year-old kid who watches too much MasterChef, I guess.”

  The roar of motorcycles fills the lot, and all the blood drains from my face.

  “Hey, Juju? What kind of mechanic refuses to fix a motorcycle for a big, scary biker?”

  “One who wants to teach the spoiled chauvinist a lesson.”

  A beat later, a fist pounds on the steel roller door and the smallest hint of fear twists my gut. “I think I will get home to check on that roast, after all,” I whisper.

  “Don’t you dare,” Bobby Ray mouths.

  I blow him a kiss and slip out the back and into my Ford Mustang—or, as I like to call her, my one true love. Her engine roars, drowning out the obnoxious pipes of the Harleys, and I peel out of the lot through the back gate with a smile on my face in a cloud of smoke and burning rubber.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Bear

  My head snaps around at the sound of a car tearing out of the lot and a purple-haired minx basically throwing us a giant fuck you with the burning rubber she leaves in her wake.

  Crow asks, “You wanna chase her?”

  “I got a better idea.” I grin and bang on the roller door again. “Open the fucking door now, or I shoot it open.”

  A chain rattles and the next minute, the door rolls up to reveal Bobby Ray. He sighs. “She just left.”

  “Where is she headed?”

  “Home. We do family dinners on Friday nights.”

  “You got an address?”

  “I know where it is,” Saint says.