Crazy B!tch (Biker Bitches 5)

Calder used a rag on the desk to wipe his own, keeping his face impassive. “Thanks. But talking about our girl, we have a problem to solve.”

Stud became serious.

Calder’s eyes twinkled with laughter, knowing his brother thought he was talking about Star’s living arrangement. “We have any work that needs to be done today?”

Stud glanced through his window, toward the empty garage. “No. It looks like you took care of it yesterday. Why?”

“We have four little fuckers—as Crazy Bitch likes to call them—to take care of.”

Stud’s expression lightened. “Who?”

“Sam, Steven, and Brandon. We should have enough time to take care of them before meeting Diamond.”

“What about the fourth one?”

“We have to wait until Monday to take care of that little fucker.”

“Why do we have to wait until Monday?”

“Because Ricky is in school now, and our meeting with Diamond gives him a chance to get home.”

“Star told you about Ricky?”

“Technically—by the way, that’s another favorite word of Crazy Bitch’s—Star told Harley.”

“Technically, I like that word, too. By the way, I need to use it more often with Sex Piston. Technically.” Stud savored the word, letting it roll off his tongue. “We should let Harley deal with little Ricky. Don’t you agree?”

“I agree, brother, I agree.” Calder reached into his pocket for his bike keys as Stud reach for his and the key to lock the garage.

“You ready?”

Stud locked the office as Calder backed his motorcycle out of the garage bay, where he had stored it while he had been driving Stud’s van.

Once both of them were seated on their bikes, Calder looked at Stud. “Do we need to go by the clubhouse to get backup?”

Stud shook his head. “We got this. Let’s ride.”

The brothers pulled out of the parking lot in unison, neither taking the lead. They were going to defend their girl as one, and as one, they would triumph.

31

“Why are Stud and Calder looking so happy?” Killyama asked, pouring another glass of tequila for the crew as they sat at their usual table at the clubhouse.

“Who knows? Who cares?” Crazy Bitch shot Killyama a dirty look for not topping her glass off like she had the others. “Why you being stingy to me?”

“A couple of reasons. First, you don’t handle tequila the way we do, and you’re in enough trouble with the law.”

“What’s the second reason?” Taking the shot and sucking on a lemon, she waited for her answer.

“You’re the reason Train isn’t sitting here. Did you have to ask him how sore his dick was loud enough for everyone in the club to hear?”

“Inquiring minds want to know.” She laughed, pouring herself another shot, despite Killyama trying to take it away.

“No one wants to know.” Killyama snatched the bottle back, holding it in a firm grip.

“I do.” Fat Louise held her shot glass out for a refill with pathetic eyes.

Seeing Killyama refill the glass, Crazy Bitch made a mental note to remember that particular expression. It could be useful.

“The only thing you bitches need to know is to throw that potato masher away.”

The bitches at the table cracked up, pounding their glass on the table for Killyama to refill their glasses.

“Who’s the hottie with Skulls and Sizzle?” Crazy Bitch reached for another lemon, biting down on the tart flesh.

Sex Piston rolled her eyes. “You know Devon Carpenter. His mother is sitting at the table with them.”

Crazy Bitch squinted her eyes. “Well, he looks hot from here.”

“You don’t need any more tequila if you think a seventy-year-old man looks hot when you’re fucking Calder.” Sex Piston moved her glass away.

“I’m not fucking him right this minute,” Crazy Bitch griped, trying to get her glass back. Next time, she would make a pit stop at the liquor store and buy her own tequila before hanging out at the club with her friends.

She was about to fight for her glass back when Calder leaned over her shoulder, prying her hands away from Sex Piston’s. “Dance with me.”

She willingly released the glass. Standing up, she pointed two fingers at her eyes, then at Sex Piston, before moving away with her boy toy.

Crazy Bitch mentally cracked up at her pun.

The music was loud and obnoxious, just the way she liked it. She fucking loved to dance when she was drunk and horny.

Calder slid his hand to her hip, letting her dance suggestively while keeping her within arm’s reach. The fucker was good enough to match her movements, intensifying her hormones.

When the music switched to “Way Down We Go,” she smirked, turning around and sliding down his hard body seductively. Bouncing on her feet when she was crouching to raise slowly back up, she then repeated the movement. She went down again and shook her breasts so they jiggled under her slinky midriff top that ended just below her matching red bra.

Each song melded into another. Crazy Bitch pushed her ass harder back into Calder as they danced to one blaring song.