Holding Huck's Heart (Marco's MMA Boys #3) (19 page)

“There’s no place we’d rather be.” I reply, while thinking, ‘
Well other than balls deep in your daughter.’
That’s one place I certainly would rather be. Damn, I can’t be thinking like this. Roundman would cut my dick off if he knew.

“Tripp, Rex, this is my daughter, Doll, and her friends, Sass and Caroline,” Roundman introduces.

That is a quick way to squash my lust filled thoughts, actually hearing the words
my daughter
. Blondie is a doll alright, Roundman’s Doll.  She’s one of a kind, that’s for sure. You shelter and protect a beauty like her. She’s the kind of doll you treat like fragile china; wrap it up and store it on a shelf for safe keeping. I don’t know why we haven’t officially met before. Although these events are crowded, one would think we would have met. I’ve always come here focused on business, so maybe that’s why.

These broads are far from fresh pussy, and far beyond off limits. I hope Rex realizes this isn’t territory he wants to dip his dick in.

Doll extends her hand to me, bringing me back into the moment. “Doll is what the boys call me. My name is Delilah. This is Savannah, otherwise known as ‘Sass’, and Caroline, our friend. It’s nice to meet you,” She greets. As I shake her hand, she stands up on her tiptoes, while tugging on my shoulder to pull me down then she kisses my cheek.

The touch of her soft lips to my skin ignites a fire burning inside of me just under the surface. Her touch sends adrenaline coursing through my body. Before I can respond, there is a harsh voice, snapping me out of it.

“Doll, Sass, Caroline! Asses in the kitchen!”

Looking in the direction of the noise, I see Danza in the kitchen doorway, bellowing for the girls. They giggle as they sashay away. My eyes roam up and down her back side as she goes. Damn, what an ass she’s got. It’s one of those moments,
I hate to see you go, but I love to watch you leave
.  Fuck me, what a strut! That girl is a heartbreaker with one swish of those luscious hips.
Tame it, Tripp.

“Sass is Danza’s daughter. Every time someone gets near our girls, he calls them to the kitchen. Won’t see ‘em again.” Roundman laughs, “Our Hellion princesses are tucked safely away for the rest of the evenin’.”

After the girls leave, Rex and I shoot the shit with Roundman for a bit. Outside of sermon times, no business is ever discussed between clubs. Those are Roundman’s rules and we are chartered clubs to him. We are Hellions always.  Brothers without hesitation. Allies and friends, yes. Business partners, of course. And although, my territory is mine to run Roundman respects his chapter leaders and doesn’t impose, but ultimately, I answer to him.

One Day After

Clean up after the barbeque is always a chore. Well, actually, cleaning up after anything with these guys is never a pleasurable experience, regardless of the size of the event. This barbeque is on a much larger scale, though. Danza quickly called us to go in the kitchen yesterday, therefore our drinking and socializing was kept to a minimum. Looking around me, I’m kind of thankful for his overprotective ass. Cleaning this with a hangover would have sucked.

At the time, however, I was slightly irritated. I was introducing myself to this guy named Tripp. Or is he Rex? I don’t know, but either way, he is hot as hell.

He’s at least six feet two inches tall because he is slightly taller than my dad, who is right at six feet. His dark brown hair was pulled back in a knot on the back of his head, the top grown out and the underneath shaved. His face is one of pure masculinity; a strong jaw line, pronounced nose, and hazel eyes with golden flecks.

It’s been way too long since I’ve been laid because watching his jaw muscle twitch while he was standing there was turning me on. I pulled him down just so I could brush my lips above that spot. His broad shoulders were tight under my delicate hand. Splaying my fingers across them to pull him to me, sent an electric shock through my body. The ink adorning his forearms was detailed and in our brief encounter, I couldn’t take it all in, making me wonder what’s under his clothing.

Too bad he has shown zero interest in me. His blatant disregard of me has made it clear that my lust filled thoughts are not reciprocated. I’m off limits to him even if he does want me, though. All the Hellions respect my dad too much to ever date me, fuck me, or do more than protect me. Don’t get me wrong, I’m close with almost all the boys, they are my older brothers or uncles, but no matter how hard I flirt, they never cross the line. Never am I given a second glance from any of them. I’ve dated pretty boys, but it quickly fizzles. I need the adrenaline, the chaos, the protection, and the lifestyle.

At least one of us was getting some sort of attention. With the way his friend was looking at Caroline, his attraction and intentions were clear. Caroline was not impressed, however. It takes a lot to get her attention. She has aspirations, a career, and goals far beyond that of a motorcycle club.

My mystery man was more concerned with my father. His patches let me know he’s a Catawba Hellion and the Prez at that. Well, that explains why he carries such a serious demeanor. The level of his responsibility is a tough burden to carry. His crew depends on, and trusts, his instincts and instructions. I wish I knew his name, not his road name “Tripp” or “Rex” but his real name. At least then, in my fantasies, I would know what to call him. My B.O.B (battery operated boyfriend) will just have to settle for being Tripp, or Rex, for now. I like the name Rex better, so Rex it will be.

Looking around me, I shake off my thoughts of the encounter with what’s his name to start gathering the trash off the floor and tables of the clubhouse. It’s a simple warehouse-style building with an open floor plan. There is a kitchen in the back with four restrooms just off to the side of that. In the vast space of the common area, there is a fully stocked bar, pool tables and darts in one corner, dining tables off in another, and a DJ area with a dance floor in the middle.

There used to be a stage, but it was taken down a few years back. Bikers and rockers together, yeah, this building isn’t big enough for the egos. A lead singer decided to openly flirt with an ol’ lady, which was a clear sign of disrespect to Frisco, her man. In a moment of jealousy and rage, Frisco jumped on stage and began punching the singer in the head with his own fucking mic. When his band mates tried to pull Frisco off, the brothers stepped in and shit got ugly. My dad finally had to move in and control the situation. The damage was already done, though. The singer ended up with a broken jaw and nose, while the other band members were roughed up but nothing serious. The next day the stage was taken down and no more outsiders have been allowed since.

Making my way outdoors, I take a moment to enjoy my surroundings. The clubhouse is the first of many buildings on the compound. My dad owns fifty acres out in the country of Haywood’s Landing; a small coastal North Carolina town. Thirty of it is compound land which is surrounded by a privacy fence that is eight feet tall with barbwire running across the top and security cameras mounted along the way. The front gates open to the space of the lot for parking where, in the center, there are three flag poles, our American flag, our POW/KIA memorial flag, and our Hellions flag are all proudly on display. The clubhouse is the first building due to the fact it’s where most club events occur.

Finished with my small break, I continue cleaning up. Once I’ve gathered all the trash from the clubhouse, I head out to the pit to dump my trash bag. The pit is a concrete slab with a few posts holding up an A-frame tin roof. Under the shelter are pig cookers, gas grills, charcoal grills, and the oyster tables for oyster roasts. The tables are six feet long, wooden with a stainless steel top, and in the middle, there is a square hole cut out that a bucket goes under. When the oysters are ready, they are dumped on the open table to be shelled and eaten. When finished, you drop the shells in the hole to the bucket to be tossed. This is nice because anytime we cook for large crowd’s cleanup is easy. Later today, a prospect will be out here, cleaning the grills and pig cooker and hosing off the concrete.

The open grass area beside the pit is used for horseshoes, badminton, volleyball, and the kids’ toys for barbeques and parties. Beyond that are the boys’ shops, the duplexes, and the cave.

Dad does not allow drinking and driving, and some of the brothers don’t have homes. To give everyone a place, he’s had a bunch of duplex-type buildings put in. Each home has four separate bedrooms with their own full bathrooms. They share a common area with a couch, love seat, TV, and small kitchenette. Each bedroom is assigned to a patched member, even the ones who don’t live here full time have their own room. They hold the key in order to keep their private space just that, private. The married guys even have a room in case they need a place to crash for any reason. There are two buildings reserved for guest clubs passing through under our protection. After last night, every room is full, some even shared, and tents and campers fill the lot.

The shops in the back are basically sheds for the boys to store their bikes and belongings in. They’re roomy but not huge. There is enough for toolboxes, some workout space, and their motorcycles.

The cave is the other building on the compound. It’s a large, one room building with a table inside, that’s all I know. I’ve never seen the interior. That building is for sermon; only patched Hellions are allowed, no women ever. That is where business is discussed, members are voted on, and decisions are made. Prospects don’t even go in to clean it. That is the one building that the Hellions clean for themselves. Not a prospect, not an o’l lady, a princess, or even a hired maid have permission to enter the cave. Only two people hold keys to that building, my dad and Danza, the VP.

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch movement over by the duplexes. Looking up, I see Sass making her way over to me. The walk of shame is evident in her stature. Her hair is a mess, clothes wrinkled, her shirt is on inside-out, and her face is flushed in what looks to be a mix of satisfaction and anger.

Damn it, I can’t believe she’s done it. We have a rule: don’t sleep with Haywood’s Hellions. Sure, we flirt, but as the saying goes,
‘don’t shit where you sleep’
.  Fuck, this can’t be good. Although, maybe it was a member from a different charter. Since we don’t have to see them all the time, the situation would be more tolerable than one of the local brothers. We flirt with all the boys, but neither of us has hooked up with a Hellion before.

“Doll, don’t ask. I see the look on your face. If my dad asks, I was with you last night.”

“Sass, you know I’ve always got you, but exactly who were you with last night? And why do you look like you are holding back tears?” I ask, full of concern for my friend.

“Tank. And I should’ve known better,” she says with her voice trembling as she fights to push back the tears.

Shit, of all the Haywood’s Hellions, Tank is the worst she could’ve hooked up with. He’s a man-whore. Bigger than that, they have a genuine friendship, or so I thought.

“What the hell happened?”

She takes a minute and pulls herself together. “What happened? What happened! Oh Doll, that man just gave me the absolute best night of my life. Everything the girls say about him is true and then some. I wake up this morning thinking there will be more of last night, when he kicks me out.
Me
, that fucker kicks
me
out like I’m a
bar-bitch
.”

“Oh, Sass. Did you think for one second Tank, of all people, would treat you special?”

“I’m not club pussy. I’m not a bar-fly. I’m Savannah Mae Mother-Fucking Perchton. We’ve danced around each other for two years. Two damn years, Doll! We have laughed, flirted, and talked. I’ve shared my real dreams with him, told him shit I haven’t told anyone but you. Yes, I thought I was someone special to him. At least I thought I was until this morning,” she replies with anger now replacing the sadness she began with.

“You are someone special. He’s too blind to see anything beyond his brothers and where to put his dick next. You know this! They’re all like this for the most part.”

Shrugging her shoulders, she huffs before the anger sets back into her voice. “Well, lesson fucking learned.  Doll, I want more than being Danza’s daughter, working for the club, and knowing my dad is never going to let anyone near me. No more bikers for me. I’m ready for a relationship, not a quick fuck. I thought Tank was, too. Just the other day, he was saying, ‘I’m thirty five years old. I need to stop acting fucking twenty.’  It was my mistake for thinking he was hinting at something. I got his message today, loud and clear.”

She’s now filled with determination and vigor. Uh-oh, this is her sassy side coming out in full force. It’s going to suck to be Tank.

“Well, babe, I don’t know what to tell you. Anything less than a biker just won’t do. You crave the vibration of a bike, your arms around your man, and the wind in your hair as the miles of pavement move below you.”

“Not anymore, you’ll see Doll. I’m moving on. Now, let’s get this place cleaned up before they have sermon. There is a big meeting today, that’s why everyone stayed overnight. Dad said the cave will be full for a while, and that’s all I know.” Looking at me with curiosity and concern, she asks, “Your dad isn’t passing the gavel, is he? Why else would they need everyone here?”

“I don’t know, girl. It’s not my place. Let’s get this done and go shopping. You need some retail therapy.”

Shopping, how every girl fixes things. Sass and I may not be the girly girls, but who doesn’t love a new pair of shoes when dealing with life’s woes? My heart hurts for my best friend, yet this is a decision she has to make for herself. In time, she may see things differently, though when the hurt cuts that deep, time, distance, good friends, and booze are the ultimate healers. I’ll stick by her through the time, give her the distance from the club, and I’ll share as many drinks as it takes for my girl.