Pierce's Claim Read online

  Not only did he have a thing, an addiction, for getting piercings, but he also liked getting ink. Pierce liked having the color and art covering his body, letting the pain and pleasure that the needle gave him when he was in a session wash through him. He didn’t see himself as a masochist because he like the sting that the needle gave him. It was just something that always relaxed him, always let his stress and worries fade while he was getting a new piece put on his body.

  “Just a few more minutes on the shadowing and you’re good, bro,” Harley said.

  Pierce kept in the zone, let his mind, his body, be encompassed by what was happening, and thought about Fallina. He couldn’t help it. It seemed she was always on his mind, and he knew that shit would get him killed. But Fallina had something deeper going on with her. He could see it, could look into her eyes, like he had last night, and see she was struggling with some shit. He probably knew what it was, knew that back in the day when she was a teenager, she and Violet, Cain’s old lady, had some serious shit going on with them.

  But he wouldn’t bring that up with her, the molestation and near rape he knew had happened. And when Cain had found out and nearly killed the guy because of it, right in front of his daughter and Violet, it had landed him in prison for nearly a decade.

  Of course all of this had been told to him right before Cain had gotten out and when he’d been a patched-in member. Before that, as a prospect, Pierce hadn’t been privy to club happenings, and that included what the fuck had happened with a member.

  But things were different now. He was a full member, had his cut and patch to prove it, had the loyalty of the club. Pierce would die for this MC and the brothers within it to prove that.

  Another ten minutes and Harley was shutting down the tattoo gun and setting the supplies aside. After he cleaned off Pierce’s neck and upper chest he pointed to the mirror hanging on the wall.

  “Check it out, man.”

  Pierce stood, walked over to the mirror, and stared at his reflection. He was shirtless, obviously, but the man that stared back at him was almost a stranger. His arms from wrists to shoulders were completely covered in tattoos. His chest and abdomen, and even his back, were covered as well. He’d started when he was eighteen, and hadn’t stopped. Now that he was in his thirties he was running out of open skin to ink up, but he felt good in this skin, like this was who he really was. He liked looking at the art on his body, at the piercings he sported. They made him who he was.

  His newest ink was on the top of his chest, right under his collarbones, and snaked up to his neck, stopping right below his ear on one side. It was a fierce looking skull, flames snaking through its open eye sockets and gaping mouth. The skull had fangs, wicked looking ones, and the flames trekked down to his chest, intertwining with all of his other tattoos.

  Harley was a master at the art, knew the right amount of work, shadowing, and detail to do to make the pieces appear as if they were real and would jump off his body. This new piece was no exception.

  “It’s fucking wicked, Harley. You outdid yourself once again.”

  Harley was packing up his supplies, but grinned. “Pleased you’re into it, man.” He grabbed his bag and walked up to Pierce. “You know the drill,” Harley said obviously referring to the aftercare.

  Pierce nodded, and Harley covered the new ink with ointment and a bandage. “Hit me up when you want another one done, or something else pierced.”

  Pierce chuckled. “You know you’re the only guy I let touch my body.”

  Harley punched him in the arm, but was shaking his head and grinning. “You’re fucked,” he said again, chuckling as he turned and left the clubhouse.

  Pierce didn’t waste any more time. He turned and stalked toward the meeting room, knowing that the club needed to figure out what in the hell they were going to do about M and the favor he wanted.

  Just a few weeks ago Tuck had made a deal, behind the MC’s back, with a lowlife piece of shit named M. M not only ran drugs in a neighboring town, pimped out pussy, and was just an overall scum motherfucker in the world, he had called up on that favor that Tuck offered in desperation.

  Tuck could have gotten his ass kicked out of the MC, hell, even had his ink blacked out or been taken out permanently, but the brother had been an integral part of all of this from the beginning, and instead he’d done a Straight, a Brothers MC ritual that had the offender making things right, making things good with the club. That’s what Tuck had done, had gotten the shit beat out of him by each brother to make right what he’d done.

  But they now had to deal with the aftereffects of Tuck going to M in the first place, and the fact M had called in the favor: to be the muscle and extra transportation for M and his guys when their whore mules came over the border and passed through River Run. Yeah, fucking M and his dealings in flesh. The fact that prick stuffed those young, probably barely legal-aged girls with drugs, having them swallow balloons filled with cocaine and heroin, made Pierce’s gut clench in disgust.

  But when they’d first received the call, or more aptly Tuck had gotten the call, the club had tried to figure out what in the hell they were going to do to stop this. They couldn’t be part of this, couldn’t help smuggle in girls filled with drugs for that piece of shit. They didn’t deal in flesh like that, and M had taken advantage of the situation where Tuck was concerned.

  Pierce scrubbed a hand over his face, trying to focus on the important matter at hand, but even with all that going on with the club he couldn’t help but think about Fallina.

  He walked into the meeting room, seeing the guys around the table, ready to get to business, to figure out what to do. They’d talked about how to handle this, but they hadn’t come up with a solution that would take out M in the process, and that was something they’d have to consider. If they didn’t and the club didn’t do this favor M thought he was due, then he’d just come back and offer retaliation. The MC couldn’t have that, couldn’t risk the club or the old ladies.

  Then he saw Cain when Malice and Ruin moved out of the way. The Brother was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed, this pissed expression on his face. He could see the man that had taken out the threat to his daughter and Violet, knew he would kill anyone that thought to lay a hand on Fallina. But fuck, Pierce still couldn’t stay away from her even knowing that.

  Cain was a bad motherfucker, didn’t care about ending a life if it meant making things right with his family, and if things moved forward with Fallina, which Pierce wanted pretty badly, he’d have to figure out how to tell Cain without the man going ape-shit crazy on him and asking questions later.

  “Come on, let’s get this fucking thing started. I want to get home.”

  Pierce heard the underlying meaning to that. Lucien wanted to see Callie, but didn’t want to say it because that was his business, and no one, Brother or not, needed to know personal shit like that. Maybe he also didn’t say anything because Callie was Kink’s daughter. Although Kink was good now with his daughter being with the president of their club, no father would be good with hearing about that shit, surely. If Pierce ever had any kids—which was a scary thought anyway—he knew, President of the club or not, he’s go ballistic if things had gone down the way they had with Lucien and Kink.

  Everyone took a seat, and Pierce couldn’t help but look over at Cain. The brother was sitting on the far end, his focus on Lucien, but as if he felt Pierce’s stare he turned his head and made eye contact. For a second it was as if all hell had frozen over. The icy gaze and aura that always seemed to cover Cain like a fucking second skin was in place, and all Pierce could think about at that moment was how he could just blurt out that he’d fucking claim Fallina as his no matter what.

  Yeah, he could see how that would play out real good. It brought back memories of Kink and Lucien getting into it in the clubhouse when Kink had walked in on Lucien kissing Callie. That had been one hell of a scene.

  But that was in the past. Things had been smoothed out between them, and Pierce had seen a difference in Lucien. When he was with Callie he was gentler, softer with her, but only her. He was still this hardcore biker, still beat a motherfucker’s ass if the time came, and could still be this overbearing pain in the ass. But it was the same as with all the Brothers and their old ladies. They were different … happy.

  Pierce wanted that, and as strange as it was he hadn’t realized that until he’d seen Fallina and spoken with her last night. It was crazy shit, but real nonetheless.

  “What’s up, Brother?” Cain asked, leaned back in his seat, and braced an arm over his chair. He looked at Pierce, probably wondering why in the hell he was staring.

  “Nothing, man,” Pierce replied and feigned ignorance.

  Cain tipped his chin toward Pierce. “Another one?”

  Pierce nodded, feeling like Cain knew what was going on, even though it wasn’t possible. Pierce had a guilty conscience for sure, but there was no denying that Pierce wouldn’t back off, even if Cain was watching him like a hawk about to swoop down and snatch him up, crushing his body. Cain was perceptive, had lived a life for years that ensured he had to catch details, not let anything get by him. Maybe Cain saw something in Pierce, sensed something was going on?

  Or maybe you’re just losing your mind.

  “Yeah, figured it was time to get another one,” Pierce said in reference to his tat.

  Cain nodded, but before either of them could speak Lucien started talking.

  “I’ve been in contact with Jagger, and the Grizzly MC is willing to be backup if we need it, but I’d prefer to try and handle this on our own. If we get them involved then they are compromised as well,” Lucien said, looking at each of them in the eye.

  There was a murmur of agreement.

  “But once we formulate the plan, which we need to do pretty fucking quickly as M’s shipment is coming in and he’ll want us to pay up, the club will go on lockdown.” Lucien clenched his jaw, his anger clear. “We bring all of our family here, under the protection of the club, and take care of this shit.”

  Pierce couldn’t agree more. He didn’t want anyone associated with the club hurt in the crossfire, because when he thought of that he thought about Fallina. If she was hurt because of all of this Pierce would snap, just fucking go off the rails and take out whoever stood in his way.

  Chapter Four

  “Any questions?” Fallina addressed her class, looked at all the squirming little third graders, anxious to go to lunch and recess, and couldn’t help but smile. She loved teaching, loved that their little arms shot up when she asked a question, the students ready, excited to answer, like they were little sponges about to absorb the knowledge.

  “No, Miss Trainer,” the class said in unison.

  “Okay then, you can go on to lunch, class.”

  And then they shot out of their seats, grabbed their lunchboxes, and filed out of the classroom and to the cafeteria.

  Fallina sat in her seat, papers strewn around her desk, and she didn’t even know where to start with the mess. She had papers to grade, lessons to plan, and all she could think about was Pierce.

  Last night when he’d said he wanted to see her had been more shocking to her than when she’d realized a Brothers of Menace member had recognized her at the strip club. She shouldn’t have been so careless, should have maybe even stopped, but it was like an addiction. But she’d also thought she’d been far enough away from anyone she might know, thought she’d covered up and disguised herself well enough.

  She’d been wrong.

  It wasn’t the actual stripping per se that made her feel this addiction, but the fact that she got this thrill, this release and an almost high from being someone else. If she could have gotten the same effect dressing up and going around town maybe she wouldn’t be degrading herself like this. But the truth was on some twisted level she liked doing this, and she didn’t know if she could stop, not when she had all this darkness in her, not able to be released unless she just became Lil.

  She started grading papers, but in between them she ate her sandwich, drank her soda, and tried not to think about Pierce. That was easier said than done because the muscular, six and a half foot biker was certainly someone she shouldn’t want. She’d lived around the biker scene while growing up, and even after her dad had gone to prison she still had the club’s protection, still saw the guys. She was still around the crudeness, the violence that surrounded them, and was okay with that. She felt safe with them, always had and always would. But she never saw herself with one of them in any way.

  But Pierce got under her skin, and after that one, very brief talk they had at the Brothers’ barbeque, which seemed forever ago, she knew he was not a man she should want, even if he was gorgeous. Then she had seen him at the club, and then had the conversation with him just last night. He seemed to penetrate her exterior, break through the wall she had erected to keep everyone out.

  But Pierce, with his body covered in tattoos, his short dark hair, crazy light blue eyes, made her want to do things with him she had not wanted to do with a man in a very long time. Being molested had changed her, had made her feel like she was disgusting. It was a strange feeling not to like how she appeared, but having this feeling of pleasurable freedom taking her clothes off for strangers.

  How would Pierce react if she admitted that she had no desire to stop? Would he tell her father eventually? Fallina didn’t want Cain to know what she did, because once she left that strip club she felt shame and guilt, felt like she was tarnishing everything. And she was, she knew that.

  Standing, she walked out of the classroom and to the faculty bathroom. After locking the door she took a second to stare at herself in the mirror. She wore her reading glasses, and her reflection was prim, proper. The woman staring back at her, with blue eyes and dark hair just like her father, looked like a good girl, like a normal girl. She hadn’t had sex in far too many years to count, and even when she had been intimate with a man, trying to push past her insecurities, and thinking it might be a therapy of some sort, she had felt this detachment.

  And then after she’d had sex she’d gone home, stared at the wall, and rubbed her arms for so long they’d gotten raw and sore. She’d been distant during that time, lost in a sense, and sex hadn’t helped, at least not with him. So Fallina hadn’t done it again. She’d tried, tried to be with men, wanting to be close with someone, but she’d backed out at the last minute … always.

  Her phone vibrated in her purse, and she opened it up and grabbed the cell. The screen flashed an unlisted number, and she’d seen enough of this on her phone from burner cells to know it was either her father or Pierce.

  Putting the phone to her ear she licked her lips and stared at her reflection again. “Hello?”

  There was a beat of silence.

  “Fallina.” Pierce’s deep voice came through the phone, and her heart jumped into her throat.

  “Yes,” she said softly, not sure what to say, because she knew this was a bad idea, that getting involved with this biker, one that was a member of her father’s MC, could have serious repercussions. She also knew she didn’t want to stop. Whatever it was about Pierce had her wanting to open up, to see what happened. It was crazy, ludicrous, made her feel like she was insane. She didn’t know him, didn’t know anything about him, yet she was agreeing to this … whatever this was.

  “Hey,” he said, and she felt a little tingly, like his deep voice was moving over her, stroking her as if he were right here, right now.

  “Hi.” God, she felt so juvenile right now, and at twenty-five she should know better than to be talking to him, whether he said he’d tell her father or not. But she knew enough about bikers, about their code, and knew they were loyal. If Pierce said he wouldn’t tell her dad then he wouldn’t. But keeping this from Cain was also a kind of betrayal. A member didn’t hold back information from another Patch. It was as simple as that.

  Then why was she agreeing to talk to him, to see him if she wasn’t worried about him revealing who and what she really was?

  Because something inside you woke up when Pierce approached you, when he looked at you like you weren’t some damaged little girl stripping to make herself feel better.

  “I’d like to see you tonight.”

  Her pulse beat in her ears, thumped in her throat. Her stomach twisted, and she realized that although she did want to see Pierce she was afraid. What she was afraid of was still unknown. Maybe it was because Pierce was part of The Brothers of Menace?

  Maybe it was because getting close to him would mean she’d be revealed sooner or later to her father, her family? Or maybe she was afraid that this man who had her questioning what she wanted only desired her for one thing. All of that and more bombarded her, and Fallina felt her nerves take the front seat. When that happened she tended to shove her foot in her mouth.

  “I’m not just another sweet-butt, club bitch, or club whore, or whatever you guys call them these days.” She stared at her reflection, her eyes wide that she’d just said that, and closed her eyes. She was immediately humiliated.

  But Pierce started chuckling deeply, his voice a serrated blade over her body, igniting as well as threatening.

  “If you were a club whore I wouldn’t be asking to take you out. I’d just look for a piece of ass.”

  Her throat dried, tightened.

  “Listen, I won’t lie to you and say you’re not gorgeous, because you know you are, you have to. But I sure as hell wouldn’t be going after you, risking a hell of a lot I might add, because I just want between your legs. I just want to hang with you, get to know you.”

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