Their Bounty (Four Mercenaries 1)

Clover’s other problem shouldn’t have been so hard to crack, since Boar had assured him Pyro was crazy about Clover’s coloring and body type, but the guy kept his distance, as if he’d suddenly lost interest after that final fuck. Though Clover wasn’t blind and spotted him watching when he’d thought Clover couldn’t see him, so what was up with that?

Maybe Pyro’s unwillingness to associate with Clover in any way meant he hadn’t forgiven Clover for hurting Boar’s feelings, but since Clover didn’t want to cause any more trouble, he’d decided to wait for the other man’s move. Three days later, the two of them still hardly spoke.

At the end of the dusty road was a concrete wall that stretched into the trees all around them, and when Tank slowed down upon approach, Clover’s heart started beating faster. He was here with four dangerous men, but the aggressive paintings on the metal gate still made him hug Tank harder.

Motorcycles with fronts morphed into steel horse heads and riders in spiked armor populated the picture, and the forest of heads on spikes painted in the background extended beyond the painting into the landscape, with mannequin heads and helmets mounted atop the gate. Not too inviting.

Loud metal music banged from beyond the tall fence, but after Boar beeped his horn three times, a blond head appeared above the wall.

“Who’s there?” the boy asked.

Tank removed his helmet, looking up.“Brothers from Tank’s crew. Now open the gate. We’re all thirsty as fuck!”

Clover was surprised to see someone like him greet them instead of a whole bunch of bearded bikers Tank’s size. After all, the sign above the gate announced that they were entering the territory of the Steel Horde Motorcycle Club. It would have only made sense for the men inside to wear spiked armor and eat kittens for lunch.

Clover’s stomach tightened when the gate opened. “Will I be okay here?” he asked as soon as Tank stopped his Harley in front of a wooden structure the size of a freestanding restaurant. It was once they’d entered the property that Clover realized the vastness of its size. Cabins and sheds peppered the ground under tall trees, but he didn’t get to investigate further in the dark. The party inside the main building was going strong, though there were pockets of activity all around it, including in the well-lit hot tub occupied by a small crowd of topless women.

Tank patted Clover’s back. “You’re with me. Their prez and I go way back, so if in doubt, always say you came with me.”

Clover nodded, fascinated by the unusual setup of this biker compound. Half an hour’s drive away from the main road to get here, passing through idyllic landscapes, over a wooden bridge, and for a while, they’d driven by a shallow river where Clover had spotted deer. Being a poor city rat, he’d never seen one out of a zoo, and he’d made Tank stop so that he could get a better look.

Torches were attached to the front of the main building, and their light bounced off the long row of Harleys. The sound of a hammer hitting metal came from a mid-sized structure farther along the wall time and time again, as if this wasn’t a biker club but a medieval village with a blacksmith who spent his time making horseshoes and swords.

Groups of people watched the newcomers with mild interest, more focused on their drinks and whatever conversations they were having, but when the large door to the main house opened and a hot, long-haired guy rushed straight toward them, Clover could suddenly feel many pairs of eyes burning his skin. The stranger was dressed in black, with a leather vest featuring many patches at the front, and a streak of gray cascading down the side of his face. But despite his menacing posture and a large Y-shaped scar on his cheek, he beamed as he shook Tank’s hand before pulling him into a bear hug.

“It’s been months! How’re you doing, brother?”

Tank smiled. “Long time no see, Cross. Need to lay low for a bit. Let’s go talk.”

The others exchanged greetings with Cross, who was the president of the Steel Horde MC, while Clover kept to the sidelines, bewildered and doing his best to look casual.

But Cross’s eyes soon focused on him, and the sharp way that gaze pierced him made Clover both weirdly excited and uncomfortable.

“Is that a new member of your crew?”

Tank grinned and pushed Clover forward, tapping him on the right arm to signal that he was to shake Cross’s hand. “This is Clover. Our boy.”

The squeeze of the man’s hand was hard yet warm. “That’s how you call it nowadays? You guys tired of looking for hookups in bars?”

Clover’s face exploded with heat, but before he could have run away out of embarrassment, Tank kissed the side of his head. “He brings much-needed balance. Also, look at that pretty face.”