Baby - eBook Page 5

  What the ever loving fuck is going on? I damn sure know it’s not her mom...I took care of that problem already.

  “Shhh, baby,” I overhear a guy croon and instantly get pissed.

  If Jude has a motherfucker over here, world war three’s about to go down in this bitch. I’ll teach that kid a lesson to show up over here when I’m around. And when I was asleep, to boot; that’s some goddamn nerve.

  It’s not her that surprises me when I stick my head in her doorway though.

  “Saint?” I utter his name in disbelief.

  They’re lying in her bed with him behind her. He’s kissing all over her neck...his hands under the covers. My chest rumbles with a growl at that discovery.

  “Brother.” His stare is pinned on me and defiant. He’s pleased that he’s shocked me.

  “What the hell are you doing here?”

  He tsks, shaking his head, then licks up the side of Jude’s neck, causing her to giggle. It’s like nails on a chalkboard because I’m not the one making her do it. Nor did I give him my permission to come in here and touch her like he’s doing. I’ve held myself back and not to leave the option open to my brother.

  “And where in the fuck did the car come from? When did you even get here?”

  “’Bout one a.m. or so. I’ve been talkin’ to Baby all night about you. When I came in, you were passed the fuck out.”

  “How did you know where I was?”

  “You didn’t think you’d be goin’ out of town without me knowing where you were, did you?” He rolls his eyes, the irises the same shade as a cloudy sky. He’s clearly annoyed at the thought of me believing I could keep something from him. Little does he know, I have a whopper of a secret. Let’s hope he hasn’t figured that one out as well.

  “Who’s car?” I repeat with more grit behind the words, knowing he damn well doesn’t own the expensive luxury vehicle.

  He shrugs. “Don’t know, and I really don’t fuckin’ care either, brother. I saw it down the road at a hotel in town, keys in it. Figured they wanted it off their hands and I obliged.”

  “Jesus fucking Christ, Saint. The only motherfuckers leaving keys in cars is fucking mafia! How could you be so careless?” Yanking my phone out of my back pocket, I hit the speed dial to call the Prez.

  He’s going to be livid when he hears about this if he hasn’t already. There’s a decent chance someone’s already told him. I’d like to think he’d have called me, though, if that were the case.

  “Viking.” He answers, even though his ID should show it’s me on the other end.

  “We have a problem. Saint’s here where I am, and he’s in a lime Lamborghini. Needless to say, we don’t own it.” Like he doesn’t know that bit already, but I throw it in anyhow.

  “Motherfucker. I thought you were going to tell me it was the Fists on your ride over, but this is pretty fucking bad too.”

  “Is it Chicago?” I guess aloud. It was the first thing I thought of when he said the car had the fob in it.

  “Nah, Joker’s Lambo is marmalade or some fancy orange shit, or his was a Phantom? I can’t remember what that overpriced foreign piece of metal is that he drives. This is Masters’ I’d bet. Beau’s the only one I know with that color. It was a gift from his father, he said.”

  “Masters, as in Russian mafia Masterson? Are those the same?”

  “Yeah, he’s the one that sent us to Mexico looking for that chick.”

  “Holy shit. The cop?”

  He grunts. “If Saint showed up in that car...” Viking leaves off, but I already know what he’s thinking.

  “I’ll fix it. Later,” I promise and hang up, glowering over at Saint. “You have any idea who that damn car belongs too?”

  He ignores me, still kissing on Jude’s neck and my fist flies into the wall beside me. The fake wood paneling erupts, a hole the size of my hand left behind as well as splits going in every direction. I’m too angry to feel the impact on my knuckles, immediately sharing the information Viking just enlightened me with.

  “It’s the motherfucking Russian Mafiya. You steal their shit, they’ll know where that car is, and you know as well as I do what’ll happen. They’ll be here in no time, smoking you, me, and her. Get it back, now, Saint...before we can’t fix this. Why in the fuck would you take it in the first place?”

  “Because I wanted to,” he responds nonchalantly. “Who’s going to fuck with an Oath Keeper anyhow? Rich pussies don’t have a nutsack large enough.”

  “The Mafiya, Saint! The motherfuckin’ Mafiya, that’s who.”

  He stands, the blanket falling away. He’s clad in only a pair of jeans that hug his hips. I can make out the outline of Saint’s cock, hard as stone beneath the material. It was only a matter of time before he fucked her and stole her innocence away.

  “Come on, baby, you can ride with me,” He offers, smirking as he jerks Jude to her feet as well.

  “No, no, no. Jude, you’re staying here,” I demand and Saint cackles, sounding so evil it could be the devil himself.

  “Fuck that, Sinner. The bitch is coming with me. I’m not finished having my fun.”

  He croons in her direction, “Isn’t that right, baby? Come with daddy.” He shoves past me, hauling her behind him. She’s in the clothes from last night, what little material there is, thank God. At least he didn’t have her naked yet.

  “Jude, listen to me,” I argue, attempting to stop a train wreck from happening.

  She follows him along, laughing like this is some big adventure. They’re out the door in no time, with me following to the porch. “Don’t get in that car with him!” I’m yelling at this point. Fuck the neighbors.

  He’ll kill her or get her killed and not think twice about it. “Saint! Stop! Don’t take her; she’s too fucking good.”

  “Fuck you, Sinner. You thought you could keep her to yourself? I’m not finished with her yet.” He opens the passenger side, pushing her into the car. “Get in, baby; we’re goin’ for a ride.” He laughs and slams the door.

  Rounding the car, he gives me his middle finger the entire time. I’ve pissed in his Cheerios, and I haven’t the faintest idea how to stop him from leaving without putting a bullet in either him or that too-fucking-expensive piece of metal he’s stolen. I can’t do either without repercussions. Fuck, it sucks being the rational one sometimes.

  The moment he’s in the driver’s seat, the engine cranks, and he’s flooring it to the point rocks spray across the side of the trailer, and I jump inside to grab my wallet. Shoving the leather fold into my back pocket, I run like my ass is on fire to my bike. I can’t get out of here as fast as he can, but eventually, I make it out to the main road.

  Shifting, my speed increases faster, the speedometer shooting higher. Eventually, I get to 140, and they’re nowhere in sight. Saint probably has that car over 200 miles per hour. I’ll be lucky if they don’t wrap that death trap around a telephone pole before I can catch up.

  Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! I should’ve known he’d figure out where I was this entire time. I believed I was sneaky; I was actually a damn fool, underestimating him.

  Let’s hope this Russian is as easy to work with as his cousins are. I’ve heard stories of how he was a ruthless undercover cop and then went rogue, joining the family business. His cousins are the Russian Mafiya, and Saint has just stolen his fucking car. Viking is going to be enraged if this doesn’t blow over.

  And he has Jude...

  Can you remember who you were,

  before the world told you who you should be?

  Saint has a grin nearly the entire time he’s driving like a maniac. He’ll randomly glance over, wearing a smirk full of trouble. I don’t know where we’re headed or what’s going on. He stole the car apparently, and now we have to get it back right away, or someone from the mafia will be angry.

  This is the most excitement I’ve had in my entire life, and I’m loving every minute of it. It’s the advent
ure I wished for yesterday in the middle of my boring work shift; never in a million years did I think it would come true. These things don’t happen to people like me; we go about living our lives like robots. Now I’m involved with not only one biker, but two. And who knows what’s going to happen next.

  Saint showed up out of the blue in the middle of the night looking for Sinner. When he saw him sleeping, he explained that he’s Sinner’s best friend and asked if we could talk. I wasn’t going to turn him away. Sinner’s done so much for me, that the least I could do is be friendly to his best friend.

  I quickly learned that Saint is nothing like the man I’ve come to look forward to spending time with. Where Sinner’s features are dark, Saint’s are light. The contrast is striking and confusing because they’re each beautiful.

  He’s funny and a bit wild and wasn’t scared in the least bit to touch me. He treated me so sweetly at first, talking to me and complimenting me like I’m the prettiest thing he’s ever seen before. Guys I meet are either creepy about it or fall flat, but he had just the right mix of charisma. I don’t understand why Sinner didn’t bring him around sooner.

  Saint’s name matches his face too. He reminds me of someone you’d read about but never actually see in person. I liked him nearly instantly and even more so when he leaned over and kissed me on my bed. After that, I didn’t want him to stop. I got his shirt off and let him touch me everywhere. I couldn’t help myself; I pictured his hands were Sinner’s sometimes too.

  He caressed me in ways I’d been dreaming of Sinner doing, all the while telling me how special I am. He said I have to be different, for Sinner to take care of me like he has been. That has to mean something, right? I wish I knew how he felt; it would make everything so much easier.

  “We’re home, baby,” he mutters randomly, gesturing toward the foliage out in front of us.

  Peering at the scenery around us, I take in the quickly passing land. There are lots of trees and a dirt road that he drives over so fast, we could be flying. We drive through a giant open gate then hit a large paved parking area where an imposing building finally comes into sight.

  Saint yanks up on the brake handle resting between us, causing the car to jerk and spin wildly. A scream breaks free as I grasp for something to hold on to and not get slung around. He must love it though because he hoots and howls, laughing as we spin, gunning the gas over and over.

  A group of angry looking men come pouring outside, their hands shading their eyes to watch us as Saint slings random rocks around and smokes up the parking lot from burning tires.

  I have to close my eyes after that because if I don’t, I’m sure that I’ll puke. “Pleeease stop, Saint.”

  “I told you, baby, you call me daddy, just like you do my boy, Sinner. He may not appreciate it, but I think it’s sexy as fuck.”

  “Okay-okay, just, please. I’m going to puke.” The nickname was a joke toward Sinner, meant to get under his skin, but Saint seems to enjoy the word falling from my mouth. He keeps reminding me that it turns him on. “For me, daddy, so I don’t get sick.”

  He cackles at my begging, and the car comes to a stop, rocking as it finally halts in one spot.

  It’s as if I’m still moving, even though the engine’s quieted to a near silent purr once again. Is this what a boat’s like? “Oh God, I don’t feel so well.”

  I open my eyes again just as a monster sized man looking like a Nordic god storms toward the vehicle and nearly rips the door from the hinges. Impossible you’d think since they open upward, but this man’s so ripped, I’m sure he could tear it off if he wanted to. Yelping in surprise, the shock makes me freeze up, gawking as the scene unfolds right beside me.

  “The fuck!” He roars and reaches in, grabbing Saint around the neck. He yanks him from the vehicle and slams his body across the hood like a rag doll. I’m about to scream again—this time for help—until I hear Saint laughing about it all.

  “Damn, man! You need to drive this whip ASAP, Vike! Fucking a-mazing!”

  My own door opens much less dramatically, and a grouchy guy wearing a frown nearly the same size as the one called “Vike” glowers down at me. He’s got a crazy scar on his face, the silver slashing through one of his mocha colored irises and dark, wavy, shoulder-length hair.

  “Hi?” The question escapes in a high pitch, nearly a squeak.

  His hand comes toward me, and my eyes widen as my heart rate again quickens. He watches, breaking out in a surprised chuckle after a moment, then flips it over, giving me his palm. It takes everything in me to swallow my fear down and place my much smaller hand in his.

  The man helps me climb out, steadying me as I stand, which is a good thing, considering I’m quite wobbly. “Oh, thank you,” I acknowledge and hiccup, as I silently pray I don’t upchuck in front of all these guys.

  “You all right, darlin’?” he mumbles as a shorter guy comes to stand next to him.

  “Night, don’t be calling her that. Your ol’ lady hears that word leave your mouth, and you’ll be peelin’ her off this chick.”

  Night, or whatever his name is, shrugs. “Brother, my woman knows she’s mine. This pint-sized woman looked like she was gonna be sick, and I don’t want her puking or sitting in the Russian’s car when he shows up. Unless you feel like cleaning up puke, Spidey?”

  The other man shakes his head and offers me a kind smile.

  Night grunts. “I’m Nightmare, this is Spider.” He gestures to the less buff, amused guy to his right.

  “Um...hi,” I manage, with a brief wave that makes Spider snicker.

  Can’t say I’m too surprised hearing the big dude’s name is Nightmare. And Spider for the other; that’s kind of creepy. He doesn’t strike me as strange right off the bat, though, so maybe he got it for another reason.

  “Stop staring, Spidey,” he gripes. “Saint or Sinner catches you. I’m guessing Saint will be carving you up. They don’t go to the trouble for bitches, so this one must mean something or know something we don’t.”

  Gee thanks. I don’t know if I should be flattered or offended. “I’m not a bitch; I’m Jude.”

  Nightmare’s eyebrow hikes. “Hey, Jude. Do you have shoes in there?” He nods toward the vehicle, disregarding my proclamation.

  My gaze falls to my feet...my bare feet. “Oh, shit. No, Saint pulled me out of the house so fast, I didn’t have a chance to stop and get any. I didn’t bring anything, actually,” I admit, wishing I’d at least have paused long enough to collect my purse and flip-flops.

  Spider shoots a look I can’t decipher at Nightmare and then glances toward Saint, still pinned on the hood. “This is going downhill fast. We need to get her inside while we handle club shit. We don’t want certain people showing up with her out here.”

  “Prez, what should we do with her?” he calls across the car, and ‘Vike’ scowls over at me.

  “Fuck,” he grits, then nods toward the largest building. “Get the bitch inside.”

  Okay, enough with the name calling. No wonder Sinner’s so freaking grouchy when he comes over, dealing with these guys. “My name is Jude! Use it!” I demand and nearly all their mouths drop open.

  I may be young and polite and quiet, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know how to stand my ground. Did any of them not just hear me screaming in that car? Clearly, I have a voice, and I’m able to be just as loud as they are. Instead, they act like a group of barbarians, speaking as if I’m not right here beside them.

  A deep rumble grows near, and if I’d have to guess, I’d say its Sinner’s motorcycle. It’s been long enough for him to catch up to us—I think so, anyhow. He was not pleased in the least when Saint loaded me into the sports car with him, but I wasn’t about to pass up an adventure. Maybe I should’ve thought it through first.

  “Viking?” Nightmare interrupts the sound of the bike, “You want her at the bar?”

  Big guy waves me off. “Don’t fucking care where you stick her, just ge
t her the fuck out of here.”

  Jesus, is he a dick to everyone? That word seems to fit him; he’s not nice at all. I’m being shoved through the building door, just as I see Sinner come speeding into the parking lot on his motorcycle. He looks amazing straddling that motorcycle and also completely furious with a scowl the size of Texas on his face.

  Pushing against Spider’s hold, I’m able to watch Sinner hop off his bike and practically run toward Saint, and then I’m inside with the freaking door blocked.

  Sinner’s borderline manic as he strides toward me, fury written all over his striking features. The brothers leap between us, large bodies attempting to block us, with hands out to hold him back. He’s on a mission to cause some pain, no doubt. Everyone knows as well as I do that he’ll regret it after we’ve had a chance to cool down. You don’t stick together like we have and not have a few fights thrown in over the years.

  “All this...for her?” It escapes me in a roar, my jealousy pointed in his direction.

  I can be just as cross at him over the shit he’s pulled. I have every right. He’s lied to me for a female and for who knows how long. We’re supposed to be brothers. And he’s supposed to love me, just like I love him. Yet he’s been sneaking off for some pussy and then has the nerve to turn around and lie to my fucking face about it.

  “Yes, for her, Saint. You don’t know shit about what’s goin’ on.” He peers around, eyeing the clubhouse. “Where is she?”

  “I know you haven’t fucked her, ‘cause I had my fingers all up in that pussy last night, and it’s tight.” I spew the first hurtful thing that comes to mind. He’s merely arrived and already searching her out like some lost puppy. “Can’t wait to stick my cock in her. I bet the brothers will enjoy it too.”

  He snarls, “Motherfucker!” lunging in my direction.

  Exterminator and Nightmare move to hold him off, but I’m not sure it’ll work. Sinner’s the calm one of the two of us and to see him this angry, has me questioning everything. Does she mean more to him than me? It’s childish to think that way, but I do. He’s mine.