Guilty Bastard (Grim Bastards MC #3) (7 page)

“
P
ut her down
,” says a gravelly voice from behind me. Even without seeing him or his cut, I know the voice belongs to Boz. That voice could bring me to my knees.

The dickhead lets me down and twirls me around, allowing me to see the man that controls the Grim Bastards. My eyes lock on his, and I have to fight the urge to run toward him. The attraction is still there; I still want him just as bad as I did the last time I laid eyes on him.

He is, hands down, the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen. Even though this isn’t the time to be noticing how sexy he is, I can’t help it. Boz now has his hair cut short on the sides and in the back, not long and curling up like it used to be. Even with it cut this way, there’d still be just enough on top to get a good handful while his head was buried between my legs. His chin is covered in scruff, as if he hasn’t shaved in a day or two, but the crisp lines around it proves he wears it like that on purpose.

He hasn’t really changed, but there’s a hardness in his eyes that wasn’t there before. He’s wearing an old Metallica tee, with his cut over it. I can see a bit of ink peeking out of the collar, and his arms are covered in tats. I remember clearly, even only seeing it in the moonlight, that the man has ink all over his arms and chest. It’s not all cluttered up where you can’t tell what anything is, but he does have a lot of them. All I know is that I think they are sexy as hell, and I’ve always wondered if he has them everywhere else.

I’m about to look at his face again, but he moves a hand, drawing my attention to it. I look at the word
fast
, tatted across his fingers. Looking at the other hand, I read
hold
. Then, the memory of the pleasure those hands once gave me fills my mind.

Shaking away my thoughts, I demand, “Why did you have us kidnapped?”

He cocks a brow before answering, “That’s between me and your dad.”

“How could you do this to me?” I say, taking a step forward, never breaking eye contact. “I know it was just one night, but didn’t it mean something to you?”

His lips turn up in a grin. “It meant something, Trix.”

I’ve seen him a few times since our one night, but I was always too shy to say anything. I would avoid him when he came around, but he has never been far from my mind or my dreams. Many nights, I would run the batteries dead in my vibrator, all while thinking of those ink-covered fingers sliding in and out of me.

Again, I shake away my thoughts and ask, “Then, how could you do this? How the hell could you have me and my friend kidnapped?”

“One thing has nothing to do with the other, darlin’,” he states with a shrug.

My anger continues to grow. “I’ve dreamed about that night a million times. They were the best fucking dreams of my life, and now you’ve ruined it for me. Every time I think of it, I will think of you pulling this shit.”

He throws his head back and laughs, a deep, throaty laugh that leaves my panties soaking. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll make sure you have something else to dream about.”

This is the only man I’ve ever truly wanted, but I can’t focus on that right now. I need to figure out why the Bastards kidnapped us. I know the other guys said my dad took something that belonged to them, but that’s not the sort of shit my father does. I need to get to the bottom of this before any plans can be made.

“What the fuck is going on? You know family is off-limits!” I say, letting my anger show.

“That doesn’t have anything to do with you,” he replies with a shake of his head.

When his eyes meet mine again, I press him for an answer. “I know this is between you and Dad, but seeing as we’re the ones being held against our will, don’t you think Addy and I deserve to know the reason behind it?”

Before he can answer me, Crank grabs my arm and tugs me back to him. He squeezes it hard enough to cause me to wince, then says, “Don’t ask questions. Just do what you’re told.”

He then looks toward Boz and says, “Let me take her to my room. I’ll teach her some manners.”

“No,” I whisper, my false bravado crumbling at the very thought of being alone with him.

I hear a low growl coming from behind me. Out the corner of my eye, I see a huge dog get up from beside the desk and take a step toward us. The dog shows Crank his teeth as he continues to growl.

“Let her go, brother,” orders Boz, before calling his dog to his side.

“Whatever.” Crank gives my arm another bone-crunching squeeze before releasing it and shoving me away from him.

Boz looks at me a second before saying, “Normally, I would say this shit is no concern of yours, and I’m betting Hoss would say the same about his club.”

I shrug, trying to play the badass again. “Well, I’m not sure. Dad hasn’t made a habit of kidnapping young women.”

He smirks at me. “You don’t know that. Your pop could have a whole basement full of bitches, and you wouldn’t know.”

He’s right, so all I can do is nod. He lifts his chin at me and says, “But, I don’t mind telling you what is going on, a little of it anyway.”

“Well, that’s awfully sweet of you,” I reply, placing my hands back on my hips and glaring at him. “Aren’t you a nice fucking guy?”

The smile on his face disappears and is replaced by anger. “I will only warn you one time to watch your attitude, Trix. We could’ve had something, but that doesn’t give you the right to run your fucking mouth.”

I start to reply, play the bitch again, but he shakes his head. “I don’t tolerate disrespect from anyone, especially in my own damn clubhouse. If you keep that shit up, you’ll wish I let Crank take you to his room.”

His words have me stepping closer to him, further away from Crank. “I’m not trying to give you attitude. I grew up with my dad, and I learned to respect the patch you’re wearing. So with all due respect, you had to know I’d be a little pissy when you sent your brothers to snatch us up and throw us in the back of a van.”

Another chin lift is his only reply, so I push on. “I’m not asking you to tell me club business. Just give me enough so I know what I’m dealing with.”

“Hoss has something of mine, so I decided to take something of his,” he says finally, resting his ass on his desk and crossing his ankles. “When he gives my shit back, I’ll hand you over.”

“What did he take?” I ask, not believing my dad would do anything to put me in danger.

He ignores my question, looking to the guy standing beside Addy. “Brew, take them to the safe room. I want them locked in, no visitors.”

The last part he directs at Crank, allowing me to let out a relieved breath. Still, I need to know more. “Will my friend or I have to pay for whatever you think my dad did?”

“We’ll see how your dad responds, but you need to get one thing straight, Trix. I don’t ‘think’; I know Hoss or one of his boys had something to do with it.” He looks back toward Brew. “Get them out of here.”

I
look up at him
, finally taking the time to actually look at his face. I’m surprised to see how handsome he is. The man Trix is arguing with is hot, no doubt, but he is rugged and harsh looking. This man, he is classically handsome.

His hair is the color of aged bourbon, a mixture of brown and gold. It’s a bit shaggy on top, curling at the back of his neck and near his ears. A few stray waves hang down his forehead, nearly blocking my view of his beautiful hazel eyes. The color is warm, the perfect mixture of green and brown, with bits of gold sparkling in their depths. His lashes aren’t long, but not short either. They’re just long enough to accentuate his eyes and draw me into their depths.

His nose could only be described as masculine, with a barely noticeable bump right at the ridge. His cheekbones are high and sharp, making me wonder if he has a bit of Native American blood running through his veins. They would have the look of perfection if it wasn’t for my claw marks that can be seen going down one side of his face.

His chin is strong, with a small dimple just under his mouth. He doesn’t quite have a full beard, but it’s more than just whiskers. Now, his lips are absolutely amazing. They’re the deepest shade of red, what every woman longs for. Both are full, with his lower lip just a tad bit bigger. The top, though, sports a ring that loops into his mouth. I have to fight the urge to use my tongue and trace its path.

My eyes finally move from his face and take in his body. He’s tall, especially to my five-foot frame. My guess would be he’s at least five inches over six foot; my head barely reaches his chest. Other than his height, he isn’t a large man. He’s not slim but not bulky, with just enough muscles to draw my attention. He reminds me of the heroes from the romance books I used to read as a teenager. He could be described as tall and lanky, but I would say a better description would be sexy as hell.

When my eyes finally meet his again, a small smile is playing on his lips. He winks at me and says, “Did you look your fill?”

I’m mortified that he knows I was checking him out. I can feel the heat climbing up my cheeks, so I whip my head back toward Trix and Boz. The two of them are still arguing, but I can tell that Trix is starting to back down. I’ve seen it dozens of times with her dad. She will fight until she realizes she’s just wasting her breath. Then, she’ll agree to whatever he is saying and go behind his back to do what she wants anyway.

The man behind me pulls me against his chest and whispers, “You can look at me as much as you want, as long as you let me do the same. I could spend hours looking at your fine ass, and I’d never look my fill.”

My heart skips a beat, and I have to fight the urge to smile. Another time, another place, I’d be flirting back. Right now, though, is not the place. I have to force myself to remember this man just kidnapped me. He’s not my friend; he’s my jailer.

Boz looks at the man I was just ogling and says, “Brew, take them to the safe room. I want them locked in, no visitors.”

Brew? What a name. I look back up at him, and somehow the name fits. Moving my eyes to his cut, I take in his patch. Sergeant at Arms is also written there, proving he isn’t just a biker. No, he’s an officer and meant to be respected.

He places his hand on my back and says, “Come on, sweetheart.”

As he leads Trix and me through the club, I see all the men staring at us. Some are young, some old. A few are hot as hell, but others, well, they’ve seen better days. The only thing they all have in common is the cut they are wearing, bearing the Grim Bastards insignia. As I look closer, the lust in their eyes sends another wave of fear through me, but Brew’s hand on my back keeps me from freaking out. Instead, I just look forward, trying to avoid all their eyes.

While we walk, I start to worry about how long they are going to keep us here. If I’m not back to meet Blake next week, there’s no telling what he will do to my sister. I can’t let him hurt her; I can’t let anything hurt her. Nothing can piss him off now, especially when Alex and I are so close to being free. The baby will be here soon, and she’ll have her surgery. Then, we can hit the road.

I can’t worry about that right now, though. There’s nothing I can do about it. My sister is going to have to figure out a way to deal with Blake while I’m here. Just like I’m gonna have to find a way to deal with the fact that I’ve been kidnapped and am being held prisoner by a biker club.

We haven’t gone far when he stops in front of a closed door. Brew removes his hand from my back, and I instantly feel the loss of his touch. He takes out a set of keys, unlocks the door, and pushes it open. He sticks his head in and looks around before turning to look at us.

Brew takes a step back from the door. He gives us some space, then motions for Trix and me to walk inside. She walks in first, with me following closely behind her. She goes straight to the bed, while I linger by the door, taking it all in. Instead of some type of cell, it’s just a normal room. Nothing special, by any means, but at least it looks clean.

Brew takes a step and grabs the door handle, so he can shut the door on his way out. Instead of doing that, he looks at me and a half-smile appears on his face. He searches my face for a moment before looking back at Trix. When his eyes finally come back to me, they are full of questions.

“Come over here,” he says, motioning for me to come forward. “I want you to listen to me carefully, sweetheart.”

“My name is Addy, not sweetheart,” I tell him, not really sure why.

For some reason, we’re both whispering. It’s as if we’re in the room alone and this conversation is meant for our ears only. Somehow, it feels as if Trix heard, it would be an intrusion.

A slow smile crosses his face. “I like that name. It fits you. Are you going to be okay?” he asks, sounding like he really cares.

I shrug, not quite sure how to answer that. “I’ll deal.”

He then reaches out and grabs my arm, lowering his lips to my ear. “Don’t be scared, Addy. I won’t let anyone hurt you. You have nothing to be worried about. Just listen to what I say and stay close to me when you ain’t in this room, and I’ll watch out for you.”

He has no idea what all I have to worry about or the man that continues to hurt me over and over again, and he never will, so I give him a small nod. “I’ll try.”