Having It All

• • •

Now that Jenny Erickson is mine, I’ve got everything I want. Until one shotgun blast almost rips it away…

As president of the Hellfire Riders, there’s two things I care about: protecting my woman and destroying the Eighty-Eight before they take everything I’ve fought for. They’ve hurt Jenny before and I swore that I’d rip out my own heart before they hurt her again. Every heated touch, every scorching kiss is a promise to keep her safe.

Now the Eighty-Eight is coming for me—and no matter what it takes, I’m not going to let them lay a finger on her. I’ll sacrifice anything to protect her. My freedom. My heart.

Even my life.

THE MOTORCYCLE CLUBS • THE HELLFIRE RIDERS #3

The Motorcycle Clubs Series

His Wild Desire by Ella Goode

Off Limits by Ruby Dixon

Wanting It All by Kati Wilde

Her Secret Pleasure by Ella Goode

Packing Double by Ruby Dixon

Taking It All by Kati Wilde

Their Secret Need by Ella Goode

Double Trouble by Ruby Dixon

Having It All by Kati Wilde

Coming Next

Their Fierce Love by Ella Goode

Double Down by Ruby Dixon

Betting It All by Kati Wilde

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Saxon

“I say it’s time for a beer.” Stone tosses the moving pads into the bed of Gunner’s truck and slams the tailgate closed. “Let the old ladies fuss over where all this goes. The prospects can muscle around the stuff that’s too heavy for the women.”

Nodding, Gunner drags up the front of his shirt to wipe the sweat from his face. “I second that. Prez?”

A cold brew sounds pretty damn good. We’ve been hauling furniture from the clubhouse in town out to the Erickson ranch for most of the day now, and what started as a cool morning has turned into a hot bitch of an afternoon. But although the moving is done, I’m not.

“Go on without me,” I tell them. “You riding out to the Barracks tonight?”

Ever since the Hellfire Riders took over the strip joint and surrounding territory from the Eighty-Eight Henchmen, we’ve been keeping a strong presence there. Sending a good portion of the Riders in that direction means losing business at my own tavern, the Wolf Den, but I’m absorbing that blow for now. Cutting the Eighty-Eight’s legs out from under them matters more than my cash flow does.

Stone’s mug hardens, ragged scars whitening against his tan. “We’ll be there. Howler and a few other Blue Coyotes are coming in to talk about setting up a ring during the Pendleton rally. You in for that?”

Fighting. I’ve done it before. My fists earned the down payment on the Den. It could be quick way to make up for that slow cash flow now but I don’t need the distraction. “Not this time.”

Stone and Gunner exchange a quick glance. Probably deciding whether to try persuading me.

“Not until the Eighty-Eight are gone,” I say and Stone nods.

“Fair enough. We’ll pin our hopes on Pretty Boy, instead.” He jerks a thumb at Gunner.

The sergeant at arms blows him a kiss over the bed of the truck, then says, “So you don’t think the prez is pretty?”

Stone snorts and looks to me. “You’re a regular Ken doll, boss. A giant, mean Ken doll.”

“Except not blond,” Gunner says.

“And with a beard.”

“But without the slick suits.”

“Or Hawaiian board shorts.”

Gunner’s eyebrows shoot up. “You know what kind of shorts Ken had?”

“Because I have a sister, asshole. You know how many times I had to put pants on Ken? Made me shrivel every time Anna left him lying naked on top of her other dolls. He doesn’t have a
dick
, man. It was my sacred duty as a dude to cover that shit up.”

Jesus. I could have gone my whole life without imagining the Riders’ enforcer dressing a dickless doll in a pair of flowered shorts. But there’s nothing guaranteed to keep Gunner on a topic longer than a mention of Anna—unless she’s anywhere near him, then he shuts up real fast. He’s good at making his interest appear casual but the pattern doesn’t lie. He always follows up any mention of her with a question.

“She had them all naked?”

“Yeah, she was making them do some freaky shit. Which would’ve been great if it was just the girl dolls, because they had amazing breasts. So perky and the perfect size for rubbing with your thumbs. Although, the first time I saw a real woman, I wondered what the hell her nipples were—”

“Shut it now,” I cut Stone off before he can start telling us about jerking off to the plastic tits. “And get the hell out of here before I find a doll to shove up your ass.”

They’re grinning as they climb into the truck. Jokers, the both of them, until shit starts going down or they’re on duty. Then they’re two of the coldest bastards currently wearing the Riders’ colors.

The tires kick up the red dirt and dried pine needles lying on the ground outside the clubhouse before they hit the gravel drive. We’ll need to get asphalt laid down before too long. Now that we’re moving out here, we’ll be riding that road often, and gravel’s hard as hell on a bike. Hard as hell on a biker’s face, too.

I can’t see the need for many more changes. The clubhouse used to be the main lodge for a dude ranch that Red Erickson’s grandfather operated. The property passed to Red just before he started up the Steel Titans. That club has made their home at the lodge for a few decades now, and unlike some MCs, they’ve taken care of their house—along with the old stable that’s been converted to a repair shop and garage. Behind the lodge sits a couple of cabins that the brothers can bunk in if they’re too wasted to ride home, or if there’s no home to ride to and they need a place to crash for a while.

It’s a damn good setup. Not as modern as the clubhouse the Riders had in town, but the lodge is bigger and the property gives us more room to spread out. And there aren’t any neighbors complaining about engine noise or fearing that we’re going to burn their pretty little houses and rape their pretty little daughters. As if most of us don’t live or work right next to them—and as if those daughters haven’t been coming to us looking for every kind of ride that a brother can give them. I expect we’ll have just as many come looking out here, though they won’t come directly. They’ll hook up at the Den or the Barracks first. Then their daddies will follow, searching for them. In the five years I’ve been president of the Hellfire Riders, I’ve had to warn off more than a few fathers who were coming for my brothers’ blood—and stare down the cops they often bring with them.

My inclination is to let the brothers handle that shit, instead. They bang the pussy, they deal with the consequences. The trouble is, more than one Rider is hotheaded enough to make a crap situation worse. Others think with their dicks. So it’s better to take care of it myself.

But I won’t have time for it over the next few weeks. Not while trying to bring two clubs together and getting rid of the Eighty-Eight Henchmen. Except for the old ladies and the girls we’ve known a while, best to forbid the brothers from bringing any women around here until everything has settled down. They want to fuck, they can do it in town.

I’ll get some pushback from the club, but it’s not the fathers I’m worried about now. The Eighty-Eight are cowardly motherfuckers. They won’t try to take us down face-to-face. Instead they’ll sneak up behind us, or they’ll find a vulnerable spot and weasel their way inside, where they’ll try to poison everything they find.

A woman can turn into a man’s vulnerable spot real quick. So we’ll have to look hard at any new pussy that shows up and starts clinging to one of the brothers, just in case she’s been sent by Reichmann, the Henchmen’s president.

Those Riders that already have women, we’ll be making sure they stay safe. Because that’s one way the Eighty-Eight will probably come at us. They’ll try to hurt our women. They have before. They went after Red Erickson’s daughter, and it’s the reason behind everything that’s happening now—the Steel Titans and the Hellfire Riders coming together, this brewing war with the Eighty-Eight Henchmen.

They went after Red’s daughter—and
my
woman. That’s when Reichmann and his men fucked up.

Jenny doesn’t make me vulnerable. She makes me a force of fucking nature. Unstoppable. Unyielding. There’s no line I won’t cross in order to protect her. I’ll have the blood of every single Henchman on my hands before they
ever
lay another finger on her.

No matter what it costs.

• • •

Almost fifteen years ago, protecting Jenny cost me a nickel over at the Snake River pen. I didn’t even know her then. I just saw a girl screaming as the Eighty-Eight’s president pinned her to the ground and got between her legs. With my arm fucked up by a shrapnel wound I got in Kosovo, I couldn’t pull him off her. So I kicked him off, instead.

That boot to the head killed him. I didn’t see Jenny again until she was testifying on my behalf at the trial. I still got five years in a prison cell for manslaughter, but I don’t regret a second of it. Didn’t regret it then, don’t regret it now. I’d do it a thousand times over again to anyone who threatened her. And this time, the killing wouldn’t be an accident, because if I ever lost her, I’d lose everything. Spending my life in prison would be nothing as long as I know she’s safe.

She’ll be safer if I’m with her, though. So we’re not charging in and killing Reichmann and his crew. Not yet.

We won’t wait long. The Eighty-Eight already killed one of my brothers, Goose, then planted enough heroin on him that the feds would have been taking a long, hard look at the Riders if we hadn’t found the stash first. I expect more sneaky shit will be coming at us.

But there’s another reason it’ll all be going down soon—and he’s riding his custom chopper up the drive toward the lodge. Red Erickson, the Steel Titans’ prez. This is his place. Jenny’s his daughter. And in a few months, the cancer eating away at his lungs will kill him. It’s why he came to me about folding the clubs together. There are two things he wants before he’s in the ground: to know that Jenny’s protected and to see Reichmann dead.

I’ll give him both.

The sickness isn’t showing yet. Red’s always been a big bastard, and he’s still solid muscle. He got his road name years ago because of his hair but the red’s not so bright anymore; his beard is mostly gray. Since Jenny’s small-boned and dark-haired, I figure she must take after her mother, who was killed in an accident when Jenny was a teenager.

Red cuts his engine, his gaze sweeping the near-empty lot. “Did everyone head out on a ride I don’t know about?”

Because so few bikes are here, even though it’s a Sunday afternoon in summer. “It’s moving day,” I say. “So almost every brother suddenly has a family reunion or a church service to attend.”

His grin is like his daughter’s—quick and wide. “And I’m suddenly not sorry that Jenny had me checking in on the brewery today. You hear from her yet?”

“About an hour ago.” When I was in town loading up the truck. She might have texted me—and Red—since then, but reception out here is shit. “She was just packing up. Says she’ll be heading out of Portland by six.”

Where she’s been tending a booth at a brewer’s festival for the better part of the week. A damn
long
week. Every night on the phone, I could hear how tired she was. And now she’s got a four-hour drive ahead of her. Chances are, she’ll head straight home and I won’t see her until she’s off work tomorrow.

Red nods. “I’m meeting Thorne up at the house. Why don’t you come on by and have a cold one.”

The back of my neck tightens. It seems like a simple invitation.

It’s not.

• • •

Before today, I haven’t stepped a foot in Jenny’s house. She’s invited me to but probably knew I wouldn’t come in. Because it’s not just her place; it belongs to Red, too. And although he handed over the lodge to me and the Hellfire Riders, this is still his territory. So I wasn’t about to disrespect him by going in.

Now it would have been disrespecting him not to. So I’m standing on his deck with one of Jenny’s ales in my hand, watching him lay half a dozen bratwurst on the grill. It’s a big deck, attached to a big house. He inherited it with the ranch but he and Thorne have done well for themselves over the years, partnering in a construction firm specializing in irrigation systems and reservoir tanks, and he’s poured some of that cash back into the house. Every room looks like it came out of a magazine, but they’re not fancy or sterile. Just large and open, the kind of place where you imagine strawberry pie in the summer and crackling fires in the winter.

And the entire spread—from the lodge to this house—will be Jenny’s when he’s gone. Maybe it already is. She’s told me that their lawyer keeps bringing around papers for her to sign.

Thorne comes through the French doors carrying a tray of plates and fixings. It’s easy to see he’s at home here. Years ago, he and Red both used to be Hellfire Riders. They walked away after clashing with Lucifer, the Riders’ first president, and started up the Steel Titans together. Thorne has been Red’s VP all that time—and they’re close enough that Jenny calls him ‘uncle.’

As soon as we fold the clubs together, Thorne will serve as my veep, too. So this probably won’t be the last time I’m standing here with him.

“You got everything moved over?” he asks me, leaning back against the deck rail and lighting up a Marlboro.

“Everything but what’s in the garage. Blowback’s taking care of that.” My current veep. “He’s particular about the tools.”

As in, he’ll kick the ass of anyone who leaves them lying around or out of place. So best to just let him put them all in their new places.

Thorne grins. “Sounds like Red. He show you his garage yet?”

I’ve only been through the front door, the main living room and kitchen, and out onto the deck. “Not yet.”

“We’ll get around to it. He’s got his own garage to clean out soon enough.” Red looks to me. “You set a date yet for moving out here?”

Into this house. With Jenny.

Something in my chest constricts. Just getting the chance to be with her was like being offered the moon. Living here with her? That’s like being given the sun. But I can’t take it yet. No matter how I want it, I can’t take it.

And I’ve waited too long to answer. Though Red’s eyes are the same light green as Jenny’s, hers have never been so cold. There’s serrated steel in his voice when he asks, “You having second thoughts about being with her?”

“No.”
Fuck, no.
“Not one.”

“But you aren’t sure about something.” Thorne’s tone is easy, but he’s white-knuckling his beer as he asks, “Maybe you think moving in here would be pushing Red out?”

“Bullshit,” Red says. “The house is big enough, we can both swing our dicks around without smacking each other. So what is it, boy?”

Now he’s just pushing my buttons.
Boy.
Another man would be swallowing broken teeth right now. No one calls the president of the Hellfire Riders
boy
.

But I can’t say what I need to say as the president of the Hellfire Riders. As prez, I don’t need to justify or explain myself—and I sure as hell don’t need to earn my place. We aren’t talking about the club, though.

“We aren’t speaking now prez to prez. I’m speaking to Jenny’s father. All right?”

“That depends on who
you
are.”