Vicious Heart (Desert Kings MC #2)

2. Cam

two

Cam

Damn. She looked good. Like she belonged here…to me. The wounded bird persona she’d clung to was long gone. Before me was a confident, sexy woman. I should be proud. And I was, except all I could think about was how I wanted to bite my way up her legs. Start at the top of each boot and go all the way to the frayed edges of her shorts.

But I couldn’t, not here. Instead, I watched her as Ky ushered in several dancers, each one more beautiful than the next. None of them holding a candle to Riley.

Somewhere, lust had begun to blur with obsession. It wasn’t about keeping her safe anymore. It was about keeping her here with me for as long as I could have her. Because without her—I didn’t want to contemplate that tailspin.

A few of the girls flirted with Ky and Merc, two went to the tiny stage, and one perched on Merc’s lap. He’d already turned the money over. That business was handled. Nothing we’d speak about up here needed to be kept quiet.

Not that I wanted to talk about the fight or anything else. Beside me, Riley watched the dancers on the tiny stage, her eyes heavy. I hadn’t expected her to enjoy herself quite so much. Now that I’d seen it, I wanted to take her home and fuck her until neither of us could move.

Jesus.

“We start with eight fighters, trim it to four, then two for the finale?” Val swirled a dark liquid in his glass. “Who are the Kings putting in the ring?”

“Jester and his little brother.” I doubted Val would be surprised by the former, but he gave a short bark of laughter when I mentioned the younger.

“He any good?” But his pleasure showed in the way he leaned back, looking smug.

The Vaughn brothers were notoriously scrappy. They had an uncle make it pretty far in the MMA circuit, and he had trained them both.

Merc, unbothered by the half-naked woman stroking his hair and his ego, snorted. “The kid is something else. Nineteen, wiry, but dangerous. Remind you of anyone?” He flicked a glance to Ky—who would also be fighting.

“I haven’t been wiry since high school.” The younger Ukrainian wasn’t wrong, but he wasn’t bulky like his uncle’s bodyguard either.

Val grinned. “I’ve two more I’m entering. A couple of townies also ponied up the cash.”

Something skittered across my skin, this weird prickling of unease, because I knew before he said it at least one would be Wanda’s. I reached for the back of my neck, scratched that uncomfortable itch.

“The holy trinity of white trash,” Val rolled his eyes and his left shoulder simultaneously. “I figured the Kings wouldn’t mind mopping the mat with them.”

We wouldn’t.

“All three will be out first round,” Merc added.

“Shall it be so.” Val nodded upward, then touched his glass to Merc’s bottle.

Riley had cocked her head and followed the conversation with curious interest. She leaned into me. “The guys who chased us will be at the fight?”

“Probably,” I answered and brushed my lips across her hair. Having her close enough to touch was something I was getting all too accustomed to. I reached for her knee and stroked the soft skin that ran up toward her thigh.

Her eyes went big, uncertain.

It was Val’s turn to be interested. “Something I should be concerned about?”

“Nah,” Merc cut me a glance, telling me I needed to shorten Riley’s leash. “The normal game Wanda’s always tried to run. Probably the same reason she’s putting her boys in the fight.”

Val looked to me for confirmation, and I gave it to him. “A Dry Valley Dust Up earlier; we took care of it.”

I pulled my hand from Riley’s leg, ignoring her look of confusion. The rest of the conversation I left to Merc. The Ukrainians were his show. Ky and Val were both appeased with my answer, their attention turned to the set up for the fight. Shit I didn’t care about.

Riley shouldn’t have said anything. For the first time since I met her, I was going to have to put her in her place. Merc would expect it, the table would.

Fuck .

“Come here.” I stood, took her by the hand, and pulled her behind me toward the bathroom. Behind us, Ky shouted to wait until we got home. I ignored him.

In the single occupancy VIP bathroom, I locked the door behind us. The music was muted, but the deep bass still vibrated through the walls.

“What is going on?” Her hazel eyes were wide and startled.

“You can’t say shit like that when we are here. Alright?” I barked, harsher than I should have. But if the shit with Preacher got back to any of the club, if Ky said something to anyone else? The blowback would be on me—or worse, on her.

“Fine. Got it.” But she’d flinched and turned away from me, hurt.

I grabbed her arm before she could storm out of the bathroom. The money I’d had today had belonged to the Soletskys, if they’d known someone tried to take it from me—it would fuck up too much shit. But I couldn’t tell her that. “This is important, Riley. Shit that happens to the MC, stays there. Got it? But what happened today could have fucked up our business here with the Solestkys. You’ve got to be smarter.”

“So, I’m stupid?” She narrowed her eyes and tried to pull away from me. When I didn’t let go, she yanked, her cheeks reddening. “Maybe if you actually told me something, I wouldn’t mess up.”

I clutched tighter, drug her against my chest even as she wriggled. “I tell you what I can.”

“You’re hurting me.” Her eyes welled with tears and my chest twisted tight, painful.

“Think Preacher won’t hurt you worse?” And that’s what scared me. She could get pissed, throw a fit, but if she was safe, I was okay with that. Preacher was already searching for ways to make the bad shit Riley’s fault. I needed her to understand that, to know I didn’t keep secrets because I wanted to. I did it to keep her safe.

If he hurt her…

She closed her eyes. “ Let . Me . Go .” The anger resonated off her. God, she was beautiful.

I did, and she spun away, storming out of the bathroom. I’d expected her to stomp all the way out, back down to the bar, maybe even outside.

But she surprised me, stopping at the stage, talking directly to the stacked dancer she’d watched so closely downstairs. The dancer smiled, and I stayed in the doorway between the hall and the VIP room, watching.

I couldn’t fucking look away.

The dancer ran her fingers through Riley’s hair. The touch was very obviously flirty, but Riley didn’t knock it away. I tempered the momentary jealousy when Riley glanced back at me, sneered, and took the dancer’s hand.

Jesus Christ . I pulled a cigarette from my vest pocket, lit it, and took a long drag. My irritation twisted, spinning around as the dancer, coated in glitter and little else, led Riley to an empty part of the couch near the stage. Anticipation clawed its way up my throat and suddenly the cigarette wasn’t doing it for me.

Riley was, though, as she sat watching me with narrowed, angry eyes. The little bitch knew exactly what she was doing to me. And God, I wanted all of it.

The woman straddled her, moving sensuously on her lap, rolling her body in ways that were meant to simulate what I wanted them to do to each other. Fuck if it didn’t turn me sideways.

I itched for a joint, hell anything to cool the heat that snaked up my chest and around my neck. The air grew thick, hard for me to breathe, but hell, I couldn’t look away. I crushed the cigarette out in the tall ashtray by the door.

The dancer spun on her lap, took Riley’s hands, and brought them to her own bare breasts. There, she encouraged Riley to touch, to kneed, to stroke. My cock went rock hard.

Not because my girl was touching another woman, but because Riley was aroused. I could see it in the flare of her nostrils, the part in her lips, the way her own hips shifted on the seat.

Then the dancer turned her head, leaning back, and kissed her. I watched, trapped in every man’s wet dream. I was transfixed in the soft way their lips danced on each other, how Riley suckled the other woman’s tongue into her mouth, then looked right at me.

I pulled a hundred-dollar bill from my pocket, stalked across the room, and tucked it none too gently into the dancer’s tiny red thong.

“I’m cutting in.” I took her hand and pulled her off Riley’s lap.

“Too bad.” She pouted, pulled her hand free, and sashayed back to the stage.

Riley glared at me.

“Time to go.”

She stopped just shy of wriggling from my grasp when I pulled her against my chest and she felt why we were leaving.

Her lips formed the sexiest, wettest ‘O’ of surprised I’d ever seen. “I see.”