After the grill was scrubbed clean, he got the necessary coals going. Bags of it. The good stuff. He was better at it than he’d let on. She looked at him suspiciously and then when it caught fire and spread rapidly through the large grill, she flung her arms around his neck and pressed kisses up his throat to his chin where she nibbled.
“You’ve done this before.”
“You could say that,” he agreed. Hell, if lighting a barbecue grill had gotten him her kisses, and her tits pressed tightly against his chest, he would have told her far sooner. That was as far as his skills went. He could spread out the coals and get them lit. After that . . .
He reached down with both hands, cupped her ass cheeks and pulled her tight against his body. “Kiss me.”
She did. Without hesitation. Her lips found his and her tongue slipped along the seam, temptation itself. His cock jerked hard, coming to attention. He used one hand to turn the vibe on again and then he rubbed her ass, wishing it was bare. His other hand slid inside the shirt to find her bare breast. He loved her tits almost as much as her ass. Maybe more. Maybe it was the same. He didn’t know. Didn’t care. He just loved the way her body fit with his. Loved the way she made him come alive.
“Hey, you two.” Lana came up behind them. He knew before she spoke who it was because he was familiar with her energy. “Enough of that.”
They broke apart, both laughing. He remembered to turn off the vibrator to give his woman a little relief.
“I thought I’d help with the cooking, at least until Alena gets back. Pierce showed up and off they went together. I don’t know what’s going on there,” she added.
Ice didn’t believe her for a minute. “I’ve got this.”
“You’ve got that thing, remember?” Lana stated, holding up her watch.
He had no idea what “thing” she was referring to. He frowned and she tapped out their code on her thigh. Her hand was down low, up against her leg, so few people ever noticed the small taps of her fingers.
Fred. Venom. Of course. The club had come as well. He didn’t have to make a special trip to find the son of a bitch who’d given up his woman to murderers. They’d found him. He nodded. “I don’t want Soleil out of your sight. She’s got a couple of men watching her, and I don’t want them getting close to her.”
He didn’t want to leave his wife. He was having fun with her. He couldn’t remember there ever being a time when he was reluctant to go with his brothers and deliver a much-needed lesson. He was now. He would choose Soleil over fighting any day of the week. Shockingly, he’d fallen that far. But this was important. This kind of betrayal wasn’t acceptable, and Torpedo Ink had to get that message across to the Venomous club.
He caught Soleil’s chin, turned her head toward him and kissed her. He took his time, establishing the fact that she was with him. That he loved her. That she was protected. “Stay with Lana at all times.”
“I’m good, Ice. Nothing is going to happen to me.”
Ice looked up to find Absinthe and Storm close. They nodded at him. His brothers, ready to teach Fred a very hard lesson before he died and remind the Venomous club that no one put one of theirs up for murder. He stalked off, leaving his woman with his very lethal sister. Anyone who tried to touch what wasn’t theirs was in for trouble.
SIXTEEN
Ice smiled. It wasn’t a nice smile. He’d perfected that look over years of beating the shit out of his enemies. “Hello, Fred. We met in Vegas. You remember? My wedding day. My woman looked like a fairy-tale princess in her dress. You were staring at her tits, as I recall. So, if you don’t remember the dress, you might remember the perfect tits she has.”
Fred’s smirk faded and he turned slowly around, trying to look nonchalant as he searched the bar for his brethren. None of his club members appeared to be inside the bar. He gave a quick shake of his head. “Don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. You must have the wrong man.” He made a move as if he could get around Ice.
Ice blocked him. “You can’t go yet. I want to talk about old times.” He stepped in close to the man, put a friendly hand on his shoulder and then punched him three times in rapid succession in the gut. The punches were fast, hard, and delivered with Storm and Absinthe blocking the view from the rest of the bar.
Ice put a solicitous arm around Fred as he bent over, gasping for breath, his drink coming back up as he spewed it onto the floor.
“Freddie, you had too much to drink. Let me help you.” Ice appeared to help him as he staggered toward the darkest corner of the bar. Three men sat at the table there but moved quickly when Storm and Absinthe stood over them and just stared.
Ice shoved Fred into a chair, his back to the wall, the table in front of him—close. “Let’s get acquainted. We’re going to be friendly now. Really friendly. If you don’t want me to slit your gut open right here and let your intestines spill out into your lap, you’re going to give me everything I want. Tell me everything I want to know.”
He shoved a very sharp blade against Fred’s straining, heaving gut. “You feel that, you fuck? You gave up my woman. You went against the code. You’re a piece of shit and you’re going to answer any question I ask.”
Fred was no hero. That much was certain. On top of that, he’d been drinking heavily. He nodded over and over, sweat pouring down his face. Absinthe took the chair next to Fred on his other side. That left only Storm to block any view. Fred immediately lunged to the side, toward Ice, to get the attention of the others in the bar.
The noise level in the bar was extremely loud. It was crowded and fairly dark. Liquor flowed and music blared. Dozens of conversations took place from every direction. A few couples even attempted to sway to the music. In one corner, a woman stood on a table, her tits out as she danced drunkenly. No one paid attention to the men sitting in the corner, and no one could hear if Fred called out.
Two more people blocked the view and he looked up and groaned. He’d run into the blade of the knife and it had cut through his denim jacket as well as his shirt to score a long, painful laceration across his stomach.
Standing in front of him was a woman with a wealth of blond hair and the same blue eyes as Ice and Storm. She wore a Torpedo Ink vest over her tight tank. Beside her was a man with flat, cold eyes, and Fred recognized him immediately as an enforcer for the Diamondbacks, and no one messed with them.
“Thought we’d join the party,” Alena informed her brother. “Saw you come in.”
It didn’t surprise Ice in the least that he hadn’t seen his sister. They all tended to fade into the background, a trick they’d learned as children that had often saved their lives. The bar was packed and dark inside. The strip outside was being used for bike tricks. Across the way, in the main common area of the campsites, wet T-shirt contests and mud wrestling along with a massive party were taking place. Inside the bar, the noise level was loud in order to hear above the motorcycles used in the street tricks as well as the music blaring from multiple speakers outside. That would all be helpful if Fred got noisy.