Thunder (Desert Phantoms MC Book 1) Page 4

  Considering they now had a family on-site, that made protection more crucial. Bullseye had an old lady and a kid. So, bringing Flash to their compound was out of the question. The answer to his dilemma pulled up the stool next to him.

  “Sully. How’s it hanging?”

  “A little lower than it used to and to the left. How about you?” he replied before motioning for a beer.

  “Long and strong as always.” Sully raised the brown bottle in a toast and Thunder responded in kind.

  “So, what’s on your mind? You look like you’ve got your head anywhere but here.” Sully was perceptive. Thunder was still in the dark at Sully’s connection to Granite and Pound, but it went way back to their days in training. That’s all he or the others knew.

  They wouldn’t even know that much if it hadn’t had been for Bullseye needing a favor. That was another story altogether. Bullseye, or Brooks as he was known before he got his road name, had been Granite’s cellmate. Even took a shank meant for their Prez. So, Granite had extended an invitation for him to join the club. Bypass the probationary stage outside, just pass a vote.

  When he got released, Bullseye got tangled up with the sister of the man who’d set him up and sent him to prison. And that man was with the Enforcers. That wannabe club was becoming an increasing problem for the Phantoms, so Granite killed two birds with one stone, so to speak. Or rather, Blast and Bullseye did.

  Blast wiped out the club, all but their Prez. Bullseye did that when he dared put his hands on Bullseye’s woman. Brady got patched in as Blast, and a few months later, Bullseye joined and now, they all gathered to celebrate his old lady and unofficially welcome them to Sin City.

  Thunder felt at peace where the club was and where it was heading. There were only two things harshing his mellow. A woman from three years ago and his buddy back at the no-tell motel probably scoring while he sat there drinking with his friends.

  “You wouldn’t have Bullseye’s old apartment and job still available, would you?”

  “Depends on who you’re thinking could use ‘em.”

  “My buddy, Flash, Darren. He was a crew chief I knew back in the day. Good guy. Found himself as a civilian after his third tour overseas with a chip on his shoulder and a bad case of PTSD he won’t talk about.”

  Sully sat silently and listened. Thunder finished his whiskey, and another appeared in its place along with a beer back.

  “He called me last night in pretty bad shape. Played it off as how I said ‘look me up if you’re ever in Vegas’ kind of thing. But, he seemed strung out and a bit paranoid. Said he’d been staying in Vegas for a while but was vague about where. Also said he didn’t have a problem, he was just cutting loose. But you know as well as I do—”

  “Self-medicating,” Thunder and Sully said in unison.

  “Yep. If that was it, I think I’d be okay with talking to Granite and taking him back to my place or putting him up in my room here. But, I think it goes deeper.”

  “Deeper how? You think he’s hitting something harder or someone harder is hitting him, if you catch my drift.”

  Sully was perceptive as hell. “The second one. I think to balance his debts, he’s getting into shit that could put him on the wrong side of us.” There, he’d said it.

  When Flash passed out last night, Thunder did a little snooping. He found a few guns that he shouldn’t have had and some bags with pills with a familiar sticker on the plastic. An outline of a snake with four bends, a sharpened tail, forked tongue, and a row of three shadow lines coming down from those bends. Sidewinders.

  No matter if Sully helped his friend or not, Granite needed to know that the Sidewinders were back at it and rebuilding. The best thing for all involved was to get Flash beyond their reach and influence before the Phantoms were forced to go after them.

  “You look me in the eye and tell me he’s a good man who’s just lost his way. That the Darren you know other than the self-medicating part is someone you’d go to the mat for? Then, yeah, they’re available.”

  “He is. I wouldn’t have asked if he wasn’t.”

  “That’s enough for me. I can take him with me in the morning when I drive back. Because tonight, I plan on testing Granite’s hospitality and promise of all I could drink.”

  They shared a laugh and a few more drinks when the surrounding buzz got louder. They were discussing Darren when Thunder heard Blast explain their unique clubhouse to someone. Most people found their whole compound fascinating.

  It’d belonged to a man who had seven wives. He’d had four when he built the building they’d converted into their clubhouse; so it had four different wings that were basically entire houses. Now they served as the officer’s wing, member’s wing, probie’s wing, and club girls, guest wing.

  Their meeting room was an actual church. Their basement was an industrial kitchen with some interesting culinary, and not culinary, features.

  The room they sat in had been an oversized family room that Granite converted into a bar with everything an MC could want. Pool table, stocked bar, stripper pole, stain-resistant seating. You name it, they had it. The best part, the houses around back. There were currently seven with room for more as the club grew.

  The officers had each claimed one, except Trip who never even spent a night in his. When Bullseye showed up with a family in tow, he’d moved into Trip’s place. Most of the officers spent more time in the clubhouse than their own homes anyway.

  Thunder laughed a little to himself as he listened to Blast go on and on about it. He wasn’t the only one. Their clubhouse fascinated most women, so there wasn’t a single one of them who hadn’t tried to impress a woman with it from time to time. But it sounded like Blast was working hard to get into the pants of the tattoo chick.

  Thunder assumed that’s who it was since the young buck hadn’t shut up about her since she’d inked him. Thunder scratched his beard as he glanced back over his shoulder and out of the corner of his eye to where a small group stood chatting. Blast and his date had their backs to him while talking with Bullseye, Billie, Priest, and Pound.

  Tattoo chick must’ve said something clever, because the entire group erupted, capturing Trip’s attention from his other side. He swiveled his stool and low whistled to himself.

  “Fuck if she isn’t fine. That ass alone could make a grown man weep. I give Blast about two minutes to close that deal or I am moving in.”

  “Moving in where?” Lexi asked as she leaned against the bar, right between Thunder and Trip to order a drink.

  Thunder chuckled and prodded. “Yeah, Trip, where?” If Trip’d had his .44 mag on him, Thunder might’ve been sporting a ventilation hole in his brain if the death glare he was receiving was any indication. Fuck it, Trip deserved it. The fucker had basically been giving him shit for three years. He could suffer through one night of retaliation.

  Trip angled back toward the bar. “Why, your heart, of course, darlin’. Just as soon as you admit that you want me and let me give you a night of pleasure you won’t forget.”

  Smooth.

  “Remind me again why they call you Trip?” Thunder choked on his shot at Lexi’s ballsiness.

  “Because, my dick is so massive, I’m Tripping over it all the damn time. It’s a nuisance, really.”

  “Ehhh, wrong answer,” Lexi mocked.

  “I could show you if you don’t believe me.” Trip turned up the charm and Thunder almost gagged on it. He was dragging his knuckles softly up and down her arm and giving her bedroom eyes. Lexi, however, wasn’t falling for it.

  “I’ve never questioned the validity of your measurements. All.” She emphasized the word. “The girls from here to Reno confirm as much. What I’m questioning is the origin. Remember, you’re not the only Phantom to visit us and imbibe a bit too much occasionally. So, wanna try again?”

  Trip sighed. “I don’t know what to say, I’m always tripping on my big fucking dick—”

  “And falling into pussy he has no business being in,
” Blast finished for him. All attention turned his way when he approached.

  “Well, that’s my cue,” Sully spoke as he stood. “Get with me in the morning, Thunder.” He nodded in agreement as Sully made his way to the guest wing.

  Lexi looked around. “Where’s Andy?”

  “She went to the bathroom.” His brother dropped his eyes to his boots.

  “Not going as planned?” Lexi’s voice held sympathy.

  “Nope. She’s not interested. I’m still having a great time, so no worries.”

  Thunder was aware of Lexi answering but he would’ve been hard-pressed to tell anyone what the rest of their conversation entailed.

  Thunder needed to head to his room because he’d had a bit too much to drink. Normally, he would’ve chatted one of the girls up by now, but he was too preoccupied with Flash to worry about getting his dick sucked. Now, the possibility of sleeping alone taunted him. Ever since he’d taken his first life for the military, nighttime was hell.

  Darkness was when shitty memories, ghosts of the past, and personal demons came out to play. Thunder understood Flash’s need to self-medicate more than most. Hell, he’d been there himself, rode that ride, got the t-shirt, wouldn’t recommend it.

  Back in his military days, it’d been simple. He was in a long-term relationship. When that ended… badly, he found himself making less than stellar choices.

  Now, Thunder didn’t drink himself into oblivion and wake up with a questionable stranger whose name he didn’t even know. He had rules about who slept over.

  One: Never at his house, that was his sanctuary.

  Two: Never sex and sleepover. They were two completely different things. Sex was the scratching of an itch, a line he didn’t want to blur. He knew if he let a sexual partner sleep over, she’d start getting ideas in her head.

  Sex had nothing to do with company.

  Company was even a bit of an overstatement because they didn’t talk. Hell, they barely interacted at all, he just needed to have a living, breathing body in his bed. It calmed him.

  After Thunder finished his shot and beer, he stood on less than steady legs. He rarely drank that much anymore, but Flash resurfacing in his life brought with it some memories he wasn’t ready to deal with.

  “I’m gonna hit the head and then grab the nearest warm body and call it a night.” Drunk or not, he could see Lexi roll her eyes. She didn’t know he’d never had sex with them. Hell, no one knew. Both the club girls and the strippers knew some things were not to be discussed. They may compare notes on dick size and stamina when what they had to say was flattering, but they wouldn’t speak out of turn. If they did, they’d be gone.

  Thunder headed toward the bathroom. Pissing wouldn’t wait until he was in his room. He passed Bullseye and Billie on the way. Thunder walked behind Billie and lifted her in the air in a bear hug. “Unhand my woman before I do it for you, brother.” Bullseye was only half-joking. Billie was giggling, and that is when Bullseye tipped from half-joking to about one quarter.

  “You better release me, or Brooks will swing. From the looks of you tonight, I’d say he’d stand a chance to win.” She was right. There was no way Thunder could take a punch.

  He released the woman he’d grown fond of—in a sisterly way—over the last few months and lifted his hands in submission. “Your woman has been unhanded. I’m headed to bed.” He clapped forearms with Bullseye and said goodnight, before twisting back to Billie. “Happy Birthday, beautiful.” He dropped a kiss on her cheek, pulled back, winked, then turned on his heel before Bullseye made good on his threat.

  6

  Andrea

  Andy was having a decent time, but it was about time to call it a night. For some reason, she was on edge. She had a nagging feeling she couldn’t put her finger on.

  Blast was growing on her but there was zero spark. He was a really great guy, the kind she could see herself hanging out with. He’d be perfect to watch a game with, while chugging beer and eating pizza. As a friend, nothing else.

  Lexi would scold her and say she was closed off, but that wasn’t it. He just wasn’t for her. Her best friend would never understand that. She subscribed to a different school of belief. “If he has a dick and you’re horny enough, any man can be your type for an hour.” In her head it was Lexi, but that voice had been all hers. Three years ago, that was her philosophy too.

  Prudes would’ve called her a slut. Christians would’ve prayed for her soul. Her parents would’ve been mortified. But to be honest, if she’d had a penis instead of a vagina, she’d have been celebrated by her friends, high-fived by her coworkers.

  Andy never weighed her value against the number of sexual partners she had. That was an antiquated and offensive belief. So, she hadn’t changed for some great moral reason, nor had she lost interest in sex. At first, it had been just healing her body. Then it was healing her mind. After that, it had been a lack of confidence to walk up to a guy and tell him what she wanted.

  Now it was just that damned twenty minutes. Lexi was right, she was so obsessed with it. Andy needed to let it go or she would never have a future or find the old her.

  After she washed her hands and reached for the door, her phone dinged. Checking her messages, she groaned.

  LEXI: After you wash your hands, spritz the wild west with some smell good. Smile and come out to the bar and enjoy the eye candy. I gotta jet, they need me at the club. Blast is going to run me over on his bike. See you later, unless you get lucky, then I’ll want details over noon pancakes. Smooches.

  Andy rolled her eyes but was smiling. At least with Blast gone, that saved her the awkward goodnight and goodbye. She wasn’t spritzing anything; she was headed home to curl up with some pizza rolls and check on Fern.

  Stepping through the door, her attention on her feet instead of where she was going, she unintentionally shoulder checked someone. She turned to apologize, but he had his back to her and oh, what a back it was.

  Shoulder-length dark hair brushing broad shoulders draped in a black denim vest with the Phantoms’ head from outside on it, like all the guys she’d met. Tapered waist dipping into black jeans. Muscular thighs leading to decent-sized calves tucked into scuffed black riding boots.

  “Sorry,” she murmured.

  He was leaning on a killer bicep against the wall acting as if he hadn’t bumped or heard her. Something about that sparked something inside her. When he failed to even acknowledge her, she shrugged and turned. Time to head home.

  Before Andy got two steps away, arms grabbed around her waist, pulling her back into a solid wall of muscle and almost toppling her off her feet, or rather Lexi’s sky-high boots. Wrapped up from behind in a bear hug that smelled like everything manly in the free world. Mostly she noticed the hint of exhaust laced with musk and sage. That was, under the smell of whiskey, beer, and cigars.

  It was intoxicating. They say scent is a strong memory trigger and her brain was flashing like a Christmas tree trying to light something, but nothing was sticking. Just rapid flashing.

  “You coming back to my room tonight?” It was phrased as a question. Spoken in a voice that was orgasm-inducing, but it was an order. She felt it in her marrow. Before she could even process what was said, he rubbed his nose across the crown of her head and inhaled audibly. “Damn, that scent. Fuck, it’s familiar but I would definitely remember you.”

  With that, he crossed his arms over each other around her middle and squeezed tighter. “Fuck, you feel perfect.” Andy was so surprised; she didn’t answer or make a move to remove him from her person.

  It would’ve been nothing to break his hold and drop him to the floor, but she didn’t feel threatened. Not to mention, some part of her was thoroughly enjoying the feel of him, whoever he was.

  Touch. It had been years since she’d allowed herself to enjoy this kind of touch. Something inside her felt like those flashing lights and arms going crazy at a railroad crossing, warning drivers that a train was barreling down the tracks head
ed their way. Get out of the way, do not cross.

  Instead of heeding those warnings, she brought all Lexi’s words to the front. Speeches about overthinking and not living in the moment anymore. If she was going to find her way back to who she was, who she loved being, she had to cross those tracks.

  “Sure. Which way is your room?” The next inhale after the words flew from her lips, locked into her lungs. She’d said it. She basically drove around that barrier and crossed the tracks with the deafening sound of the train and the blinding light.

  His response? A grunt. She was lifted slightly higher and they spun as he strode to a door where he shifted her weight to punch in a series of numbers. Once successful, it opened, and he continued down the hall with her legs swinging back and forth in time with his steps.

  When they came to the last door on the right, he shifted her weight again and turned the knob. Within seconds they were in a room painted dark gray with dark wood furnishings. Everything was dark gray or black, except the rich burgundy comforter on the bed. And what a big bed it was. Did they make a larger than king because if they did, she was looking at it.

  Not surprising, considering the man at her back. She had yet to see his face, but from the feel of him and the glimpse outside the bathroom, he wasn’t a small man. Tall and muscular. She felt a beard; she wondered at its length. Her boots touched the floor, but he didn’t loosen his grip.

  She was really doing this. Internal squeal. Did she remember how? The reality of her decision was barreling down on her like that damn train. Instead of freaking out, she took a series of deep breaths. This was perfect. Get back on that horse with a man she had no investment in. A familiarity crept up her spine. Sending tingles and goose bumps along her skin.