Ride hard. Live free.
Lucas “Blaze” Thompson inhaled a lungful of nicotine before tossing the butt on the ground and putting it out under his Harley Davidson boots. Blowing out a cloud of smoke, he braced his arms on the porch railing and stared off into the night. Behind him, the raucous sounds of laughter and revelry could be heard as his brothers celebrated their latest score. They’d managed to steal ten kilos of cocaine from the Stingers M.C. and had turned around and sold it for $250,000. It wouldn’t last long, not with the rate they went through booze and marijuana, and the occasional score of heroin, but it would add to the coffers for a little while.
Truthfully, selling drugs left a bad taste in his mouth, but he supposed it could be worse. There were clubs known for prostitution and human trafficking, and he definitely wasn’t down with that shit. At least the party girls who came to their clubhouse were there of their own free will, even if half of them were hoping to become someone’s old lady. Not that Blaze was about to take sloppy seconds as his old lady, not when the party girls fucked everyone in the club, sometimes more than one at a time. He didn’t kid himself and think his mate would be virginal, but as far as he was concerned, the party girls were just one step up from whores. He had absolutely no respect for them, and when he took a mate, he was going to respect the hell out of her.
He reached for another cigarette but paused as he felt a small hand slide up his back and under his cut, the long nails slightly scraping him through his tee. Blaze didn’t know how the female had gotten the drop on him, but it wasn’t like him to be so careless. At the very least, his grizzly should have alerted him to the woman’s presence, especially since one whiff told him it was the one female he wanted to avoid.
“I’m not in the mood, Celia.”
“That wasn’t what you said last week, when you were fucking me against the hallway wall. As I recall, you didn’t say much, but you sure worked me over with that monster cock of yours.” Her hand snaked around his waist and groped him.
Blaze pried her hand away, careful not to hurt her, even though he’d have loved nothing more than to crush every bone in her body at that particular moment. The woman was downright lethal—not in a sexy way—and he knew she was trouble for the club…and him. But she sucked cock like a pro, so his brothers were ignoring his warnings. He’d caught her in the Pres’ office snooping around, but she claimed to have gotten lost on the way to the bathroom. He didn’t buy her bullshit for a moment. She was either working for someone, or looking to score. Either way, she had no business hanging around the Steel Riders, and he’d love nothing more than to boot her out on her ass.
“I fucked you,” he admitted. “Once. It’s never going to happen again.”
Fire lit her eyes for a flash of a second and then she was all syrupy smiles and simpering coos as she rubbed his chest. “You know you don’t mean that. We had a good time. It can happen again, whenever you want. However you want.”
He growled, the sound rumbling from his chest, as he bared his teeth at her. He felt his bear rise up inside of him. “I will never want you, Celia. And if you think I’m going to claim you, you couldn’t be more mistaken. I’d never take a whore like you as my mate.”
Her lips tightened and anger brightened her eyes. “So I’m not good enough for you? Good enough to fuck but not to claim?”
“You’re here to scratch an itch. Nothing more. If you want a white picket fence, you need to look elsewhere. No one in this club is going to be stupid enough to sign on to a life sentence with you.”
She drew her hand back and let it fly, but he caught it in a bruising grip before it could make contact with his cheek. He squeezed, not hard enough to break bones, but enough to get his point across. Blaze didn’t let go until she winced, then he dropped her hand and watched as she took a step back. There was hatred in her gaze as she stared up at him.
“You’re going to regret tossing me aside,” she said.
“No. What I regret is ever fucking you to begin with.”
Her cheeks flushed as she turned on her heel and stormed back inside, probably to tell his brothers what a big meanie he was. And more than likely, someone would fall for her story and take her to bed tonight. What she needed was a final send off, with her tail tucked between her legs for her treachery. There was no way Celia had been in that office by mistake. And there were plenty of drugs to be had around the club, so that only left money. She had to have been looking to steal from them. Maybe she was after the $250,000, or maybe she wanted more than that. What she didn’t know was that they seldom left cash lying around; it was locked up tightly in the safe in the boardroom, and even she wouldn’t be stupid enough to wander into that place.
Blaze shook out another cigarette and lit it up. He inhaled deeply and held the breath a moment before blowing the smoke out. He could practically feel the nicotine give him an extra charge just from that one puff. His ma had been after him to quit for years, but it wasn’t like he was going to get cancer from it, not with his shifter abilities. She should just be thankful he’d kicked his heroin habit before it had really gotten its hooks into him. He’d watched some of his brothers detox from that shit and it wasn’t pretty.
Truthfully, he didn’t know what the future held for him at this point. He was an officer with the Steel Riders M.C. and his brothers were his life. But he couldn’t ignore the emptiness he’d been feeling lately, the dull ache inside that told him something was missing. Yeah, he had a great time—drinking, smoking, and fucking anything in a skirt, but lately that wasn’t enough. He’d never dare voice his feelings or his brothers would call him a pussy and question his ability to hold the position of Sergeant-at-Arms. Blaze was known for his take-no-prisoners attitude and ability to beat the shit out of a man without blinking. And he regretted nothing he’d done for the club over the last twenty years.
He was pushing forty now. Maybe it was time to settle down. Blaze had always thought he’d know his mate when he met her, that there would be some instant pull, some recognition on his part, but what if that was just a fairy tale? What if he’d wasted all these years waiting on something that might not ever happen when he could have found some nice girl and settled down years ago? Assuming he could find a nice girl who wouldn’t mind his lifestyle. Not too many good girls wanted to link themselves to a biker for more than one night.
Yeah. That’s what he wanted. Some prim, proper, buttoned-up woman who looked like a librarian on the outside, but fucked like a wild cat. If he closed his eyes, he could almost see her. It was enough to get his dick hard. With a grunt, he put out his cigarette and contemplated his next move. He could go back inside, join the merriment and get laid once or twice by the random girls inside. Or he could call it a night and head home.