Striker: No Prisoners MC Book 1 (8 page)

“Gumby,” he called out. “Follow him. See where the fucker goes.” Gumby sprinted to his bike and shot off after the car that sped up after it passed the clubhouse.

Striker slid his hands up Lila’s arms to her shoulders, and turned her to face him. “Hey, babe. Lila, look at me.”

She faced him, and the frightened look in her eyes caused an unfamiliar surge of protectiveness in Striker. He felt a gut-wrenching need to ensure her safety, similar to the night he shielded her from the Grimm Brothers. “There is no fuckin’ way he’d drive in here. Not unless he had a death wish.”

Jester raised a brow at Striker’s forcefully spoken words. Striker wasn’t usually one to rush to a woman’s defense, but the statement seemed to be what Lila needed to hear.

Striker watched her gather herself, take a deep breath and nod at him. It was then he noticed what she was wearing, or rather how little she was wearing. He trailed his eyes down her body, and dropped his hands from her damp shoulders, clenching them into fists at his sides. It was either that or reach out and palm her tight ass encased in tiny spandex shorts. On top she wore a neon yellow, stretchy tank top that ended just above her belly button, and left an expanse of creamy skin he wanted to lick. He forced himself to wrench his eyes back up to her face.

“Let’s go into the clubhouse and get you a drink. Anyone you know have it in for you?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think so.” She shook her head as she answered, but a thoughtful look crossed her face.

Striker placed a hand on her lower back and steered her toward the clubhouse with Jester trailing behind. He enjoyed the feel of her satiny skin under his callused hands. Unable to stop himself, his thumb caressed a circle on her soft flesh, and he heard her emit a small gasp at the intimate contact. When they reached the heavy metal door, he held it open for her.

“Ladies first.”

Lila turned. “Jester.” She motioned him forward with a snarky grin.

Jester hooted out a laugh and slung an arm around Lila’s shoulders. The action pulled her away from Striker, and Jester propelled her through the door. “Girl, you are gonna be some trouble, aren’t you?”

Striker was glad her sass was coming back so quickly. Seeing her so unnerved had caused a twist of fury in him. He followed them through the door with a shake of his head. Lila was already trouble, just not the kind that Jester was referring to.

Lila’s eyes took a minute to adjust to the dim lighting after being out in the blinding Arizona sun. She blinked the space into focus, and scanned the room. She never expected to be in here and couldn’t keep her wild curiosity at bay. The main room was large, and her interest was drawn to a well-stocked, carved wooden bar running along the entire left wall. A handful of four-person square tables rested to the right with their chairs flipped on top. The center was open, allowing people to pass through toward the rear of the room.

A long staircase at the back of the room led to the second level. License plates, street signs, motorcycle prints, and a fair number of pictures of almost naked woman littered the walls, giving the place an eclectic, masculine Americana style. She had to admit it wasn’t what she’d been expecting. In her mind she pictured the place as a dirty, smelly frat house of sorts, and was pleasantly surprised by the cleanliness and order of the clubhouse. She could even get behind the masculine biker decor, except for all the nude women plastered on the walls, but men will be men.

Jester uncurled his arm from around her shoulders as they reached the bar. “What’s your poison, darlin’?”

“Oh, um, I’ll just have whatever you have I guess. Isn’t it a little early for a drink?”

“Nope,” Striker answered. “Rule is, if you’ve nearly been run down before noon, all bets are off.”

“Hey, prospect, let’s get a couple of Bourbons over here.” Jester rapped a meaty fist against the bar and took a seat next to Lila.

Striker slid onto the barstool on the opposite side of Lila. “Make it three.”

She twisted on her seat to get a better look at Striker. God, he was hot. He wore a plain, dark gray T-shirt that stretched across his wide chest and muscular arms. Slightly dirty from working on motorcycles in the garage, it only enhanced his manly appeal. She hoped the prospect would bring the drinks soon so she had something to occupy her hands. Otherwise she was likely to reach out and stroke them over Striker’s sinewy body.

“You all right, Lila?” Striker asked.

Lila blew out a breath. Her hands still trembled, but at least she could breathe and speak now. “I think so. God, I’ve never been that scared. For a few minutes I thought he’d catch me.” Resigned to the fact that lightning didn’t strike twice in one place, she decided to be forthright with them. “I received a disturbing text message last weekend, after I got home Sunday night from…you know.”

Striker’s attention was fully focused on her. “It’s fine, babe. You’re okay to speak freely in here.”

“Right. Well then, after I helped with Kenny Sunday night, immediately after, before I even got in my house, I received a text. I dismissed it as a harmless prank, but after today I’m not so sure.”

“What’d it say?” His voice had dropped to a menacingly low tone.

“It said, ‘Really, doctor? Spending your free time with the No Prisoners?’” She didn’t bother to check her phone for accuracy. The veiled threat was burned into her brain.

“Shit, Stitch! You should have said something right away.” Jester frowned at her from the barstool on her other side.

Lila swung her gaze in Jester’s direction. “I figured it was just someone being an ass.”

She caught Jester and Striker exchanging a look. “What? What are you thinking?”

“You should have told me, Lila. We could have checked it out.” Striker shook his head. His lips pressed into a thin line.

“I didn’t realize the MC did much in the way of personal security work,” she shot back. She took a sip of her bourbon. They were right, but the fact that they scolded her made her feel embarrassed and had frustration tightening her stomach.

Jester chuckled. “That we don’t, Doc. We do, however, take care of our own, and we owe you one. Not to mention this threat seems to be a direct result of you helping us out.”

“Jester, can you go brief Shiv on all this shit?”

“Who?” She looked between the men.

“He’s the club’s president,” Striker told her.

Once he said that, the name rang a bell. If rumors were to be believed, his nickname came about after he survived a prison stabbing meant to end his life.

Before Jester could respond, Lila’s phone chimed. Striker’s hands brushed the bare skin of her bicep as he slipped the phone out of the band on her arm, and handed it to her. The now familiar tremor of arousal that began under his fingertip traveled straight to her core. She peered down at the screen, and didn’t bother to disguise the gasp of surprise that escaped. “Shit.” Her stomach sank and her blood chilled in her veins.

Striker plucked the phone from her unsteady fingers, and frowned at the screen. She watched his face harden as he read the text.
Scared, doctor? I see you ran right to the No Prisoners, literally.
He tossed the phone to Jester who read it, abruptly turned, and strode with purpose toward a set of double doors at the back of the room.

“Listen, Lila, I shouldn’t say anything to you, but I know you can keep your mouth shut, and you appear to be ass-deep in this, so I’m gonna give it to you straight. There’s a high chance this is the Grimm Brothers.”

His admission worsened her distress. “The MC from last week in the ER?”

He nodded, and a muscle ticked in his jaw. “We’re trying to sort our shit out with their president, but something’s going on in that club. It’s starting to get ugly, as you can guess, since you witnessed what happened to Kenny. We’re handling it, but it’s going to take some time. They saw you last Friday. Noticed me jump in to shield you, and screwing with you may be one more way of fucking with us. If it is the Grimm Brothers, you’re not safe. You’re going to need some protection. The kind of protection only the club can provide, you get me?”

“Let me guess, that means no cops?”

“No cops.” He nodded, and trailed a hand up her arm. Warmth followed the movement, and continued through her body even when his hand settled, strong and sure on her shoulder.

“But wouldn’t it be better just to let the cops handle it? Then you can stay uninvolved.”

He shrugged. “Doesn’t work that way. It’s not how the club handles things. We’re already involved. The police would initiate an investigation into every aspect of the club, and we can’t allow that.”

Striker was taking this very seriously, and that fact didn’t do anything to ease her worry. It had to be bad if Striker was concerned. “So what do I do?”

“I’m not sure yet,” he said as he gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “We’ll discuss it as a club, come up with a plan. Ultimately it will be Shiv’s decision, but, like Jester said, you’ve helped us out and we owe you.”

She appreciated his honestly. Lila had never encountered Shiv, but she assumed he didn’t go around protecting people out of the goodness of his heart. This was an outlaw MC after all, and they weren’t known for their charitable works. Striker and Jester had both claimed the club owed her, but she’d done them only one favor. How much weight would that one act hold with the club?

“Hey, VP!” Jester’s thundering voice rang out from between the doors he’d disappeared through a few moments before.

“Yeah?” He turned his head toward Jester.

“Shiv wants to talk to the Doc.” Jester’s large body filled doorway as he held the doors open, waiting for them.

Striker stood, and reached a hand out for Lila. She hesitated for a second before she took his hand and allowed him to draw her to her feet. Her stomach fluttered with nerves, and her heart pounded in her chest. Striker’s hand came to rest on her lower back, right on the bare skin where her shirt left off. Goosebumps ran up her spine when his fingers slid across her sensitive skin, making her anxious for an entirely different reason.

“Cold?”

“No.”

A slow, smug smile spread across his face, and he winked at her. It was obvious he could tell he was getting to her. She wasn’t very adept at hiding her feelings, and hadn’t been this attracted to a man probably ever, so she didn’t have the skills or experience to fool him.

As a unit, they moved toward the doors, and Lila forced herself to breath in and out and not give into the nerves threatening to overtake her. When they reached the doorway, Striker slid his hand around her waist and gave her a gentle squeeze. She appreciated the silent gesture of support.

“Wait here for one second, babe.”

Striker and Jester disappeared behind the heavy wooden doors while Lila took a few cleansing breaths to calm her nerves. After a moment, Striker reopened the door, and waved her in. As she passed through the doorway his hand once again found her, this time resting on the back of her neck, a move she found to be surprisingly protective. The door closed behind them with a thud, the sound causing her already on-edge nerves to jump.

A large, square, industrial steel table filled the majority of the room. It was eclectic and looked like a handmade work of art. Shiv was perched on the edge of a chair at the head of the table that had about ten other chairs around it; maybe another ten were around the edge of the room.

A jagged scar ran from the corner of Shiv’s mouth, straight across to his ear and made him an intimidating presence. Lila knew exactly what was required to leave a scar of that magnitude.
 

She took a moment to study him, guessing his age to be somewhere around forty-five to fifty. His deep-chocolate-colored hair hung well past his shoulders and a long dark beard adorned his face. Two narrowed eyes, which were nearly the same color as his hair, pierced her with a look she couldn’t decipher. In his hand, a thick cigar emitted a pungent aroma, while a swirling pattern of smoke drifted up into the air.

Lila’s eyes darted around, noticing there were about ten other club members in the room, some at the table and others scattered in the chairs around the perimeter. She swung her gaze back to Shiv, and held still while he took the time to visually inspect her as well. All of a sudden, she felt like a small rabbit being hunted by a ruthless predator, and was grateful for the measure of support Striker’s hand on her neck provided.

Shiv must have noticed that hand as well because he slowly raised one eyebrow at Striker. As though he had all the time in the world, he placed the cigar between his lips, and slowly puffed. A plume of smoke filled the space between them, swirling up toward the ceiling. “Everybody out. I’d like to speak to the good doctor alone.”

Lila stiffened. Be alone with this fearsome outlaw? As his men shuffled out, a few that she’d encountered in the emergency room acknowledged her, while others stared her down. Striker was the last to exit, and he gave her neck a light squeeze before he departed the room. The instant his hand left her body, she became fully aware of being alone with Shiv, and felt exceedingly vulnerable.

She swallowed down her apprehension, and maintained eye contact with Shiv. It didn’t matter if she was quaking on the inside. She’d put on a good show and hide her fear.

“Doc, I’ve heard good things about you from some of my men you’ve patched up. They tell me you’re discrete, thorough, and don’t ask too many questions. Combine that with your nice ass and rack, and my boys just may start falling down the stairs on purpose.”

This was all part of a game she needed to win. It was obvious he goaded her with that last comment for one reason: to see how she would react. Would she storm out in outrage and offense? Would she get teary with embarrassment? Luckily she found his comment amusing, and huffed out a laugh, deciding to go with sass. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

He laughed and seemed to warm to her just a bit. “Seriously though, I appreciate your willingness to help the prospect last week. I know the circumstances were unusual, but Striker told me you were impressive, and handled yourself quite well with this rough crowd. Jester was just filling me in on the texts you received as well as what happened with the car this morning. It seems as though we landed you right in the middle of a shit storm, and may need to extend you some protection.”