Jax's Dilemma:Insurgents Motorcycle Club (Insurgents MC Romance Book 2) (13 page)

“Come on, baby,” Gunner said.

“Jax helped me. He wasn’t doing anything else except helping me. I fainted and he was there.”

Gunner looked at Jax and nodded his thanks to him. “What do you want to do, baby?” he asked Cherri, his breath smelling of whiskey.

“I want to go home,” she whispered in his ear.

Gunner kissed her deeply, swung her around, and walked out of the clubhouse. The night chill invigorated Cherri. She hopped on the back of Gunner’s Harley and held on to his waist. The bike’s engine ripped through the quiet of the parking lot as he headed out toward the open road. Cherri turned around and saw Jax standing in the cold, watching her leave. Her eyes stung with the wind against her tears as she rode off into the blackness.

“W
e’ve got a
real fuckin’ problem with our charter in Kilson, Nebraska. Fuck, it pisses me the hell off.” Banger pounded his fist on the table during the emergency church he had called.

“If you ask me, those fuckers have been given too many warnings. It’s time for us to go up there and tell them how it is. If Dustin can’t get his shit together and run a proper club, then we need to cut them from the Insurgents family. I’m sick of their bullshit,” Hawk said.

“Yeah, I agree. And I think we all know we can’t have that kind of shit associated with us. What’s the latest fuck-up?” Banger looked at his vice president.

Clearing his throat, Hawk said, “Word is they’re fuckin’ underage girls and whoring them out, and that can’t be tolerated.”

Outraged shouts bounced off the plastered walls. Banger slammed the gavel down on the table. “Okay, keep it down. We know that shit is sick and no Insurgents club is gonna do it. A bigger problem we have is this arms deal Hawk and Jax set up for the assholes in Kilson. As you know, we’re not doin’ that shit no more thanks to the Colorado voters who made weed legal. We get so much fuckin’ money from our dispensaries we can make money legally now. Fuckin’ sweet.” Banger laughed, then taking a sip of his beer, he continued. “The thing is, we threw the fuckers a bonus by setting up an arms deal with Dustin and Liam. I just know they’re gonna screw this up, and that puts shit on us we don’t need.”

The grumblings and nods in agreement reinforced that the club was on the same page with Banger and the other officers. Dustin, the president of the troubled Nebraska club, had been running it into the garbage for a while. The Kilson club had ignored the national rules each charter had to abide by if it wanted to display Insurgents colors. The Nebraska club was rife with alcohol abuse, use of hard drugs, and underage girls.

“These members are so fuckin’ outta control. We need to go down there and beat their asses.” Jax echoed the sentiment of the brothers. “Now they fuckin’ screwed up the gun deal because they didn’t deliver when they said. This makes us all look like a bunch of weak, two-faced pussies. Fuck that shit!” Jax’s face contorted with rage.

Many of the brothers yelled, pounded the table, and demanded to know what their president was going to do. To lose face was the worst thing for an outlaw biker club—respect and honor were everything. The Insurgents set up the gun deal with their charter club and Liam, an Irish smuggler they had worked with many times in the past. Hawk had been reluctant to help the troubled club in the arms deal, but Banger, as national president, always lent a hand to help the charters. But the dirt bags were fuckin’ things up by not delivering the guns, and the Insurgents’ reputation was in jeopardy.

Banger was especially pissed since he went out on a limb for Dustin. They used to be buddies back in the day when Dustin was a member in the national club. After he proved to be a straight-up brother, Dustin asked Banger if he could set up a charter in Kilson, Nebraska, his hometown. Banger agreed, and for years things had run smoothly. It had just been in the last couple of years that things in the club started to veer off course. Banger knew he should have taken control right when it started going sour, but he let his friendship and affection for his fellow brother override his instinct to lay down the law. The Insurgents had a real mess on their hands.

“I’ve been in contact with Liam. I told him we’re voting on whether to send a few of our brothers to Nebraska to finish up the deal. He’s pretty pissed, but our prior transactions give him assurance that we’ll get the job done. I’m fuckin’ pissed we have to get involved. This shit shoulda been done by now. It was a small operation. That club is fucked. Let’s take a vote on whether we should send some brothers down there to kick some ass.” Banger surveyed the sea of faces; all thirty members raised their hands and shouted out their support for their president.

Banger nodded. “Then it’s a go. Hawk, Jax, Chas, PJ, Axe, and Throttle will go to make sure the deal goes down. They’ll also see what the fuck is goin’ on with Dustin’s club. If those fuckers don’t follow Insurgents code, then we’re gonna cut ’em out. No more fuckin’ chances.”

“When do we take off?” Jax asked Hawk.

“In about an hour.”

*     *     *

Sunshine beat down
on the riders as they rode two by two on the highway toward Nebraska. A cool breeze made the journey pleasant, but the darkened skies to the east didn’t bode well. It was a bitch traveling in a thunderstorm with raindrops pelting down like bullets, but inclement weather was a small price to pay for the freedom and thrill of the ride.

Jax, as the Sergeant-At-Arms, roared behind the other motorcycles. Doing ninety-five on his maroon Harley CVO Road Glide was intoxicating and invigorating. He had worked two and sometimes three jobs to save enough money to afford his baby. After Hawk customized it, it was one badass bike. He loved how she handled.
If only women handled as smoothly and reliably as my bike—my life would be complete.

The one he wanted to handle with the same deft precision as his Harley was Cherri. What the fuck was her problem anyway? As he blasted by the acres of cornfields, images of Cherri in her skin-tight skirt on Saturday night made him shift in his seat. He’d bet anything she was commando that night; he hadn’t seen a panty line. She was definitely sexy. It made him madder than hell to think about Gunner enjoying her. He knew Cherri was punishing him by hanging with Gunner, but this shit was getting old.

Pursing his lips, he was mad at himself for wasting his time thinking about her. She wasn’t the only bitch around. There was plenty of good pussy—always a steady stream of it at the clubhouse. And there were a hell of a lot of bitches who weren’t as messed-up and would be more than happy to be in his bed, riding his cock.
Why the fuck don’t I just move on?

As Jax pressed down on the gas pedal, his Harley picked up speed, its exhaust pipes thundering. Slight gasoline fumes tinged the air while waves of heat from the engine and the rush of the wind all about exhilarated him.
Damn, why am I kidding myself? I feel something for this girl—she gets to me.
He shook his head as if by doing so, he’d rid his brain of her image.

Every time he saw her, he wanted her even more. What was up with that shit? He had fucked a lot of women, and he wasn’t a one-woman man, but he never had feelings for the women he banged like he did for Cherri. Hell, Peaches was good pussy, nice and all that, but she didn’t have the pull on his heart like Cherri did. He didn’t have a clue how he could make it right with her. He wanted Cherri to be all his. He claimed her the day they fucked in her room, but she went ballistic when she saw him with Peaches. She didn’t even let him explain. He told her he was sorry, but she threw his words in the garbage by hooking up with Gunner.

She could be such a bitch. He suspected her coolness was a protection from the fear she held inside her—something was behind those cold and panicked eyes. He wished she’d let him know what the fuck went on inside her head. When she freaked out on him in his room the past Saturday, her nonchalance attitude about it didn’t convince him at all. She tried to act tough, but he knew she was a scared little girl in a grown-up body. He had a hunch she had some serious shit from her past, and he wanted to help her deal with it. The problem was she wouldn’t let him in. She pretended she had no feelings for him, but her moans of pleasure as he screwed her told him otherwise.

There’s no way she faked her screams when we fucked. Her blue eyes turned from ice to flame when she writhed beneath me. Damn, I need to get back into her silkiness and feel her pussy tightening around my dick. I’ve got a damn hard-on just thinking of her, like I’m in junior high. Fuck!

He saw Hawk’s turn signal blink, and all riders took the next exit and pulled into the gas and convenience store off the freeway. Jax, nursing a raging hard-on, sat on his seat and pretended to be engrossed in reading his text messages.

“You don’t need any gas?” Chas asked as he came over to Jax.

“Doing somethin’ right now,” Jax replied.

Chas looked at Jax and laughed, clapping him on the back. “Fuck, you got it bad for her, don’t you?”

Glaring at him, Jax said, “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

Chas’s laughter brought the other brothers over, who guffawed when they noticed Jax’s erection.

“What the fuck were you doin’ on your bike?” Hawk teased as he winked at the others.

“You fantasizing ’bout your little stripper?” PJ joked.

With arms crossed, Jax sneered, “Fuck off.”

“I think that’s what you’re aiming to do, brother,” Axe said, while he filled his gas tank.

Brooding, Jax placed his sunglasses back on his eyes and stared straight ahead, his mouth forming a tight line.

“Okay, let’s leave horny boy alone with his thoughts. We’ll take fifteen minutes to fuel and piss, then we’re back on the road. I want to reach Kilson before dark,” Hawk said.

Jax slinked off his bike; he still stung from the embarrassment of having a hard-on with no chick in sight. He was a wuss, but he didn’t care. He’d do anything to get Cherri back into his life.

*     *     *

The bikers approached
the charter clubhouse as the sun began its descent, the western sky painted in hues of purple-tinged grey, orange and pinkish rose. A couple of prospects came up to the bikers, quickly wiping down the grime from the road trip off their motorcycles. Taking off their sunglasses, the men sauntered inside the clubhouse. Once their eyes adjusted to the dim lights, they noticed several members smoking crack and snorting coke. Women, stoned and naked, lay on the floor next to passed-out brothers. A few of the more alert women, covering their nakedness with their hands, scurried out of the room when they saw the Insurgents’ members walk in. The skittish girls looked about fifteen or sixteen years old. Chas muttered, “Fuckin’ perverts,” under his breath.

A charter member came up to them. “Hey, welcome,” he said as he stretched out his arms and looked at them through red, wavering eyes.

“Get your fuckin’ president. Now,” Hawk growled.

“H
ey, brother, how’s
it goin’? Didn’t know you guys were coming. You shoulda told me; I’d have made sure we got the finest whores and whiskey for you all.” Dustin clasped Hawk’s shoulder while a wide grin spread across his face. He nodded his chin at the other guys in the group.

A brick wall met Dustin’s friendly gesture. Hawk, staring Dustin in the eye, said, “Get your members together. We’re calling an emergency church.”

“Oh, sure, sure, but we got time for that. How ’bout a few shots?”

“Now.” Hawk’s voice had a steel edge to it.

Dustin glared at them, turned around, and gathered up the twelve charter members. They all went into a large room which housed a wooden square table and folding chairs along the walls. The Insurgents emblem, carved in 3D, hung on the wall. Dustin slammed the gavel on the table and immediately, the room fell quiet.

“Our brothers from the mother club are here for a visit. We welcome them,” he said as he gestured toward the out-of-state bikers.

The charter members cheered and nodded toward the visiting brothers. Several of the members cried out, “Let’s party like fuck tonight.” Hoots and hollers ensued.