Prince Charming (Renegade Souls MC Romance Saga Book 9) Page 11

  “He did.” Hawk said, his voice unused and bored.

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

  If this was a trap, the old man was going to lose. This much he could guarantee. Outside of the back room, in Tag’s gym, stood Rider’s bodyguard. No one was getting past Snake. He didn’t need the security detail, he’d take care of Rex with his arms tied behind his back and he still wouldn’t break a sweat.

  This show was all about the club. Shoving it in Rex’s face for what he’d lost.

  Call him petty, Rider got his kicks where he could.

  “I thought my brother would be here.”

  “I don’t need Mad-dog to hold my hand.” Rider slid his navy gaze to his cousins, who shifted uncomfortably under his stare. Pussies.

  “I’m prepared to offer you a 20% cut. It’s more than fair.”

  “You want to run that by me again, I think I heard wrong…”

  Rex turned furious red, puffing on a fat cigar, he blew the smoke across the table. “It’s more than fair.”

  Rider chuckled to piss the guy off. “This is tedious. I’ve made myself clear, there’s no business I want to do with you. Enjoy retirement.”

  “You talk about respect, nephew, but you forget who I am, what I was. You give none back.”

  “What you were is the correct term. Do you know why people like me will take time for meetings like this one?”

  Rex rolled his eyes, impatient.

  Rider held his smile at bay.

  “I’m sure you’ll tell me.”

  “So I can put you in your place, Uncle.”

  “My fuckin’ pla—”

  “You still think it’s the eighties, that you have the gavel, the power. You have none. Your sons have none. Yet you go on trying, don’t you, Rex?”

  “The club is nothing without me,” he hissed. Fuck, the man was drinking from the delusional water cooler in great gulps.

  Even when Rex held the gavel, he was a shit prez, running the club into the red.

  Rider smirked, amused. “The club was nothing with you. You need to up your psychotic meds.”

  Rex’s eldest son shifted in his seat. Rider zeroed in on him, arching a brow. “Something to add, Ranger?” He was the same age. Whereas Rider had been independent most of his life, running with the club before his twelfth birthday, Ranger proved he couldn’t hack the turbulent lifestyle, not making it to the prospecting stage.

  “We’re just tryin’ to get along, Rider. You gotta be reasonable. This is our last—”

  “Shut yer fuckin’ mouth.” Spat Rex.

  Rider held a grin. Last what, he wondered. Last-ditch attempt to salvage what had been a bad year for them.

  Ranger flushed red and slunk deeper into the chair.

  At that, there was a knock at the door. Tag strode in, ignoring the guests.

  “Prez, sorry to interrupt, that guy has been back on the phone. He upped the offer to 1.5 large for a 50% share.”

  “What did you tell him?”

  “Told him to go jump.” Chuckled Tag.

  Rider jutted his chin. “You do what you gotta do, brother. It’s your call. But an investment like that in your cage is gonna bring in the bigger fights and more profit.”

  “That’s true.”

  Rex’s pathetic attempt at trying to look like he wasn’t eavesdropping failed miserably. Rider shot his gaze over and saw the dollar signs in the old man’s eyes.

  That’s right. Take the fucking bait.

  “Wasn’t I just sayin’, boys, I was lookin’ to be investing on the way here.” His sons looked at each other like they had no clue what he was saying. “Oh, yeah, dad, you were.” One spoke up. “You’re that cage fighter, aren’t you?”

  “That’s me,” smirked Tag, rocking on his boots, hands in his back pockets. “Interested in fighting, are ya? We offer lessons.”

  “This one?” Rex interjected with a scoffed laugh, “couldn’t fight his way out of his own fuckin’ socks.” If Rider felt any family loyalty to tweedled dumb and dumber, he would have cringed for the putdown. Ranger, probably for the first time in his life, took a decision himself by storming out.

  Rex addressed the other son. “Go check his fuckin’ tampon.” then turned greedy eyes on Rider and Tag when they were alone. “How much to buy in?”

  “Didn’t think the fights were your scene.” Rider added for effect. He could give a fuck. He just wanted the last cent Rex had.

  “A lot you don’t know. How much?”

  “I’m looking for 2 million bucks sponsorship.”

  Rex didn’t blink. “What does that give me?”

  “Thirty percent share of my winnings in the first year.”

  “You have to win first.”

  Tag smirked. “Always do.”

  “Don’t talk to anyone else. I gotta liquidate some stock first.”

  “You’re interested?” Rider asked. “Heard you didn’t have funds.”

  Ego ruled Rex.

  He blew up as Rider expected, jumping to his feet as fast as his round bulk would allow. “You got no damn respect, boy. I could buy this whole fuckin’ place if I wanted to.”

  “Sorry, pal. My gym isn’t for sale. And you’re disrespecting my Prez, don’t think I want your sponsorship either.” Tag said coldly.

  “Don’t be so fuckin’ hasty now. Give me two days, don’t talk to no one else. I’ll make it 2.5 million.”

  His uncle was so desperate to get a foothold in any part of Colorado again, he didn’t see how easily he was being played. Like taking candy from an obese baby.

  Rider smirked to himself.

  He was getting married in a few months, finally giving his name to his Icy girl. Before that, he was gonna crush this motherfucker into the dirt and grin while he did it.

  Blood meant nothing to him when it was a traitor.

  According to Juicy’s intel, Rex was next to broke, where he was gonna get two million from, Rider didn’t know, but he would enjoy taking it from him.

  Already tasting the coppery tang of victory.

  Nothing Rider liked more than destroying an enemy with kindness.

  He smiled for the rest of the day.

  SEVENTEEN

  “Not every girl had her own murderous Prince.” - Marianna

  The only thought he had now was hunting down his Russian girl.

  A pep in his step, Tag came to a screeching halt when he saw the eldest Marinos son towering over Marianna.

  “Don’t fucking care if it’s not your job, bitch. Get me a damn coffee.” He barked.

  Not even inside one of his cages had Tag felt rage rise so fast from his soul.

  There was no way to tell how he moved, only that he grabbed the dead man by the back of his neck with a hard clawing hand and slammed him face first to the floor.

  The guy went down like a bag of bricks.

  Marianna’s gasp clanged through his eardrums.

  The fucker wheezed, crying out like a little bitch.

  Holding him down, Tag used his weight to pin a knee in the middle of his back.

  “What the fuck, dude. What the fucking fuck. Get the fuck off me!”

  Inside the cage, Tag was told he was a complete beast. He felt in control there, as though his true purpose on this earth came together when he was putting the hurt on someone with his martial arts skills. Sometimes he had out-of-body experiences where fights didn’t register until he’d won.

  He’d watched fights back, and it was like viewing Godzilla let loose on the city.

  Outside of the ring, he was a decent guy.

  As decent as a deplorable biker who straddled the lines of the law could be.

  He was no altar boy.

  Rarely did he choose violence to remedy an issue, he didn’t have a fast trigger and could handle his temper pretty well, but neither was Tag all good either.

  Well, that fucked off.

  He was boiling inside.

  Ready to murder this jerk in plain sight.

  �
��Did you call her a bitch?” He grated through his teeth. The man squealed, trying to flop like a fish, but Tag outweighed him. “I fucking said did you call her a bitch?”

  “Fuck! Yes. Okay. Yes! God, chill the fuck out.”

  “Chill out? You’re fortunate I’m not ripping your goddamn limbs off, you lanky cunt. Tell her you’re sorry. NOW, motherfucker, before I make you piss yourself.”

  “I’m sorry!” he screamed, “I’m fucking sorry, okay!”

  Releasing his weight, Tag rose to his feet and used the guy’s hair to yank him up, screaming like a pussy. Pitiful. The chump wouldn’t last half a round in the cage.

  Getting in his face, the fear rose off him like a stink.

  Eyes cold. Voice like death, Tag delivered his only warning.

  “You ever disrespect a woman like that again—you ever, and I mean, fucking ever, say a wrong word to this woman again, you’re gonna wish I ripped your legs off today, ‘cause the pain I’ll give will last until the next fucking lifetime. Now get the fuck out of my gym.”

  Shoving him, the guy didn’t even look around as he raced for the entryway. Everyone watching got back to their machines like nothing happened.

  He was left with his veins on fire to grab her close.

  Emotionally.

  Sexually.

  Protectively.

  He’d fuse every inch of his 6’4 frame to her in every way possible.

  And to see her insulted put venom in his blood.

  Vengeance for the deplorable shit already done to her, the injustice of every man who spoke wrong to her roared through his body to make it right.

  To make it so he washed every piece of pain from her life.

  He couldn’t, and it was only now he’d unlocked the leash on his anger that he felt it roaring through him.

  He said the first thing that came into his head without regret.

  “My lips fucking ache for yours, Marianna.” A desperate growl gurgled in his throat. “You better go now if you don’t want me to kiss you.” She wheezed, unmoving. That was all the cue he needed as he stepped in and claimed her tormenting lips like he had the right to.

  He knew he’d flipped the switch on her recently by claiming to be her friend, then upping his game into something more intimate. He couldn’t help himself.

  If he didn’t get a taste of her, he was gonna go mad.

  With brief resistance, she wound her arms around his shoulders. He felt her rise on her tiptoes and she opened for his tongue.

  A moan shook in her throat as she stretched her mouth open for him. Licking, scraping, and biting the soft part of his lower lip.

  Electricity surged through his groin and tightened his balls as he engulfed the furious lashes of her starving tongue. Only the single-minded thought of fucking her until they both exploded kept him on his feet.

  She tasted like she was his home, warm and sugary, wholesome and his. He knew this without proof.

  Excitement pounded a primitive drumbeat through his veins.

  Driving him completely primeval.

  A witch. A she-devil. A Goddess.

  She was a cocktail of fire and cocaine, shooting adrenaline directly into his bloodstream. Turning his body into hers, so no one but him would hear her little moans as he sucked on her bottom lip.

  He’d rip a fucker apart if someone else saw her the way he was.

  Her eyes darkened when Tag grudgingly drew back.

  No mistaking now the arousal in her eyes. Her frenzied inhales quickened his own.

  She amazed him, and it wasn’t often anything surprised Tag.

  But it was there. Raw and hungry, pulsing between them.

  A living entity of need.

  Whatever she needed, whatever she wanted, he was more than willing to deliver.

  Her fate was sealed.

  She’d made him into a snarling animal. The only woman who could bring him to heel.

  He was a full-fucking-grown-man, and yet he felt a snatch of nerves for what she witnessed him doing.

  “Marianna, about what you saw…” he started. Hoping she wouldn’t see him now as a violent thug, having seen enough of that to last her a lifetime.

  Her hand on his heaving chest stopped him dead.

  The tone to come out of her lips was low and husky. The right amount of sexy to tempt Tag’s inner devil.

  “I will collect my purse and coat and meet you outside by your truck, Tag.” She told him without breaking eye contact. He knew right away what she meant. He fucking knew, but he wanted her to say it. His tongue flooded with the need to lick her dry. “I would very much like you to touch me as you said.” She added. Then she turned on her heel, walking away toward the office. Leaving Tag with a pounding dick and his eyes drooped to half-mast watching her.

  It wasn’t a minute later he saw her waiting by his Raptor. Puffs of air so cold coming from her lips. His steps sped up and when he was close enough to touch, he cupped her cheeks.

  Her eyes, so expressive, killed him.

  “You sure about this?” He’d ask her again and again so they both know she was sure she wanted him, and it wasn’t some sense of obligation.

  The ferocity of her tongue in his mouth said she desired him.

  He could go slower if he had to.

  But he wanted his hands and mouth on her in any way he could get.

  “Yes, I want you to touch my heated body? Da.” She nodded with certainty.

  Her new confidence gave him the biggest boner.

  She would never be truly happy, not without her kids, but he could hopefully get Marianna to a place where she felt safe and wanted.

  “I want my hands on you,” he stated, making it clear. “And my mouth.” When he skimmed his lips to her ear, she shivered as he told her, “anything else you want after that you can decide, darlin’.”

  They weren’t down the road two minutes before he knew she was too far away across the cab for his liking.

  Silent as an apparition. Most likely talking herself out of what they were gonna do.

  “Get over here, Anna.”

  “Over where?”

  “Here. On my lap.”

  She laughed, and he grew loose in his frame listening to the sound.

  “Do you want me to crash, Anna?” He was serious, though he said it in a softer tone.

  “You are dramatic.” She accused in her sex-on-legs accent, making his dick pulse.

  “Climb on my lap.”

  “How will that stop you from crashing?”

  “Get here and find out.”

  She didn’t think twice when she unclipped her belt and swung her leg over the console, daintily climbing onto his lap.

  The sense of euphoria hitting Tag from all corners was huge. His chest filled with air as he shuffled her closer and nuzzled her temple.

  Damn, it was gonna be torture.

  If they were in his bedroom now, he would spend an hour making her ready, worshipping her pussy with his greedy tongue. But this was wild, without order or plans.

  They both needed it for different reasons.

  Hopefully, they could meet somewhere in the middle.

  “Hurry,” she whispered as he turned the corner to his street. The entire journey she’d sat demurely on his lap, casting glances, her fingers working his shirt. Now they were here, he wanted to rush her out of the truck like a pre-teen on a curfew.

  He forgot all about the snow falling in heavy sheets. It was as though his feet couldn’t move him that last inch to get the door open, because if he did, this great feeling would disappear.

  A smaller hand locked in his, he took her along the pathway, opened the door, and locked up behind them.

  Tag tasted her nerves when he shrugged out of his jacket, then stepped into her space to help take hers off.

  She was sweet.

  So incredibly beautiful.

  How he was gonna rein himself in he didn’t know yet, but he’d cut off his own head before he rushed her. That’s why he asked again,
“you sure, darlin’? We can get cuddled up and watch some TV instead.”

  Her smile seduced him.

  “Thank you for asking, Luke. I want this. I want you. I promise to tell you if anything changes.”

  Good girl.

  It was a tossup who reached for who first, but their lips met, and she gave him a kiss hot enough to set fire to the hallway rug. He tossed her purse on top of the coat he let fall to the floor.

  His mouth went wild on her neck.

  The more Marianna moaned and clung to his waist, the deeper he sucked and scraped her with his teeth.

  Go slow, you horny asshole.

  It was like his dick didn’t want to listen, because he nudged her backward and her little butt met the hallway seat. It was low and padded, meant for shoes, or so the old ladies told him when he rallied them to help decorate his place. Now he was glad they’d gone berserk with his credit card, ‘cause he had his woman at an angle he could work with, when he dropped to his knees like a deranged dog at his food bowl.

  Her eyes looked like two diamonds.

  “Beautiful girl.” He rasped against her neck, nuzzling his mouth down to capture a nipple through her shirt.

  “Ohhh.” She panted, her hands coming to the back of his head.

  That’s it, darlin’, you get a good hold of your man.

  Her nails raked over his scalp, feeling it in his dick.

  Going back to her mouth, she was ready for him, tasting like a dream, she sucked on his tongue.

  “Ready to fly, darlin’?”

  “Da,” she answered breathily. And then she moaned his name when he widened her knees, reaching for the buttons on her jeans. There was no resistance. He dropped kisses to her lips while he slid the denim down her legs, exposing a pair of red cotton panties.

  Tag was in territory never explored before.

  He was coming out of his skin to fuck her. To get his mouth all over her sweetness and brand himself into her skin.

  He tried not to fall too fast, told himself it was dangerous. She was not ready for all the shit he wanted to give her. But her kiss grew in confidence, demanding more, stretching so deep she was swallowing him whole. If she reached his soul, he would’ve handed it over, gift wrapped in its own leather cut. If his two-story brick house burned down around him, he wouldn’t have noticed. He was ensnared in skinny fingers roaming around his neck, holding him to her mouth.