Tag: romantic suspense

Our motorcycles are the only two in the otherwise empty parking lot. He could kill me out here and nobody would know. I touch the gun in its holster under my jacket, check the knife sheathed in my boot.

I’m as prepared as I can get.

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Author’s Note

You asked for more Olivia and Cliff, very very nicely, so here it is! This miniseries runs for 12 weeks (and you don’t need to have read the books to follow along). So grab a snack and drink, kick back, and enjoy.

Catch Up: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

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Part 5: “I Think We’re Alone Now”

Olivia

My day drags, even though I spend most of it organizing the club’s big barbecue. I have our treasurer Mark Venmo me funds so I can book catering and entertainment, then my latest social work case walks into my office.

It’s another missing mother.

“I don’t have any updates, sorry,” I tell my client. What I don’t tell him is how his case made the dark shadows under my eyes even darker. There isn’t a concealer or any amount of sleep that could erase the stain it’s left on my soul.

In response, he shrinks into his hoodie, pulling the hood up over pastel pink hair.

“Bryce,” I say gently.

He lifts his head, blue eyes underlined with red.

“I promised you we’d get answers, and we will.” Even as I say it, it feels flimsy. Fake. I’m waiting for a text from Pru to confirm her band can play the barbecue, while my foster son sits across from me with swollen, haunted eyes.

The door swings open and Esther’s little sister Cierra slips into my office. She fits into the same chair as Bryce, their bodies entwining to make it work. Her small hand disappears into his. With her doe eyes and his baby blues watching me, I struggle not to fidget in my seat. Their gazes aren’t accusing but they aren’t exactly brimming with faith, either.

I’ve let them both down.

I’ve let down my whole club.

I turn, pressing keys on my computer like it’ll rewrite the script. When I look back at the chairs, both teens are gone.

I’m almost relieved.

The clock strikes five and there’s nothing else to do but face Ravage. Since I rode into work today, I ride over to The Wet Mermaid.

Even though I’ve known Ravage my whole life, I hesitate outside. Our bikes are the only two in the otherwise empty parking lot. He could kill me out here and nobody would know. I touch the gun in its holster under my jacket, check the knife sheathed in my boot.

I’m as prepared as I can get.

I find Ravage sitting at the bar, an expensive-sounding bottle of a liquor brand I’ve never heard of in front of him, with two shot glasses. He holds one up to the dim light, as if inspecting it for flies. The amber liquid sloshes in the glass.

“What are you drinking?” I ask, taking the stool beside him.

“What are we drinking,” he corrects, pouring me a few fingers. As the glass fills, I smell whiskey. He passes it to me, we clink, and drink in silence.

I wait.

“I remember when you were born,” he says finally. “You were the first club baby since Cliff, so all the guys were excited. Should’ve seen it. The maternity waiting room full of a bunch of bikers. Smelled like a distillery.” He chuckles. “We had to take turns in your mother’s room. To meet you,” he explains, pouring for both of us.

Again we tap glasses, again I wait.

“You were so small. Looked even littler nestled in all this leather. Even though you were Mercy’s, I knew from the moment I held you that I’d die for you.” His smile is warm contrast to the ice and grit of his voice.

I don’t know why I doubted him, this man who’s always had my back. Often when I didn’t even know it. He never asked for anything in return, never demanded thanks. Yet I couldn’t even give him the benefit of the doubt.

I bow my head in shame.

“I know you, Olivia,” he says in a low rasp. “I know you won’t let this go until you get answers. The question is, will you like what you hear?”

I lift my gaze to his, finding icy blue eyes appraising me. “Tell me.”

Lifting a finger, he pours another round. Clink, drink, slam, the sound echoing through the empty room.

“Where is everyone?” I ask. Even Cliff isn’t here yet, which is odd since we’re on similar schedules.

“I was Tommie’s mother’s boyfriend,” Ravage begins, and I forget how alone we are.

“Tell me. Tell me everything,” I say, and he does. When he finishes, I pour us both a shot.

I’ve never needed it more.

“You understand, now, why you need to let this go?” he asks, eyeing me.

I can’t even speak, so I nod.

I don’t know how I’ll face anyone after this, least of all myself.

Continue Reading

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Photo by Aleksandr Popov

“Everyone cleared out like they were all guilty,” I told Lucy. “What else did Stixx say? He was there, too.” I don’t mean to sound accusing, but it’s just all so weird.

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Author’s Note

You asked for more Olivia and Cliff, very very nicely, so here it is! This miniseries runs for 12 weeks (and you don’t need to have read the books to follow along). So grab a snack and drink, kick back, and enjoy.

Catch Up: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

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Part 4: “Isn’t He Married?”

Olivia

I can’t believe it’s Ravage. I can’t believe he kicked everyone out and then just took off before anyone could say anything. I can’t believe they all just left. Cliff and I stand in the abandoned conference room, the scent of sex still in the air, droplets of his release drying on the old wooden table.

He gives me a cocky grin. “We should probably clean that up.”

I drag a finger through it, licking it with a smack of my lips. “All done.”

The stare he gives me is heated, sending a zing straight to where I’m already wet. That’s the thing about Cliff. I’m always ready for him.

“We should probably get going,” I say with a sigh. I don’t know where everyone else went, let alone Tommie. The whole day has this dreamlike, hazy quality to it, moments slipping through my fingers.

The doors swing open and Lucy strides in, my niece babbling away on her hip. Tiny Bunny with her chubby cheeks and twin devil horns—her hair is getting so long but isn’t quite long enough for actual ponytails. She reaches for Cliff and he scoops her up, Lucy laughing even as her daughter clings to a handful of her red hair.

“What brings you here?” I ask. She’s never been to The Wet Mermaid, aside from that time I threw her baby shower here. She gave me so much shit for that.

“I need you to watch her, Auntie.” She gives me hopeful big sister eyes, then looks back at her toddler. “I’ve got a date,” she says in a low voice.

Cliff and I exchange a look before I turn back to my adoptive sister.

“Of course,” I tell her. “When do you need me?”

“Tonight.” She bats lashes at me, and I laugh. “Pretty please.”

“You got it,” Cliff replies, and Lucy squeezes us both in a group hug that should be awkward but instead warms me to my toes. She kisses Bunny’s chubby cheek and skips off.

“I guess we’re on baby duty,” I say, Cliff’s eyes meeting mine. It hits us both at the same time. “We both ride. How are we gonna get her home?”

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With the baby—who’s looking less and less like a baby every day, toddling around on more and more solid legs—fed and fast asleep for the night, I snuggle into Cliff’s arms on the couch, a movie playing in front of us on the flat screen. Except neither of us are watching.

Cliff’s hand skates back and forth on my belly, a comforting more than sexual motion, his arms wrapped tight around me. It’s my very own weighted blanket.

“Anything?” I ask, nodding to our phones on the coffee table.

“No,” he says into my hair—the answer I already knew.

When we walked onto the floor back at the clubhouse, the place was empty, stools up on the tables and bar, the place mopped and shut down for the night. The Mermaid never closed, not truly. When it wasn’t open for business, it served as our private venue for whatever we needed. I held Bunny close as we walked through, meeting our Uber in the employees-only parking lot out back. Only when we were safely locked in Lucy’s condo did I exhale.

Her key slides into the lock in the front door and Cliff’s hand stills. “Hey,” Lucy calls as she comes into the living room. “Ooh, OG Dune.” She perches on the arm of the couch.

“More like Snooze,” I say through a yawn.

“I’ll put some coffee on,” she says, “because I found out some shit.”

That perks me up.

“What shit?” I follow her into the kitchen, leaving Cliff lounging on the couch.

“You too,” she calls to him, and a moment later he joins us. She busies herself with the French press, keeping me on pins and needles until she turns to us, biting her lip. “Um. So, I have a confession to make.”

“We already know you’ve been banging Stixx, honey,” I tell her.

Cliff nearly spits out his coffee.

Her shocked green eyes bounce between us. “You knew?!”

“So what’d ya find out?” I press.

Recovering, she sinks into the chair next to me. “Well, Stixx says that it’s entirely possible that Ravage dated Tommie’s mom.”

“How would he know?” I ask.

“We’re almost the same age,” Cliff adds. “Stixx wasn’t even a member back then.”

Lucy waves a hand. “Right, but here’s the thing. Ravage and Shannon weren’t married back then, either.”

I’ve never had a stable family system, not until the River Reapers and Ravage and Shannon. Those two have always been a unit, so it’s a bit jarring to hear that my father figure wasn’t always faithful. I shake my head.

“I’m sorry, Livvie,” Lucy says, reaching for my hand. She knows how much I look up to them; her parents weren’t exactly the best role models, what with all their drugs and neglect.

“That’d be why he took off,” Cliff says with a pained sigh, one that scrapes up through his chest, escaping past his lips. “I just can’t see him killing a woman.”

“Everyone cleared out like they were all guilty,” I told Lucy. “What else did Stixx say? He was there, too.” I don’t mean to sound accusing, but it’s just all so weird. It was as if they’d never been there in the first place.

She shrugs. “We didn’t really talk about it much.”

“C’mon, Luce, really?” Cliff prods. “You were out all night…” His voice trails off as he gets it.

“Sorry, cousin.” My sister lifts her coffee mug in a salute. “I’ve got to shower and get ready for work.”

“Work?” I repeat, but when I glance out the window, I see the sky lightening, hear birds calling to each other softly as their day begins. “Wait, I need one, too.” But she’s already upstairs, and a second later the pipes clang. I cast a long look at Cliff.

“Don’t look at me.” He holds up his hands.

“You’re the one who wanted to watch that long-ass movie.”

The grin that spreads across his face is both mischievous and adorable, not at all remorseful. “I got to spend the whole night with you.” He pulls me into him, dipping me back for a kiss. When he lets me go all too soon, I pout. “I’ve got work, too, and so do you.” He smacks my ass lightly. “Better go kick Lucy out before she uses all the hot water.”

He’s not wrong, so I hurry upstairs, but even as I make light threats for custody of the shower, I’m dreading seeing Ravage later.

How will I look him in the eye, knowing he might’ve been the one to kill Tommie’s mother?

To be continued…

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Photo by Alfonso Scarpa on Unsplash

Olivia’s hand slips into mine and pulls my palm to her, up under her shirt. “I just want to forget, for a bit,” she says.

There’s nothing else to say. I close my fingers around her breast, the softness of it light in my hand, giving it just the right pressure she likes. Her hands clasp my face, my beard brushing against her fingers. It’s getting long, longer than I’ve ever let it get. Not counting prison.

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Author’s Note

You asked for more Olivia and Cliff, very very nicely, so here it is! This miniseries runs for 12 weeks (and you don’t need to have read the books to follow along). So grab a snack and drink, kick back, and enjoy.

‼️ This week’s episode is NSFW. Read at your own risk! ‼️

Catch Up: Part 1 | Part 2

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Part 3: “Take Me to Church”

Cliff

Around the table, my brothers—the other members of the MC—stare blankly at Olivia.

“What’d you say her name was?” Beer Can asks, the crow’s feet at his eyes more pronounced as he squints at her.

Olivia’s lips part, then close. “I… She didn’t say.”

Skid scoffs. “You dragged us all out here for a woman whose name you didn’t even get? What is this?” he asks Ravage.

Olivia bites her lip.

I rush to defend her, even though I’ve got nothing. “Tommie said she’d recognize the boyfriend if she saw him, right?” When Olivia nods, I surge forward. “So then let’s have her over, see if she recognizes anyone.”

“That’s if this isn’t total bullshit,” Skid says. “Are we really gonna waste club time on some slag from the streets?”

Olivia bristles at the term, shoulders tightening. Her eyes narrow at Skid. “Wanna try that again?”

“You heard me,” he snarls. “Slag.”

She shoves her seat back, his hits the wall as he rises, and I slam him back against the sheetrock.

“Watch your manners,” I growl, my arm pressed against his throat.

He snarls in response.

“That’s enough, Red Dog,” Ravage says, and I release him immediately.

For now.

He lifts a scarred arm, his mottled hand rubbing at his throat, eyeing me with hateful blues.

“I found newspaper articles about it,” Vaughn says from behind his battered laptop. “Her name was Liane Paige.”

Mark shakes his head. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”

“Not for me, either,” Beer Can says.

“How ‘bout you, Skid?” I ask.

“This is bullshit, Prez,” he says to Ravage. “Are we really going off the whims of a little girl and some slag?” He stares straight at Olivia when he says it. I reach for the collar of his shirt, but Ravage yanks me back.

“Enough. Olivia, you’ve got a barbecue to plan.” He bangs the gavel, dismissing us.

No one moves.

“Did I stutter?” His ice blue eyes appraise us.

Vaughn shuts his laptop. “Someone’s cranky,” he mutters as he stands.

“Hold it,” Olivia says.

I know that look on her face. The one that says she knows better, even if just a smidge. The one that says, “Gotcha.” I know that look because it’s almost the same one she gave me that first night.

Almost.

That night, the corners of her mouth curled up just a bit, with just the slightest hint of mischief, her eyelids heavy. Then she broke into someone’s station wagon and pulled me in behind her, losing clothes as we slid into the back.

The look she’s giving Ravage now has none of the lust. Instead there’s that fire in her eyes that I’ve come to love.

And fear.

Just a little.

“Come on in,” she calls through the closed double doors, doors that club legend says came from an actual local church. They’re old and wood and heavy, so they could’ve.

A woman slips inside, the same woman from the other day.

“We don’t allow outsiders,” Mercy says, his voice warm but tinged with warning. Don’t push it, he seems to be telling his daughter. But of course she won’t listen to him. Not with the strain between them. He turns to Skid and Ravage. “She’ll go. No harm—”

“She’s not going anywhere,” Olivia says, clasping Tommie’s hand. “Do you recognize anyone?”

Tommie lowers her sunglasses, staring from face to face. She skips right over Vaughn, does a double take at me.

I clench my fists under the table so no one sees. It’s what I thought. Bastard must’ve been her mother’s boyfriend. That’s why Ravage didn’t want to do this. Once again, he was protecting my father.

Dead since I went away to prison a lifetime ago, yet he’s still calling all the shots.

I’m sick of cleaning up Bastard’s messes. I’m tired of drying little girls’ tears. Tommie’s too old for his tastes but he still ruined her life. He took her mother.

Yet one more thing I’ll never forgive him for.

Tommie lifts a hand, points a finger. I follow its direction, positive I’ll see myself at the other end of it.

Him. He looks just like his father. He’s the one. That’s what she’ll say any second now.

But when I see who she’s pointing at, my chest spasms like the wind’s been knocked out of me.

Judging by the looks on everyone else’s faces, we’re all just as shocked.

---

Alone in the room we held Church, I lift Olivia onto the table. “That was hot,” I say, kissing her neck. “The way you had Tommie outside, waiting for the right moment.” My lips move against her skin, kissing up to her chin.

She wraps her legs around my waist. “I can’t believe it, though,” she says. “The mom’s boyfriend?”

“Yeah.” I touch my forehead to hers, each of us leaning against the other. We breathe in and out, cells recovering after the shock.

Olivia’s hand slips into mine and pulls my palm to her, up under her shirt. “I just want to forget, for a bit,” she says.

There’s nothing else to say. I close my fingers around her breast, the softness of it light in my hand, giving it just the right pressure she likes. Her hands clasp my face, my beard brushing against her fingers. It’s getting long, longer than I’ve ever let it get. Not counting prison.

Her soft lips push mine open, and I forget those hellish years, forget the last thirty minutes. I hitch her skirt up to her waist, push aside her lacy thong, finding her soaked. She nods, emphatic, unbuckling my belt, freeing me. Her fingers squeeze the base of my cock, rolling over the head, notching me to her. Then I push in, sweetly slow, the hot wetness of her sucking me in an inch at a time. She’s quicksand and I’m drowning in her, buried to the hilt, breathing in her oxygen.

She lies back so I can hit it deep, my head reaching the end of her. When I withdraw, my shaft is coated in her. I run a finger along her leaking lips, soaking the pad of it in creamy desire. I bring my fingers to my lips, but she grabs my wrist, sucking me into her mouth, tasting herself.

I come hard, shooting into her, rolling my hips against her in an attempt to bring her with me.

“Come on me while you fuck me with your fingers,” she says, all doe eyes as she lifts her tiny tank, exposing her belly. I shoot onto her, white pearls dotting her skin even as I thrust two fingers into her, pinching her clit while I fuck her. She matches my pace, grinding hard against me, crying out as she squeezes her eyes shut. I feel her clench around my fingers, her thighs shaking, her body going limp.

I grin, feeling proud of myself as she slumps back onto the table, droplets soaking into the wood.

Ravage would kill us if he knew what we just did, but fuck him.

Olivia’s eyes meet mine, her thoughts seeming to sync with mine. She sighs, and I help her sit up. “What do we do now?” she asks, and I know she’s not talking about the mess on the table.

She’s talking about Tommie, Tommie’s mother Liane, and the mysterious boyfriend—Ravage.

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To Be Continued…

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Photo by Jen Theodore on Unsplash