BULLET: Lords of Carnage MC Read online

  After about half an hour, I pull off the road into the parking lot of the Skull. I cut the engine and wait for her to get off. She takes off her helmet and hands it to me. Her hair is disheveled from the ride, giving her a just-fucked look that makes me want to bend her over the seat and do what comes naturally. My cock jumps to attention at the thought.

  Down, boy. Wait for it.

  “Smiling Skull,” she reads, looking up at the sign above the door.

  “You ever been here before?”

  Six shakes her head. “I don’t get out of town much.”

  “I got that impression.”

  “Is this a biker bar?” she asks, glancing toward a row of bikes at the far end of the lot.

  “Something like that.” I raise my chin toward the entrance. Actually, the Skull is owned by the Lords of Carnage. As we go inside, I lift my chin and wave at Jewel, the manager and head bartender, who’s standing behind the bar. Jewel is my prez Angel’s old lady. She used to bartend at our clubhouse, back in the days before they got together. The two of them just had a kid, a little boy named Timothy.

  “Hey, there, heartbreaker,” Jewel calls to me easily. I notice her eyes slip to take in Six with curiosity. I don’t blame her. I’ve never come in here with a woman before.

  Left with one, yes…

  “Hey, Jewel,” I lift a finger at her, then point toward the back of the bar. “We’re takin’ a table toward the back. Send a couple of beers our way, would ya?”

  “Will do.”

  “You a regular here?” Six asks me, eyeing Jewel with something that might be jealousy.

  “You could say that,” I chuckle. “Come on. Let’s grab a seat. Beers should be over in a second.”

  Service is good for us Lords at the Skull, of course, since we own the place. It is primarily a biker bar, and we do what’s necessary to keep it neutral territory, like the old owner Rosie did. We get all kinds in here, but the staff who stayed on after Rosie sold us the place keeps the rowdiest customers in line. And we have some of the Lords come in from time to time, to serve as unofficial bouncers. Tank and Striker, standing over by the dart boards right now nursing their beers, are two of them. Tank catches my eye, and I lift my chin at him in silent acknowledgment.

  Six and I slide onto our chairs at a high-top table near a bay of windows. A minute or so later, one of the waitresses, Kylie, comes over with our drinks. She’s Hale’s old lady. She and Hale have been together for less than a year, but I guess they’ve known each other since high school. They reconnected down in Ironwood, where the other chapter of our MC is. Hale went down there on a job for a couple weeks, and somehow he ran into Kylie there. I’m not clear on all the details, but when he came back up to Tanner Springs, Kylie was with him, and they’ve been together ever since.

  “Thanks, darlin’,” I nod at her as she sets our bottles on the table.

  “No problem,” she smiles. Her eyes go to Six with barely concealed curiosity, just like Jewel’s did. “Hi, there,” she says, sticking out a hand. “I haven’t seen you at the Skull before. I’m Kylie.”

  “Six,” Six murmurs, smiling shyly and shaking with Kylie.

  “You from around here?”

  “No.” Six’s eyes dart away for a second as she shifts in her seat. “I mean, not originally. I work at Rebel Ink, over in Tanner Springs.”

  “Oh, sure. I know the place well. Is that how you two met?” Kylie asks.

  Six’s eyes flicker again. Kylie doesn’t seem to notice it, but I definitely do. Probably because I already have some idea how skittish she can be about some subjects. I know Kylie’s just being friendly, but I don’t want this girl to start closing up again. After all, the main reason I brought her here in the first place was so I could finally get her to let down her guard with me.

  “Thanks, Kylie,” I grunt. “We’re good here for now.”

  Kylie flashes me a look, one brow raising, but she doesn’t push it. Instead, she gives us a final smile. “Just holler if you need anything,” she tells us, and moves away to help other customers.

  “Cheers,” I say, lifting up my beer.

  Six raises hers, too, and clinks it against mine. “Cheers.”

  I take a long drink, watching her out of the corner of my eye. It’s a little quieter in here than usual, which is good. Sometimes this place gets a little out of hand for a first-timer. “So. Tell me about yourself, darlin’,” I say when she puts her beer back on the table. “You ever gonna tell me why they call you Six?”

  “They don’t call me Six,” she half-smirks, tilting her head at me. “I call me Six.”

  “Okay. You call you Six,” I correct myself. Interesting turn of phrase, though. I file it away for later. “I guess I never actually asked what your real name is, Mystery Girl. You gonna tell me that, at least?”

  She waits a beat. For a second, I think she’s gonna do it. But nope.

  “If I wanted people to know that, I wouldn’t call myself Six,” she finally says.

  “Noted,” I murmur.

  Shit. This girl isn’t gonna make anything easy, is she?

  “So, where you from?” I try instead. Boring, but safe.

  “Um…” Six glances down at her beer. “Nowhere, really. I was born in Western Pennsylvania.” She gives me a slight shrug. “But I don’t have any connections there anymore, so... It’s not really home.”

  I frown. Seems like that was the wrong question, too. All of a sudden, Six’s whole demeanor has slammed shut tighter than a safe.

  Well, damn. Here I thought her agreeing to go on a date with me meant maybe she was finally gonna start loosening up. I start to get kind of pissed, but when she looks back up at me, there’s something in her eyes that tells me she’s not just doing this to fuck with me. She’s being vague for a reason, not to be a tease.

  I get the feeling that wherever she came from, she wanted to cut all ties when she left.

  Hell, that’s something I can understand.

  But damn if that ain’t gonna make this little getting-to-know-you date a fair amount more challenging.

  Shit, I’ve never had to make this much of an effort to get into a girl’s pants before. If anything, the game has gotten boring as hell. Most chicks take one look at my ink and my cut, and that’s all she wrote. There’s a hell of a lot of women out there who are dying to take a walk on the wild side. And my reputation does a lot of the work for me, too.

  The devil that sits on my left shoulder whispers in my ear, What’s with you, Bull? Why are you trying to pry open this oyster, when there’s so many goddamn other fish in the sea?

  And I guess that’s true.

  But even though I can’t put my finger on it, I feel like finessing this little oyster might just be worth the trouble. Something tells me that if I work on it long enough, there just might be a fuckin’ pearl inside.

  Taking a swig of my beer, I glance around the room. My eyes drift over toward the pool tables, and I notice there’s a free one. It gives me the beginnings of an idea. A way to get Six’s overly vigilant mind occupied with something else.

  “You play pool?” I ask, taking a stab in the dark.

  “M-hmm,” Six says noncommittally, taking a sip from her glass. “A little.”

  “Come on, then,” I say, standing up. “Let’s go see what you got.”

  “What?” She looks up at me with a quizzical expression.

  “There’s a table open over there,” I reply, waving my beer in that direction. “We may as well jump on it before someone else takes it.”

  I wait for her to stand, and let her take the lead as we walk over to the tables, trying to suppress the grin on my face. At least this way, we’ll have something to focus on while we talk. Maybe I can get her to open up a little more.

  And in the meantime, I can stare at her ass.

  6

  Bullet

  Ten minutes later, we’re in the middle of a round of Eight Ball. I suggested a game with easy rules, since I don’t want Six to spend the whole time worrying about whether she’s going to screw up and hit the wrong ball in the wrong order.

  My idea seems to work. With the distraction of the game in front of us, Six eventually starts to get a little more chatty. As we play, I get her to tell me how much she likes working at Rebel Ink, and that Hannah, her first friend in Tanner Springs, was the one who got Chance to give her the job. Six does respectably well at the game. She doesn’t sink the eight ball by mistake, and ends up losing to me with just two more of her stripes on the table. She has a pretty good eye for where to put the shot, and I do my best to just let her play and not give her advice. I know from experience that chicks don’t always like that shit.

  When the game is over, I notice she’s done with her beer. I go to the bar and signal to Jewel I need two more. When I come back, Tank and Striker have wandered over to the pool table and are chatting her up.

  “You trying to horn in on my date, you motherfuckers?” I growl.

  Tank snickers. “Just trying to figure out what you had to do to convince a hot chick like this to give you the time of day.”

  Six accepts the beer I hand her, tossing her mass of blond hair over one shoulder. “Persistence, mostly. He’s been asking me out for weeks. Finally wore me down, I guess.” She gives me a coy look.

  Striker whistles. “That’s probably the only way this ugly mug manages to get any action. It sure as hell ain’t his sparkling personality.”

  Six giggles. “He’s not so bad, when you get used to him.”

  “That’s what you think,” Striker retorts. “He farts like a motherfucker when he’s drunk, fair warning.”

  “Not helping, Strike.” I shoot him an irritated glance.

  But Six actually looks amused. “Is that true?” she asks
, eyes flashing with merriment.

  “Nah, he’s fucking with you.”

  “The hell he is,” Tank butts in. “Those farts could smoke a skunk out of its hole, I swear to God.”

  “Shut it, brother,” I warn, as Six erupts in peals of helpless laughter.

  I’m about to tell them to fuck off and leave us alone when shouts ring out at the other end of the bar, over by the door. The four of us turn toward the sound. A rough-looking dude who looks like he’s had a few too many throws a punch at another guy, who ducks it and rushes him, plowing into his torso and ramming him against the wall. The first guy yells out again and pushes off the wall, bringing them both to the floor. A small crowd starts to form around them, yelling and hooting.

  Tank groans. “Fuckin’ idiots. Looks like we got a fight to break up.”

  Striker lifts his chin at me and gives Six a wink. “You watch this one,” he says to her. “And remember about the farts.”

  “Saved by the bar fight,” I groan as they walk away. “Jesus Christ, those two are annoying as fuck.”

  “They’re funny,” she protests, giving me a little eye roll. “I liked them. I think I’ve seen the one with the long hair at the shop before.”

  Then, just like that, Six flashes me an easy, carefree grin that about melts my cold, black fuckin’ heart.

  Well, I wanted to get her to loosen up. Looks like those two motherfuckers helped me out, after all. Better not look a gift horse in the mouth.

  Though Striker is gonna pay for that fart remark.

  “Yeah,” I sneer, but more for form’s sake. “They’re funny like a sexually-transmitted disease.” I motion toward the pool table with my bottle. “So, you wanna play another round?”

  Six pauses a second, then crosses her arms and gazes up at me speculatively.

  “What?” I ask, frowning.

  “Wanna play One Pocket?” she asks with a saucy little tilt of her head. The tiniest hint of a smile twitches on her lips. It’s cute as hell.

  And something inside me just about comes undone.

  Because I know a come-on when I hear it. Even from this little girl, who tries to play it so cool, like she’s not fazed by anything or anyone. Even if she doesn’t quite know it herself. Or hell, maybe she does know it, but she’s tryin’ to pretend otherwise. Either way, I’m not gonna question it. I know when to roll with an opportunity when I see one.

  “One Pocket, eh?” I ask, trying to ignore the fact that my cock just got as hard as my pool cue. “You sure are full of surprises, Mystery Girl.”

  She cocks her head at me. “Are you really gonna keep calling me that?”

  “What, you don’t like the nickname?”

  Six snorts. “Aren’t nicknames supposed to be shorter than a person’s actual name?”

  “Well, I don’t actually know your name,” I reason. “Maybe it is.”

  Six purses her lips. “Point taken,” she concedes.

  “So, One Pocket. You certain you’re up for that?”

  “Sure,” she shrugs. She lifts the beer to her lips and takes a drink. “I’m feeling pretty warmed up. Feeling good about my chances.”

  “That right? So, you want to make a wager out of this, then?” I raise an eyebrow. “Make it a little more interesting?”

  “Okay,” she smirks. “How about…” She pauses for a few seconds, tapping a finger on her chin. “How about, the winner gets to make one request of the loser? No questions asked.”

  “One request?” The chuckle that comes from my throat sounds wolf-like, even to me.

  “One demand.”

  “Anything?”

  “Well…” she hesitates, then gives a little shrug. “I mean, anything legal. But yeah, anything.”

  What in the hell? She’s pretty much done a complete one-eighty in the span of a couple minutes. Is it the beer talking? But Six doesn’t seem like she’s tipsy. Far from it. Her eyes look clear and totally sober — and a little saucy. Like she’s teasing me. Challenging me to take the bait.

  This girl has a reckless streak I didn’t see coming.

  If she thinks I’m gonna waste this win on asking her what her real name is, she’s nuts.

  “You sure you don’t want to wager something else?” I ask her, giving her one final chance to back out in spite of myself. “‘Cause you’re playin’ with fire, little girl.”

  “You haven’t beat me yet,” she points out, reaching up to flip her blond locks behind her back.

  “Okay, then,” I nod with an incredulous laugh. “You got yourself a bet. Game on.”

  Well, shit.

  I should have known this chick wasn’t gonna bet something so risky unless she was sure she had the upper hand. Turns out, Six is some kind of goddamn aspiring pool shark, and she was fucking with me the first game. I’m usually good at sussing out that shit, but damned if she didn’t just play me.

  We each take one of the corner pockets on the table, hers diagonally opposite from mine. I let her break, thinking I’ll give her a head start. She then proceeds to run the first four of her balls, and just barely misses the fifth, turning the table over to me.

  In the process, she’s done a reasonably good job of positioning two of her other four balls near her pocket. That keeps me from taking any low percentage shots. I’m no fuckin’ slouch at pool either, though, so I sink the first of my balls easily. The second one is a little trickier, since I have to do a bank shot that might backfire on me. As I lean down and eyeball it, Six wanders into my field of vision and makes a show of chalking her cue, wiggling her ass right behind the ball and causing my cock to jump to attention.

  “You’re doin’ that on purpose,” I growl, noticing that my voice has turned hoarse.

  Six glances over her shoulder and flashes me a knowing look. “Is it working?”

  “Goddamn, girl,” I mutter under my breath. “You better hope like hell I don’t win.”

  I had been planning to only ask for a kiss as my prize, to let her off the hook. But her sass is starting to give me ideas for revenge.

  In the end, though, she edges past me and sinks her last ball while I still have two on the table. It’s only when the ball plunks into the pocket that she drops the mask of cool detachment she’s been wearing since the first shot. She does a little hop into the air and pumps her fist, with a dance that ends in another shake of her ass. It’s ridiculous, and cute as hell, and sexy to boot. I’m tempted to burst out laughing, but also to bend her over the pool table right here and now, other people be damned. My cock needs relief after watching her sexy little body parade in front of me this whole game.

  I don’t do any of those things, though, because I’m also pissed that I just lost. It’s been a long damn time since anyone’s beat me at pool. I sure as hell have never been smoked by a woman before. I’m doing my best to take it in stride, but I’m failing. Especially because I also just lost a bet I was fucking sure I’d win not even fifteen minutes ago.

  “Two outta three?” I growl.

  Six laughs and shakes her head. “Nope. That wasn’t the deal.”

  “Okay, then,” I shrug. “Fuck it, I ain’t gonna argue. You won fair and square. Even though you took me for a ride, you faker. I should have guessed you were better than you let on.”

  “Damn straight I was,” she says smugly.

  “All right, all right,” I mutter. “No need to rub it in. Come on, I’ll buy you a shot and you can tell me what your demand is. You did say anything legal, right?”

  I’m disappointed as hell but trying hard not to show it as we belly up to the bar. Jewel pours us each a shot — Jack Daniels Tennessee Rye for me, tequila for her. “On the house,” Jewel says with a smile. She nods at me and gives Six a wink before moving away.

  “Thanks, darlin’,” I call after her, then turn to Six. “Okay, so. You won fair and square.” I raise my glass in a toast and salute. “Congrats. Why don’t you tell me what you won?”

  Six picks up the glass and tosses back that shot of tequila like a pro. I watch her long neck as she swallows, my cock aching at the thought of what she could do to me with that mouth.

  And then, to my utter amazement, she leans in to whisper in my ear.

  “I’m gonna let you take me back to my place, cowboy,” she murmurs, the faint aroma of agave tickling my nostrils. “That’s what I win. As long as you agree to stop asking me what my name means once and for all.”