Riding Dirty by Abriella Blake

the Auditores find out we’re operating on the strip during the truce, it’s over.”
    “There was never a truce,” spat Bronson. “You know that. It’s more like a prisoner exchange, except we’re on the short end. Besides, they won’t find out.”
    “They will, eventually,” said Axle. “Rex is right. You’ve just got to delay it as long as you can. Be extra careful Ramsey. We support you, we support this idea of yours, but the club’s vulnerable here, make no mistake.”
    Rex looked at him, eyes full of meaning. “We can’t afford another Delilah.”
    Bronson stared back at the Vice President, his eyes stony and cruel as he dared him to say more. Choosing not to credit the young man with a retort, Bronson addressed Axle. “Lecture over?” Receiving Axle’s nod, Bronson slammed the conference room door open and stomped off down the hall.
    Finally alone with his son, Axle placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Hey,” he rumbled. “Ramsey’s loyalty is not in question.”
    “No, just his judgment.”
    Axle pointed to a framed picture hanging on the wall, showing a long line of polished Harleys and their dusty riders posed in front of the clubhouse. “See that? Scrawny kid at the end? That’s you, fifteen, polishing the sleds. See Ramsey? He’s already got his wings, same age as you. Use your damn head.”

    More people in the bar were groaning awake now. The big front window blinds were cracked open and dusty white sunlight streamed through the stuffy atmosphere. The Prospect had been busy. A higher percentage of furniture was standing up the way it was intended, and he’d mopped all down the hallway and into the mess behind the bar. All the same the smell in the bar area hadn’t much improved, nor had Bronson’s mood.
    Yes, he was grateful the club was behind his idea. They could get started with a new enterprise and bring all his personal and group goals one step closer to fruition. He tried to focus on the positive and silence all the misgivings he felt in the pit of his stomach when he noticed a few of the hang-around women talking to Rowan across the room, playing with her hair and laughing. It looked like a scene in a porno; the girl next door had tried selling Girl Scout cookies in the wrong neighborhood. God, she stuck out like a sore thumb.
    That’s why this will work , Bronson reminded himself.

    You can’t fake innocence.

    Before he could join Rowan, he felt an arm reach up his calf and stroke his thigh. He looked down and smiled lazily. “Hello Lola.”
    “Hey stranger. Where were you last night? We missed you.” She groggily rubbed her eyes and reached both hands leisurely up toward Bronson. She was tangled with another Latina woman on the floor. “Help me up.”
    Bronson pulled her to her feet and felt his body respond when he noticed that she was only wearing a black thong, dark leather boots and nothing else. “You’re looking good sweetheart, as always.”
    “Thanks boo,” she murmured, resting her head on his chest in an intimate hug. She shifted slightly, letting her breasts sway against Bronson’s firm muscles. “You know you always look so sexy. I was hoping I could give you your congratulations present last night but you never showed up.”
    “You didn’t have to get me a present.”
    “I didn’t get you a present…I’m giving you one. I’ll give it to you right here and now if you’re ready.” Her hand slid down to his fly, but before he knew what he was doing his fingers closed around hers and whisked them away.
    “Not today,” he said brusquely. “I’m busy.”
    She stomped her foot and groaned. “You’re always busy lately. You can’t just keep me on the shelf like fucking aspirin.”
    He shook his head, disentangling himself from her arms and at the same time offering a consoling pat on her bum. “Lola, I told you, you and me…we tried that. It didn’t work very well. Remember? No more.” He kissed her lightly on the lips, a goodbye.