Taking a Dare - A Hellion MC Novel (3 page)

"Rye!" I heard Vegas call from her place behind the
bar, her platinum blonde hair gleaming in the overhead lights.
"What's doin', girlfriend?"

I'd already seen March's ride in the parking lot so I
didn't care that she'd called out my name at my entry. Vegas was
one of the few of the fifteen or so Honeys that I considered a
friend.

"Came to see who else is hitting Missoula," I
replied, tucking my purse and messenger bag behind the bar and
pulling myself a draft from the working side of the long bar
top.

"Of the Honeys or the brothers?"

"Honeys," I replied after a deep drink. Damn, too bad
it was a week night 'cause I was primed to lose some of the
straight edges of the day and coping a buzz would've been just the
ticket in doing just that.

"Think there's only six. Me, Cyn, Tara, Milk, Wanton
and you," she said, ticking off each of the names with a finger. I
ran down the roster in my head. I approved of all but Wanton,
mainly because she was a piece of work of the worst order. The kind
of woman whose picture was in the dictionary when you looked up the
phrase 'cock tease' and had incited more than one set of beat downs
between our own men. I didn't want her to stir up trouble with the
other club's brothers.

It wasn't that Wanton freely spread her charms with
numerous brothers. As a Honey, that was a given. But it was the way
she would pit brother against brother as she worked them both
up—getting off on the fact she'd made two men fight over her,
inciting a competition and offering herself up as the prize.

"Wait! Before you say it, and I know you're gonna,"
Vegas said, holding up a long taloned hand. "I tried to talk the
girl out of it. When I couldn't, I gave her some ground rules."

"And those were?" I asked, coming up out of my glass
for air before pulling on the heavy handle and doing a reload of
the cold beer.

"Pick your guy for the night and stick with him. No
two-sies or even three-sies. That the activities heretofore alluded
to include hand jobs, blow jobs, straight fucking and anal." I
watched the other woman, who seemed to hide her natural beauty
behind a shitload of makeup, drum her nails on the wood of the
counter as she thought. "Oh yeah, and no Honey hello kiss with a
dick-rub as a side treat. That's what I told her, Rye. Straight
up."

"You did good, honey," I admitted. "And saved me from
having to do it. Let's just hope someone catches her eye before
Saturday and she'll back out."

"Hellcat! Over here!" I heard March's yell even over
the loud music that had some asshole wailing about how he was such
a bad dude. Dammit! As if I didn't have enough of that alpha shit
in my life already, I had to hear its soundtrack, too?

As I glanced at Vegas, I saw her dip her chin and
shrug one shoulder. She knew I hated March's little nickname for me
and had, in fact, been in the clubhouse when he and I'd had
exchanged a lot of loud, nasty words about it. But that hadn't
stopped him from its continued use. Grabbing my glass, I tried not
to stomp as I made my way towards his table. If my dad hadn't been
in attendance along with my brother, Leif, I wouldn't have even
have acknowledged March's voice.

In my opinion, if my fiancé had something to say to
me, he could've gotten his skinny ass off out of his seat and come
to
me,
not vice versa.

"Hey, March. 'S up?" I asked, stopping to stand by
his chair. He was giving me a look that meant he was going to be
trying something; something he knew I wouldn't like and wouldn't
put up with if my family hadn't been in attendance. Sure enough,
the man grabbed the back of my jean clad knee and began to stroke
upward.

"Just wanted to say hey, baby. How about greeting
your man proper?" His dark blue eyes held a sly look as his palm
continued to move up, and I raised an eyebrow before dropping my
eyes to my nearly full Pilsner glass and looking at him again. It
was my nonverbal warning and was the only one I was gonna give. As
for a 'proper greeting', I knew he what he wanted and was, in
effect, demanding.

A full on tonsil-swabbing kiss. One that I always
felt was given for exhibitionistic purposes only since it was never
sought or given when we were alone. And when done, left me vaguely
sick to my stomach.

No, that was definitely not going to happen. Not in
front of a roomful of men that seemed to be perpetually horny.
.

I felt his hand stop just below the cheek of my ass
and saw his eyes glance to where my dad and brother sat. March
should've considered himself fortunate they were looking our way
because if his hand had moved another damn inch, he'd been
receiving a beer shower. But I knew he wouldn't even try it if
their eyes were turned our way. He'd already been given the lecture
about how to treat me, especially in public. Embarrassing as shit
at the time, but that talk had given me plenty of causes to be
thankful for it having been said.

"Sorry. No can do." I faked a cough that was so
realistic, it scratched at the back of my throat. "Think I'm coming
down with something. Don't want you to get it."

It was his turn to lift an eyebrow. I didn't care if
he didn't buy it, I just wanted to do my duty and go home. "Think
I'm going to head out. Take some meds and hit the hay early." I
took a step back, disengaging my leg from his touch with only a
small yank when I'd felt his fingers grip me harder.

"Yeah, you do that. Hope you feel better," he said,
sliding a finger over the wispy blonde mustache he wore that
matched the thin, blonde strands on his head as his eyes held mine.
He opened his mouth as if to say something else, but shut it after
glancing again towards my family's table. "See you, baby."

"Yeah. Later, March," I mumbled and wove through the
tables to say hi and goodbye to the kinsmen that had just saved me
from another unpleasant episode in the March and Ryley show.
Something that seemed to happen with great regularity and became
even more virulent in the brother's and Honey's retellings.

When I finally made it home, I made a beeline for the
bathroom to light candles and start the tub filling. Breezing into
the kitchen, I looked through the fridge until I located a
half-bottle of wine. I even found a partially smoked joint in a
cough lozenge box in the back of my kitchen's junk drawer.

Yay! No more straight edges
, I told myself as
I took my pile of stuff into the bathroom before stripping and
easing down into the water. Oh, yeah. Just what the doctor ordered.
I could almost feel my muscles release their tension and let go of
the day. Although my mind couldn't release one portion, one small
bit when I thought of Missoula.

Not that I'd been wanting to think of it. No, I kept
shoving those memories back and away. I didn't know if it was the
pot or the wine or just the fact that I was going there again on
the upcoming run, but I couldn't seem to let it go.

Getting out of the tub, I dried myself off and
slipped into the sleeper set I had on the back of the bathroom
door. Without even thinking about it, I shuffled into my room and
lifted the mattress until I could snag the large clasp envelope I
hid there. Holding it to my chest as if it held the most precious
of diamonds—which it did, at least to me—I righted the mattress and
sat down on the edge before turning on the little bedside
light.

I touched the metal of the clasp and tried to
remember the last time I'd opened it. But it really didn't matter
when it had been. My heart still knew, had memorized, everything it
contained.

Two scrawled notes.

One birthday card.

And one lone snapshot of two kids, both of the
teenaged boy's arms entwined around the girl's shoulders, wrapped
over her upper chest. He was caught laughing into the camera and
she was laughing with him, her face pointed up at him. Their young
love was so blatant, so freaking evident in what was captured
between the two of them that it made me cry every time I'd looked
at it.

So don't fucking look!,
my mind yelled.

That time, I didn't ignore the voice in my head but
simply laid back on the mattress and held my treasure against my
heart.

Chapter Four

"More coffee, hon?" Dare glanced up at the cute
waitress standing next to the table with the carafe poised over his
cup. Wiping his mouth and fingers with the napkin, he nodded and
sat back in the booth, his eyes drifting back to the man he'd been
watching for the last fifteen minutes.

"We've seen four properties, but only two are gonna
fuckin' work," Pagan began fiddling with his cellphone. "According
to Bish, the other two are out of the equation due to legal
shit."

"From the condition of the buildings, I didn't like
the one up on Dexter. We'd have to start fuckin' fresh. If we gotta
do that, I vote for the one off of Garden," Burleson added just as
he should've done. He was the only civilian they'd brought on this
trip and only due to his expertise in ground surveys and building
codes in the Billings area.

Taking his eyes off the man he couldn't seem to look
away from, Dare glanced around the table at Burleson and Pagan.
"There's two more I want to look at before we get the hell out of
here. But for the mo', I fuckin' agree with Burleson. If the
Hellions are going to have a motherfuckin' presence in Billings,
both as a business and as a club, the one off Garden is the fuckin'
ace so far."

How do I know this guy?
Dare thought, turning
his gaze back to the man sitting at the table for two with a pale
blonde chick. He looked to be tall, his shoulders broad, filling
out the sports coat he was wearing over a pair of crisply ironed
jeans. There was a cowboy hat sitting on the seat next to him and
from his vantage point, Dare could see the man wore a pair of
kick-ass cowboy boots.

Dare didn't know any cowboys even of the fancy
variety.

And this cowboy caused ice to grow in the bottom of
Dare's now full stomach.

Maybe it was the guy's air of authority, something
Dare had been able to spot from a distance since he was fourteen.
From the set of the man's spine, he was obviously ex-military but
Dare knew there was more to it than that. There was something in
the way the guy moved that spoke of someone who was used to being
obeyed.

Although, he didn't seem to need that with the little
blonde he was sitting across from. She was all perky smiles and
trilling giggles as she ate her lunch. And her look never strayed
from her companion as if she, like Dare, couldn't look away from
him.

Dare saw the man pick up the check and study it
before reaching into his inside coat pocket and bringing out a
wallet. Handing the blonde woman both the check and the money, the
man leaned over the table speaking low before reaching for his hat.
As he stood, Dare could see his estimation was right about the
guy's height but as he turned towards the table of bikers, he saw
the man was leaner than he'd first guessed although just as
broad.

Stopping next to the table, the tall man looked at
each fellow at the table in turn before opening his jacket to put
his hands on hips. The sheriff's badge clipped to his belt was hard
to miss. "Hellions, huh?"

No one at the table said a word though their eyes
were on the tall man.

"I'm the Big Horn County Sheriff. I hope you weren't
planning on riding south," the man advised. "Big Horn doesn't care
for motorcycles or their riders."

"So we've heard," Dare mumbled, his eyes glued to the
other man's face. He'd seen the badge and was putting two and two
together but his mind didn't want to accept the sum of what he was
sure was true. "We're not going south this time."

"Good. I know my deputies have detained a couple of
your group and you need to be aware it'll happen each and every
time you're in my space. Understand?"

The men at the table nodded.

"Great, so we're all on the same page. Drive safe and
tip your waitress," the tall guy said with a smile. It was the
smile that had Dare's balls moving closer to his body as the ice
shifted from his stomach and began to move through his veins.

He watched the man who's badge had announced him as
'Gentry' walk to the door where the woman waited and knew he just
had to get confirmation. Because if what he was thinking was the
truth…

"Be right back," he announced to the table as he
stood and moved quickly to the front of the café. Going through the
door with the little bell on the top edge, he saw the man helping
the woman into the cab of a late model Ford F-150.

"Jim?" Dare called and saw the tall guy turn. Spying
Dare, Jim's eyes narrowed as his gaze moved over the big biker.
"Jim Gentry?"

"Yeah? Who wants to know?"

"It's me. Josh," Dare announced and found he needed
to swallow after his words.

Jim took a couple of steps to get closer as his scowl
deepened. "Josh who?"

"Josh, your fuckin' brother."

"I lost my brother a long time ago," Jim growled
through clenched teeth and squared his shoulders as if in
challenge.

"I damn-well did too. But we weren't lost, Jim. They
fuckin' split us up," Dare corrected over the booming in his chest.
"CPS sent us to different foster homes."

There was only the sound of the wind and the traffic
on the busy road as the two men stared at one another.

Jim sighed deeply and Dare saw his eyes drift over
the other cars in the lot before coming back on his. "Tell me
something I don't know, Josh." Dare saw the other man's eyes take
on a harder gleam. "So, you think you're my little brother and that
means…what? That we're connected somehow?"

"I know it was a long time ago but we
were
family." Dare was surprised by Jim's stance. Though he shouldn't
have been. Shit, after their parents were killed it was Jim's
smart-ass, we-don't-need-anybody attitude that had caused the boys
to be sent to different homes. CPS hadn't felt nine year old Jim
was a good influence for the six year old Josh. But little Josh had
idolized his big brother.