Page 7 of Calypso’s Shield (Royal Harlots MC, Los Angeles Chapter #1)

FARRIS

H oly shit. What did I get myself into? Who is this woman handling this beast of a bike like a pro?

We turn toward a gated house nestled between the coastline and the mountains.

A woman stands guard at the entrance, opening the gates as soon as we round the corner.

Calypso pulls in and parks beside a row of motorcycles lined up in perfect formation.

She kills the engine, flips down the kickstand, and once the bike is stable, I climb off.

That’s the first time I’ve ever been on a motorcycle, and it was thrilling. Trusting my life in her hands, hanging onto a woman like her. It’s something I’ve never done before. And I’d be crazy not to do it again.

Calypso swings her leg off the bike and removes her helmet, undoing the long braid that held back her jet-black hair.

It spills down to her waist in a glossy cascade.

She’s stunning. Petite but powerful, with tattoos crawling up her toned arms and piercing green eyes that don’t just look at you, they look into your soul.

“How was the ride, Detective?” Calypso’s voice is like silk over steel.

“Thrilling,” I admit, still coming down from the high. “Never done that before. I think I want to learn how to ride. No, scratch that, I need to learn how to ride.”

Calypso laughs, the sound sultry and smooth, sending a jolt of heat straight to my dick. “Come inside, Detective.”

Holding back a groan, I follow her, watching the hypnotic sway of her hips in those tight jeans.

My gaze drifts up, and for the first time, I notice the leather cut she wears.

Stitched on the back is an emblem of a skull-faced woman with long, flowing hair, giving off a dark gothic vibe.

Her makeup is an ornate pattern, resembling a Day of the Dead design.

A golden crown sits atop her head with golden roses surrounding the skull.

Behind her is a motorcycle engine. The top rocker reads Royal Harlots, the bottom, Los Angeles.

Inside, the house is nothing like I expected.

It’s been transformed into a full-fledged clubhouse.

The foyer leads into a sprawling open-concept living space, complete with a pool table, foosball table, and a massive flat-screen TV mounted above a fireplace.

A sleek bar stretches along the far wall, where a woman, wearing the same cut as Calypso, pours a drink and sends me a knowing wink.

Beyond the living room, an industrial-sized kitchen hums with activity, and a grand staircase spirals up to what I assume are bedrooms. More doors line the back of the house, leading to who knows where, but we head in the opposite direction.

A woman with long brown hair, light brown eyes, and a fuck-off attitude greets us in the dining room, arms crossed over her chest.

“Calypso?” she drawls, raising a perfectly manicured brow.

“Sloane, this is Detective Dalton. Is Allura around?”

Sloane stiffens. Her gaze flicks to me, sharp and assessing. “She’s in her office. Probably fucking around with her new man candy.”

Calypso grabs my hand, pulling me along before I can process that response. “Stay close to me, or you might become someone’s man candy.” She smirks, her voice laced with amusement. “Unless that’s something you enjoy?”

I frown. “What the hell is man candy ?”

She chuckles. “Think club whore, but for us. They’re here to fuck when one of us needs an itch scratched. Men in an MC have sweet butts without anyone batting an eye. The moment an all-female MC does the same? It’s suddenly frowned upon. So, we said fuck that and do what we want.”

Calypso stops in front of a door, turning toward me. Her emerald gaze sharpens, darkens. Her palm skims down my chest, slow and deliberate. “Tell me, Detective,” she murmurs, her voice dipping into something husky. “Are you the kind who likes to fuck when called, or are you looking for commitment?”

I swallow hard, pulse hammering. Holy shit, she’s brash . “Depends,” I say, clearing my throat.

She tilts her head. “Depends on what, Detective?” Her hand trails lower, nearing my belt.

I grab her wrist, stopping her before she finds out just how much she affects me.

Pulling her close, I dip my head to her ear.

“Depends on who’s doing the calling, Calypso.

Any man would be an idiot to pass up a chance with you, but if you’re looking for commitment, I’m not your guy. My line of work doesn’t allow it.”

Her breath hitches against the side of my neck, hot and wet. I want nothing more than to slam her against the wall and fuck her until she can’t walk and can feel me between her delicious thighs for days, but I have a job to do. I can’t get involved with her.

Calypso senses the shift in my stance and straightens, slipping out of my grasp. “Let’s meet Allura.” She knocks once before pushing the door open.

Inside, a woman with short dark hair reclines in an office chair, eyes closed as a half-naked man massages her shoulders. “Mmm… that’s the spot,” she purrs.

Calypso clears her throat, and the woman’s eyes snap open. She glances at us, then snaps her fingers. The man grabs his shirt and bolts.

“What’s going on, Calypso?” The woman, I’m guessing Allura, leans forward. “Who’s this?”

“This is Detective Dalton. He’s searching for the same missing women and children we are. Things went sideways, so we came here.” I raise my eyebrow at the formality in Calypso’s voice.

Allura’s gaze flicks to me, sharp and unreadable. “Slow down. Start from the beginning.”

Calypso takes a deep breath. “Divine and I were at that warehouse I texted you about. That’s where we met Detective Dalton.

He’s looking for missing women. Right as we were leaving, men in black stormed in and opened fire.

Farris saved my ass by putting a bullet in one of them, and I returned the favor.

When it came time to run, he had a choice, get on my bike and live, or stay and face the firing squad.

As you can see, he made the right decision. ”

“What’d you find?”

Calypso reaches into her cut and pulls out a handful of photos. “These were pinned to a board inside. That room… it was covered in dried blood.” Her voice tightens. “There was more, but I barely had time to grab these before we had to get the fuck out.”

I tense. She didn’t tell me any of this. “What the hell, Calypso? You left that part out.”

She shrugs. “I don’t know you, Detective. Why would I tell you everything?” I glare, but she’s already turned back to Allura. “I need to call in Scarlett.”

Allura’s brows lift. “You sure?”

“Yes. If this is going where I think it is, we’ll need her.”

“Get it done.”

“Thanks, Prez. I’ll keep you updated.”

Allura dismisses us with a wave of her hand, and we leave her office. Divine comes barreling down the hallway with Iris hot on her heels. Calypso grabs Divine’s arm and stops her in her tracks. “Whoa. Where’s the fire?”

“Iris and I are going for a ride in the desert.”

“Ok, stay safe, and report back soon.”

“You got it, Lyp.” Calypso releases Divine’s arm, and they leave. I’m at a loss for the quick exchange. I have a gut feeling they’re being cryptic, and I need to get to the bottom of it.

Calypso pulls her phone from her cut. As she dials, she watches me. “Scarlett, we need you. Get here as soon as possible.” A pause. “Thanks. See you soon.”

She pockets her phone and meets my gaze. “Come on, Detective. You’re going to be here for a while. Might as well give you the tour.”

“What? No. I need to get back to the precinct.”

“Not happening.” Her voice hardens. “After what happened at the warehouse, those men already have your plates, your address, probably even your favorite place to take a piss. You need our protection.”

“Like hell I do.” Anger bubbles to the surface.

“Why, Farris? Because we’re women, you think we can’t protect you?” Calypso steps closer, making my brain scramble. “In case you forgot, Dick, I saved your life back at the warehouse. If it weren’t for me, you’d have a bullet between the eyes.”

I grab her hand as it inches down my dress shirt toward the stiffness in my pants and pull her closer. “I saved your life, Calypso. I can handle myself.” The tension between us is unbearable.

“I’m sure you can.” Her chest heaves against mine. “But it’s better to have someone watching your back, Detective.” She stares at me, waiting for a decision.

What do I want? Do I want to pursue this thing between Calypso and me, or do I want to do this on my own? It’s nice having someone watch my back, but can I trust her and her MC? Will they play me like an idiot? Am I digging my own grave if I stay or if I go?

“Fine,” I relent. “But if you cross me, I will bury you.”

Calypso’s eyes catch fire, stealing my breath. I close the distance and crash my lips against hers in a punishing kiss. She moans into my mouth, parting her lips. My tongue slides inside, her taste exploding across my senses, making me crave more.

I push her against the wall, pinning her hips with mine. She digs her nails into my scalp, sending shivers down my spine. I grab her ass and lift her, and she wraps her legs around my waist, grinding against me.

“Fuck, take me upstairs, Farris,” she demands.

I release her legs, and she grabs my hand, leading me away from the hallway and up the grand staircase. She opens the third door from the end and pulls me inside. There’s no time to take in my surroundings. She’s on me in a flash, ripping my shirt open and running her tongue across my chest.

I grab her arms, slipping off her cut and laying it carefully over a chair in the corner.

Then I yank her shirt over her head, revealing plush curves.

My lips find a hardened nipple through the silky fabric of her bra, biting gently while kneading the other.

She grips my head, holding me in place as I fumble with the zipper of her jeans, finally peeling them down her long, slender legs.

Standing before me in a pale blue bra and a matching silky thong, she’s breathtaking. “Wow,” I murmur, licking my way down her stomach. “You’re fucking beautiful.”

She pulls me back up, her grip firm. I let her take control, something I rarely do. But for this siren, I’ll make an exception.

“I’m going to rock your fucking world, Farris.”

Calypso unbuckles my belt, pops the button on my pants and pulls the zipper down. My erection strains against my boxer briefs, desperate for release.

“Do it, Calypso. Show me what you got.”

She shoves my pants down my thighs, then turns and presses her back against me. I wrap my arms around her waist, pulling her tight. One hand squeezes her chest while the other trails downward. When I slide a finger through her wet heat, I need more.

Kissing her neck, I ease a finger inside. Her body tenses, but I push deeper, adding another. She rocks against me, making me growl. I work her hard, bringing her to the edge before pulling away and spinning her around.

“I want to watch your face when you come.” I kiss her fiercely, and she drags me to the bed.

“Keep your hands above your head, Farris.”

I obey, placing them beneath my head as she crawls up my body, her chest grazing my abs, her ass high in the air.

“Now, I’m going to make your head spin.”

And spin it does.

The moment she slides down onto my aching shaft, I see stars.

“Holy fuck.”

Calypso moves, her hips rolling in a maddening rhythm. Pressure coils deep in my gut. I want to grip her hips and slam her down harder, but I force myself to let her control the pace. When I lift my hips to meet her descent, a moan rips from her throat.

She picks up speed, her body tightening around me. Fire licks down my spine. I’m going to explode, and when I do, it’ll be unlike anything I’ve ever felt.

Calypso plunges down one last time. Teetering on the edge, I can’t hold back any longer.

I bring my hands down and sit up, wrapping my arms around her back. The shift pushes her further onto me, making her cry out. She leans back, baring herself, and I capture a hardened peak in my mouth, sucking hard.

She shatters around me. I follow, tumbling into oblivion.

We’re a panting, tangled mess as we come down. My limbs are useless, but I manage to pull her against me.

Minutes pass before she finally climbs off and heads to the bathroom. “I’m going to clean up. Want to join me?” she asks over her shoulder.

“Fuck yeah.”

I follow her inside, and we get clean, then dirty again, a few more times before the water turns cold, forcing us out.

After drying off, I pull on an extra-large men’s shirt she had lying around, since she ripped my dress shirt to shreds, and my pants. Calypso slips back into her leather.

We head downstairs to the commons, where women drink, smoke, and play pool and cards. Shirtless men in leather pants serve them, offering more than just drinks.

I’m shocked but not appalled. I’ve seen worse in my line of work.

Suddenly, the front door slams open, and Divine rushes in. “Calypso, I need you out here now.”

Calypso drops my hand and hurries after her. I keep pace, sensing the urgency. As soon as we step outside, my stomach clenches.

A boy lies in the dirt, broken, bloody, and barely clinging to life.

“Fuck. Scarlett better get here soon,” Calypso mutters, kneeling beside him.

I swallow hard, my gut twisting. I know this kid.

“Where did you find him?” I ask Divine, my voice tight.

“In the desert. Why?”

I exhale sharply, running a hand through my hair. “Because he’s one of the boys I’ve been looking for.”