Pulling Her Trigger (Ghost Riders MC 1)

Reaching into the back waistband of my pants, I pull out my 9mm Smith & Wesson and point it right at Pinch. God, I love Missouri’s right-to-carry law.

The only light in the back parking lot doesn’t give me the best line of vision, but I don’t need it at this close range.

Pinch throws his hands in the air when he catches sight of my gun. He was a little slow on the uptake, so I’m thinking he’s got to be more than a few beers deep.

“See, Pinch, you fail to realize that I won’t fight fair. Yeah, you could probably take me in a fist fight, I got no doubt about that. But I think it’s time you understood something. They call me Casper for a reason, you never know when I might just pop up on you, and shoot your fucking nuts off.”

“You wou—” Before he can finish his sentence, I shoot him in the crotch. He doubles over and hits the hard ground.

“Well damn. Isn’t that neat? Those rubber bullets don’t even make your gun recoil,” I say, cocking the gun back to look in the chamber. “Too bad I can only load one at a time,” I say and put in the next one.

“Fuck, Cas. Please, I’m sorry.”

I fire the next one at his ass, and he screams like a bitch.

“Go home, Pinch,” I say, as he starts moaning louder. “I’m sergeant at arms in this club and you better learn some fucking respect if you ever hope to see a patch.”

Not waiting for a response, I roll up my window and head to the club. Those damn rubber bullets cost three dollars a pop, but it’s the best six dollars I’ve ever spent.

“Fucking hell, Cas, I hate when you do that shit,” Pres snaps at me from behind his desk. He is so engrossed in what he’s doing he doesn’t notice me leaning against the far wall in his office until I clear my throat. It’s not hard for me to sneak up on people, but I can’t normally do it to Pres. I can tell by the way his hair is sticking out six different ways that he’s been running his fingers through it. The dark circles under his eyes show a lack of sleep, because normally Pres isn’t too hard on the eyes.

“What the fuck have I got this fucking dog for if you can get in here without him noticing?.”

“I told you not to get that mutt,” I say.

“Damn, Cas. I know I’m not the prettiest, but no need to call me a mutt,” Savage, the clubs VP, says, strolling into Pres’s office and plopping down on the couch. It’s not a shocker they’re both here tonight. Savage never goes to the bar, and Pres never seems to get away from the club.

I know Savage never goes out because he has issues. He’s had them since he left the marines when an IED sent him home, thank God not in a bag. The day Abe had his accident is still burned into my brain.

Sometimes the worst part about being a sniper is that all you can do is watch. See the aftermath of the chaos, and what is left behind. That day the explosion took Abe and left Savage in his place. Gone is the laid back man who would talk for hours about the woman he left behind. He always said he’d marry her when he was back stateside. Now we can’t say her name without him getting up and leaving the room.

As for Pres, I’m not sure why he can’t pull himself from this place, but tonight I’m glad he’s here.

“I ran into a couple of Five Aces tonight.” Pres and Savage both survey my body, looking for damage. “And Agent Vincent Cassano,” I finish.

“Fuck me,” Savage growls.

“When it rains it fucking pours, doesn’t it?” Pres says, standing from behind his desk. He makes his way to the front and leans against it. Pulling out his phone, he hits a few buttons, and moments later Scribe, the club’s secretary/treasurer, walks into the room shooting me a quick wink before sitting down next to Savage.

“Out with it.”

I give him almost every detail of what happened. I left out how many times Vincent made me cum, but they got a lot of it. This wasn’t a time to hold back. It’s always best your team knows everything, so no surprises can get you.

“He wants you,” Pres says when I finally finish my story.

I just nod in agreement. I don’t think Vincent wants me just because of a job he’s working, I think he actually wants me. I’ve been around men my whole life, stuck in small places with them for hours, so I’ve learned to read them pretty well.

“But you think he’s investigating you too?” Pres asks.

I nod again. He knew who I was when he entered that bar. After I realized who he was I replayed everything in my head “I’ve wanted to taste you from the moment I first saw you.” He said that like he’d been waiting longer than that night. Because he had been. Who knows how long he’s been watching me. I had thought I felt something, a creepy feeling, but I chalked it up to being on edge about the guns being stolen.

“Can’t say I blame the guy, I’ve been trying to get Cas to let me between her legs for years now, and I still do what she tells me to. I can’t imagine what she could get me to do if she actually gave me a taste.” Scribe says, shooting me a look I’ve seen him give women who drop their panties for him instantly.

Scribe is beyond hot. He’s what you’d see if GQ decided they wanted to do a cover with a tattooed-up biker on it. Most women just flock to him because of his looks, but I love him because he always makes me laugh. He can also hack into almost anything. I flip him the bird before getting back on topic.