The Biker's Plaything (Straight to Hell MC 1)

Emotions were not something he liked to meddle with.

For several minutes, he listened. She hated him. Hated everything about their arrangements. He was a fool to think there could ever be more.

Stepping back from the bathroom, he licked his lips and yelled, “How long are you going to fucking be?”

Another few seconds’ pause. “A couple of minutes. I’ll be out soon. I promise.” Her voice gave away the fact she’d been crying.

“I’m heading down. I’ll have someone come and deal with you.”

“Okay.”

He wanted her to tell him why she was crying, even if he didn’t want the answers. Instead, he turned on his heel and left the bedroom.

On his way down, he found the nearest whore, grabbing her arm and forcing her to face him. “Take up some decent food to my bedroom and get her some clothes as well. Don’t fucking test me.” He let her go and she stumbled on her heels.

They were way too fucking high to be walking around in the club, but the brothers, for some odd reason, couldn’t get enough of the women in high heels. They were completely unsuitable.

Fuck, he was getting old.

He headed into his office and glanced over his cell phone. There hadn’t been any missed calls. Collapsing in his office chair, he ran a hand down his face. He hadn’t slept that good in such a long time. It just felt … right having her next to him.

His office door opened and he wasn’t surprised to see another club whore holding a tray.

“Hi, Lord,” she said.

She was already heavily made up. The skirt she wore only just covered her ass and the top, well, there was no point to her even wearing it as he saw nipple. She bent forward, putting his breakfast and coffee in front of him.

When she lifted up, with her head tilted to the side, she nibbled on her lip. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“No, get out.”

“Oh, well, I’m available to you.”

He sat back and looked at her. “Who put you up to this?”

“No one.”

Lord picked up his coffee cup and threw it across the room. Hot coffee splashed across all the tiles. “Do I look like the kind of man who likes to be lied to!” He growled the word out.

“Tank and Rubber said you needed me. That you wanted a good time. I’ve been well tested and the brothers are all satisfied. I promise.” She offered him a smile and he shook his head.

“Get the fuck out.”

He had no desire for pussy that had seen several of his brothers pounding it. The club whores were fun, but he wasn’t interested. Not now. Not when he had a precious peach upstairs, ripe for the plucking.

“And tell someone to clean up this fucking mess,” he called out after her.

With a knife and fork in hand, he dug into his breakfast, ignoring the next person who came in to scrub at his floors.

His thoughts returned to Ally upstairs. Had they gotten her some good food? What was she thinking this morning? Why did she fucking cry? None of his questions were going to be answered unless he actually asked them, and there was no way in hell he was doing that.

Just as he was about to snap and break something, his cell phone went off.

He checked. It was Stump.

“Tell me what you’ve got,” he said.

“There was an attack on one of the brothels. Guess which one.”

“The same one Misty was working at?” he asked.

“You got it. I’m in the security room with Brick. We’re checking over the footage. I think Misty is fucking lying. The Skull Nation just walked right in. Five guys. They weren’t wearing cuts, but I’ve seen their ugly fucking faces to know them when I see them. Nothing happened like Misty said,” he said. “We’ve got three dead girls here now, boss. Two men are down, and we’ve got one customer dead as well. He wasn’t a big client.”

“I don’t give a fuck about the prick. This is still bad for business. No one wants to go to a whorehouse where they could get killed. Find out if the man has any family. Take care of it. Same as the girls.”

“Already done. One of the girls has two kids, but they live with the dad. I’ll pay him a visit and see what happens.”

“And where’s Misty now?” he asked.

“She’s nicely bound and scared. You’d love her crocodile tears.” At the mention of Misty’s tears, it made him think of Ally. Misty’s tears were understandable. She was going to die, no matter what. Her death was inevitable. Why was Ally crying? Her life was probably fucking miserable. She’d been dealing with her father for years, no matter her age. She had a shit life, he got it. Why did she want to go back to it so badly?