Bohannon (Bones MC 2)

Bohannon (Bones MC 2)
Marteeka Karland
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Marteeka Karland

Gage Bohannon swept the area for more of the unwelcomed club in Bones territory. The local club had gotten hit first, but Bones had finished all of them. By his reckoning, any club selling drugs in their territory deserved whatever they got. Bones was many things, but they weren’t drug dealers, pimps, or a distributor of firearms. They weren’t law-abiding citizens -- as evidenced by the slaughter tonight -- but they weren’t scum of the earth either.

“One alive in the truck,” Deadeye’s voice came through the earpiece connected to his radio. “Female. Her hands are still on the steering wheel, which is why I left her alive. There is a gun in the vehicle with her. Along with the hand holding it. Orders?”

“Hold. If she moves her hands or in any way attempts to get that gun, shoot her.”

“Copy.” He hated giving Deadeye an order to kill a woman, but he wasn’t compromising anyone’s safety. They’d started this. They’d finish it.

“Keep your hands on that fucking steering wheel,” he bit out. “Don’t fucking test me or the sniper on you will kill you before I ever give the order.” The girl whimpered and squeezed her eyes shut but otherwise didn’t move. “Are you armed?”

She took a deep breath, but didn’t let go of the wheel or open her eyes. “There’s a gun on the floor around my feet somewhere, but that’s it. And it wasn’t mine. I think the owner left his hand with the gun.”

“Good,” he said. “You told the truth about that weapon. Are there any others? Knives? Anything?”

“No, sir.” Her voice wavered in her fear. Again, that was good. She understood the danger she was in.

“What club do you represent? You don’t have colors of any kind. Are you a member? A chaser? An ole lady?” Bohannon had a funny feeling at the nape of his neck. A prickly sensation he knew never to ignore. He didn’t think there was danger or his brothers would have known it. It was the girl. Something about her…

“My brother owes Scars and Bars money for drugs. I’m here in his stead. My service for his life.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“I’m not with them in any way, nor do I want to be. I just want to get out of this alive so I can tell my brother to go to hell.” Fear was making her brave. It surprised Bohannon how much he liked that. It made him want to smile when the circumstances didn’t exactly call for it.

“Keep your hands on the wheel until I open the door. I want you to step out. Keep your hands up and open. Keep it slow. Do you understand?”

“I’m scared, not stupid,” she snapped, then immediately winced. “Sorry.”

Bohannon opened the door to the truck, his gun firmly aimed at her head. If she so much as twitched, he’d kill her himself, saving Deadeye the grief. The girl moved carefully, as he’d instructed. Deliberately. She knew she was in danger. Knew not to fuck with them. That knowledge would make life easier on all of them. The overhead light on the old Ford was long out so there wasn’t much of her features he could see.

She uncurled her fingers from the steering wheel slowly, keeping her hands open and at the same level. One leg slid out to place her foot on the ground. Then the other. All the while she never once looked at him. Fear was etched in every move she made. Sweat ran down her arms in streams as if she’d just stepped from a shower.

Once outside, she stood still, hands still in front of her, fingers splayed wide. Bohannon shut the door with a sharp shove of his hand.

“Turn around. Hands on the truck.”

She did as told, not hesitating in the least. Her willingness to comply with orders surprised Bohannon. Most mules were just as stubborn as their namesakes. This one seemed more resigned than anything else. She acted as if she had nothing to hide. Maybe she didn’t. Or, more likely, she hoped to use her wiles to get herself out of a jam.

As he carefully patted her down for weapons, Bohannon couldn’t help but notice her as a woman. She was slight in stature; barely over five feet and svelte of frame. He tried to be as non-personal as possible, but it was difficult when the swell of her breast was just above his palm as he checked her belly for weapons against her skin. His hands were big, and she was so tiny his palm nearly spanned her from side to side yet the curve of her ass was fleshy and rounded, made to tempt a man.

But he was Gage Bohannon. His club name had been Slayer before his brothers sought to mellow him after that stupid TV show became popular, calling him by his last name because the lead character’s name was the same. He might enjoy women, might be tempted to do wicked things with the forbidden female from time to time, but he was always in complete control of himself. Now was no exception. She was tempting, true enough. But he had a job to do.

Except his cock had other ideas. Bohannon swore to himself, easily envisioning grinding his hardening erection against that savory ass. He could tell she was affected by his nearness. Either she wasn’t adept at staying in control or, more likely, she thought to tempt him with sex. If she did, he’d oblige her. Then take her to his president anyway.

“What are you going to do with me?” Her voice shook, her fear obvious, yet she stayed put, not turning or looking over her shoulder.

“Take you back to our president. We’ll discuss the events of the evening then decide what to do next.” Not that he needed to give her an explanation.

“Will you kill me?”

“Only if Cain orders it.”

She whimpered, her body trembling beneath his touch. She was truly scared, not trying to garner his attention. She hadn’t offered herself. Hadn’t made an overt move of aggression or seduction. So what was her game?

“What can I do to stay alive?”

Bohannon thought about that. What could she do? “Depends on what Cain decides. If you’re looking to convince someone of your innocence, it will be him. I warn you, though, he never goes easy on clubs doing business in our territory without permission. Anything he does to you will be to send a message to Scars and Bars.”

“I don’t mean anything to them. If he wants leverage on Scars and Bars he won’t get it with me. I’m only here to protect my brother.”

“Your fate is in Cain’s hands,” he said. “Accept it. And whatever you do, tell the truth. If you lie, he’ll know. You won’t get a second chance.”

She turned to look at him then. Just a movement of her head, her long midnight hair falling over the other shoulder. When those intensely dark eyes met his, glittering like onyx in the moonlight, Bohannon nearly doubled over as a punch of lust hit him low and mean. He couldn’t see her clearly, but there was something disturbing and familiar about her.

“You have to understand, I have nothing to do with the club. My brother owes them drug money. They used me to pay his debt by hauling their… product here.”

Bohannon fought off his instinct, which was to comfort and protect her. If ever a female needed protection it was this one. Such a small woman in the middle of a biker war? She was doomed from the beginning. Ruthlessly, he took her wrists and zip-tied them behind her back. “Answer any question Cain asks you truthfully and completely. That’s the best advice I can give you.”

“And if he doesn’t ask me anything? If he’s already decided?” Her eyes swam with unshed tears. Her skin glistened with sweat.

“Then he already has the answers he needs. I’ll tell him you cooperated in every way with us, assuming you continue to do so. If he decides you need to die, I can promise you’ll never know it’s coming, and it will be a clean, quick death.”

A little sob escaped before she could press her lips together tightly. She ducked her head, breaking her entrancing stare, but not before she got under Bohannon’s skin. Why did he feel like he knew her? Lord knew he’d never forget a woman like her, so he couldn’t have met her.

Everyone called him Bohannon, but his jacket proclaimed him Slayer because, of all his biker brothers, he had the most kills. He was the enforcer of the club. If something needed doing, he was the one who did it. That way, if the police caught him, they could trace nothing back to anyone else in the club. He’d take full responsibility and shift blame away from his brothers. The name had fit him more than any other, so he thought. This girl, however tested his belief in his job. Could he kill her if Cain ordered it?

“Promise me that if Cain orders you to kill me, you’ll at least look into helping my brother.”

“Can’t do that.”

“His name is Markus Newton. He’s not a bad man, just… self-absorbed.”

Bohannon lost his breath. Before he could stop himself, he snatched a penlight from his utility belt and shone it in the girl’s face. Markus Newton! A name from his past. Now here was a woman from his past. It had to be. But Markus was more than ten years this girl’s senior! Her older brother! That son of a bitch should be protecting her, not the other way around.

“Luna?” Her head snapped up, eyes squinting at the bright light. “Son of a bitch.” She tried to see past the light but, of course, she couldn’t. “Luna Martin?”