SOLID GROUND: GODS OF CHAOS MC (BOOK TWO) (4 page)

Moaning together, we pressed into each other, pushing, pulling, each of us fulfilling the need that reared its tempting head every morning.  After six months of waking up together, we still couldn’t get enough of each other.

Ryder pulled out of me, gently nudging me onto my back and pulling his weight up and on top of me, sliding back into me effortlessly.  Our bodies fit together perfectly.  The delicious way he filled me up never ceased to amaze me, and my body responded to him in ways I had never experienced before.  

Ryder was an expert in bed.  He knew when to move slowly and sensuously, he knew how to seductively pull me out of my head and into the pleasures of my body, and then he knew when to wildly and savagely take me over the edge with the full force of his masculinity.  

He was perfect.  He was solid.  He was exactly what I needed in my life, even if I didn't know it six months ago.

His own needs took over as he hammered into me, and I opened my eyes to watch him.  It was my favorite part, seeing the ecstasy wash over his face after those last few moments of focused, savage desire.  

It made me feel needed.  

Wanted.  

Loved.

His lustful, passionate thrusting brought us both over the edge and his cock swelled, spilling into me as we came together in a chorus of loud moans that made me thankful that we didn’t live at the clubhouse anymore.

Spent, sweaty, and sexy as hell, he collapsed next to me, and pulled me into him.  My head rested on his hairy barrel chest, and I sighed with satisfaction.

We lay there quietly, listening to the birds chirping outside of our newly built bedroom, our breathing falling together as the first rays of sunlight streamed through the windows.  

Just as I did every morning, I said a little prayer of gratitude to the universe.  My life was so different now than it had been before I met Ryder, or, rather, before I came tumbling into Ryder’s life, is more like it.

Six months ago, I had been an undercover cop, on the verge of bringing down one of the biggest sex-trafficking rings in the state.  But I had been sabotaged.  By my own partner.  If I had known Judd had ratted me out to the pimp I was trying to take down, I never would have gotten in the car with him.  But, if I had never gotten in the car with him, I wouldn’t be here with Ryder now.

The pimp took me to a secluded road, beat me, and despite the fact that I had hit my head on a rock and was unconscious, was about to rape me and of course, kill me.  But then Ryder showed up.  He saved me.  Took me back to his clubhouse.  Nursed me back to health.

When I woke up, I couldn’t remember who I was.

Ryder was a champ through it all.  He was my rock.  My lighthouse in the stormy sea that followed as I tried to regain my identity.  It wasn’t easy.

Sometimes, I wished I hadn’t remembered at all.  All the abuse I suffered at the hands of my family.  All the years of pain, the rush of disappointment that washed over me when I realized that I had never had a normal family.  I never had a family at all, in the usual sense of the word.

I was a piece of property to be used and abused as my much older, evil siblings and mother had seen fit.  If it wasn’t for my loving, but clueless, father, I would have turned out a lot more fucked up.

But, I escaped. I grew up, and somehow found the conviction to turn the horrors of my childhood into something productive.  I did all I could to help other women escape abusive situations.  I became an undercover cop, and I was extremely proud of all the women I had managed to help find a way out of hell over the years.

But then, after that fateful night where I was forced to gun down Judd, something changed.  I had already hated being a cop.  Now, I hated that I couldn’t trust my partner.  And in a job like that, you needed people you could trust.

After finding out Judd was part of the very ring we were trying to bring down, I knew I would never trust another person on the force again.

So, I quit.  

But I knew I would never be able to leave my work behind.  I did the only thing I could - I started something new.  With people I knew I could trust.

The Gods of Chaos Motorcycle Club had proven to be the perfect partner.

We called our new organization ‘Solid Ground’.  

I did most of the day to day work, with a little help from Riot.  He was a computer genius, and he always came through for me.   When the time came that action was required, I had the full force of the club behind me. 

And they were much more efficient, trustworthy, and fearless than any cop I had ever worked with.

I looked up at Ryder, and smiled.  I pressed my lips to his, and his kiss was deliciously warm, familiar, gentle.

“Thank you,” I whispered, and then kissed him again.

“For what?” he asked, his gorgeous blue eyes twinkling as the sunlight caught them. 

“For today,” I said.

“We just woke up,” he replied.

“I know.  And it’s already the best day of my life.”

☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼

“What a piece of shit,” Grace mumbled under her breath.  She sat next to me, our eyes glued to the computer screen in front of us.  I nodded in agreement.  It never ceased to amaze me how many douchebags there were out in the world.  I shouldn’t have been surprised, I know.  I was a God, after all.

But even the most perverted, sickest, dirtiest of all the Gods of Chaos MC members would never think of going online to lure young girls away from the safety of their homes. 

That act was reserved for the most depraved monsters of all.  

I was proud to be a part of Solid Ground.  Grace and I had become good friends, and I admired her for everything she had accomplished, and for her fearlessness and willingness to do whatever it took to get the job done.  She was unwavering in her focus and there was nothing she wouldn’t do to take down one of these monsters.

Sure, she had gone through hell and back to get to this point, but that only made me admire her more.

“Ask him where he lives,” she said.  

I began typing.  Pretending to be a twelve year-old girl wasn’t easy, but I had been doing it for a while and it got easier every time.  The hard part was controlling my anger as I saw the insanity that came back at me through the screen.

Solid Ground worked in two ways.  This was one of them.  We ‘fished’ for online predators and when the time came for a real-life meeting, Grace turned all the information over to the police, and they were the ones waiting for the perpetrators when they showed their disgusting faces.

The other way we worked was definitely more of an underground operation that usually didn’t involve the police at all, but was a lot more involved, detailed, and dangerous.

Grace knew people from all walks of life, and she had recruited dozens of people that she called “networkers”.  These networkers kept their eyes and ears open.  Sometimes, they were social workers.  Sometimes, they were prostitutes, drug dealers, or other cops.  Sometimes, they were the PTA President.  

Whoever they were, they were also highly trained to spot women that displayed the behavior of those who were in dangerous situations.  They approached those women discretely, passed off as much information as they could, along with the number of a cell phone that only Grace answered, and a secret password.  

When that phone rang, it set in motion a sequence of events that didn’t stop until we rescued whoever needed saving.  So far, Solid Ground had been able to remove four different women from situations that they couldn’t get out of alone.

Three of them had been hookers with especially violent and well-connected pimps in three different states.  We got them to a safe place, and with the help of some friends of the club, a new identity and a new start away from their old life.  

The fourth one was just a kid.  She had called Grace in the middle of the night and told her a gruesome tale of all the abuse she had suffered at the hands of her step-father.  Surprisingly, that one, while one of the worst stories I had ever heard, was the easiest of all so far.  The Gods had roared up to the cookie-cutter suburban house in the middle of the day.  Turns out, some monsters aren’t so tough and manly when their victims are much bigger than them.

It was so fucking satisfying watching that prick being led away in handcuffs, and the bruises that were scattered on his face and body weren’t questioned at all once the cops arrived.  Funny how that worked.

“He’s in Portland,” I said, after the asshole replied.  

“Good, he’s close,” Grace replied.  

It was a slow process, drawing them out.  Most of these monsters knew exactly what they were doing, and they spent days grooming their victims before they made their move and suggested a face-to-face meeting.  My job was to keep up the charade until they broke.  If I tried to rush it, they got spooked, and went on in search of their next victim, who was actually a real life twelve year-old.

“Riot, you’re doing great.  Keep him talking as long as you can.  I need to go back to the cabin and make lunch.  Holler if he bites.”  

“Oh, he’ll bite.  This asshole is already trying to flirt with me,” I replied.

“Thanks, Riot,” Grace said, as she walked out of the clubhouse.  “I’ll be back in a bit.”

I turned back to the computer.

‘What are you wearing?’
the pervert asked me.  

You’re gonna be wearing handcuffs, you fucker
, I thought.

“Just a tank top and a short skirt, lol…no biggie,
” I typed.

“Mmmm…how short?”
the prick asked.

I took a swig off my beer, burped, and scratched my beard, settling back into my chair for a long session of disgust.

☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼

In the six years I had known Monty, I had never seen him so pissed.  Harold, his lawyer, had bailed me out.  When I got to the car, Monty was seething.  His bodyguard drove us back to my apartment, and stayed in the car as Monty  went inside with me.

I had never been arrested before, so I knew Monty would be angry.

I didn’t know he would be this angry.

“What the fuck were you thinking, Lacey?” He laid into me as soon as the door closed behind us.

Each blow of the back of his hand whipped my head around so fast I couldn’t see straight after the third time.  Tangy, metallic blood trickled out of my mouth and down my chin. He pushed me roughly backwards, and I stumbled and fell to the plush, white carpet.  The sharp crack of my stiletto breaking pissed me off.  

Those were my most comfortable heels
, I thought, as he straddled my hips.  

“Don’t you get enough cock from my clients, you whore?”