Page 45 of Rider Daddies (Venom Vultures MC #6)

BISHOP

I go to pick up the phone, but Diesel’s hand clamps over mine.

He turns to me with a stern face. “No.”

I know Cash wants to reply too. I see it in his eyes, how they spark.

“She’s embarrassed,” I say. “Let’s at least reassure her that she has nothing to worry about. Let’s be gentlemen about this, not assholes.”

Diesel eases off the phone, jaw hard. “Fine,” he huffs. “But just reassurance.”

I glare at him and then scoop up the phone to text her back.

Fuck, the things I could do to this woman.

Is it bad that I was imagining her bent over the library desk last night, pencil skirt at her feet, me between her legs, plunging my cock deep inside?

Me: You have nothing to be sorry about, sweetheart.

Diesel leans over, watching me type.

Me: BTW, we meant every word we said last night 3

“Give me that.” He steals the phone out of my grasp, staring at the text.

“You can’t get rid of a message from the receiving end,” Cash says, watching him try and figure out how to delete the last message.

I roll my eyes. “What’s the big deal?”

“The deal ,” Diesel begins, “is that our club is under threat, and you’re more concerned about a stranger than you are about your own brothers’ lives.”

It’s not my fault she has a smashing pair of tits and a gorgeous face. What am I supposed to do? Leave things be and give her up to somebody else? No. I saw her first.

We saw her first.

I don’t know why Diesel is acting so pressed. We’re good at what we do. He needs to have more trust that things will work out.

Besides, Prez is just being precautionary. I can do my job well and still crack on with the library hottie.

If that’s what she wants.

I saw her yesterday sitting behind that desk. She couldn’t even get her words out. Her eyes said it all. They were alive with something. It was like a mix of anxiety and excitement, the nervous way she kept looking up at us.

My balls ache again, just seeing her name pop up on my phone.

I find the nude she sent us and zoom in on the picture to see a close-up of her pussy. It won’t be long until I’m seeing that tight, wet cunt in person, making her feel all kinds of things.

“What ya looking at, Bishy?”

I turn around to see one of the clubhouse whores staring down at me, twirling a blonde piece of hair through her fingertips.

I hooked up with Gigi a couple days before the prospects arrived.

She was good, but it’s always the same with the women here.

They come back for more. They know I only do one-night stands, so I’m always puzzled as to why they come back the next day, smiling and giving it big.

I guess they want to be the lucky exception.

But I’m not here to find a girlfriend.

I’m here to ride bikes, shoot some bullets, and bury my dick in pussy after a hard day at work.

The girls here have nice bodies, but I don’t think any of them compare to the librarian. Normally, my dick only starts to twitch when a woman touches my groin or takes off her clothes. The librarian did none of those things, only grazed my hands briefly, and I was full mast.

Sexy Librarian: I was so drunk last night, you have no idea!!

The message notification draws us all back to the phone.

“Who are you texting?” Gigi drops the hair to grab the back of my chair, leaning in.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. It’s nothing,” Diesel intervenes, shooing the woman along.

“What are you gonna say?” asks Cash.

“I dunno. What do you think?”

Diesel remains unimpressed. “You’re entertaining her now.”

“I don’t want her to feel disrespected. We took advantage last night. We owe it to her.”

Me: Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. It’s our fault. You were drunk and we pushed it too far. We’re so sorry.

Sexy Librarian: It’s not your fault. It’s me. IDK what I was doing last night. What I was drinking. I feel awful, so ashamed.

Me: Hey, listen to me. There is nothing to be ashamed of. You have a beautiful body and should be proud of it.

Diesel shoots me a death glare.

“What?”

“Control your impulses.”

“It’s called a compliment.”

“Here.” Cash takes hold of the phone and starts typing.

Me: How would you like to meet up with us? I find face-to-face to be more effective. You can say no. It’s just a suggestion. Let’s speak about this in person.

Diesel and I share a look.

Way to kick things off, prospect.

I take the phone back. “What are you doing?”

“You’re too hesitant,” Cash says, eyeing Diesel. Then he turns to me. “And you’re too big for your boots, British guy. Cut to the chase. We all want to see her in person again.”

Diesel’s eyes fill with poison. “Keep your voice down.”

“I’m just saying.”

“Well, don’t just say.”

“We all met her yesterday,” Cash says. “All texted her last night. We’re in this together now. Besides, I don’t know what the big deal is. We’re meeting up to apologize. To be gentlemen .” He turns to me. “That’s all.”

Sexy Librarian: No. I don’t wanna meet.

Diesel’s expression changes, but he rights himself when I turn his way.

“There. We have our answer now,” Cash says.

But we all continue staring at the phone.

It lights up again.

Sexy Librarian: That wouldn’t be a good idea.

I take back the phone.

Me: Why not?

I wait for the reply bubble to ripple, but it doesn’t. She’s read the message, but is choosing to ignore it. Maybe Cash is right about the ghosting.

Exhaling, I run a hand through my hair.

I can’t have her slip through my fingertips and be claimed by somebody else. We’ve only met briefly, but she’s mine.

“It’s how it’s supposed to be,” says Diesel, still staring at the phone.

He’s tense about Reaper Sons. Has been for some time. Diesel joined the club two years after me, so I’ve known him for the full twelve years he’s been here.

Not once has he been this tense.

The club has endured some hardships, men killed here and there, but I think this could be our biggest fight yet. Normally, we’re dealing with unpaid debts, degenerates that the wealthy in society pay us to sort out. It’s rare we ever come face-to-face with another motorcycle club.

We all tend to stay out of each other’s way.

But to be honest, I brought this storm cloud upon us.

I know exactly why Reaper Sons want us gone.

Ten years ago, they sold my vulnerable father fentanyl, killing him in an instant. He was all I had left. The only family member alive on this earth I still cared about. I was fuming. Couldn’t sleep at night.

The thing about Reaper Sons is that as long as they make bank, they don’t care if somebody dies.

I wanted them to pay.

So I bought something from one of the Italian mafia groups in the city. To this day, I don’t know what it was. All I knew is that the chemical was toxic, and it would burn my enemies’ throats in seconds.

I charged over to their clubhouse in the dead of night and poisoned their water supply.

I don’t know how many were killed. Sometimes, Venom Vultures members discuss the rumors amongst themselves. Some reckon hundreds.

Of course, I keep the information to myself. If the truth ever gets out, I become public enemy number one, taking over Reaper Sons on the list of people Grizzly wants killed.

They used to be the most powerful club in Nevada. Everybody seeking dirty work used to give them a call. They were a go-to club before I poisoned their members.

Now, I hear they’re reclaiming their power, more bloodthirsty than before.

I still want them gone. If they’re harboring fentanyl, I dread to think what other dangerous drugs they deal with.

I never met their prez, but after overhearing some of the boys’ conversations, I gather that he’s still alive. He goes by the name Jax.

I’m disrupted from my thoughts by another ping!

Sexy Librarian: Meet me in Flamingos. 1 PM, sharp.

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