Crazy B!tch (Biker Bitches 5)

Calder turned back toward his bedroom, passing by Loco, who was watching the women give lap dances.

“Where’d Fender find them?”

“His cousin does porn movies on the side. Those are his co-stars. You want to try one? I’ll send one back to your room when Fender and Chief are done with them.”

“No, I don’t need a case of the clap to go with my morning coffee.”

“I’m sure they’re clean; movie companies have standards.”

“Not when their offices are in Fender’s cousin’s basement.”

Calder left the brothers partying with the two whores. He was sick of coming home from work to see them fucking some whore they had bought for the night. Unlike the Destructors, they didn’t have many female hang-arounds. Not because they didn’t attract sluts, the brothers just didn’t want the hassle of them hanging around.

In his bedroom, Calder took off his clothes, throwing them into a basket by the bathroom door. He kept his room clean, whereas the other rooms smelled like dirty clothes, sweat, and sex. His had been the same way once, until he had gone to prison and was forced to keep his cell neat. Being an addict hadn’t been the only habit he had broken. He had just achieved it too late to claim his daughter, or Crazy Bitch.

Star’s birthday party had his old demons haunting him.

He and Candi had been high the night Star had been conceived. He hadn’t given a fuck about using a condom or the consequences. He used Candi, because she always managed to keep a supply of the drugs he craved. He didn’t care about her or their personalities clashing in a tumultuous relationship they shared for a couple of years. He was never faithful to her, nor she to him.

He wasn’t able to care about anyone or anything at that point in his life. His conscience ignored Stud’s warnings and concern, unable to fight his way out of the addiction he clung to like a lifesaver to lift him out the mess he had made of his life.

Once, he’d had dreams of becoming a motorcycle racer like Stud. When that had bit the dust, nothing else mattered. Especially not a sexy hanger-on he met when Stud took him to meet the Destructors.

The first time he met Crazy Bitch, she was nineteen, and the chemistry between them was immediate on both sides.

Every time he visited the club, he wanted to take her back to the Blue Horsemen’s clubhouse, fuck her, and put his jacket on her so both clubhouses knew who she belonged to. Stud stopped him, though, telling him Crazy Bitch was a friend of Skulls’s daughter, and you can’t walk into another club and take what was theirs. Therefore, he waited.

She was no different than the other women who wanted his dick, except she was. The more he went to the clubhouse with Stud, the more he wanted Crazy Bitch. The last time he went before his arrest, he made up his mind to take her.

He took enough of a hit before he left the Blue Horsemen clubhouse to feed his monster. It carried him through most of the night, until she asked him to go to her apartment. He planned to talk her into riding with him back to his club, but that was when he screwed up. His monster was getting hungry and needed to be fed. Surely, something was floating around Skulls’s club.

There wasn’t.

Every second that ticked by made his monster hungrier, until he couldn’t think straight. He went outside, texting Candi. Looking at the time on his cell phone, he knew he was blowing his chances with Crazy Bitch. He told himself that she wouldn’t mind if he was late, arrogantly believing the jumbled logic that convinced him the nineteen-year-old woman would open her door when he got there.

When Candi arrived, he met her in the parking lot, snorting a line in her car. They stayed outside long enough for his monster to be appeased, and then Candi convinced him to let her come inside the clubhouse.

Forgetting about Crazy Bitch, he danced with Candi while going to the bathroom a couple times to snort more lines of coke. When he came out the third time, he spied Sex Piston and Killyama leaving, only then remembering Crazy Bitch.

He squinted down at his phone for her address. Then, on a drug-induced ego trip, he got on his bike. To this day, he didn’t know how he hadn’t been stopped on the way to her apartment, or even how he had managed to find it.

He knocked on her door for ten minutes, until one of her neighbors came out and told him to beat it or he was going to call the cops.

Going down the flight of stairs, he saw Candi’s car parked next to his bike.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”