Page 2 of Bruised MC Bear
There were also rumblings that the vampires may have been aware of the near-fatal targeted attack on Kit Reese, current Panther MC President and former rival of the Beartooth Brotherhood MC, on the night Tate was also seriously injured. Relations with the Panthers had improved since, but Si’s level of trust in the vamps had since dropped from barely there to nonexistent.
And now, this idea of having him undergo a psych eval. Hell, no way was he about to lie back on the couch of some over-educated, stuck up brat to go over his childhood and bring up all that crap. Not unless the brat was a sexy little number with a thing for inked up biker types like him. If that were the case, the couch would come in handy. Otherwise, fuck no.
By the time he made it to his Harley out front, his stomach was already growling from hunger. Axe finished his smoke, stubbing out the tip under the sole of his boot. He cracked his knuckles and climbed on his bike to head to Desert Java, the closest half-decent coffee house in Red Ridge. A double shot of espresso would do the trick. The tiny mom and pop spot was just ten minutes away, so he barely got to enjoy the feel of the open road on his face before he had to get off the I-15 again.
Today, the place was packed, so he parked his baby in a free spot behind the public library across the street. He took a look inside, just in case there were any members from the panther or wolf MC. They were all under a strict ‘no contact’ policy these last few months. Not that their patronage at Desert Java would stop him from getting his brew, but he had to be sure he knew what he was heading into.
Well, hello.
Axe caught sight of the round, delicious ass of a curvy, buxom blonde who looked like she stepped out of a fifty’s pinup calendar. She was in the middle of what appeared to be a lighthearted conversation with another patron while she waited in line. The stunning woman threw her head back and laughed a few times on his way across the street. Now, there was an even better reason to have left that meeting in his rear view mirror. A woman who wasn’t of the twisted claw variety was sure to perk him right the hell up.
All he had to do was work his magic. Play it cool. Enjoy the chase. That was the problem with the Beartooth Brotherhood MC groupies they called ‘twisted claws’. Sure, they were sweet-looking little sex kittens, but the reality was they were easy prey. Half the time they didn’t know whose dick they were even riding. For them, any patch-wearing member would do. He’d bet this blonde stunner was different. And judging by her finely put together outfit, she had her shit together too. Bonus points. With a half-smirk stuck on his face, he cracked his neck and headed inside, keeping a discreet eye on his prize.
Little miss gregarious was standing six or seven patrons ahead when Axe got to the door. Inside, the line hardly moved at all, which today he didn’t mind. It gave him time to check her out among cramped horde of waiting people. The little bell dinged at the top of the door, and he muscled his way into the tight space with a small grunt.
The blonde made it to the front of the line and made her order, then dug her hand into her purse, retrieving a ringing smartphone. She took the call, but told whoever it was to hold on. Sashaying her hips, she walked right past Axe in her all-black skirt suit and leopard-print pumps that clicked on the tile floor. A trail of her floral perfume wafted up to his nose as she stepped outside to have her conversation.
Damn, she was hot.
And definitely his type.
His eyes were locked on her for the duration of her call. He continued to eye-fuck her when she zipped by him again and stopped at a table that had opened up near the far corner of the shop. Smart girl. The wait for coffee orders was killer around this time. Blondie cleaned up the crap left behind by the previous patron and sat down, eyes already glued to her phone screen as she started checking text messages or emails. He was sure he had just the thing to get her off that phone. Were it later in the day, he might have flat out offered a dose of rough, dirty, up against a wall, back alley sex. But it wasn’t even nine in the morning. Blondie didn’t seem like the type to waltz into work with her hair messed up.
The line eased forward. At this rate, she’d be packed up and gone before he could grab a hot cup. Axe wasn’t about to approach her empty-handed, only to be forced to leave mid-prowl for his coffee order. She ran a manicured hand along the side of her gorgeous throat, and a small shiver licked down his spine. He even wondered what it would be like to mark her with his teeth. She was probably a screamer. A minute’s chat would be more than enough time to find out whether she was game. The way she captured his attention made him almost forget every woman he’d been with before this.
Axe folded his arms and cleared his throat as he inched forward in the line. Why the fuck was he acting as though he’d had a five-year dry spell, when in fact he’d just gotten laid two days ago? Why did he have the hardest time keeping his bear at bay, which at the moment was fighting for control? Not that his inner beast could be held back for long. It always came back, clawing at Axe’s insides, needing, wanting, hungry to be let free. He casually looked around, rubbing the back of his neck. The blonde was still on her phone. Nothing he had tried before kept its deafening roar from reaching up from the back of his mind, making his temples pound. All the effort in the world barely kept him together right now. The sudden thought made his jaw clench, like claws being dragged across his sub-conscience as his beast bristled inwardly.
“Hi, what can I get you, sir?” asked the teenager wearing a ball cap and a Desert Java uniform.
“Coffee, black. Two pumps of vanilla and three extra shots of espresso,” Axe told.
“And your name for the order?”
“Axe.”
“For here or to go, Mr. Axe?” the kid asked.
“To go, please.”
The usual. More than enough to get his brain function in gear just in case Silas and Sabrina were still waiting at the clubhouse, hoping to corner him again. Axe rubbed his goatee and shifted his weight from one foot to the other, waiting for the barista kid to quit it with the pleasantries. He had a blonde to chat up before she got ghost, for fuck’s sake. No wonder the line was a mile long behind him, and at the pickup counter too.
The barista rang up the sale and prattled out the price. Nodding, Axe slapped his cash down in front of the cash register, tuning out the kid’s overly friendly rant about how hot the weather was. Of course, it was hot. This was northwest Arizona in the middle of the fucking desert. Axe assumed the kid picked up on his irritable mood, because he didn’t add more irrelevant drivel when he handed over the change and transaction receipt.
Axe returned the change to his wallet and shoved it in his back pocket, navigating through the crowd to find a spare space to stand and wait for his brew. Not too difficult to do, given he towered over everyone in here, and was even more menacing looking in his faded jeans, white t-shirt and black leather cut. The crowd easily parted for him.
“Order up!” shouted an even younger female barista as she pulled levers and steamed milk on their industrial espresso machine.
Axe groaned when his phone buzzed in the inner pocket of his cut. It was probably a text from Silas. Figuring he might as well use some of this waiting time semi-productively, he dug into his pocket and snagged his cell.
Si’s message read,“Your little tantrum worked. Sabrina’s talking to Vamp Vincent ATM.”
Axe replied with,“Vamp Vincent? What are you, five? Btw it’s about fucking time you got your old lady in line.”
“Go fuck yourself. Oh, there’s one condition to taking on Vamp V.”
Christ, Axe could already guess what it was. He answered with,“No way in hell. Fuck the security clearances.”
Not ready to argue by text, he turned off his phone screen, returned the damned phone to his cut, and let the next few message alerts buzz in his pocket.
“Coffee, black, two shots of vanilla, and three extra shots of espresso!” The server hollered to the waiting patrons. “Order eighty-nine, come and get it!”
Axe shuffled through the crowd again, this time to pick up his order. He wasn’t sure how they had prepared his brew so quickly when so many customers were still waiting, but didn’t complain.
What the fuck?
A woman’s hand shot around his cup at the same time that he reached to pick up his brew.
