Page 21 of Hidden Desires (Bikers of Mayhem #2)

BLADE

F ucking Ace had been incredible. He had never been so in sync with someone when knowing exactly what their body needed and how he was to give it to them. Even Ace couldn’t stop smiling since his brother left their room this morning.

Marcus.

Blade was so fucking screwed.

He had crossed the line he had spent so many years hiding behind, and now that he had crossed it, he had two options: continue plowing his friend’s younger brother and risk the potential fallout and wrath of said sibling, or step back across the line and continue denying his true feelings toward the feisty little sex-demon.

He couldn’t help it.

Now that the cat was out of the bag, Blade couldn’t stop smiling at the studly dude with a magic ass and wicked tongue.

That thing Ace had done to his ass, licking and playing with his hole, had his dick tingling and craving more. That had to be the biggest load he had ever shot.

That poor maid this morning.

He’d left them a large tip, knowing the biohazard they were up against. Sweat, drool, cum shots. Every maid should be praised for the bravery with which they approach their jobs every day.

“Shit. Do you think the room smelled like dick this morning?” Blade asked, stopping in his tracks and looking over at Ace, who was walking funny.

“What?” Ace asked, looking confused and a tad bit offended. “I do not smell if that’s what you’re hinting at.”

Blade shook his head, realizing that he was treading in very dangerous territory.

“No. I mean, did the room smell like dude sex when your brother walked in? Maybe that was why he asked what you were up to this morning. Do you think he knows?”

Panic was beginning to set in once again. Fuck, was he going to return home to a big brother stroking his rifle?

“No. I’m sure it just smelled like man sweat and whiskey.”

“So, in other words, dude sex.”

Ace chuckled and continued checking out the crime scene.

The two of them had come to check out the place where Steven’s body was found.

The dumpster sat around the side of an abandoned structure that had once been a diner, judging by the old, broken-down sign that hung above the door. Today, it was a boarded-up building with a broken window, and miles of desert in every direction.

It wasn’t the most isolated place in all of Nevada, but it was private enough for someone to spend hours torturing Chester’s son without being interrupted. And judging by the photos of Steven’s body, his killer had taken his time.

“So, they found his body tossed in that dumpster, his leg was hanging over the side, perhaps a way for someone to spot the body,” Ace read off his tablet.

“Over here, they found footprints. Size twelve men’s.

I’m guessing that means the killer carried Steven over his shoulder.

That would indicate significant size and strength. ”

Blade followed Ace around the structure, taking note of every surface, every object that looked like it might have been disturbed. Everything seemed in order or as it should look for an abandoned, broken-down piece-of-shit diner that the world forgot about.

Then he saw it.

Hand-drawn on the side of the tool shed, in dark-green marker.

Ace seemed distracted by his tablet, reading his notes and comparing photos against his surroundings.

Blade didn’t say anything. Instead, he let Ace continue on his walk of enlightenment.

Once Ace had turned the corner and disappeared from his sight, Blade stepped up to the shed to examine the surface more closely.

Tracing the ridged edges with his fingers, he recognized the indentations immediately. Entry points from a three-inch blade, most likely the same one used by the killer and left in the man’s eye socket.

Blade reached into his back pocket and pulled out his own blade.

Three inches.

Stainless steel.

Perfect for cutting through the wind as it searched for its intended target.

Knowing the answer already, he slid his blade into one of the notches and watched as the blade stood perfectly straight in the wood when he pulled his hand away.

“Did you find something?” Ace asked, from somewhere behind him.

Blade pulled his knife from the wooden panel and slid the object back into his jeans. He wasn’t about to get Ace involved in what he hoped was just paranoia.

“Nope, nothing. Just checking out the scene.”

He turned back to find Ace staring at him with a skeptical eye. The boy wasn’t an idiot. Whether he called him out on his bullshit or let it slide for the time being was yet to be seen.

“Come. There’s nothing left for us to find here,” Blade huffed, stepping past Ace and heading back to their bikes.

For the next part of their investigation, Blade was going to handle this part on his own. He wasn’t about to risk the lives of Ace or any of his other brothers on the crew.

Once they got back to the motel, Marcus asked Ace to help him with some shit, which gave Blade the perfect opportunity to bug off on his own.

He hopped back on his motorcycle and sped off toward the seediest bars he could find. His answers weren’t in files or in police reports; they were on the lips of the city's seediest people.

Each bar he stepped into was unhelpful. Lots of people were willing to chat for a beer, but not many had anything worthwhile to say. Most mentioned the Cyanyd Kings, but none of them knew where they could be found, only rumors and speculations.

Nobody Blade had spoken to was an actual member of the crew or had business dealings with its members until the last bar he entered.

“Yeah, I know one of the dealers who works for the CKs. He’s a scary-looking dude who doesn’t talk much, but is plowing one of my neighbors. I’ve seen him drop her off a few times; mostly, he hangs out with Black dudes and Latinos. Oh, and one scary-looking white dude.”

Blade’s ears perked up. “White dude? Like a boss or something?”

The man shook his head as he played with his beer.

“No, not no boss. The dude looked like one of those crazy dudes who chop up their families and eat their livers. You know, the ones they talk about in those murder crime specials.”

Blade knew the ones. They used to give him nightmares when he was a kid, especially when living in a trailer, traveling from town to town. They constantly ran into weird-looking dudes.

“And the white guy, do you know where I can find him?” Blade asked, hoping to get a lead.

The man shook his head like Blade was crazy.

“Trust me, dude. You don’t want to ever find that guy. The man gives me the creeps whenever I lay eyes on him. You know there’s something not right in his head. He had those dark, dead eyes. The kind that are empty and have no soul living behind them. Gives me the fuckin’ creeps, if you ask me.”

That was the best that he was going to get from the guy that night. He would have to try to gather information some other way.

“Thanks for your help, bro,” Blade said, slapping the man on his back as he exited the bar.

Across the street, a dark figure sat in a rusty old Lincoln staring at him. The glow from his cigarette brightened as the man sucked in a breath, then dimmed when he exhaled.

Blade watched the figure for a moment, wondering if the man was simply chilling in his car, enjoying a smoke, or was actually there to watch him.

After a few moments, the man tossed his cigarette out his window, then started his car.

Blade continued to stare into the blinding lights of the car, trying to remember every last detail of the mystery man’s car.

He was almost tempted to march over to the vehicle and have a little one-on-one back-alley chat with the man.

Taking Blade’s choice away from him, the car slowly pulled out of the parking lot across the street and made its way south in the opposite direction from the motel and his crew.

Perhaps it was just a coincidence.

Perhaps.