Biker's Bride (Demons MC)

Another cheer, this time louder. Men stood up and banged on tables, and I saw the first smile from Larkin. It was a terrifying thing, full of menace.

I looked around at the men, surprised and a bit terrified. Why were they really cheering? Worse, what had I started?

“Isn’t war bad?” I asked Ford.

He shook his head. “Not necessarily. War brings more money, more territory. Plus, the boys will be boys.”

“But what about the guys from last night?”

“Well,” Ford said, “some guys don’t want it. Can’t pretend like we’re of one mind on all things.” He looked at me seriously. “But if the club asks them to die, they’ll die. That’s how it is.”

A voice cutting through the commotion drew my attention. I looked across the room.

“Caralee,” Larkin called out. “Come with me.”

Fear iced my guts.

“Better go,” Ford said.

I stood. “You sure?” I said to him.

“Go. You’re fine.”

I gave him one last look, that gorgeous asshole, and walked across the room. The guys were all still cheering, and some were already drinking. Larkin nodded and led me through the commotion and into his back room.

Chapter Eight: Ford

Four years ago

Hours after I dropped Caralee off at her place, I could still feel the damn tingle in my cock where she had rubbed herself crazy. We’d made sure her dad was passed out before she went inside, and I’d made her promise to come to my place if things got bad.

Otherwise, I had the worst damn blue balls of my fucking life. After getting off like that, she’d collapsed back down onto the bench, and we’d spent the next hour or two talking about our lives.

I’d never done that before. Normally, if she were any other slut, I would have bent her over that fucking bench and ravaged her stupid. Instead, I found myself talking about my mom and dad, about her drunk ass, about growing up in a fucked-up home.

And she told me her own sob story, which wasn’t too far off from mine. Difference was, I could defend myself, but she never could.

I clenched my jaw, pissed as all hell thinking about her dad beating her up like that. The bastard didn’t know what was right or wrong, but he got away with it because he was a fucking cop.

I showered and dressed, glancing at the clock. I had to be at my uncle’s auto body shop in an hour if I was going to make it in time for my shift. I figured I might as well skip sleep for the time being. I’d probably just wake up with a pillow between my legs and Caralee’s fucking sexy-as-hell body in my brain.

I made some coffee and checked on my mother. Passed out drunk as always, which was fine with me. Better than driving drunk or trying to beat on me, though she’d stopped trying that a while ago.

I chugged the black stuff, ate some food quick, and then went outside. I hopped on my bike and began the ride out toward my uncle’s.

Once there, I clocked in and got to work. It wasn’t pretty work, but it was honest and paid pretty good. My mom wasn’t much into working, and we needed to feed ourselves, so it was up to me to put groceries on the table. Mom spent her welfare check on fucking booze and pills, so there was that.

They showed up halfway through my damn shift.

The bastards just strolled in. Didn’t read me my rights, didn’t say nothing. Just flashed their badges, threw me in cuffs, and hauled my ass off.

I’d never thought the cops were evil. I’d never hated them. They were just men doing their damn jobs, and you had to respect that. But after they arrested me for a crime I didn’t commit, I hated the police, fucking hated them with a passion.

I’d done time before. Nothing major, nothing more than a couple of months in juvenile detention, but they were serious this time, said I’d robbed some house a few blocks from where I lived.

The judge barely even looked at me. He said my name, read the charges, and said guilty. I’d never gone through the system so damn fast.

The day after I knocked a cop on his ass and nearly fucked his daughter, I ended up in prison for six months.

In some ways, that was the worst thing that had ever happened to me. It’s demeaning to be locked up for something you didn’t do, locked up because you pissed off the wrong cop. Worse, I knew I’d lost Caralee, knew I could never go back to her, never face her again. As far as the fucking world knew, I was just another dumbass criminal kid, and that was all I’d ever be.

But in other ways, it was the best.

It happened one day a week into my stay. I’d just sat down with my food in the mess hall, eating like my life depended on it.