Page 9 of Pearl (Royal Harlots MC, Phoenix, Az. #1)

Pearl

T he minute we’re on the road, there’s nothing to fill my mind but thoughts of the muscular, dark-haired man who walks with a slight bow from riding the saddle causing everything south to clench with need.

Unless Hawg told him about our conversation downstairs last night, Carver is no doubt telling the truth, but I have to be absolutely sure with so many lives on the line.

Carver straddles his bike and leans into the curve.

I follow closely, fascinated by every powerful muscle in his body, especially those thighs wrapped around that engine as we ride the long corner that brings us closer to the city.

He pulls up at a bar right before we hit town.

It’s newer, a flashy silver color with a red Larussio sign and a scrolly looking L carved on the door.

We ride up and put our stands down, next to a shit ton of other bikes lined up out front.

Definitely a biker bar, but there’s something about it that says different, a little too new and shiny if you ask me.

But no one did. Maybe it’s just my overactive and protective instinct kicking in.

Looking for something that doesn’t add up, doesn’t ring true, or that causes a set of eyes to shift.

I take a deep breath to slow my nerves. If he wanted to hurt me or pay me back for the ass kicking I gave him, he would have done it by now.

Carver wipes the sweat from his brow, and I do the same after removing my helmet.

No matter the bandana, this desert heat doesn’t let up once you get off that bike and the breeze stops.

I gesture to the front door. I’ve seen the symbol before, but it was carved into some dude’s chest after he fucked with someone he shouldn’t have, someone protected by the Larussio family. “Your friends ride for the Larussios?”

It’s obvious they must, but he doesn’t confirm or deny, just holds the door open. “Stay behind me.”

It’s not easy giving over control. “I can take care of myself.”

His eyes rake over my body. “That’s for damn sure, but I don’t have time for things to get out of hand.

We need to get in and get out.”

My first instinct was right, it’s way too upscale to be financed by bikers alone.

Yeah, maybe all of us work for the crime families in one way or another, especially one percenters, but we don’t flaunt the money around with brand new bars, the finest leather bar seats and marble bar tops.

The bartender gives Carver a nod. “Good to see you. Come on around back. Better leave the girl at the bar.”

Carver gestures to the bar. “Take a seat. I won’t be long.”

I roll my eyes at the macho bullshit. Same fucking shit, just another day.

They don’t want us in the business. The life, and in their beds, yes, but on their terms. Well, I have my own fucking terms and it’s not playing wet nurse to the males’ soft little egos.

I walk over to the jukebox, push the button to my favorite song, and inhale deeply as it comes on, letting the music from years ago settle my nerves, and call on the strength of steel that’s gotten me here today.

I’m halfway back to the bar when a large firm hand grips my shoulder, hard. My jaw locks tight as he spins me around. “Looky what we have here,” he says, raking his eyes down my body, focusing on the tight white tank top bodice that holds my breasts in place underneath my cut.

My eyebrow arches. I glance around at the bunnies in the corner wearing little to nothing and hanging onto every word the other guys say. “Surely you have enough to keep you busy. Me and my friend are just passing through.”

The stale alcohol stench of his breath almost makes me retch. He grabs my hair and tightens his fist. “Since we’re all friends, you can come play with me.”

My feet plant, trying to keep my body from moving but his grip is solid, right down to the roots at my scalp. “What, you can’t get any pussy, even when it’s free?”

That does it, knocks him off his game. He gapes, surprise lightening his grasp, just for a second, but it’s enough to let me spin just enough to throw the weight of my body into an elbow that lands right in the groin.

This fucker is toasted though. What should have taken him down just pissed him off. “Cunt! You’re gonna pay for that.”

But I’ve already got my Glock out. “Look, just stop. Go back to the babes in the corner, and I’ll be on my way as soon as Carver is done.” I already know this pointed gun probably isn’t going to stop him in his condition, and it doesn’t.

He rams at me like the big-ass bull that he is, slugging me across the face with the back of his hand.

The blow knocks my breath away, and stings red hot fire behind my eye.

He may be fucking protected by the family, but the asshole isn’t getting away with this scot-free.

“You’re obviously protected by some family, and I fucking respect the hell out of that so I won’t kill you, but don’t think I won’t shoot you, motherfucker. ”

The big guy laughs now, but not for long.

Carver walks out from the back and his face turns beet red.

He closes the distance in a few long strides and throws a punch to big dude’s face, hitting him hard with a set of brass knuckles and when he reels from the hit, Carver does it again and then sends the heel of his boot right into the guy’s groin.

That takes him down, right to the ground, groveling like the fucking loser that he is as Carver puts his boot on the guy’s chest and holds him there.

Two men wearing biker gear walk out from the back with a dark-haired man in a suit and all the bunnies and other bikers scramble, emptying the bar out quicker than I’ve ever seen a place empty in my life.

Carver glares at the asshole lying on the ground before looking the three guys straight in the eyes.

“Ryker, Capone,” He glances at the guy in the suit.

“Sorry I don’t know your name, but this piece of garbage touched someone who doesn’t belong to him.

Marred her beautiful face and would have done a hell of a lot more if I wasn’t around.

The lady has a better moral compass than mine.

Didn’t kill him when she had the chance because he’s protected by the family. ”

The man in the suit turns to the men in bandanas. “This is Carver?”

“Yes sir,” Ryker, the tall, fully tatted man wearing a black leather vest and pants says.

The dark-haired man turns his eyes on Carver.

“I’m Renzo Larussio. I appreciate the work you’ve been doing for us.

The guys have been keeping me apprised of the situation with the ladies.

They came and got me from the back office after you talked to them about the lady problem.

I’ve had things arranged. A truck is on the way, it will follow you to the women. You two can follow it back to Arizona.”

Renzo glances at his watch. “We’ll take care of any drifters left from the motorcycle group who attacked you, and you should have the ladies back in time to make that delivery truck, alright?”

Carver nods. “Thank you.”

Larussio gestures to the man on the ground. “I take it you don’t agree with the lady. You’d kill him just the same. Even though he’s protected by the family?”

Carver looks him dead in the eye. “I would in a heartbeat. Would have if you hadn’t walked in. Look at him, look at what he did to her face,” he says, never for one minute letting the pressure of his boot up on the man’s chest.

Larussio looks around the room. “Where did everyone go? Why the fuck didn’t anyone do something?” he growls at the two bikers.

Ryker and Capone both exchange a glance. “You want the truth, boss?” Ryker says.

Renzo Larussio narrows his dark eyes. “That works.”

“Capone and I have been trying to bring the two groups closer since we patched together, and it’s getting there, but they’re still a little gun shy.

This drunk asswipe is a recruit, but Capone’s had him on the payroll for a while.

None of my guys want to cross a line with either me, Capone, or the family.

Capone and I were going to talk about what to do with him.

He’s bad for morale, a real fucking wild card. ”

“And he crossed a line I don’t accept,” Larussio says, pulling out a dark black Glock and firing two bullets into the head of the bully lying on the floor, taking everyone in the room by surprise.

“Get rid of him boys. Next time you don’t know where the fucking lines are, you come and talk to me, capisce? ”

Larussio turns to Carver. “You come find me when you get back to town. I have a little proposition for you. I’m usually at The Larussio on the strip more often than not. Ask one of ladies in the casino, they’ll find me.”

Carver gives the guy a nod. “I’ll do that, sir. Thanks for making this right.”

Larussio throws a hand in the air and heads toward the back as Ryker gets on the phone. “We need a thorough cleanup and disposal in the bar.”

Capone gives Carver a half smile. “Never seen this side of you, Carver. Heard you could take care of yourself, and obviously you can, but she must be some kinda special to tell Renzo Larussio that you would have killed one of his men in a heartbeat. Not everyone walks away from an encounter like that, as you can clearly see,” he says, gesturing to the man lying in a pool of his own seeping blood.

Carver doesn’t respond but guides me to the bar with a hand to my lower back. “Glass of ice, and a clean rag.”

The bartender looks down as he grabs a glass of ice and hands it to Carver along with a folded white cloth. “Use this. I’m sorry you got the brunt of his drunk, little lady.”

Carver places the cool pack against my skin. “It’s going to hurt like hell for a while, baby.”

“Get something for the pain,” he tells the bartender who grabs a bottle of over-the-counter pain relievers and doles out two into the palm of my hand.

“That should help a little but it’s going to be a hell of a ride back home.

I can get you on the truck and have your bike brought home.

You go with the ladies, and I’ll ride behind. ”

My eyes narrow at the well-meaning but impossible man who has somehow gotten the impression that now I need a protector or a savior or whatever the hell he thinks he is.

That only lasts so long though, then they all turn into assholes with big mouths, and not one loyal bone in their bodies when the bunnies are around.

But his eyes, they tell a different story, one I want to believe, one that may even work.

“The ladies can ride in the truck. I’m no quitter. I started this mission to get those ladies returned, and I’m going to be riding right behind that truck with you, come hell, high water or whatever else is in store for us, we’re riding this storm together.”

His lips shift.

My eyes narrow. “And just what the fuck are you smirking about?”