Burned_Viking Bastards MC Read online

  Nothing escapes this woman’s notice.

  “Kelly Gallagher just died.”

  “How?” She doesn’t sound especially interested, which isn’t surprising, since she never liked Kelly from way back, when Kelly used to hang around the clubhouse.

  “Don’t know.” I scowl into the distance. I should’ve asked Jas. Or maybe not. Kelly liked using, even though she swore blind she was clean whenever she came into work, and I never dug any deeper. Not my business what she did outside of the Hammer. So why do I feel responsible?

  “I never understood why you hired that slut.”

  There’s no way we’re having this conversation again. Kelly jacked in the stripper gig with the Bastards and disappeared off my radar three years after Jas left town. Truth is I’ve never been sure why I took her on as a cleaner a couple of years ago. She turned up at the Hammer one night and asked me for a job to my face, and some fucking stupid sense of nostalgia made me say yes.

  The silence hangs heavy between us, not that Mom appears to notice as she joins in the girls’ wedding gossip, but her deliberate refusal to ask the obvious question of who told me about Kelly is pissing me off.

  Kelly worked for me. Anyone could’ve let me know about her death.

  I nearly tell her Jas is back in town, just for the reaction, but it’s not worth it. Not when I’m never gonna see Jas again. A headache thumps behind my eyes. I need to get out of here. “Catch you later.”

  Mom reaches out to me, but I don’t meet her halfway. “You’re not staying for anything to eat? There’s plenty.”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “Okay, baby. See you over the weekend.”

  It doesn’t take long to ride to the clubhouse. There was never any doubt in my mind that I wanted to follow my old man into the life. It’s in my blood. The Viking Bastards Motorcycle Club was formed more than fifty years ago, with my mom’s dad being one of the originals. Although I’m not a straight third-generation the way Zach is, since my dad’s old man had nothing to do with the club, it’s always been a family thing. Mom’s brother, Viper, was our enforcer until he died four years ago.

  Damn, I still miss that son of a bitch.

  It’s a typical Friday night, although Zach and his younger brother Gage are conspicuous by their absence. Fucking pair of pussy-whipped assholes. All their old ladies have to do is raise a finger and they’re both on their knees.

  And once, long ago, I was the same with Jas.

  I grab a beer and lean against the bar as a couple of strippers start a sexy routine. It’s a given that I enjoy the shows, and I generally end up with one of the chicks. But it’s all a farce that started ten years ago, a way to prove I’m single and loving it, so Viper felt he was helping me get over Jas. Screwing around is a habit, one the brothers expect of me because I’m Ty Jenson, VP of the Viking Bastards, the ultimate believer in bros before hos.

  More fucking lies. What the hell’s wrong with me? Usually it’s not this hard to show an interest, but tonight their suggestive moves just aren’t doing it for me.

  They’re blondes.

  I grip the neck of the bottle and ignore the thunder in my head. I’ve no problem fucking blondes. Or redheads. Hell, I don’t give a shit what color their hair is, so long as their pussy is wet and willing.

  Because that’s my rep and my shield.

  Jas’s face and long black hair fill my vision, and I grit my teeth. Get out of my head. I swing about and march into the other room, where Cade and Hawk are shooting the shit and half watching a porn movie on the flat screen.

  With grim determination, I glare at the screen, where some chick is taking it every which way. It’s hot and dirty, just the way I like it, but tonight something’s missing and I can’t switch off my brain the way I usually do.

  “Hey, Ty.” Skyler, one of the blond strippers, wearing nothing but a G-string and stilettos, wraps herself around me and rakes her long nails down my neck. “Want some fun?”

  “Sure.” I favor her with a smile and before I can even take a breath, she smashes her mouth against mine. Her kiss is hot and eager, and her breath reeks of stale beer and weed. I pull back, and mask my distaste by taking a long swallow from my bottle. Christ, what’s wrong with me? I don’t usually care about shit like that, especially since there’re other things she can do with that mouth of hers.

  “Let’s go upstairs.” She licks my earlobe and instead of it being a turn-on, I fight the urge to push her away. “I’ll make you feel good.” Her hand drifts down my chest and tugs suggestively at my buckle.

  Why am I still standing here? Friday night is fuck night. An easy screw is all I want, with a chick who knows the score. She’ll take the edge off, quiet this crazy thunder in my blood, and I can spend the rest of the night getting hammered.

  And forget that Jas is less than ten minutes’ ride away.

  I loosen my grip on the bottle before I shatter the damn thing. It doesn’t matter if Skyler and I bang all night. It won’t get Jas out of my head.

  If I’d been five minutes later going to the Hammer, we’d never have seen each other and she wouldn’t be driving me crazy now.

  She not the same girl I lost my mind over. Hell, she’s a woman and not even the type I find hot anymore. My dick stirs, and it’s got nothing to do with the way Skyler’s tugging on my zipper and everything to do with Jasmine O’Brien’s sad brown eyes and her sweet, lying smile.

  Fucking crazy. It took me years to get over her. Damned if one chance encounter’s going to drag up all those old memories. I forcibly shove her face from my mind. This is my life now. Meaningless sex. Skyler smiles up at me, as if she’s sensed my mood change, and that’s all it takes to know I’m fooling myself.

  “Later, Sky.” I pull free from her grasp. Her pout and little mewl of protest leaves me unmoved as I put my half-finished beer on the counter.

  Even as I swing my leg over my Harley, I’ve no idea what the hell I’m doing. All I know is I have to see her again. We’ve unfinished business. All I need from her is closure.

  As I roar off along the street, I almost manage to convince myself it’s really going to be that easy.

  …

  Jasmine

  Curled up on the faded couch I remember so well from my childhood, I take another sip of red wine and can’t quite bring myself to open the shoebox next to me. I never realized Mom was such a hoarder before, but for the last five hours I’ve been sorting through crap she kept for over thirty years.

  Who’d guess she still had all the cards and things my dad gave her when they were crazy-in-love fifteen-year-olds? Not Dad, that’s for sure. I’ve no idea if he wants all that stuff, but I’ll take it back to Florida for him anyway. There’s a part of him that still loves her, despite everything she did.

  My chest aches as I remember the day he had enough and walked out. Maybe it’s just my memory playing tricks, but that’s when it started. Years of bullying from other kids who thought their moms were so much better than mine. Until I was six, I loved Mom’s sparkly costumes and glittery high heels. I always thought she looked like a fairy princess, and imagined if only I had her pretty, long blond hair, she’d hug me sometimes, the way she hugged everyone else.

  Then I started school and discovered that while fairy princesses might do many things, hanging out with the local MC members definitely wasn’t one of them. The other kids’ moms didn’t want me at the birthday parties and outings, and mean whispers in the schoolyard made me cry inside. It was only much later I figured out the real reasons why the kids were encouraged to ostracize me.

  It didn’t stop me wishing she’d spend more time with me, though. And when I was older, and understood what was really going on, I couldn’t figure out why she didn’t care about the way she was treated.

  She wasn’t stupid. She could’ve done anything with her life if she’d wanted to, but I guess that was always the point. All she ever wanted was to be a part of the Viking Bastards MC.

  With a sigh
, I lean back and close my eyes. I’ve tried to avoid thinking about Ty since I left him standing on the sidewalk. Not that it worked. I haven’t been able to shift him from my mind or defeat the needy throb humming through my entire body.

  My first love. My only love, which is nothing to boast about at my age but it’s the truth. I’ve never gotten over him because I never really said goodbye. And meeting him again today has thrown my nice, ordered life back into chaos.

  Would it have made any difference if we’d talked about the past? Thrashed it all out? Somehow, I doubt it. It was a starry teenage dream to think our backgrounds didn’t matter, but even ten years later he’s still a Bastard, the president’s son, and in their world, I’m nothing but the daughter of one of their stripper sweeties.

  We can never talk about the past because there’s too much I can’t tell him. A shudder inches through me, and the nightmare that haunted me for too many years threatens to drag me back under.

  Not happening. I force myself upright, put the glass on the floor, and pick up the shoebox. It’s only eleven. I can work through the night, one box at a time. It’s all I can do. There’s no one else who could help me with this, anyway.

  Maybe by the time I crawl into bed I’ll be too exhausted to think, let alone be kept awake by rekindled lust for a man I can never have.

  There’s a rap on the front door, and I freeze, heart pounding. This is a shitty neighborhood and even though I grew up here, it’s been years since I actually lived in an apartment where anyone could stroll off the street and roam through the building.

  Barefoot, I stealthily make my way to the door and clutch the baseball bat Mom kept in the corner. Not that I’ve any intention of opening the door, but I feel better with something solid in my hands.

  I peer through the peephole. Ty’s out there, looking big and badass, and I almost drop the bat in relief. Except…Ty? Here? In what universe does that even make sense?

  “Jas. Open up.” He sounds furious, and I spring back from the door in case he saw me spying on him, even though I know that’s impossible. Maybe I’ll ignore him. What’s he going to do, knock the door down if I don’t let him in?

  Ten years ago, he would’ve. Ten years ago, he did. I don’t know him anymore, but I have the feeling some things haven’t changed.

  My senses are on red alert, warning me I’m about to make a huge mistake. There’s nothing to discuss. The past must stay buried, I’ve always known that, even if a part of me wants to scream the truth in his face.

  Never.

  There might be some things better left unsaid, but if he wants to talk, I’m not running away again. I slide back the bolt and open the door.

  Play it cool. That was something I never managed with Ty, but I’ve had years to perfect a professional mask.

  “I didn’t expect to see you again.”

  His gaze drifts over me, and it’s hard to remain still and pretend he doesn’t still affect me as much as he did when I was a trusting teen.

  “You plan to use that on me?” He eyes the bat before returning his hypnotic blue gaze to me, and even though he’s made no move to enter the apartment, he’s already taking up all the space in this tiny hallway.

  “Do I need to?” I give the bat an experimental swing before dropping it back into the corner because of course I don’t. Ty never hurt me, not in that way.

  “You might.” He doesn’t wait to be asked, just swaggers in as though he has the right, before slamming the door shut. “Too late now, though.”

  Don’t fall under his spell again. But with him standing so close, the scent of wind and bike and leather swirling in the air between us, it’s hard to keep up that polite, distant masquerade I managed earlier today. Especially with two glasses of wine inside me, destroying every inhibition I have when it comes to Ty.

  “So, what’re you doing here?” I refuse to fold my arms or fidget or do any of the things I used to do and which I thought I’d put behind me years ago.

  “Why the hell do you think I’m here?” He towers over me, his stance threatening, and if he were anyone other than Ty Jenson, my self-defense instinct would’ve already kicked into gear.

  Not now, though. Adrenaline pumps through me, and it’s got nothing to do with fear or flight. It’s been way too long since raw desire ignited my blood or clawed at the barriers in my mind. Feels so good. I wanted him this afternoon, and this is all the proof I need that, in this at least, we agree.

  Don’t go there. If I tell him to leave, he will, even if he curses me for it. But I’m beyond being sensible and responsible and every other social expectation I’ve lived by for the last decade. To hell with doing the right thing. Just one last time is all I want.

  “I can only think of one thing.”

  Shock flashes across his face, as though he expected me to act dumb. Then he gives a predatory smile that doesn’t reach his eyes and backs me up against the wall. “You think one fuck’s gonna make everything right?”

  My heart pounds, it’s hard to breathe, and I haven’t felt so alive for more than ten long years. “That’s all you’re going to get, so make the most of it.”

  Reckless. I don’t care, and it doesn’t matter. I can say anything to Ty, do anything, the way I haven’t been able to with anyone else since before I left L.A.

  “Is that right.” His hands are flat on the wall beside my shoulders, imprisoning me between his arms. I glance at his inked biceps. God, how I used to love his tattoos. Now his left arm is sleeved, an intricate work of art that I could spend hours admiring…

  Stop. This isn’t about recreating our past or building bridges. This is everything it never was before. Lust and sex, pure and simple, with no devastating emotions to rip my heart to shreds again.

  I drag my attention back to his face. Not that it’s a hardship. If anything, the faint lines around his eyes and the grooves in his cheeks just make him more gorgeous than before.

  Somehow, I manage to find my voice. “Yes. Take it or leave it.”

  Did I just say that?

  “That’s what you do now, is it?” He doesn’t come any closer, but the heat from his body envelopes me, stealing my breath and what’s left of my sense. “Fuck them and leave them?”

  What would he say if he knew the truth? That even now, after all this time, he’s the only one who meant anything?

  “Why? Do you want more than a quick hookup with me?”

  His brief grin is anything but amused. “One night should more than do it. What about you?”

  I always wanted the impossible when it came to Ty, but I gave up on those dreams a long time ago. If this is the goodbye we never managed before, I’ll make it count. Maybe then I’ll be able to let go and move on.

  “A whole night? I was thinking more of a quickie up against the wall.”

  “When did your mouth get so smart?”

  “You didn’t answer the question.”

  This time his smile turns my legs to jelly, and I flatten my palms against the wall behind me before I do something stupid like wrap my arms around him and never let him go.

  How is that stupider than offering him a quickie? Except I already know the answer. Mindless sex is one thing, but if I let him through the barriers I’ve built around my heart over the years, leaving him again will all but destroy me.

  “I’ll take you up against the wall first, if that’s your best offer. But I haven’t come here for one quick screw. I’m going to have you every fucking way I want tonight, Jas. One night, that’s it, and then we’ll never see each other again. You understand?”

  I understand all right. More than he probably guesses. Seems I’m not the only one who needs to move on.

  Before I can stop myself, I reach up and tug his hair free. It falls over his face, and he looks wild, untamed, his blue eyes focused on me as though I’m all that matters in his world.

  If only…

  No. I don’t need to sugarcoat this with impossible dreams. I tangle my fingers in his hair and shove
the regrets back into hell where they belong. “I understand.”

  Chapter Three

  Jasmine

  His kiss is rough, meant to punish, but it’s everything I need. He pushes his tongue into my mouth, invading, taking, and I can’t get enough. I rake my fingers through his hair, trying to drag him closer, but he’s rock solid and doesn’t budge an inch.

  I tear my mouth free and pant into his face. His breath is ragged and all I can hear besides the erratic hammer of my heart. Maybe he wants me to beg for it. Maybe I will.

  “What’re you waiting for?” I run one hand down his chest, and the unyielding ridges of his muscles make my knees weak. I avoid touching his leather vest, try to imagine it’s not there at all, and it’s not that hard when all I can see are his beautiful blue eyes.

  “That hot for me, are you?” There’s a mocking note in his voice, but I get the feeling it’s not all aimed at me.

  “You’re the one who followed me here.” I glide my hand over his package, and even through his jeans, the heat of his erection burns my palm.

  He swallows a groan, as though he doesn’t want me to know how much he likes my touch. “You’re unfinished business. You know how much I hate that.”

  I force a smile, even though I die a little inside. “Why’d you think I opened the door? I need this as much as you.” Maybe even more.

  He pulls open the buttons on the front of my dress. There’s nothing gentle about it, and one button pops right off and skids across the floor. In retaliation, I loosen his belt and yank down his zipper. His grunt is a heady mix of pain and lust.

  “Mind the goods, babe.”

  Warmth floods me at his use of the old endearment, even though I know it means nothing anymore. He probably calls every girl he screws babe.

  I cup his balls through his boxer briefs, and the sensation is familiar and strange. It’s been so long since we were together, but it feels like only yesterday.

  “Nice try, but I’m not kissing it better.”