Page 7 of The Biker’s Secret Claim (Chaos Brothers MC #2)

“Yeah, all the guys up at the clubhouse were.” I shake my head.

“We kept order where there was none. Law enforcement, anti-terrorism, security. You name it, we did it. Most of the time, we handled threats before people even knew they were there.” My fingers twitch, phantom muscle memory from years spent gripping a rifle.

I exhale, dragging a hand down my face, debating how much truth I want to give her.

“When the uniform comes off, the world doesn’t stop needing men like me.

People pay for help, and problems still need to be eliminated. ”

I meet her eyes, watching for judgment. Instead, I see curiosity. Maybe she understands more than I thought she would.

“What kind of kills do you do?”

“We kill the kind of men that feed off the world, like roaches. It’s not the kill that gets me, it’s the chase. Now I’ve got a question for you. Why do you have the red x’s on your calendar?”

She rolls her eyes to the side and back again. “You really didn’t have any right to go through my stuff.”

“You’re telling me you’ve never opened anyone’s drawers before?”

She shuffles her feet and glances up at me. “I would never talk about it.”

“So, I’m an asshole for telling you I went through your things?”

She pauses, deciding whether or not this adds up, then finally says, “The marks are days that Aaron and I had sex.”

“You’ve only had sex once this month? Damn… I thought that’s what relationships were for.”

She raises her brows as though I’ve gotten that one wrong.

“I’m pretty sure they’re for more than sex, but yeah, it’s actually worse than that.

There’s only one ‘x’ on that calendar in the last three months, and the sex we did have was really underwhelming.

We had countless discussions about it, but they always ended in arguments. ”

My eyes widen. “Forgive me, but I’d gather it’d be a fucking travesty to have a woman like you next to me every night and not…” I blow out a breath, catching myself before I say something stupid. “I gather that’s why you’ve got the romance books and the gummy worm?”

“Gummy worm?”

“Sorry,” I clear my throat, “the rubber cock.”

“Oh my God!” Her cheeks blaze and she spins away. “You’re insane.”

“A little, yeah. Still though, why haven’t you taken it out of the package?”

“I’m not talking about this with a complete stranger!”

“You clearly want an adventure. This is adventurous, right?”

“Change the subject!”

I don’t want to change the subject. I like her squirming and uncomfortable. I like the rosy cheeks and the way her nipples have hardened beneath the thin flannel. She’s so damn cute, but I pretend to be a gentleman. “Okay, what’s in the notebook?”

She glances down at the small, pink, spiral-ringed book in her hands.

“My friend Sienna told me the shop could use a facelift. So, I’m brainstorming how I can make things more personal.

She thinks I need to make people feel like they need a record every week.

I think I’d do that by giving them an experience. ”

“Interesting.” I tilt my head back, trying to shift from thoughts of her on that thick dildo to thoughts of her redecorating the shop. It’s a surprisingly difficult transition. “That’s smart. What’s the connection with records? How’d you start all this?”

“Really?” She narrows her gaze. “You want to know the answer to this boring question.”

“Is it a boring question?”

“For a guy like you? Yeah.”

“What does that mean, a guy like me?”

“It means… a guy like you. A sharp-shooting, snooping, sex-talking weirdo. A guy like that doesn’t want to hear about my emotional connection to records.”

“I’m a complicated man, baby girl. Tell me the story.”

She stares toward me for a long moment, her lips parting slightly like she’s about to speak, but she doesn’t, not right away.

She exhales like she’s settling into her words.

“My grandma left me her collection when she passed. There were over four hundred records. I used to spend days at her house after school baking and listening with her. She loved the album covers, and she’d display them like art on her living room wall. ”

“Grandma had style.”

“Sure did! I kept every record she left me and started collecting my own as a way to keep her memory alive. Soon I had so many records I didn’t know what to do with them.

I made a decent living off resale on eBay, then decided I’d try my chances in a brick and mortar. Turns out… should’ve stuck with eBay.”

“So you’re already taking risks.”

“How so?”

“You bought this store, and that’s huge. I think you could really make something out of people coming here after work once or twice a week. Keep telling me about the days after school with your grandma.”

“There’s not much more to tell. She’d bake banana bread, and I’d spin in circles. Then we’d eat said banana bread and sing along to the records.”

“She have a crocheted blanket on the back of her couch?”

She nods and smiles. “How’d you know?”

“All the good ones do.” I pause for a moment, looking over her store.

It’s a completely different world than mine, but the concept is similar.

She’s building a brand that people can rely on.

I clear my throat before saying, “What if you rebranded to give off an ‘after school at Grandma’s’ type of vibe?

You could get a vintage couch, toss the blanket over the back, play records, and serve baked goods.

You’d have half the town in here socializing and buying anything they could get their hands on. ”

She stares toward me with a slow smile as though she likes the idea. “I don’t hate it. I could bring in some houseplants and organize the records on the wall like Grandma did. The part that sucks, though, is that people love browsing, but no one wants to buy.”

“Maybe you feature a record every week. People buy things that are showcased. Maybe not everyone, but probably more than enough. They’ll want to support a place that feels like family.

Trust me on this one. The guys and I did the same thing with our shop out in Texas, except we held a party welcoming bikers.

It had music and drinks, all the bullshit.

All the sudden, we had more repairs than we could have dreamed of.

We thought about doing the same up here, but we haven’t had the best reception.

” I let out a heavy breath. “There you go. Solved all your problems… except the one about the gummy worm still being locked away.”

Her eyes roll to the side as she jots down the ideas we’ve just conjured in her notebook. “I can’t figure why you don’t have a girlfriend. You seem very romantic. ”

“Am I supposed to be romantic right now?”

A blush of pink covers her cheeks as she darts her gaze away. “No.”

“Was your ex romantic when you met him?”

“Very much. He was the sweetest guy ever. Roses, little notes, presents galore.”

“And look how that turned out.”

Her mouth drops open as though she wasn’t expecting my response. I get that a lot. “You’re saying I shouldn’t look for romance?”

“Don’t know what I’m saying.” I step toward her slow and steady, watching her carefully.

She shifts her weight as though she’s deciding whether to stay or walk away as her fingers toy with the hem of the flannel.

The flicker in her gaze isn’t fear, but it’s something close.

Wariness maybe. She bites the inside of her cheek almost imperceptibly, as though she’s trying not to make any sudden moves.

“What is it that you really want?” I continue.

“The good thing about this conversation is that we’re only here until the rain stops.

We don’t have to hold back. You can tell me everything you’ve never told anyone, and I’ll be gone before you have to worry how embarrassing it is. ”

She exhales, eyes darting to the window like she’s weighing her words. “I want adventure. Something different. Something that wakes me up, ya know? I feel like I’ve been sleeping, watching life from the outside, not really experiencing any of it.”

I grin. “Hence the gummy worm.”

She grins back. “Hence the gummy worm. I dream about a life where I can travel and feel like I’m a prize to someone. I just don’t know how to make any of those things happen.”

“I think you just go online and pick a place you want to see. That one is easy. Money and time equals travel. And men, we’re everywhere. Keep baiting your line and you’ll catch what you’re looking for. From what I’ve seen, you just need to learn which ones to throw back.”

“Yeah, well… if it were that easy, I’d have done it.”

“So it wasn’t the banker holding you back?”

“I only broke up with him two hours ago!”

“Then time is wasting. Which of these adventures are you checking off first? Where have you always wanted to go?”

“I don’t have the money to go anywhere,” she laughs. “Isn’t that funny? I think the wildest thing I’ve done in years was get on the back of your bike, followed closely by this conversation. You’re kind of unhinged.”

“I guess I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“I’m sure you will. You seem like that kind of guy.” She pauses, and her fingers trace the edge of the counter absentmindedly. “You ever have a moment where you did something completely reckless? Something that felt like a bad idea, but you did it anyway?”

I could list half a dozen right now, but none she’d want to hear. Combat stories, close calls, the kind of shit that strains your mind long after it’s over.

She pauses for a long moment as though she’s checking herself, then says, “What’s the craziest sex you’ve ever had?”

Damn, this is going to be disappointing! Why couldn’t she have asked me about the military or kills? I have a million crazy stories for those categories. “Not sure I’m going to be much entertainment there. It’s been years since I’ve been with anyone, and it was an in and out kind of thing.”

“Seriously? I’d have pegged you for a player. The kind that shows up with whips and chains.”

She’s bringing up sex for a reason, right?

“What’s the fantasy in your head? You, the novel, and the gummy worm? The three of you light a candle and go slow, or is it more animalistic than that?” I force back a grin of amusement.

She glares toward me and laughs as she grabs two Cokes from the fridge.

“I like the idea of a guy being all sweet and doting, what girl doesn’t, but…

there’s this fantasy where a man completely takes me over that really gets me going.

I don’t care about where we are, I just want passion, ya know?

I can’t remember the last time I’ve felt desired or had something raw and wild.

” She tilts her head to the side and sweeps her hair back. “Oh wait, it was never.”

I shouldn’t take this as an invitation. It’s not an invitation, though my cock hardens against the side of my leg. I shouldn’t be here. She’s young, really fucking young, and I’m not. This is sick. It’s really fucking sick.

“What about that turns you on?” I shouldn’t be asking.

She shrugs and hands a Coke toward me, our fingertips brushing as she lets go of the can. “Giving up control, setting a scene, and letting him make all the decisions. I don’t know what the fantasy is called but…”

“And why the dildo?”

“Oh,” her cheeks blaze pink again, “that just looked fun. Aaron wasn’t very well… he wasn’t working with anything sizeable, and I always wondered what a big one would feel like.”

Jesus Christ. If this isn’t a fucking trap, I don’t know what is.

I exhale, my jaw tight, the words slipping from my lips before I can catch them as I say, “What if we played the scene out right here and now?”

Her eyes narrow. “Like we have sex? No way! I don’t even know you.”

“We don’t have to have sex. I’ll be your dominant and I’ll use that lightning rod however you want.”

My cock throbs as she thinks over my words.

“You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“One hundred percent. Second you say yes, I’ll make sure you get the experience you’re looking for. If you want me to stop, tell me, and we’re done.”

Her brows narrow and I watch a hard swallow slide down her throat. “And this doesn’t have to mean anything? This is just an adventure?”

“Just an adventure,” I lie, knowing full well whatever happens here tonight I’ll crave more of. “Nothing we do leaves this room.”

Rain drums a steady rhythm that fills the silence between us. She stares, uncertainty flickering in her expression, her fingers twisting into her soft hair as though she’s weighing the decision.

Her breath hitches. “Umm… I’ll be right back.”

She turns, disappearing into the back room, and my pulse pounds with the same rush it does when a rifle’s strapped to my shoulder, tracking a target, waiting for the right moment .

But this isn’t war. This isn’t a mission . And for the first time in a long time, I wonder if I’m walking into something I won’t make it out of unscathed.