BILLIONAIRE BIKERS: 3 MC Romance Books (29 page)

Nancy clamps down around me in response to my enduring rhythm, and the additional pressure proves too much. The flowering warmth in my stomach erupts like an explosion, and the hot jet of my seed spurts into her. Nancy shudders and arches back, taking all of it, her fingers threading through and gripping the sex-tossed strands of my hair.

I lower both hands down to her ample rump, shuddering as well, lifting the weighted heft of her ass and letting it fall. Nancy sits back in my lap, and we relax together as we come down from our finale. My spent cock still holds its stiffness inside of her, and she seems as reluctant as I am to separate now.

But separate we must. With a sated, almost thoughtful little sigh, Nancy extracts herself from my lap. My diminishing erection slides free of her and the air from the expansive room feels almost too cold in the aftermath of our transgression. However, if Nancy keeps holding herself like that on all fours, I doubt what hangs between my legs will be resting for long.

I haul myself off the bed to recover my pants, which I managed to shed completely at some point or another during our wild session. For the first time since entering, Nancy appears to glance around herself. "Wait…whose room is this?" she asks, blinking.

              My belt jingles as I pull my pants back on. "Usually it's reserved for the highest-ranking brother currently in the building. So Flint's," I respond with a grin.

              Nancy's hand flies to her mouth, before she quickly gets ahold of herself and clambers off after me. "So this is the room that he and Ana…oh Lesher, we have to get out of here before they get back!"

              "Why?" I ask. "You haven't even seen the view yet."

              I steer her toward the back of the room and pull the curtain back. Nancy stifles a little gasp at what I show her; still, she seems uncertain about following me out onto the balcony. I give a little push, and she half-trips over the threshold with a sigh of defeat, though I note she doesn't put her heart behind it. We both know this is what she wants.

              The air outside on the balcony is warmer than the air within the master bedroom. A light summer breeze blows from the east, teasing and twisting the still-damp tangles of Nancy's auburn hair. I notice that her hair, when allowed to dry naturally, has a slight wave to it that better frames her pointed face than the more straight and severe look she wore when I first found her.

              Nancy looks stunning, standing there completely nude, overlooking the expansive grounds and blossoming gardens. The well-manicured Clubhouses have never been my style, but there's no denying that Nancy appears as if she could belong here. Without clothes to imprison her lithe figure, or spectacles to restrict her vision solely to the paperwork placed in front of her, she could be a queen overseeing her kingdom.

              She turns quizzically after a moment, tearing herself away from the view to notice that I've hung back beneath the shadows of the door. She looks at me with such warmth and tenderness that it shakes me to my core. I know I don't deserve such a look, not from her…and I have an idea of what it means.

              But I can't exit the moment, no matter how much I know it's for the better. So I let her draw me out; I stride to the balcony and join her, my ink-roped arms coming to rest on the railing beside her own thin, folded limbs.

              "So Flint is the leader of the club then?" she inquires. "If this is his room, I mean."

              "He's second-in-command, when he can be bothered to actually care about it," I reply. "Which would appear to be increasingly. A month ago Flint wouldn't have given a shit about me or how I'm operating outside of the club, but let's just say I might have pissed him off, especially the last time our paths crossed."

"So I heard," Nancy mutters under her breath. "While we're 'just saying' things, can we assume you've turned over a new leaf since then?"

              "You know what they say about people who assume," I reply. Strangely, I detect a note of desolation in my own voice, something I have never heard before. Will Nancy notice? Will she find hope in the fact that I've become unhappy with the twisted labyrinth I've led us both into? That the stakes are not only dangerous, but might come at a higher cost than I had originally planned for?

Nancy shakes her head. "Admit it: you were taking revenge on Flint when you dragged me in here. Flint…and maybe Wolf a little too, even though you have absolutely
nothing
to worry about on that front."

              "I'm not worried about Wolf." I snort. "Wolf is small-time compared to me. He's a rowdy moron, and he's going to get himself arrested or killed one of these days. No," I correct her as I draw her into my arms, "I was taking revenge on
you
for making me wait so long. If you wanted to have a say in the time and place, then so did I."

"Lesher." Nancy raises a finger to my lips, and I purse them in an amused kiss in response. I've never been shushed before. "We've known each other for two days. I wouldn't consider that a
long
wait. Then again, our relationship's been on the fast track ever since you tore out of that parking lot with me wrapped around you."

I watch in mild curiosity as her expression twists in response to her own words. I wonder what she's thinking, or what she has said that makes her look so downcast all of a sudden.

"Sorry…I don't mean to use the word 'relationship' so lightly. It sort of seems wrong for us. Anyway, I guess what I'm trying to say is that I didn't think that sort of thing mattered to you. The time, the place…"

              "It matters that I know what I want," I say. "I don't take a lot of time out of my day for self-reflection, Nancy. But that doesn't mean I don't know how to plan, and to enact that plan in a way that results in my getting exactly what I want."

              "Lesher…" Nancy attempts to pull back, and my arms tighten around her reflexively. I'm not ready to let her get away from me just yet.

              "…what
is
it you want?" she asks finally. I raise an eyebrow, and she colors quickly at the innuendo. "And I don't just mean ‘what do you want’ in the bedroom. And I don't just mean in regards to us…although don't get me wrong, I'm willing to revisit that point very, very soon.

              "What I mean is: what's the point of all this? The robbery and the secrecy? Why would the warehouse you were using as your base of operations suddenly blows sky-high?" Nancy reaches a hand up, threading it through the circle of my arms, to tug a piece of hair behind her ear. "I want to believe you're a good man; and I… I think you are. All the little details add up, but I can't reconcile the bigger things. I need you to tell me."

              "Nancy." I drag my hands away from her hips to settle them on her shoulders. She must hold so much weight there already. How can I be the one to add to that burden? "I can't tell you whether or not I'm a good man. I have my suspicious about it, but to find myself riding with a woman like you makes me wonder if I might be wrong.

              "But I can't stop to examine it now," I reply. "Everything is moving too fast. The only thing that matters now is keeping you safe until I fix this. Your life will be back on track in no time. I just need you to stay here."

              "With you?" she asks hopefully. I can tell by the gleam of her eyes in the dark that she isn't giving up on her questions yet, not by a long shot, but it looks like in the course of an evening we have both been able to pare down what it is we want.

              I say nothing. I stroke her hair. And finally, after a long moment, Nancy sighs with her perceived defeat and lays her head on my chest.

              "Sometimes I get the answer I want. But mostly, I never get an answer," she grumbles.

              "You're a clever girl," I remind her. "I'm sure you'll figure it out."

NANCY

When I wake the next morning in the spare bedroom, I'm alone.

              I stir and sit up, blinking blearily into the room. I had argued my point vehemently the previous night that we had already overstayed our
un
welcome in the bedroom that Flint and Ana shared; Lesher had just rolled his gorgeous eyes, pale as aquamarine gemstones, and obligingly followed me as I grabbed his hand and led him back down the hall. Ana had come by later with a spare pair of clothes for me to borrow. I had blushed and stammered my way through a thank-you, conscious of Lesher's hooded, amused gaze on my back all the while.

Ana, at least, had seemed unaware of just how embarrassed I was after my secret romp in her bedroom. I still don't know if this is a good thing or a bad thing—it could very well mean I come across as a stuttering, embarrassed wreck all the time. After closing the door behind her, I whipped around to glare at Lesher. There was a bit of wresting after that, and then…

My cheeks warm at the memory, even as my hand floats to the previously-occupied spot beside me and alights on the cool sheet. I guess I shouldn't be surprised he's gone—he never made me a promise otherwise or even gave an intimation that he cared that I wanted him to stay close to me. Still, the memory of his arms wrapped tightly around my exhausted frame doesn't stray far from my thoughts. So much passed unsaid between us, yet I feel our connection growing, day by day—or maybe hour by hour would be more apt—and I'm sure Lesher feels it as well. I can read it in the way my enigmatic rider touches me, and I can almost hear it expressed between the clever quips and softening insults.

So much as our conversation last night strikes me as a challenge, but to what? To stay safe and stay put despite my objections to remaining, or to find out exactly what it is I want to know?

I know without a doubt that I am Lesher's equal. I can feel the balance of power between us starting to shift, until the captor-captive dynamic threatens to become hopelessly tangled. Is this what love is at the end of the day? A constant tug-of-war, a charged and intimate game of role reversal? I, for one, am eager to know more, but there's no getting anywhere on this journey alone with the object of my attraction missing.

Once I've awakened fully to my situation, I drag myself out of bed and start to look for clues to Lesher's whereabouts.

Ana has loaned me a pale yellow T-shirt with a plunging collar and a pair of ripped jean shorts. I never would have chosen yellow as my color, but there's no denying after one look in the mirror that it suits me—it brings out the natural red in my hair, something I'm sure that Ana, who clearly thrills at her own dyed scarlet tresses, looks for when she shops.

The outfit is simple but even to my untrained eyes appears undeniably designer in tone. After I've splashed a handful of cold water on my face to facilitate complete physical wakefulness, I turn once to admire my figure in the mirror. Maybe it's the clothes, or maybe it's that I've been recently laid very thoroughly, but I feel—and look—like a different woman than dowdy Nancy Cardigan: bank teller.

I wonder what life could be like, riding with Lesher and being officially welcomed into the MC. The learning curve would certainly be immense. Ana looks as if she already belongs to their world, and maybe she does—I remember it being mentioned that her family runs a gang, but she sought to separate herself from that world. Clearly, Flint is all too happy to oblige her.
They must really be in love,
I think in wonder as I move back out into the main room.

Our story is different, but Lesher has done the same for me: he separated me from a life I didn't want, even if I came unwillingly at first. Now, to discover what this new, exhilarating path forward holds for me.

But first things first: I need to get to the bottom of what is keeping us apart. I need to know what it was that cost five (admittedly evil) men their lives—I need to know what I was taken hostage for, even if Lesher's feelings on the matter have changed.

A cursory glance over the room shows that Lesher, wherever he has gone, has taken his clothes with him. This applies to everything, including his leather jacket, which last I checked held the flash drive he had temporarily put in my possession.

But let’s say he didn't take it with him,
I think to myself.
Where else could he have possibly stashed it?

I sit down in the desk chair to ponder this. My eyes move over the room slowly, taking in every possible hiding place. There aren't many. I get up to investigate a few more anyway—pulling open drawers and turning over pillows.

I feel defeated by my efforts fairly quickly, and return to the desk to pull on my shoes. Ana didn't bother letting me borrow a pair from her, although I may as well ask—I remember now that one of my heels is broken. A size that is slightly larger to what I normally wear is still infinitely preferable to hobbling around all day like Quasimodo, even if I'm not likely to go very far until Lesher returns…

"Wait a second: my heel!" I exclaim out loud. I live alone in my apartment, so generally I'm not worried about being heard when I talk to myself. And anyway, this discovery is certainly worth shouting about.

The broken heel on my shoe has been repaired overnight, and the shoes are lined up neatly against the wall…the same way I found them two nights ago when I made my ill-fated attempt to escape from the warehouse and the clutches of the man who would ultimately become my lover.

Lesher,
I think in wonder as I turn the shoe over in my hand. He must have got up early to fix it. My heart feels strangely warmed by this realization. It's such a little thing, but it means so much that he would…

My eyes narrow suddenly in a glare of disbelief as I zero in on the heel. Upon examination, it looks like Lesher might have done a half-assed job. I can see now that it's only partially glued, and that a flick of my wrist will cause the heel to hang like a hinge. I jerk my hand in private demonstration of this to myself, and I'm startled to find that not only is the heel still broken,
it's newly hollow.

Of course!

I waste little time in turning the shoe upside down and holding my palm open. With a single shake, the flash drive falls out of my shoe and into the crease of my hand.

So Lesher did leave the information, and he left it in a place where he knew I, and I alone, would find it.

Somehow, this revelation makes me feel worse.

I study the silver drive, once more contemplating what vital data it could possibly store. Moreover, knowing Lesher left it behind implies that he's had a change of heart about selling it, at least temporarily. If this was such a vital part of his plans all along, and he wasn't a man to waste time on something left incomplete, then where could he have gone off to without it?

I don't have the answers, but I'm willing to bet someone close to home does.

#

"Well…" Wolf begins as he turns the flash drive over in his hand. "I can see that it's not a floppy disk."

              I try not to feel discouraged by this.

              "Don't you…well, don't you know computers?" I ask hopefully. "Lesher says you aren't always
exactly
on the right side of the law yourself."

              "Yeah, but Lesh is in a whole other league from me," Wolf states. "He's the criminal mastermind, and let me tell you, that mastery encompasses computers. Pretty sure he could make it as a hacker full-time if he needed to."

              "Well, should we see if the drive is encrypted?" I suggest. It's possible my investigation will end here and now if the drive proves inaccessible, but I'm not willing to give up until I know we've tried everything within our very limited scope.

              "Yeah…that's like password protected, right? I'm kidding," Wolf adds when he takes in the full horror of my look. "I probably watch as much TV as you do, Nancy. I know what an encryption is. Step into my office."

              Wolf's "office" seems more like a room used universally by the RBMC as a study of sorts. He holds the door open for me to enter first, then crosses to the enormous computer screen set into the wall beside the bay window. I follow, trying to distract myself as he boots the computer up. My heart hammers all the while.

              Would Lesher have left the drive in my safekeeping if he knew I couldn't access it? Somehow, I don't think this is the case. He must know how limited my resources, and subsequently my ability to protect it, are. No, I think Lesher left the drive with me because he wanted me to look.

              "Lesh took off this morning early. At least, that's what it looked like on the security footage when I checked," Wolf says conversationally as he inserts the drive. "I went through what was recorded out of curiosity when I noticed his bike wasn't in the garage. He left around three this morning. Guess he didn't tell you?"

              I shake my head no. In the next instant what he said truly, fully occurs to me. "Does the security footage…? Er, I mean…are there cameras in every room?" I inquire, certain my reasons for doing so must be totally transparent. I can imagine our transgression in Flint's room replaying all too clearly on a screen in front Wolf.

              "Nah," Wolf says. "Not the bedrooms, anyway, so you don't have to worry—definitely no one knows about you and Lesher boning last night."

              "Um…that's good." Wolf doesn't appear to notice the blush quickly overcoming me. I'm in a different world now than the one I'm used to inhabiting. Not only are there different rules here, but obviously certain topics you might not run into in polite conversation are the norm. Nothing is off the table for discussion here, which is probably a good thing because Wolf is now clicking open the flash drive.

              "Here we go," I hear him mutter under his breath. "I hope Lesher didn't plant this in revenge, and we wind up being unwitting accomplices in destroying the Clubhouse mainframe."

              "Wait, what?" I exclaim. I hadn't even thought about that; and yet, it would be
so
like that sexy, manipulative bastard to use me in his—

              "Well, that was easy." Wolf interrupts my agonized thoughts. The screen above our heads flashes on; he settles into the chair as I grip the back of it with my hand.

              "What is that?" I ask after a moment. I squint up at the orderly columns, wishing I had my glasses. "A spreadsheet?"

              "Looks like it." Wolf cranes forward also. "It's a bunch of company names, followed by…more company names. And amounts. Jesus, that's a lot of money." He turns to me. "Does the bank you work for really carry this much? Because some of these names are really,
really
big. Production companies, chocolate distributors, movie stars…"

              "No way. We're just a…we're just a credit union." My eyes rake the information, my brain processing at a slower speed than normal. It's almost as if I'm trying to think through molasses. This was definitely the flash drive Lesher found in the vault, right? What was it doing there?

              "Well? Any thoughts?" Wolf asks me.

              "I think…but there's no way." I cross one arm across my waist and cup my chin in my other hand in case my head falls off. This is too much to take in, but I absolutely have to. I have to go with my gut feeling. "Wolf, I think these are
shell
companies."

              "What, like the gas station?" he asks.

              I shake my head.
So like a biker
. "No, no. I mean, these are…this is a list of wealthy entities that have taken a huge portion of their wealth overseas and hidden it away in tax havens. I think these"—I indicate the names beside the names—"are completely fabricated. They use them as fake names to operate under. And I take it back, Wolf, this isn't just a list: it's an
enormous
list. And it looks like there's a ton more documents on the drive."

              "I know Lesher speaks highly of my intelligence, Nancy, but trust me: I'm really
not
a genius," Wolf says. "I understand maybe about half of what you're saying, but go on."

              "And it's not just celebrities and store chains," I continue as I point. "Look. These are politicians—people in the U.S. government. This is big. Like,
really
big. All of these people could have perfectly legal reasons for setting up these shell companies, but I doubt it…not when there are so many names compiled here." I cross my arms, studying the inside of my head more than the list hanging above me as I attempt to work this out. "Honestly, Wolf, this looks like prime blackmailing material to me. The only thing is, Lesher didn't compile this information. He
stole
it."

              I can't wrap my head around it. Clearly Grand National Credit Union, or someone involved on the inside, was in possession of this information originally. I've known for a while that the robbery was a ruse, a cover for what Lesher was really after.

              But why was he after it? To use it? To sell it? If either is the case, then why did he leave it here with me?