Impulsive (The Houston Defiance MC Series Book 4) Read online

  Rage grins, pulling me to him. As I return my helmet back on the counter, he wraps his arms around my waist, digging his fingers into the cheeks of my ass while staring into my eyes. My hands loop around his neck, my stomach clenching nervously. Everything inside me is yelling “flee” in any possible way. Yet, I play the part, because right now, as much as I don’t want to admit it, I need Rage, or at least what he can provide for me.

  “I’m proud of you.”

  My eyes widen as I let out a small, shocked gasp.

  Did he actually say something nice?

  “Thanks…” The word comes out hesitantly as he leans in pressing his lips to mine. Rough. Hard. Dominating. If there’s one thing about Rage, it’s that he’s always in control.

  Well, in a matter of hours, I’m going to change the narrative. I am going to pull the rug out from under him. He has no idea what hell I have in store for this club. Like a thief in the night, he won’t know what’s going to hit him until it’s all gone, and I’m going to be the one person he never, ever thought would betray him.

  And I’m going to do it with an absolute failsafe in place, so he can never come after my family or me.

  You’ll get what’s coming to you, Rage.

  And it’ll be so fucking sweet!

  NEON

  Four Years Later

  Houston Defiance is running smoothly. With the birth of the VP’s daughter, Sephy, last month, everyone is on a high. Not to mention the fact we just won a fucking epic battle against the Slavers, the Baron, and Damir with his Triglav Clan, who teamed up together to try and bring us down. But with a little help from some unexpected allies, we were able to come out on top.

  Thank fuck.

  Now in celebration, the club is finally coming out as a family and spending the day together. Cherry, the pres’ Old Lady, has been wanting to come watch our Road Captain, Slick, in action here at the Houston Motorsport Park. When he’s not at the club, he’s the crew chief for Dan Ferguson, Top Fuel Drag Racer. Dan’s a part of our brotherhood too. He may not come to the club that often, it’s not good for him to be seen at the clubhouse—for his sponsorship deals and such—but he’s one of us. Hell, he lets Slick do deals from the back of his trailer if we need him to. Dan’s a good guy, a damn good racer, a little egotistical sometimes, but all around he has his head screwed on right.

  So, as a club, including baby Sephy, who’s strapped to Wraith in a baby carrier with earmuffs on, we make our way inside the park and over to Dan’s trailer. Slick’s head is deep in a supercharger, completely lost in grease and oil. He has no idea we’re all approaching, so I try to gain his attention. “Oi, fucker!”

  Slick lifts his head, his face lighting up as we approach. He wipes his hands on a rag then makes his way over to us.

  The crowd around us all staring at the mob of bikers making their presence known.

  “Hey, you made it!” Slick looks us all over, then widens his eyes at Wraith. “Oh, right. VP, we have a section set up in the trailer where you can hang out with Sephy if you want. We’re a little way back from the track, but the noise is still gonna carry, so make sure to keep those earmuffs on her, especially when the cars are on the track.”

  “Got it. I’m just gonna be chilling with my two princesses while you fuckers have a good time,” Wraith replies.

  Prinie leans in caressing Sephy’s cheek. “We’re gonna make our own fun, aren’t we?”

  “She can’t hear you, she has earmuffs on.” Koda chuckles.

  Prinie glares at her younger brother. “Just because you got accepted into college, doesn’t mean you need to act like a typical alumni asshole,” she quips.

  Koda smirks. “You’re gonna miss me when I’m gone.”

  Prinie sighs, a sadness behind her eyes. “Yeah… but still, don’t be a damn asshole!”

  Everyone laughs as Dan walks over, his red race suit tied around his waist with shock covering his face. “Well, shit! When you said the club was coming, Slick, I didn’t think you meant everyone.” He chuckles. “Damn good to see y’all again.”

  “Good to be here, Dan. Cherry’s been dying to come out and watch you race,” Zero offers while Cherry bounces up and down on her toes.

  “I really have. I can’t wait,” Cherry beams excitedly.

  “I’m glad you’re all here. Your support of my team means everything. Couldn’t run it without you.”

  “I have to get back to working on the car, get it ready for round one. Y’all make yourselves at home. Leave whatever shit you want here and do your thing,” Slick offers.

  “Go see Taylah for your VIP passes. They will get you anywhere you wanna go,” Dan instructs, signaling to one of his full-time ‘drag sluts.’

  “C’mon, girls, let’s go check out this place. Leave the guys to macho-out over the horsepower,” Cherry teases.

  The women race off, leaving us here with the car. Some move over to Dan’s Top Fuel to run over the engine with Slick as I stride up to Kevlar. “This has been a long time coming, hey?”

  “The club… coming to the track?” I nod. “Yeah, we’ve been needing this for ages. It’s fucking weird seeing Slick out of his cut and in a crew uniform, though,” Kevlar replies.

  “He’s so clean-cut. That shit’s freaking me out,” I jest.

  Kevlar bursts out laughing, gripping my shoulder. “So, crap with you and Zero seems to be going a lot smoother.”

  It really is.

  Zero and I grew up together and have been best friends ever since. As you can imagine, we’ve been through a lot of shit. He was to marry my sister, Anna, a few years back but she royally screwed that up by cheating on him the night before their wedding. Not only did it put an end to their relationship, but it also damn near ended mine and Zero’s too. It hasn’t been the same since. But with a lot of work, plus a little interference from Wraith and Cherry, Zero and I appear to be finally getting crap back on the track—figuratively, not literally.

  “Yeah, we’re are in a good place. I wish Anna would stop her incessant horseshit. During lockdown, she drove me the fuck crazy. Constant, meaningless phone calls about shit that doesn’t matter. She won’t leave me the fuck alone.”

  “Then maybe you should let her down gently instead of leading her on,” an angelic voice chimes from behind us.

  We turn and my heart leaps into my throat the second I see her...

  I made my way through the overcrowded food hall, trying to head back to the guys. It was a fucking hot night, and the races were about to start. It wasn’t every day the Houston Defiance came out to the track to watch Dan do his thing. But when we did, shit got rowdy. But right then, I was fucking hungry. So, I pushed my way through the crowd, with my hot dog and beer, to hurry back before the next round.

  It was a fucking epic night, the racers were on fire, but as my elbow rammed into some chick, she turned around and glared at me. Her white tank top held in her perfect breasts, but that’s not what caught my attention, it was the black and yellow racing suit tied around her waist.

  She scoffed at me as her food fell to the ground with the connection of our bodies, then she huffed, throwing her hands in the air. “That was my pre-race meal, man.”

  I glanced down at my uneaten hot dog, my stomach growling in regret as I handed it over to her. Her eyes lit up as she took it from me. As my fingers slid along hers, an icy jolt shot straight through me, and I swallowed hard as her eyes bore into mine. “Can’t have you racing without sustenance now, can we?”

  She smiled, and I swear the whole place lit up like a fucking Christmas tree.

  “Thank you… the lines for food at this place are huge. So, I really do appreciate this.”

  “Not a problem. You gotta win the race for me now, don’t ya?”

  She chuckled, tilting her head. “Lather on the pressure there, why don’t you?”

  “Gotta keep you on your A-game and all that.”

  She grinned at me, and I swear my cock jerked in my jeans. This woman did somethin
g to me.

  “Well, biker boy, I know how to ride, and fuck do I ride quick and dirty. Thanks for the food.” She held it in the air. “I’ll catch ya ’round the track sometime.”

  I was officially hard.

  Holding my beer in my hand, I stared at her ass as she walked away, munching down on the hot dog I gave her. I had no clue who she was or what she raced, but I had this feeling in the pit of my stomach that it wouldn’t be the last time I saw her.

  Now, here she is…

  … all this time later.

  She’s woman—all woman—standing before me. Still gorgeous, with olive skin and dark hair with copper highlights pulled back into a messy ponytail. Her eyes are large and dark, alluring with thick curved lashes. Her body is thin, but with enough shape a man could hold on to fucking easily.

  This woman is stunning!

  She has an air about her, one that’s screaming danger and chaos. It swarms around her like a typhoon ready to wipe out everything in her wake. She’s a disaster, a beautiful disaster, and I, for one, am captivated by the frenzy of her tempest.

  Her perfect and full breasts have the slightest pebbling of taut nipples beneath a white tank top. The same black leather race suit with yellow piping is tied around her waist—a heavy scowl formed on her beautiful face only adds to her attraction in my opinion.

  Then it sinks in just what she actually said to me. I curl up my lip in disgust. “I’m talking about my sister.”

  “Then you’re even more of a fucked-up asshole if you’re leading your sister on. Who are you? Jaime Lannister?”

  I narrow my eyes on her associating me with Game of Thrones. “You’re mocking me…”

  A dimple dips in her left cheek, causing her eyes to sparkle in mischief. The way her lips curve up in a playful way makes her not only so fucking gorgeous, my cock jerks, but there’s something about her. Something that’s not only illuminating but also hidden behind a veil of mystery.

  “How could you tell? Was it the sarcasm giving it away?”

  Slick steps over, breaking the reunion between us. “I see you’ve met our rebellious, speaks her mind, racer, Oakley. This is Neon. Neon, Oakley.”

  So, she has a name?

  I put out my hand to Oakley. The second her delicate hand slides into mine, a blast of ice shoots all the way up my arm, slamming straight into my chest, sending a shiver down my spine. What in the fuck was that! I inhale sharply, my eyes catching hers as I stare into Oakley’s brown eyes. Flecks of gold sparkle in her orbs mischievously. The woman doesn’t shift her gaze from mine—it’s like we’ve entered a staring competition and the first one to look away loses.

  This Oakley, whoever the fuck she is, is a damn mystery.

  One I want to spend hours unwrapping and getting to know, in very fine detail.

  “Neon, huh?”

  “Oakley, hey?”

  She chuckles, finally breaking her gaze away from me. “Bikers, hmm… not the most reliable of people.”

  “Maybe you’re dealing with the wrong bikers,” I mock.

  Oakley winces, taking in a long breath.

  Suddenly, someone barrels through the crowd pushing spectators out of their way.

  “Oakley! I told you we’d find you.”

  “Shit!” she grunts. Standing tall, she drops her hand from mine. The cold chill I was becoming attached to dissipates as we all turn to members of the Heathens of Hatred MC approaching. The brothers from Dallas are a longstanding rival of Houston Defiance. Now, there’s three of their fuckers headed our way.

  Kevlar and I don’t hesitate, pulling out our guns, ready for a fight. If these fuckers are here to cause trouble, then trouble they will get!

  Oakley raises her hands to placate the other MC with a grimace. “Fuck… my past has just caught up with me…” she mumbles under her breath.

  Raising my gun, the crowd around us gasps, one woman even screams as the Heathens rampage toward us. “Kevlar, we’re outnumbered!” I murmur.

  He glances over his shoulder to my other brothers who haven’t noticed the incoming. “Pres!” Kevlar calls out. But we don’t have time to check if he’s heard us because these fuckers are on us.

  “Defiance! I should have known Oakley was shacking up with another club!” Rage, their president grunts, while tilting his Glock at me menacingly. He pulls back on the slide, loading his bullet into place, taking the confrontation up a notch.

  I flick off my safety as Oakley steps in front of Rage’s gun, putting herself right in the face of danger.

  “Rage, stop! We don’t need a scene here—”

  “Because all you worry about is your precious sponsors, right, Oakley? They’re all that matter?” Rage aims the gun right at her head as the spectators now appear more afraid as most of them scatter, fleeing. But a couple of stragglers stay, seeming more camera happy, pulling out their cells and start taking, of all things, selfies with the big bad bikers in the background.

  Zero walks over, along with Ax, Texas, and Chains with guns drawn as the two clubs face off. “We got a problem here, Rage?”

  Rage lets out an arrogant laugh. “A problem, Zero? We have a huge fucking problem. Oakley here stole from us, then tried to blackmail us. This bitch held it over us for four goddamn years. Well, not anymore. Now… right now, she needs to pay. I don’t need you and your fucking disciples coming in ruining my vengeance.”

  I aim my gun higher at Rage, the need to protect Oakley is strong, even though I know nothing about her. “I don’t care what she did to you, Rage, you’re a Heathen. Fuck, you’re their president! And whatever she did, I know you fucking deserved it.” I grunt.

  Finch, his VP, steps forward as a swarm of security, plus a couple of cops that I recognize from Kevlar’s old division start approaching.

  Zero groans. “Weapons down, boys. We’ve had one too many issues with the heat lately.”

  Hesitantly, I lower my weapon, stowing it in the back of my jeans. But the Heathens keep theirs up. “Now your hold over us is gone, Oakley, I’m not letting this go. We’re going to get what’s ours, and you’re gonna get what’s yours.”

  “Drop your weapons or we’ll take you in,” one of the cops calls out to the Heathens, his eyes shift to Kevlar, obviously hoping for his old lieutenant to tame the situation.

  Rage scoffs in their faces. “You reckon we won’t shoot a cop? We’re only leaving because this isn’t the place for this showdown. We want to let everyone know that Nicolette Oakley isn’t such a clean-cut little angel like everyone thinks she is…” Rage turns to a spectator who is clearly videoing on his cell, “… you get all of that?”

  The man widens his eyes like he’s about to shit himself, but nods.

  “Good. Now send it on to the Sports Network, so they can show everyone what a piece of shit Oakley and her family are. If you don’t, I will come after you and your family, you hear me?”

  “Y-yes, sir.”

  Rage curls his lip. “I’m not your sir, call me Rage. I’m the president of the Dallas Heathens of Hatred… and I’m gonna make sure everyone knows what a fucking cunt Nicolette Oakley is.” He turns, sending a whistle through the air, his VP and SAA follow him, leaving a hurricane swirling in their wake.

  The cops and security guards step up to Oakley commanding authority. “You want to do anything about that?” a cop asks.

  Oakley shakes her head adamantly. She’s panting like she’s having trouble holding herself together.

  “Thanks, but we’ve got it from here, officers,” I tell them.

  “Hmm… I bet you do. We don’t need any shit happening here today. Only because Liam is here with you and we trust him, are you guys getting this free pass… you understand me?”

  “I hear you,” I reply, my eyes shifting to Kevlar.

  Since Kevlar and his cop buddies teamed up to help find his kids when they went missing, Defiance and the Houston PD have been on more amicable terms.

  The cop and the rest of his team, followed by security, tu
rn and walk away, following Rage and his merry men of morons.

  I spin, reaching for Oakley.

  Zero marches over to the guy who was doing the filming, probably to offer him protection in exchange for not sending the footage, knowing him.

  “Oakley… look at me,” I tell her as she tries to control herself.

  “How? It was foolproof… a damn failsafe. I had everything worked out. Why is he choosing now to risk everything?”

  I scrunch my brows not understanding what the hell she’s talking about. “Without understanding the facts, I can’t help you.”

  Oakley’s glistening eyes meet mine, complete and utter fear ravaging her body. “If he’s not worried about what I have anymore, then… no one can help me.”

  Zero steps up, handing over a cell. “This is that guy’s phone with the recording. I thought you’d like to delete it yourself. Other than this guy, there is no one else around who could be a problem for you. They were too far away to pick up any audio.”

  Oakley’s eyes flash to Zero in total shock. “I… I don’t understand?”

  “He’s willing to delete the video in exchange for protection from the Heathens. He’s living a shitty life and wants safe passage out of Houston. I agreed to give him that if he let you delete the video. He’s vowed not to tell anyone about what happened here in the pits.”

  She inhales, taking the cell, quickly erasing the video, then slams it to the ground, stomping on it.

  “Hey!” the guy yells out, but Texas holds him back.

  I smirk. Being the tech guy for the club, I would have done the exact same thing. “That was smart.”

  “Being in the spotlight, you learn a thing or two. People love taking footage of you. I learned a while ago about how even if it’s deleted, it can still be retrieved. I’m not a Hollywood A-lister or anything, but people look up to me. I am supposed to be a role model for young women out there. I need to be squeaky clean to keep my position in this business.”

  “So, what the hell got you involved with the Heathens in the first place?” I ask.

  Oakley peers over her shoulder making doubly sure they’re gone. “A drunken mistake, which turned into an opportunity of greed.”