Zach (Hell's Handlers MC 1)

Zach snorted. “Fuck no. But I don’t see what one thing has to do with the other. You’re here for a few more weeks. I’m here. We fuck like we’re made for each other. Why not wear each other out for the next few weeks?”

Because she would become addicted to the pleasure. And she’d lose herself and the life she worked so hard to create. Worked so hard to fix. She’d lost so much because of her mistakes. Sometimes she could still hear her parents’ disapproving voices in her head, telling her she was no longer welcome in their home. She’d sullied herself and they were through cleaning up her messes. “Because I don’t want that. I’m not some fuck toy you can play with when you’re in the mood.”

Zach snorted and stalked toward her until he crowded her against the wall. “That’s not what I meant and you know it. Besides, you weren’t exactly complaining when I had my face buried in your pussy.”

She closed her eyes. No, she hadn’t complained. No woman in the world would complain about that. But a few orgasms didn’t make everything all right. It was all the more reason to remain firm.

“Running scared. Like I said.” He backed away from her and she tightened her hold on the sheet. “No worries. I’m a patient man.” He continued walking backward toward her door. “Forget the coffee. I know a great diner that serves kick ass coffee. I’ll swing by later on.”

As he neared the door, he bent and scooped his shirt from the floor. After shrugging into it—Toni looked anywhere but at his sexy form bunching and stretching while he dressed—he picked up something else. With a grin so wicked it could have come from the devil himself, Zach held up the lacy panties she’d been wearing the night before. Her eyes widened as he brought them to his face and inhaled before stuffing them in his pocket.

“Catch ya later, babe.” He winked, then the playful look disappeared from his face. “Oh, I’m gonna have a prospect tail you to and from the diner today. I’m not really worried, but you’ve been seen with me and with the shit going down with Mav, we can’t be too cautious. Just go about your business and pay no attention to him.”

Toni couldn’t process the rapid change in him from lover to MC enforcer, so she just nodded.

And then he was gone.

Toni sagged against the wall. There was no use denying how amazing she felt after two Zach-given orgasms. But in the span of one night her life had gone from complicated to uber complicated. And now she had to have a biker follow her around?

What the hell had she gotten herself into?

Chapter Eighteen

“Something’s gotta fucking give,” Zach said as he ran his hand through his hair for the tenth time in as many minutes.

Somehow, he managed to resist the urge to slam his fist down on the table top. A few hours ago, he’d removed the knuckle bandages for good and was managing pretty well. He was even able to ride without splitting the scabs, but his knuckles wouldn’t handle another bashing like he’d given them the other night.

“It’s like they’ve all just up and vanished,” Viper said as he lit a cigarette and blew out a long stream of smoke.

Zach gave up the habit years ago and didn’t miss it until times of high stress. And stress was at an all-time high with Mav still missing. The monster orgasm he’d had inside Toni had helped at the time, but he’d left her house hard and tense all over again two mornings ago and hadn’t been gifted a moment of peace since.

“They didn’t fucking disappear. They ain’t Houdini or some shit. They just went to ground. They’re laying low and we have no fucking idea where.” Copper rubbed his chin. “What I’m stuck on is the why. Why grab Maverick? What are they gaining from holding him?”

Rocket grunted. “To fuck with us.”

“Could it be that simple?” Zach added. “Just Shark getting his rocks off fucking with us?”

With a shake of his head, Copper tapped his index finger on the table. “But there’s been no demand for any kind of ransom. I hate to say it, but I expected they’d either ask for something or we’d find a body by now.”

Nausea rolled through Zach’s stomach. He was tired. So fucking tired. For days, they’d been tapping all their contacts, exhausting all their resources, and calling in every favor they’d ever earned. No one knew shit. Or if they did, they weren’t willing to run their mouths. And Zach, with a little help from Louie, had been very persuasive.

Each day, they’d received one texted picture of Maverick. And each day he’d had his ass beat a little more. He looked like shit, but not bad enough to be worrisome as far as his survival. Just enough to ensure he was miserable. How long would that last? At what point would Shark decide Mav’s survival was no longer necessary?