Page 6 of Hidden Desires (Bikers of Mayhem #2)

BLADE

“ Y ou’re such an idiot. What are you doing?” Blade asked himself as he slowly pulled into the restaurant parking lot. He stopped his bike between two parked SUVs and hoped that they provided enough cover.

He turned off his Harley and watched as Ace and his date got out of their car and walked smiling into the restaurant—hand in hand, of course.

Against his better judgment, Blade had decided that he needed to follow his boss’s little brother—just to make sure he was alright and that his date didn’t do anything… inappropriate.

Ace is going to murder you if he finds out.

Yeah, but Marcus will explain to him that this is what brothers do. We look out for each other and make sure that they are safe, and that no pig does anything inappropriate to them.

And which biker bro followed you on your last date?

Blade stopped to think about that one. He couldn’t remember ever being on an actual date. Sex dates, yes. Orgies, plenty. But an actual “sit down at a restaurant and talk to someone” date? He wasn’t sure if he had ever actually been on one.

Killing the engine, he pulled his phone out of his leather jacket pocket and checked the time.

It was nine thirty.

He slid his phone back in his jacket and then made himself more comfortable on his bike.

This might take a while.

Already getting bored, he pulled the tiny three-inch blade from his inner jacket pocket and began playing with it between his fingers.

Blades.

He loved them. Feeling their smooth surfaces and sharp edges…

The way they cut into things and slid smoothly across surfaces, revealing the hidden truths buried within.

Some might call him crazy. Some have even called him a psychopath. But his love of blades was nothing abnormal.

People just didn’t understand the true power and beauty of the sleek and sexy objects.

Well, one man did.

His father.

He had shown him the true splendor and magnificence of the tiny, deadly blades.

“Now. Hold the blade steady between your index finger and your thumb.”

“Like this?” he asked his father, glancing over his shoulder at the man standing right behind him.

“Yes, son.” His father reached around him and grabbed his wrist. "Make sure that your wrist is nice and relaxed. It will help guide the blade and make sure that it goes where you want it to.”

He nodded.

Nervous, he stared ahead at the painted red bullseyes that he and his father used for target practice, wondering if he would ever be as good as his father.

His eyes slid over to the poster that hung on the side of their trailer.

“Come and see the Demon Blade Thrower. Four shows only!” the poster read in large red letters. In the center was a picture of his father throwing a dagger blindfolded, over his shoulder, while a man stood tied up with an apple on his head. Below the image was scrawled the name of the circus.

His father was a blade thrower, one of the performing acts with the “Winter Brothers Circus.” His father had been performing for almost fifteen years now.

Blade throwing was a skill that was passed down from generation to generation.

Now it was his turn to learn from his father.

Hopefully, if he were ever good enough, he might be able to perform alongside his pops—a father-and-son blade-throwing act.

Wouldn’t that be amazing?

“Okay. Take your time. Focus on the target ahead of you, and don’t forget to breathe,” his father reminded. He took a step back and watched as he tried to focus his thoughts.

“All I keep hearing is that damn circus music. How do you concentrate with that shit music playing?”

His father chuckled.

“Well, we can’t have heavy metal music playing around small children, unfortunately.”

Now it was his turn to chuckle.

“No. I guess we can’t corrupt the children, can we?”

“No, we can’t. They have plenty of years to lose their way and realize that life is not all sugarplums and rainbows. Now, concentrate.”

His father wasn’t exactly a mean man, but he had an angry outlook on life and wasn’t afraid to tell people off. To say his father wasn’t exactly loved by the other circus performers was an understatement. There was a reason that their trailer was parked away from the rest.

He focused on the center dot in the middle of the bullseye. He breathed in slowly, then let his arm whip forward.

The wind barely made a sound as the blade flew through the air, hurtling toward its target.

He held his breath as he watched the sleek, shiny steel sail through the air.

“Bingo!” his father shouted, throwing his arms up in celebration when his blade hit its mark.

The four-inch blade stood firmly in the wood, like a mighty badge of honor confirming his skills in front of his father.

He never felt so proud. How many thirteen-year-olds could say that they were an expert blade thrower?

“That’s my boy!” his father praised, rubbing the hair on his head as he celebrated.

“Looking good, boy. One day, you will surpass your father and become the new Demon Blade Thrower,” Theon Winter, the owner and ringleader of this thirty-person circus, announced.

Receiving praise from one of the owners was a huge deal.

“Well, he’s still got a lot to learn and needs to work on that weak throwing arm, but maybe one day. Perhaps,” his father added, not seeming too pleased with the thought of being replaced by his son.

He felt his cheeks blush. He hated when his father was pissed at him.

“Bruce? You ready for the show?” Theon asked, nodding over his shoulder at the giant circus tent that had been erected.

“Of course I am,” his father snapped before turning to his son. “Keep outta trouble while your pops is off performing.” His father slapped him on the back before turning and following his boss back to the main tent.

Shaking off the memory, Blade let the tiny knife slide across his fingers, not watching as the blade flipped against his knuckles. It was all muscle memory at this point. It was a trick he had learned from his father many lifetimes ago.

Inside the restaurant, Ace and his date, a blue-collar-looking man who had to be at least in his thirties, were cutting into their food and seemingly chatting about nothing.

To be honest, Ace looked bored.

He probably is. You should go in there and save him from a boring-ass date, his pain-in-the-ass inner voice suggested.

Blade snorted.

Yeah, that’s the quickest way to get a kick in the balls from Ace. No. It was better and safer for his balls if he stayed outside and… watched.

He was there for protection, not interrupting boring dates and saving friends’ younger brothers from lame-ass convos.

No. That was definitely not his job.

One long-as-fuck hour later, Ace and his date finally emerged from the restaurant together. They were headed back to Mr. Boring’s car when the man stopped by Ace’s door.

Probably to open it for him.

How gentlemanly of him .

He watched as the man’s body got close to Ace’s.

Blade felt the vein in his forehead begin to pulse.

What was this guy doing?

What do you think, Sherlock? What do most horny men do when out on a date?

Fuck. No.

Blade’s hands curled into fists as he watched Mr. Boring lean in for a kiss.

Ace turned his face away, rejecting his kiss and appearing to catch the man off guard.

Oh.

Blade watched as Ace pulled away from the man, attempting to give himself some distance.

It appeared that Ace wasn’t that interested in Mr. Boring all that much after all.

The man grabbed Ace’s shoulders, then leaned forward once again, attempting to capture Ace’s lips with his.

Oh, hell no.

Blade leaped from his bike and began running toward the two unsuspecting men.

“No. James, sorry, but you’re not my type.” Ace groaned as he pushed the man away from him.

“Come on. Just one kiss. You owe me.”

“I, what?” Ace asked, anger building in his voice.

Blade slowed. Perhaps Ace had this handled after all.

“You owe me. I picked you up, bought you dinner, and now you are going to tell me that you aren’t even going to suck my dick?”

That was the last straw. Blade didn’t care if Ace could handle it. There was no way that he was letting anyone talk to Ace that way!

“Excuse me,” Blade called, startling both men standing next to the passenger side door.

“Blade?” Aced asked, looking confused as shit.

“I’ll show you what you’re owed.” The man went flying backward when Blade’s fist connected with his jaw.

“What the fuck?” Mr. Boring cried, staring up at Blade, terrified.

Blade only saw red.

He grabbed the man by the collar and proceeded to beat him repeatedly. All sound fell away as Blade stared into the eyes of the man who had dared to kiss Ace without his permission and wanted to kill him.

It wasn’t until Ace was yanking hard at his jacket that Blade realized he was still beating the man, and his knuckles were now covered in blood.

“Blade! What the fuck?” Ace shouted, pulling him off the sniveling man, bleeding on the floor.

Yanking himself free of Ace’s grasp, Blade turned and took a step back.

He wasn’t sure what came over him. He just felt incredible rage hearing the way the man was talking to… Ace. Just thinking about all the nasty things that man probably thought he was entitled to do to his… his boss’s little bro. It just made him mad.

“You guys are out of your minds!” the sniveling man cried as he struggled to stand. He stumbled around his car and pulled open the driver’s side door. “I knew it was a mistake to go out on a date with the little brother of a biker gang leader.”

His door slammed shut, and he peeled his car out of the parking lot.

“Thanks!” Ace shouted. “Now no one is ever going to want to date me.”

“But… he had his hands all over you? And he was trying to force himself—” Blade tried to explain before getting cut off.

“I know what he was trying to do. And I had it all in hand. Assholes like that try to take advantage of lonely gay men all the time. I was just about to punch him in the face myself before you showed up and gorilla-beat him into the pavement.”

“Gorilla beat?” Blade asked with a chuckle.

Ace’s lips curled up as if he were struggling not to smile.

“Yeah. All fists. No brain.” Ace ran both hands through his hair and spun around in frustration. “What are you even doing here, anyway?”

Shit. He hadn’t thought about that part.

“I… I was…” He had no reasonable excuse.

“God, you’re a fuckhead.” Ace threw his arms down and began pacing around the lot. “So, where’s your bike? You’re giving me a ride home now.”

Blade tried to hold in his smile.

The thought of Ace’s arms wrapped around his chest as they rode home was…

Blade swallowed hard.

What the fuck was he thinking?

“I’m parked over here.” He nodded toward his spot.