Smart Baztard (Baztards MC Book 1) Page 9

  He'd seen it when she was an adolescent and they played checkers. She'd distract him and, with the next move, she'd slide her way across the board, looking up at him with that same expression of gotcha on her ruddy cheeks.

  He'd seen it too when she was a teen and it was trivia night. He'd always get the historical and scientific questions, where he could never best her at pop culture facts. She'd chuckle as he struggled to pick out a Kardashian from a Hilton.

  All those faces of Gabby's coalesced into one. The one lying beneath him. He'd loved each and every one of those faces. The love had grown and increased and evolved over the years until this moment. In this moment when the woman who looked up at him with the same twinkle in her eyes could actually be his.

  She was in his arms where she always preferred to be. And he was wrapped around her finger, like he'd always found himself. It was inevitable that he ended up here. Her grin told him that she'd known he'd be there once he removed his fingers from his face. That chuckle that escaped her lush lips told him he had been distracted once again as she made her moves across the seemingly simple game board. That twinkle in her eyes told him his struggle was pointless. She'd won.

  Well, Prince had never gone down without a fight. And that wouldn't happen here. He still had one hand to play. Two in fact.

  His hands covered her breasts. Her grinning mouth fell open in a loud gasp. Prince massaged the undersides of her mounds, dancing around the nipples until she was writhing beneath him.

  "Please," she begged.

  And just like that, she'd taken the upper hand from him. He knelt his head down and took one of those sweet morsels into his mouth.

  Gabby jackknifed her lower body up to meet his. Her warm core met with his hard length. Prince was aroused and hard as a rock. Urgency coursed through him, pulling blood from his head and redirecting it to his cock. But along with the arousal and the urgency, there was a sense of peace.

  The tension that had been ever present in his shoulders melted away under Gabby's trembling fingers as she gripped his shoulder blades. The ache in his low back dissipated as her ankles locked in place at his tailbone. The constant pressure in his head cleared as he rested his forehead against her heart while he continued to suckle her beaded nipple into his mouth.

  "Please," she begged again.

  Prince released the breast he still toyed with in his other hand. He trailed his fingers down her firm belly, over her gyrating hips, and underneath the band of her damp panties. When he found that pearl he'd been dreaming about for the past three years, he matched the touch of his thumb to the swirl of his tongue.

  It didn't take much before Gabby was writhing. Her body pulsed in a deep climax from her shivering chest, through her clenching belly, down to her core which was trying to suck his thumb deep inside its grasping depths.

  Prince was ready to acquiesce those demands. All the blood rushed to his cock which demanded attention after so many years of going without a warm, wet sheath. Now that it was within reach of the only core it wanted to nestle into, he couldn't deny it.

  Prince released her nipple from his mouth. He pulled his hand from her panties. He straightened and reached for his belt buckle. As he began fighting with his zipper, the door to the pool house rattled.

  Feminine laughter preceded a blonde head in a prim skirt. Her long legs backed in across the doorstep, followed by a massive body. The bear of a man had his focus on the petite woman in his grasp. His large body backed her into his cave, but on second glance it was clear that the little blonde was guiding the big, bad bear by his loins.

  "Fuck," groaned Prince.

  The bear of a man glanced up and his eyes caught Prince's. He pulled the blonde into the protection of his big arms and took in the situation. Prince had his pants unbuckled, and a woman's legs locked at his back.

  A chuckle escaped the large man framing the door. "Oh, sorry man."

  "Hawk?" Gabby sat up, her chest uncovered, her hair tousled.

  Hawk's face transformed from apologetic humor to horror-stricken. "Gabby."

  Brother and sister turned their faces away from each other. Gabby collapsed back down to the couch to cover her chest. Hawk turned his back and yelped like a little girl, covering his eyes.

  Ellie, his girlfriend, looked between the three of them as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened. "Hey, Gabby. I didn't know you were home."

  Prince hopped up off Gabby and away from the couch. He gave Ellie his back as he re-buckled his pants.

  "You don't have to stop on our account," said Ellie. "We'll just go for a dip in the pool."

  "Prince," said Gabby, sitting up on the couch. Her breasts were still bare, but she didn't try to cover herself now that her brother had left the room.

  "I'm sorry," said Ellie. "You guys probably want your privacy. I keep forgetting that not everyone is open about their sex lives."

  "It's fine," said Prince. "You stay. I need to have a word with Hawk."

  "Prince," Gabby said again. When he didn't answer she said his name again. This time with a tremor in her voice that dug nails into his heart. "Don't leave."

  He couldn't look at her. He wasn't sure if it was the shame of what he'd just done to her, what he said he would never do again to her. Or because he wanted to shove the shame, and Ellie, out the door and pick up where he'd left off.

  "I just need some air," he said, hurrying out the door.

  He heard Gabby exhale on a sob, but he didn't turn back around. He shut the door behind him with a quiet snick. Then he looked around for her brother.

  Hawk paced the length of the pool, shaking his head and rubbing his eyes. When he saw Prince approach, he turned a murderous gaze on him. Prince felt arrested by Hawk's eyes. He never realized how similar the siblings' eyes were until this moment. But Gabby's were darkened with passion, Hawk's with anger.

  "It's not what it looked like," said Prince, holding up his hands in front of his chest. He realized the last time he'd done that, Gabby's breasts had ended up in each of his palms. He put his hands down. "I mean it's not what you think. Gabby and I…"

  After a moment's silence, Prince heard chuckling. Hawk still rubbed his eyes, but his shoulders shook along with the movement. His eyes changed from anger to glee. The big male doubled over in his laughter.

  "She finally got you," Hawk said between his bouts of chortling.

  Prince stiffened. His posture went rigid, the tension resettled in his shoulders, the ache in his back. He ran a hand over his face as he watched Hawk try to catch his breath.

  "Fuck, man," said Hawk as he straightened. "I had after she graduated in the pool."

  "The what?" asked Prince.

  "You know, the pool. On when she'd finally have her way with you."

  "Had her way with me?"

  Hawk approached him, turning serious. "You think you can keep this quiet for a couple more months? Until she graduates? It's a pretty big pool."

  Prince moved his mouth, but words eluded him. There was a pool as to when he and Gabby would get together?

  Hawk clapped him on the back and Prince stumbled. "What am I thinking?" Hawk said. "It's Gabby we're talking about. There's no keeping this secret, she's going to tell everybody. In fact, I bet she and my mom will be planning your wedding in the morning."

  Prince backed away, barely missing the edge of the pool. "It's not like that."

  Hawk cocked his head to the side in a birdlike fashion akin to his namesake. His good-humored grin shifted to a menacing glare. "It's not like what?"

  "I mean… I… she… we…"

  Hawk took a menacing step toward Prince. Prince was older, but Hawk had a good twenty pounds on him. He also had righteous indignation on his side, whereas Prince's mind was addled by conflicting emotions of Hawk's baby sister.

  "Are you playing around with my sister?" Hawk's tone was full danger.

  "No," Prince threw up his hands. "I … I …"

  "Yeah, that's what I thought." Hawk started laughing
again, his face once again friendly. "She said she was going to marry you when she was five. And you know my baby sister; she always gets her way."

  Prince tried to talk, but suddenly the air seemed thin. He doubled over, hyperventilating.

  "Yeah," Hawk rubbed him roughly on the back, like he was trying to help him pass a burp. "I'll see you at the wedding. Tell Chief I'm planning the bachelor party."

  Prince straightened and looked at the sky. He gulped down a few lungfuls of air. Then he turned and headed for the gate.

  "You can run," Hawk called out to him, "but you can't hide."

  Laughter followed Prince out the gate. He went into his parents' garage. He pulled his helmet on, grabbed his motorcycle jacket, and hopped on his bike. He tapped his foot impatiently as the garage door took its time rising. He kept looking over his shoulder, certain someone was on his heels. But no petite brunette came after him. So, he took off into the night.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Prince pushed the bike. Beyond the speed limit. Beyond the city limit.

  He raced down a two-lane road out in the middle of nowhere. But the curves of the road made him think of Gabby.

  He turned off the road and found a street that took him on a straight path, but the path he chose guided him back toward the city. Back toward her. He turned left.

  Behind him, he heard motors closing in. Despite being angry with Chief the growl of motorcycle engines was a welcome sound. Gabby was right about one thing. Prince was a pack animal. He'd been too long without his pack. A ride with Chief and Sully sounded like just the thing to help him figure out his next move.

  A glance in his rearview mirror showed five bikers. He didn't recognize a single one of the bikes. He did recognize the symbol blazing bright on the front of each bike. It was the same from the Henchman's race car.

  At the speeds they all were traveling, it could be dangerous to allow them to think this was a game of chase. But neither was he fool enough to stop out in the middle of nowhere. Prince traveled another mile and then pulled over into the parking lot of a popular bar.

  He dismounted. Pulling off his helmet, he leaned against his bike as the other men pulled into the lot in an impressive formation. The leader dismounted and took off his helmet. Prince saw the pale blond hair of Roman Voigt emerge from the dark helmet. His brain took over any trepidation that may have risen in his chest. Whether Roman knew it or not, Prince was finally going to have that interview.

  "You lost, boy?" asked Roman.

  Confronting hate, bigotry, and racism as part of his daily job hadn't inured Prince to when the vile behavior was directed at him. But it did allow him to look forward at the long game. And so, instead of reacting to the slave era term of disrespect, Prince put on his most charming smile and aimed it at Roman. He wasn't going to shine a light in the man's eyes. Interrogation was about seduction.

  "I'm exactly where I need to be," said Prince. "You're Roman Voigt. I've been trying to get in contact with you."

  "Is that right?" Roman swaggered closer. The other four men at his heels.

  "My name's Yohaness—"

  "Your highness?" Roman cackled, looking over his shoulder for backup. The other men laughed on cue. "What? You think you're some African prince, like Shaka Zulu or Eddie Murphy?"

  "Agent Yohaness Obademi. I'm a special agent with the FBI."

  Roman's face fell. Behind him, his crew looked uncertain. "Am I under arrest?"

  "Should you be? Did you do something illegal?" Prince continued with his friendly smile, even though his stomach turned. He kept his voice even, and his posture relaxed.

  "I'm looking into the …accident at the race track last week. I've already been to the track and looked at the police files," Prince continued.

  "I wasn't arrested," said Roman. "I paid my fine and I'm sitting out. It's all been taken care of."

  "Not all," Prince shook his head. "Mr. Trent isn't pressing any charges, even though he does have a case."

  Some of the tension released from Roman's shoulders at that tidbit of information. "Like I said, no charges have been brought against me."

  "It's a shame about your car. That was a custom body job with those symbols."

  Roman smirked, his pale eyes full of challenge. "The symbol is a swastika, and it's freedom of expression." The men behind him snickered.

  "I agree," Prince nodded. "It is freedom of expression. And the symbol is an ancient one. It's from my grandfather's people in the Congo, the Adinkra symbol for knowledge of self."

  Roman's face contorted. The men behind him stopped snickering and their faces also turned to confusion. Perhaps they had assumed that using the sign they were putting a racial middle finger up at minorities and that was within their legal right. If so, they were. Depending on what they believed that symbol meant.

  "Did you think it meant something else?" Prince asked innocently.

  Roman's eyes narrowed, his brows wrinkling as he tried to work out the trick. "That symbol celebrates the glory of the original race. It's not from some spear-chucking savages who didn't learn to read until we taught them."

  Prince held onto his smile. He focused on the information he was getting for his case, and not the personal attack that scratched his ears and his soul like chalk on a blackboard.

  "Man, fuck this uppity nigger," said one of the Henchmen. "Let's kick his ass."

  "You can try it," said Prince, his tone still friendly. If cold steel could be called friendly. "I'll even let you throw the first punch before I put my foot up your ass. Then I'll charge each and every one of you with assaulting a federal agent."

  The mouthy one looked uncertain, but he didn't back down. Prince turned his attention back to Roman. He almost had all the information he needed to prove motive and intent.

  "It looks like you have a problem with people of color, Mr. Voigt," said Prince.

  "Yeah," Roman agreed.

  "People of African descent?"

  "Should be put on ships and sent back."

  "People of Hispanic descent?"

  "Should have their wetbacks tossed into the ocean."

  "People of Asian descent?"

  "Should calculate how to get their yellow asses back to China."

  "That's some hateful ideology, Mr. Voigt."

  "Sieg Heil," said Roman. "Freedom of speech, Mr. Federal Agent, or do you not believe in the Constitution? You get to say black is beautiful, and nobody calls you racist."

  "Racist beliefs aren't a crime," said Prince. "Until you hurt someone with actions based on those racist beliefs. Then, as a member of law enforcement, it's my duty to step in and protect the citizens of this great country. So to answer your first question, yeah, boy, we do have a problem. You'll want to make some time to talk to me at the Justice Department about the race track incident."

  Roman's forehead wrinkled. "That case is closed."

  "The state case is. The federal case is still open. Did I mention I work for the Hate Crimes Division of the FBI? You just outlined your belief system and announced your affiliation with a known hate group."

  Roman ground his teeth. His fists clenched. Behind him, his boys appeared more anxious than cowed. It looked like this was about to go south and fast.

  And that's when the sound of more motorcycles made their presence known. Prince recognized the unmistakable growl of Chief's Harley. He'd modified the exhaust pipe again. Now his bike sounded like the roar of a lion.

  Chief and the Baztards pulled into the parking lot in a haphazard fashion that was disorderly, but the cacophony of growling engines made their point. The bikers dismounted. He recognized over half of them, but there were new faces in the bunch. Prince counted ten faces of men and women from the palest shades to the darkest hues.

  "What do we have here?" asked Chief as he swaggered up beside Prince. Those blue eyes were at the same time full of anger, mischief, and focus. Not a good sign for everyone present to walk away unscathed.

  "A problem that has been solved," said P
rince.

  "I think you may have made a miscalculation, brother." Chief smiled sadly. He shook his head and clapped his friend on the back. "I don't see any blood."

  Prince cursed under his breath as Chief swaggered up to Roman.

  "What's your name again?" asked Chief. "Roach, isn't it?"

  "You don't need to know my name, you leprechaun wigger."

  Prince stepped up to Chief's left shoulder, forever at his brother's back. Leprechaun, he knew the Scotsman would get a chuckle out of. Wigger, which stood for white nigger, he knew Chief would not find funny.

  But Chief didn't unleash his anger with a fist to Roman's chin. He narrowed his eyes and stayed focused. If Roman couldn't manage to distract Chief with an insult, it meant the man was truly fucked. Maybe not tonight, but sometime in the near future.

  "You know anything about a community center and spray paint?" Chief asked, his tone quiet and deadly serious. "Someone sprayed a hateful symbol and a nasty message for all the kids to see."

  "I think I heard of that," said Roman. "Your brother here just told me that symbol is some African shit that means know thyself. Sounds like a good message for the kids."

  Roman smiled smugly. He shrugged his shoulders and took a step away. Chief balled his fist at his side.

  Prince stepped up to Chief's shoulder and spoke quietly. "I need you to trust me. I've got this."

  Chief cracked his knuckles. He looked at Prince. Blue eyes met hazel and the trust that had existed between the two of them since the first time they took a schoolyard bully down together flared. Slowly, Chief released his fingers and then his breath.

  They both turned and watched the Henchman mount their bikes and take off down the road. A few of them raised their middle fingers and called out slurs as they rode off. Prince looked to the other Baztards assembled. There were a number of clenched fists, angry glares, and pursed lips. But they all heeded their President and didn't make a move.

  "Let's ride," Chief called. The man was a natural born leader. He had the charisma and charm to turn an opposing army. Luckily, he chose to use his powers for good — most of the time.