Beyond Reckless (Lost Kings MC 8)

She nods once.

“So let’s get you out of here nice and quick, okay?”

Her tongue darts out, licking my hand, making me laugh.

“Easy, sweetheart, I’ll let you use that tongue wherever you want once we leave.”

Her eyes widen, and this time, she tries to bite me, gently nipping the palm of my hand with sharp little teeth.

“Careful.” I take my hand away and lean in close. “I bite back, you know.”

“I’m counting on it.” She hooks her fingers into my belt loops and drags me closer. Fuck it, I need another taste of her. My hands go to her hips, holding her tight while I lean in and take her mouth.

All the noise of the party fades away. It’s just the sounds of the two of us breathing hard, licking and nipping at each other. “You sure you don’t want to just find a room here?” I ask, even though this is the last place I want to fuck her.

She recoils, smacking her elbow into the wall. “Hell, no.” Her bottom lip trembles, almost as if she’s scared. Of me?

Or something else?

“Hey.” I run the back of my hand over her cheek. “What’s going on in your head?”

“Nothing. I’m just uncomfortable here.”

“Well, let’s go then.”

Get it together, Charlotte.

Marcel takes my hand, leading us back toward the party. I feel utterly safe with him, which is ridiculous since being together here only puts both of us in danger.

“I need to let my brother know I’m leaving,” I explain when we’re almost to the doorway. “I came with him.”

“Yeah, okay.”

He seems reluctant to let my hand go and I raise an eyebrow.

His gaze drops to our entwined fingers. “Feel like I just found you and don’t want to let you out of my sight,” he explains.

Holy shit. He’s too much. Marcel Whelan is either the sweetest biker I’ve ever met, no the sweetest man I’ve ever known, or the biggest bullshitter on the planet.

Against my body’s wishes, I try to jerk my hand out of his hold. “Not sure how my uncle will—”

“Yeah. Right. Good call.”

He releases my hand but places his at the small of my back instead. It’s like he needs to touch me in some way. Needs that connection.

And I need it too.

I’ve been scared out of my mind all night.

The warmth of his hand pressing against me provides the jolt of courage I need to step back into the main room.

I groan and roll my eyes as we re-enter the party. One big drunken, drug-fueled orgy. I don’t remember it being this bad when I was younger. No, back then all the really dirty stuff went on behind closed doors.

I glance at Marcel—Teller—to gauge whether he’d rather join in than be with me. It’s impossible to get a read on him. His jaw’s set in a hard line as he scans the room. “I need to let my SAA know I’m leaving,” he says without looking at me.

“Will you be in trouble?” I tease.

A brief smile flickers over his lips. “Nah.”

“Will he be proud his bro’s getting laid?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Am I?”

“Oh.” My cheeks burn. “Well, I assumed.”

He laughs. Almost nervous laughter and in the few times I’ve met Marcel in the past, I’ve never seen him anything other than confident and in control. Almost cocky. I don’t know if it’s trouble brewing between his club and my uncle’s or something else bothering him.

“Meet you in the parking lot?” I ask.

He nods once, but his gaze drops to my lips as if he’s considering kissing me. Then he slips on a mask of indifference and slides back into the party.

I don’t have a second to miss him though.

Someone bumps into me, splashing drops of beer on my shirt. “Sorry, honey,” he says. I duck my head, hoping to avoid being recognized by anyone else tonight. When I reach the shadows provided by the edge of the room, I scan the space for Carter.

Not finding him, I pull out my phone and send him a text.

Where are you?

I stare at my screen for a second, waiting for a response, but nothing shows up.

Slowly, with my back to the wall, I slide my way along the fringe of the crowd.

“Char-Char!” my uncle calls.

Damn. So much for a clean getaway.

“Char-Char!” he yells even louder. He must be hammered.

Groaning, I push away from the wall and duck through the crowd to meet my uncle next to the bar. “Hey, Uncle Chuck, I was—”

He cuts me off by pulling my body against his and giving me a sloppy kiss. I think he’s aiming for my cheek, but his lips land a little too close to mine for my mental health.

Trying not to vomit, I pull away and paste on a big smile. “Having a happy birthday, Uncle Chuck?”

“Sure am, Princess. You having fun?”

Oh, yeah, I’m having a blast.

“It’s a nice gathering.” There, that answers his question without expressing my disgust, right?

“Teller!” he shouts, ignoring me completely.

I follow my uncle’s line of sight and yes, he is indeed yelling to what I hope is my fuck-buddy for the night.

Fantastic.

A tremble of fear snakes through my belly and into my chest.

Does he suspect? My uncle’s never been the sharpest knife in the drawer. Even so, I find myself uneasy as Teller ambles over. His wary gaze darts between my uncle and me while I work to keep my face completely neutral.

“What’s up, Merlin?”

“Teller, I want you to meet my favorite niece.” He cackles and slaps me on the back, almost knocking me into Teller. “Well, my only niece, unless you count her pansy of a brother.”

Sick and tired of the shitty way he treats my brother, I open my mouth to defend him. Chuck waves his hand in front of my face. “Calm yourself. I’m kidding.”

He slaps Teller’s chest like they’re pals. “She’s so serious.” His let’s-humor-the-little-lady tone sets my teeth on edge. The absolute lack of respect for women in this world is the reason I normally steer clear of bikers in general and my uncle’s club in particular.

What makes Marcel so damn irresistible?

I wish I had an answer. Involving myself with him is probably a huge mistake.

I steal a glance at Marcel, expecting him to be laughing it up with my uncle. But he’s not. His jaw’s tight as if he wants to knock my uncle out. For talking shitty about me or my brother, I’m not sure.

Maybe he’s worth the potential trouble?

I shouldn’t bother getting my hopes up. All these guys are the same. Trying to impress each other any way they can.

“She’s too smart for bikers though. She’s a lawyer,” Chuck says.

Teller glances at me. “I know.”

Uncle Chuck raises an eyebrow.

“She represented a friend of mine in a custody thing.” The lie rolls off his tongue with practiced ease.

My uncle grunts, done with this conversation. He wanted to trot me out like a show pony. Or offer me up as a party favor. Who knows with him.

Teller’s less-than-impressed act seems to bore my uncle.

Or so I think.

“Teller here, walked away from a hell of an accident,” he says nodding at Teller’s legs. “Well, technically you didn’t walk away, right? Almost crippled you.”

That’s my uncle, making inappropriate jokes.

Teller works his jaw, glares at my uncle and shifts on his feet, but doesn’t answer.

“Whisper says you’ve been working your ass off at gettin’ better. Well, before the gym burned down.”

For some reason, Chuck seems to be goading Teller into a fight and I don’t understand why. Teller’s easily got a couple inches and quite a few pounds of muscle on my uncle. Not to mention he’s younger and in much better shape. Yes, I noticed his limp and how he favors one leg, but I’d put my money on him in a fight every

day of the week.

“You back on your bike?” Chuck asks, oblivious to the shift in Teller’s mood.

“Not yet.”

“How long will Rock let that slide?”

Jesus, that’s a hell of an invasive question for a member of another club to ask. Teller answers by lifting his shoulders.

“Well, you’ll ride again, bro.” He nods toward the middle of the room. “Your RC will make sure of it, I bet.”

Teller answers with a non-committal, “Yeah.”

“Well, it was nice seeing you again, Mar-Teller.” I wave my hand in the air even though I’m standing just a few feet away from him. “I need to find my brother.”

“You leaving already, sweetheart?” Chuck asks in a babyish voice that’s really creepy when talking to anyone over the age of oh, I don’t know, five.

I swallow my pride and give the expected answer. “Unless you need me to help out here, I was going to head home.”

“Nah. Go ahead.” He waves his hand at the room. “Too much goin’ on here my princess shouldn’t be exposed to.”

Barf.

Busy chatting up one of the girls behind the bar, Teller ignores my departure. I can’t tell if it’s because he’s changed his mind or because he wants my uncle to think he has no interest in me.

Either way, it’s irritating. I don’t want to compete with the club whores who live to serve the members of this club and their guests. Most likely I’ll lose. Normally, that’d be fine with me. But if the butterflies that took up residence in my belly the minute Teller laid his hands on me are any indication, I really like him.

Well, one way or another, I want to get the hell out of here and I bet Carter’s itching to go as well.

If I know my brother, he found the quietest corner and tucked himself into it hoping to be ignored for the night. I prowl to the outer edge of the room. I’m uncomfortable knowing Heidi’s somewhere in the clubhouse. I’ve always preferred to keep my professional life and my family life far, far away from one another.

I don’t stop to ponder all the ways taking Teller home with me violates this preference.

Minutes later, half of my theory is proved correct. Carter’s in a booth tucked in the corner, head bent down, staring at his phone. Two muffler bunnies are crowded into the booth. One on either side of him, running their hands up his arms and whispering in his ear. One looks like she’s in high school and the other isn’t much older.

Or maybe I’m just getting old.

“Carter?”

The look of relief on his face stabs a bit of guilt into my chest. He only came tonight to keep me safe. He’s probably miserable. “I was just texting you back. Ready to leave?” he asks.

“Yup.”

The girls make disappointed duck faces at Carter and try to convince him to stay. Neither of them bother acknowledging my presence, which suits me fine. I’ve never spoken fluent muffler bunny and I’m not about to start now.

He bumps one girl out of the way with a quick apologetic smile and follows me to the back door.

“Thank fuck,” he mutters once we’re outside. “They kept dropping hints about a three-way and all I could think about is that they’ve both probably banged Uncle Chuck.”

I snort, then push his shoulder. “Don’t be so judgmental.” Am I really sticking up for two club whores?

“Hey.” He holds up his hands. “They can fuck whoever they want, I just don’t want to stick my junk anywhere near where Uncle Chucky’s been.”

This whole conversation, hell this whole night, illustrates just how inappropriate my relationship with my brother is, because I snort and burst out laughing. “Gross.”

“Can’t blame the kid,” someone says behind us. By the fluttering in my belly, my body recognizes Teller’s voice before my brain does.

All humor drains from Carter’s face and he positions himself between Teller and me. “Way to be creepy, dude,” he says when Teller steps out of the shadows, hands in the air as if to assure my brother he’s not a threat.

Teller sweeps his amused gaze over my brother and raises an eyebrow at me. Silently asking if I still want him to come home with me.

My heart thump-thumps a little faster.

“Uh, Teller and I were going to go grab something to eat.” No, I’m not going to tell my brother that I plan to get my brains fucked out tonight.

By the wry smile on his lips, it seems Teller’s thinking the same thing.

Carter narrows his eyes. “You riding with him?”

“Yes.”

He turns Teller’s way again. “Where’s your bike?”

“Don’t have it. Brought my truck,” he says, pointing toward the back of the parking lot to an absurdly large pickup.

Carter nods. “Good.” He eyes Teller up and down. “You don’t mind if I grab your plate number, do you?”

“Carter!”

Marcel ducks his head and chuckles. “No, I don’t mind. Have at it, kid.”

“Anything happens to my sister, you won’t have to worry about the Wolf Knights, I’ll kill you myself.”

“Carter, stop being so rude,” I scold.

Marcel stops laughing, but there’s still amusement shining in his eyes. “Duly noted.” He holds out his hand as if telling my brother to lead the way. Carter marches ahead of us. Marcel tucks his hands in his pockets and juts his elbow out, inviting me to take his arm.

“I’m sorry about him,” I mutter.

“It’s fine. I’m glad he looks out for you.”

That catches me in the ribs and I take in a shuddery breath. “He’s a good brother.”

“Sick whip, man,” my brother shouts, running around Marcel’s truck, checking out all the modifications. As little as I know about vehicles, even I can tell he’s put a lot of money and time into his truck.

Carter asks him a bunch of questions about the size of the lift and tires. It all sounds like gibberish to me. I’m touched that Marcel indulges my brother’s curiosity though. He’s patient and answers every question thrown at him in an intelligent way. As if he respects Carter.

Of course Carter has to push too far. As they’re wrapping up their debate on front bumpers, Carter yanks out his cell phone and snaps a picture of Marcel’s license plate. “A precaution,” he informs Marcel. “If my sister goes missing, I’m handing this over to the cops.”

Christ, any second now Marcel’s going to throat-punch my brother for being so damn disrespectful.

But again, he only chuckles. “Fair enough.” He holds out his fist and after a second, my brother taps knuckles with him.

Carter hugs me. “Be careful,” he says against my ear.

“Thanks. Get home safe.”

My brother backs up a few steps and points to Marcel. “Go easy on her, she’s had a long dry spell.”

“Get out of here, you little shit,” I snap at him. He takes off running into the night toward his car.

Marcel’s still laughing as he comes around to my side to open the door for me.

“By the way, you might’ve mentioned your uncle was the president. Not just a member,” he says in a low voice.

Shit. “Sorry. I don’t really give a lot of thought to what he does.”

He tilts his head as if he’d like more information, but doesn’t want to ask.

When I don’t elaborate, he opens the door for me.

Lights shine down on the gravel and a step silently lowers from underneath the truck. “That’s cool, I was wondering how the hell I was going to climb into this thing.”

“Heidi bitched so much when I had the lift installed, I added the steps for her.” He runs his hand over his leg in an unconscious sort of gesture. “They’ve been useful.”

The thought of him modifying his truck to accommodate his sister is so sweet, before placing my foot on the step, I turn and lean up to kiss his cheek.

His eyes widen. “What was that for?”

“I like you.”

The first genuine, non-flirty, non

-cocky smile of the night transforms his entire face. “I like you too, Charlotte.”

I don’t consider myself vain. And I can’t remember the last time I was nervous with a woman. Yet, suddenly I’m very aware I haven’t been with anyone since the accident. While I’m confident all my equipment works just fine, I’m scarred up in a lot of places. Not to mention the weakness in my left leg.

It could be worse. I could be dead.

Or still paralyzed from the waist down. Those few weeks where no one could tell me if I’d ever walk again were terrifying.

So, I’m not complaining.

Charlotte knew me before the accident, though. Part of me feels comfortable with her for that reason and part of me is unsettled by the idea of her comparing me to who I was three years ago.

Oddly, even with my reservations, there’s no doubt in my mind we’re going to fuck. I’m so hard for her it’s a miracle I was able to walk through the parking lot. Not even her pesky brother dimmed my dick’s enthusiasm. I wasn’t lying back at the clubhouse. I’ve thought about her nonstop since we saw each other the other day.

As soon as I steer us out of the parking lot, she asks, “Was your sergeant-at-arms upset you were leaving with Merlin’s niece?”

“I didn’t tell him.”

“Oh.” She turns and I feel the weight of her gaze settle over me. “Were you worried he’d ask you to pry information out of me?”

“No.” Wrath wouldn’t ask. He’d expect.

“I don’t have any. Information, I mean. Just so you know.”

I highly doubt that, but I have a more immediate concern at the moment, so I ignore the comment. “Why didn’t you tell me he was your uncle at my grandmother’s funeral?”

She sighs and out of the corner of my eye, I notice her staring out the window.

“By the way, where am I going?” I ask once we’re on the highway.

“Lark Street.”

Inwardly I groan. It’s a bitch to find a parking spot in that area. Let alone a spot I can fit my truck in. My options are limited, though. I can’t bring Charlotte to the clubhouse and taking her to a hotel sends a message I’d rather not deal with.

“I panicked.” Her soft voice leaves no doubt what question she’s answering.