Resist me, p.2
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       Resist Me, p.2
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         Part #3 of Men of Inked series by Chelle Bliss
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  Flash leaned over the table, shaking their hands as I stood behind him pretending to be invisible—something I’d never done for anyone. Ever.

  When he’d said that he wanted to take me to Bike Week in Daytona Beach for the weekend, I hadn’t been able to imagine anything better than the feel of the wind in my hair, the sand between my toes, and a shitload of hot bikers. What could be bad about that?

  I hadn’t expected this, and I didn’t like it one bit. Flash would have to pay and pay dearly to make up for this “be seen and not heard” bullshit.

  “And who do we have here?” a rough voice asked, pulling me out of my thoughts on how to torture Flash.

  Flash shifted and reached around to grab my hand, tugging me to his side. “This is Izzy, my woman.” He tightened his grip on my waist.

  I glared at him.

  What the fuck? I wasn’t his woman. We had an agreement, but to call the naughty shit we did a relationship was overstating it just a tad. I gave him the stink eye and saw the corner of his mouth twitch.

  “Well aren’t you stunning, Izzy. Is that short for Isabella?”

  I turned my attention to the genius and smiled the biggest bullshit smile I could muster. “Yes, it is.” I swallowed the other words I wanted to say, still smiling like an idiot.

  He wasn’t a bad-looking man for someone his age. His long, gray hair was pulled back in a low-slung ponytail, making his emerald-green eyes stand out. A small patch of salt-and-pepper facial hair framed his thin lips. He looked a little like Santa Claus on crack. The vest covering his black t-shirt was the same cut as the one Flash was wearing, but it had more patches—including one that stated he was the VP.

  “Why don’t you sit down with us and have a drink?” He lightly patted the empty chair next to him, never taking his eyes off me.

  Flash moved in front of me and started to sit, but the VP grabbed his arm.

  “I meant her, you idiot. Not you.”

  Flash stopped dead, with his ass hovering just above the seat. “Oh, sorry, man.”

  What type of man would let another one talk to him that way? The way he’d said “idiot” hadn’t been the same as when my brothers called each other “jackass” or “dumbfuck.” His dislike for Flash was clearly evident in his tone, but Flash did as he was told, like a good soldier.

  I slid into the wooden chair as Flash gripped my shoulder. “Thanks,” I whispered, folding my hands in my lap.

  “My name’s Rebel,” he said as he brought my hand to his mouth, running his prickly lips across my skin. “These are the guys.” He placed my hand on his leg, patting it, and then grabbed his beer.

  Flash’s grasp on my shoulder hardened, but I didn’t dare look up at him.

  Fuck. How had my dumb ass gotten into this situation? Flash was a stupid bastard. I should’ve listened to Joe and Mike, but then again, I never did.

  “Hey,” I said, slowly looking around the table. I tried not to linger on any one man too long.

  They all said, “Hey,” and smiled—except for one man. The long hair hid his face as he picked at the label on the bottle. His reaction to me wasn’t friendly or welcoming like the others’. Nope, he was avoiding me.

  “So, Isabella,” Rebel said, pulling my attention back to him. “Can I call you that? You don’t mind, do you?” He leaned into my personal space and squeezed my thigh. The stench of cigarettes and stale beer invaded my nostrils.

  Flash gripped my shoulder and Rebel held my thigh. I knew Flash wouldn’t do shit. He was the prospect, the one trying to get in the club, and Rebel knew it. I just needed to be agreeable and get the hell out of here for my sake and for Flash’s pussy ass.

  I bit the corner of my lip before responding. “Sure.” The only people in my life who called me Isabella—who I allowed to call me by my full name—were my parents. I didn’t think telling Rebel to go fuck himself would be good for anyone.

  The tiny hairs on the back of my neck rose, and I felt like someone was watching me. Without looking, I noticed him staring at me out of the corner of my eye as I kept my attention on Rebel. It bugged the fuck out of me. I wanted to get a glimpse of him, just for a second, but Rebel wanted my total attention.

  “Flash, go fetch me a beer and get something for the beautiful girl too,” Rebel demanded, staring at me, paying no attention to Flash or anyone else.

  My eyes flickered to his face as he barked orders to Flash. “I’m fine. I don’t need anything to drink.” The last thing I wanted was to drink anything that wouldn’t allow me to be in control. Being around Flash was one thing, but I didn’t trust the men sitting at the table.

  Flash didn’t move. He kept his hand on my shoulder, squeezing it lightly, and I could almost feel the tension radiating from his body.

  “What the fuck are you waiting for? Get the fucking drinks, boy!” Rebel roared, slamming his fist on the table.

  I jumped. The anger that oozed out of him put me on edge. My heart stuttered in my chest and I wanted to get out of here. Flash released my shoulder, leaving me alone with Rebel.

  Rebel leaned over, twirling my hair with his fingers. “So, darlin’ Isabella, tell me about yourself.”

  I looked down at my hands, trying to stop the urge to bat him away. “Not much to tell,” I whispered.

  He pushed the hair over my shoulder, running his fingertips down my skin, lingering on my collarbone. “I doubt that, Isabella.” As he drew out my name, rolling the last bit off his tongue, his breath tickled my nose.

  Small prickles slid down my neck, the hair still standing at attention. I leaned back in my chair, trying to escape his invasion of my personal space, pissed off that Flash had brought me here and then left me like a pansy ass.

  “Tell me about you, Rebel.” I was deflecting. A man like him had to be full of himself, drunk off power, and I prayed it would take the focus off me.

  “Tsk, tsk,” he said, shaking his head. “I know all about me. I want to know about you.” His eyes bored into me as he started to slide his hand up my leg before settling on my thigh.

  I swear to shit I wanted to rip Flash’s dick off and shove it down his throat. I didn’t care if I ever fucked him again. His cock was not worth this bullshit.

  “I’m a tattoo artist,” I said with a sigh while looking into his eyes, knowing that I wasn’t going to get out of the situation without being cordial. It wasn’t one of my better traits, but I knew how to play the game. “It’s my life.” I plastered a fake smile on my face, trying to maintain eye contact with him. I wouldn’t show weakness. I was a Gallo girl, not a shrinking violet.

  “I love a girl who does ink. Maybe I should come to you next time I need some work done. I wouldn’t mind dropping my drawers for you, beautiful.”

  I wanted to heave. The mere thought of seeing any of this man’s junk or ass made me gag. “I’m between gigs right now,” I lied, biting the inside of my cheek.

  “The MC has a shop. Job’s yours if you want it.” Rebel squeezed my thigh, running his hand farther up my legs, stopping mere centimeters from my pussy.

  “Just like that, huh?” I couldn’t keep my mouth shut. I didn’t want to seem too eager to please, or too easy. “Maybe my skills are shitty. Then what?”

  He inched his chair closer, squeezing my thigh again. “If your ink skills are shitty, I’m sure we can find other ways for you to earn.”

  “Listen,” I said, about to lay into him and give him the nicest “fuck off” he’d ever had, but the sound of Flash slamming the drinks on the table stopped me from finishing the statement.

  “Flash, you fucker,” Rebel said, releasing my leg and leaning back in his chair. “You spilled my beer,” he growled, wiping the glass with his finger. He turned to me, drawing his fingers into his mouth and sucking them as he stared.

  Sam, a.k.a. Flash, didn’t speak. Cool biker nicknames were reserved for badasses, and Sam had lost that right when he’d pussied out on me. He hadn’t stood up for me, and left me high and dry in the hands of Rebel.
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  As Rebel grabbed the bottle to bring it to his lips, I turned and gave my “I hate you” scowl to Sam. He shrugged, grimacing before giving me a halfhearted smile. I closed my eyes, trying to calm the fuck down, because at this point, I wanted to tell Sam exactly how I felt and get the fuck out of the shitty-ass bar. I counted to five like they’d taught in a college psychology course I’d taken on a whim. I slowly opened my eyes to find Rebel staring at me again.

  Sam leaned down, resting his hand on my shoulder, and whispered in my ear, “Want to get out of here?”

  What a clusterfuck. Would he have balls big enough?

  “I’m getting tired,” I complained, standing to say goodbye. Before my ass was five inches off the chair, Rebel had his hand on my wrist, pulling me back down.

  “I wasn’t done talking to you.” He smiled, licking his lips.

  My eyes flickered to Sam, who now had wide eyes and an “oh fuck” face. I narrowed my eyes at him, wishing he’d man the fuck up, but nope. He must’ve checked his cock at the door. I turned back to Rebel, looking down at his hand, which was still wrapped around my wrist. Be diplomatic, Izzy. Do not piss off the MC vice president.

  I turned my wrist, breaking the hold he had on me. “I-I,” I stuttered, trying to figure out something other than, “Keep your fucking hands off me.”

  Just as I opened my mouth, a voice called out to Rebel. “Leave the fucking girl alone, you horny ol’ bastard.”

  I turned to look in the direction of the gravelly voice, where Rebel’s attention was now focused. My breath vanished and a dull ache settled in my chest as I sat there wide-eyed and in shock. The blue eyes shooting daggers across the table at me I’d seen before—I knew them. They were mine looking back at me.

  The smile I loved so much and the handsome, boyish looks were gone. His features were hard. Small lines had formed around his eyes since the last time I’d seen him. He didn’t look like man who had pushed me on my swing set and taught me how to throw a punch to defend myself. The man’s lips were set in a firm line as his glare focused entirely on me. He didn’t look anything like the brother I remembered, like the Tommy I loved.

  “You want a piece of this ass?” Rebel asked, looking from me to Thomas. “I wouldn’t blame you, Blue. It’s mighty fine,” he said as he turned back toward me, running his finger down my jaw.

  I snarled, moving my face away from his fingers. Rebel gripped my hair, yanking my head back and holding me in place.

  “Where do you think you’re going, Isabella?” He stared into my eyes, a smirk on his face.

  My heart started pounding, growing louder by the second as it beat out of control. This was bad, a real fucking nightmare.

  “I want her,” Tommy said, slamming his hand down on the table. “You got the last piece of ass and this one’s mine.”

  Rebel laughed, releasing my hair. “Want me to get her warmed up for you, brother?”

  “I don’t want your filthy hands on her. She looks too innocent and pure. I want to take that from her,” Tommy replied, laughing with the rest of the guys, his eyes only on me.

  “If you don’t do it, Blue, I will,” Rebel promised.

  “Oh, I plan to do all of her, and she’s going to like it.”

  Thank God the words were coming out of Tommy’s mouth, because I’d be totally fucked otherwise. Sam released my shoulder. The fucker still hadn’t said a word. He’d stood there like a fucking idiot and stayed silent.

  “Don’t I get a say?” I whispered, grinding my teeth. “I’m not a piece of property.”

  “Flash brought you here, darlin’, and you came out of your own free will. If Blue wants you, he gets you,” Rebel said, laughing like a hyena. “You can thank Flash later.”

  I turned to Sam as his eyes dropped to the floor. “Don’t you have anything to say?” I hissed, the venom dripping from my voice.

  He shook his head as he kicked an imaginary piece of dirt on the floor.

  “Fucking pussy,” I muttered before turning back to look at Thomas.

  A small smirk played on his lips; he knew I could never hold my tongue.

  Rebel slapped Sam, his laughter filling the air and mingling with the other guys’. “Even the girl can see you’re a pussy, Flash,” he teased, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

  I would’ve pissed myself by now if it hadn’t been my brother claiming me for the night. I had fucked up, and although Tommy might have smirked, I knew I was in big fucking trouble.

  Chapter 2 - Clueless

  “What in the fuck were you thinking?” Tommy screeched as he slammed the hotel room door and locked it.

  “Clearly, I wasn’t,” I quipped as I sat on the bed, avoiding his eyes. Fuck. I looked at the ceiling, my stomach flopping around like I was about to be chastised by my dad.

  “I know you do some dumb shit, Izzy, but this takes the motherfucking cake.” He paced near the door, checking the peephole, as he ran his finger through his hair. “How in the hell do you get mixed up with an MC guy?” He stopped pacing, turned toward me, and tapped his foot.

  I shrugged, not really having a good answer for him.

  “A shrug. I get a goddamn shrug?” he groaned as he walked toward me. “Izzy, look at me,” he barked.

  I looked up into his piercing blue eyes and could see a storm behind them. My mouth suddenly felt dry and I was at a loss for words—something totally out of my realm of comfort.

  “Thomas,” I whined, trying to find the right thing to say.

  “You are in over your head, Iz. This is some serious shit. If I hadn’t been there tonight or if Rebel had decided that he wanted you for himself, you’d be fucked, and so would I.” He rested his hands on either side of me and leaned into my space. “I mean that literally. This is a fucking nightmare.”

  I blinked slowly, taking in the sight of my very pissed-off brother, and sighed. “I just wanted to have fun, Thomas. I wasn’t expecting all this bullshit.” I swallowed and concentrated on breathing through my nose. Pissed-off Thomas was a scary fucking dude.

  “All this bullshit?” he whispered. “All this bullshit is what comes with an MC. They make their own goddamn rules.” He backed away, grabbing my hand as he sat next to me. “I have to keep you safe and get you the hell away from these guys.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled loudly.

  “I’m sorry,” I choked out, tears forming in my eyes. “I thought Flash would protect me. He promised a weekend getaway.” God, I sounded like a fucking idiot. Mike and Joe had warned me. They’d pleaded with me not to go, but as always, I did whatever the fuck I wanted to.

  “Flash is a fucking pussy and a complete moron. I worried he’d recognize me, but he was too young to remember me. Plus, he’s an idiot. Nice kid, but dumb as a box of rocks.”

  “Why are you still here, Tommy?” I inquired. He’d always be Tommy to me—my big brother who had been missing from my life for more years than I’d like to admit. “Why haven’t you come home?”

  He looked up at me; his shoulders slumped before he spoke. “I’m in deep, sis. I’ve moved up the ranks. I’m sergeant-at-arms now. I’m in the inner sanctum and doing everything I can to bring this club down. I don’t want the shit to be half-assed, either. I need to bring it to its knees. Cut off the head and burn the body. Leave nothing behind.”

  “It’s so dangerous.” I knew my statement was obvious, but I didn’t have anything else to say. The thought of something happening to him made my heart feel like someone was squeezing it in their fist, and I didn’t want to feel it pop.

  “It’s my job, Izzy. I have to see it through. I promise I’ll come home to everyone, and I’ll do it soon.”

  “You better. Ma is beside herself with worry. Joey is going to have a baby. The family is changing and you’re not there to see,” I grumbled. I wanted to run out the door with Tommy in tow and head home.

  “Joey’s going to be a dad?” he whispered, his eyes growing wide.

  “Yes. You’re going to be a
n uncle soon. You need to come home.”

  “I will, love. I will.” He wrapped his arms around my shoulders, bringing my face against his chest.

  I rested my hands on his shoulder blades, gripping them for dear life. I didn’t want to let him go. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen my brother, let alone been able to touch him. How was I going to be able to walk out the door and leave him behind?

  “Now what?” I asked, my voice muffled by his t-shirt.

  “Well, everyone thinks I’m banging your brains out.” He blanched and gagged. “After, I have to bring you back.” He sighed, pulling away from me as my hands slipped from his back. “Let me make a call. Do you have your phone? Mine isn’t safe.”

  I grabbed my purse, which I’d dropped on the floor when I’d sat down. I rummaged through the contents, pulled out my phone, and handed it to him.

  “Who are ya going to call?” I asked. I did not want any of my other brothers in harm’s way. It was bad enough that I’d put Tommy in this fucked-up predicament, let alone the others.

  “I only have one person near by I can trust to get you out of this clusterfuck.” He tapped the buttons on my phone but didn’t look up at me.

  “Who?” I asked. “Don’t call Mike or Joe either,” I pleaded, lying back on the bed.

  “Fuck no, woman. I’m calling a law enforcement buddy. Only he can pull this off without it looking like I had anything to do with it.” He stood, bringing the phone to his ear.

  Well okay, then. He still hadn’t answered my question. I looked around the hotel room as he walked away from the bed. This place was an even bigger shithole than the place Sam and I had booked for the weekend. The room hadn’t been updated since it had been built in the ’70s. The color scheme was straight out of The Brady Bunch on meth. Mustard yellow, burnt orange, and avocado green decorated the flowery wallpaper and the bedspread. I didn’t want to even think about all the things that had been done on this bed. It had to be crawling with germs.

  I stood, walking toward my brother, stopping to look out the peephole. The green shag carpeting did not make me want to kick off my shoes and feel the lushness. It was matted and trashed.

  “Hey,” Tommy said into the phone. “I need your help.”

  I turned, studying him as he moved around the room. He would’ve worn a path in the carpeting if the shag had still been good. I grabbed my purse and sat down on the bed, pulling my lip-gloss from my purse as I listened.

  “My sister’s here. I need you to help me get her the fuck out,” Tommy said, running his fingers through his hair. “I know. She showed up with one of the prospects and Rebel almost claimed her for the night, but he offered her to me—thank fucking God.” Tommy stopped and listened before moving again. “Yeah, Izzy,” he said, his eyes darting to me.

  My eyes grew wide. The person on the other end knew who I was, but I didn’t know them.

  “She’s the only fucking sister I have, James. What the hell kind of question is that?” Tommy glared at me as James spoke on the other end of the phone.

  I looked up at him, my mouth dropping open when I heard his name. James Caldo. He was the smug bastard who’d come to the wedding uninvited to drop off a card for Tommy. We’d shared drinks—way too many drinks. I’d woken up the next morning slinking out of his hotel room without saying goodbye. I’d gotten what I’d wanted, gotten the hell out, and never looked back.

  James was…how do I say it? Hot as fuck, but a little too bossy for my liking. He reminded me of my brothers, but times ten on the macho bullshit. I’d waited for him to grunt, “Me caveman. You’re mine,” after he’d fucked me into a coma after the reception.

  If I hadn’t been plastered by an abundance of Jack and Coke, I wouldn’t have been seduced by him and ended up in his bed…against the wall…on the floor.

  Fuck. Why did he have to call James? My stomach started to flutter, a wave of nervousness filling my body. My leg began to shake, a nervous habit I had when I couldn’t control a situation, as I sat there and listened.

  Maybe I wouldn’t have to see him. Oh God, please don’t let me have to see him. Maybe they’d devise a plan to get me out and that would be that. I closed my eyes, fell back on to the bed, and stared at the ceiling. I listened while crazy scenarios played in my mind.

  Maybe James wouldn’t help because I’d hit it and quit it. Would he be that cruel?

  Maybe he’d want payback with me on my hands and knees as a thank-you for my rescue. The sound of that wasn’t bad, but I would be subservient to no one, and certainly not James.

  “Yeah. I can find a way to get her on my bike after we leave here,” Tommy said, sitting down next to me. He scowled at me, maybe having heard something from James about what had happened that night. “Okay. I’ll have her text you when we’re leaving the bar, and you handle it from there. I trust you, James. Only you. She needs to be safe and brought home. She shouldn’t be here. Can you do that for me, brother?” He stood again and walked into the bathroom, closing the door.

  I exhaled, letting go of the breath I had been holding while thinking about James. I didn’t like the sound of this one bit. I closed my eyes and tried to block out the sound of the outside world and focus on Tommy’s voice, but it was no use. I couldn’t hear a fucking thing over my heart beating like the drummer in Anthony’s band. I wanted to run in the bathroom and throw up, but I stayed glued to the bed, waited for my brother, and closed my eyes.

  The sound of the bathroom door smacking against the wall made me jump. I sat up quickly, looking toward the noise to see Tommy staring at me.

 
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