Collateral Read online

  Collateral

  Black Ice MC

  a novel by

  Blakeley Wilde

  Copyright 2014 Blakeley Wilde

  All Rights Reserved

  DISCLAIMER

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are purely a work of fiction and used fictitiously. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  MATURE CONTENT

  This short story contains sexually explicit material and is intended for persons over the age of 18 only. By downloading and viewing this book, you are stating that you are of legal age. All of the characters involved in the sexual situations of this story are intended to be at least 18 years old or older, whether they are described as such or not.

  DESCRIPTION

  Living life along the razor’s edge, you’re bound to get cut eventually. I never should have fallen in love with him, but I just couldn’t help myself.

  His name was Raze, short for Razor he told me, though he never told me why they called him that. I could only assume it was because he was razor sharp. Fierce. Unafraid. A force to be reckoned with. The VP of the Black Ice Motorcycle Club, no one ever crossed him. Everyone knew better. Everyone, that was, except the rival Marquis Devils MC. When Raze least expected it, they came to collect their dues. And in a simple twist of fate, I became the collateral.

  AUTHOR’S NOTE: This novel contains graphic themes and suspenseful situations and is intended for a mature audience. A (much) different version of this story was previously published as “Riding Free”.

  DEDICATION

  To my readers. Thanks for letting me take you away to another time and place.

  - BW

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  ABOUT BLAKELEY

  PROLOGUE

  “Ma’am, I need to speak to your manager,” the man standing in front of me said as he clenched his jaw and slammed his fist on the counter. “Right NOW.”

  He’d been standing here going rounds with me for the past ten minutes. He wasn’t about to leave anytime soon.

  “I’m sorry, sir,” I said. My bottom lip quivered. “M-my manager is not here.”

  I tried to hide my trembling fingers but it was nearly impossible. The man standing before me had crazy in his eyes like I’d never seen before. He was about two seconds from flying across the counter and clocking me in the face if I didn’t give him what he wanted.

  “I knew I never should’ve stayed here,” he said. “This is such a rat hole, shit infested motel.”

  “I-I’m sorry, sir,” I stammered. “I can give you a free night’s stay if you’d like.”

  “Why the fuck would I want to stay another night in this dump?” he said as he squared his shoulders back and shot me an incredulous glare. “I’m only going to tell you one more time. Get your manager here. I don’t care if you put him on the phone. I want to talk to someone. NOW.”

  “Is there a problem?” another man said as he walked in behind the crazy guy.

  The jingling of the bells on the door had never sounded so sweet.

  Standing by the doorway was a guy, not much older than me, dressed in head to toe black leather. His dark hair was slicked back under a blue bandana and his full lips were surrounded by a hint of stubble.

  “Yeah,” the disgruntled customer said as he turned around to face the mysterious guy. “Someone jacked my car up in the parking lot overnight and this bitch won’t do anything about it.”

  “Excuse me?” the leather-donning man said as his face twisted into an angry contortion.

  “My car-,” the guy started to say, but he was immediately interrupted.

  “Did you just call this nice, young lady a bitch?”

  As he took a step closer to the crazy guy, he began to tower over him. He had at least five inches on the douche bag and about thirty more pounds of muscle.

  “Care to tell me why it’s her fault your car got damaged?” the hunk in leather asked. His stare was intense, as if he was burning holes into the crazy guy.

  Silence.

  “I’m going to give you three seconds to get your sorry ass out of this motel,” he said through gritted teeth. “Don’t ever speak to a woman like that again, and don’t ever show your face around here again. You hear me?”

  The crazy guy glanced outside to see a line of bikes parked outside the building.

  For a second, I thought the crazy guy was going to challenge him, but the moment he saw the bikers outside the building, he practically sprinted out of the lobby.

  “Are you okay?” the guy said as he approached the counter. “Did that guy touch you?”

  I tucked a strand of wispy blonde hair behind my ear. “I’m fine. No, he didn’t touch me.”

  “I’m Raze,” he said. “Raze Ganoway.”

  “Mia,” I replied, sheepishly realizing I was donning a tacky, plastic name badge on my shirt.

  His lips curled into a sweet smile as his face softened and our eyes locked.

  “Now that that’s settled,” he said. “I’d like to book some rooms. My guys and I will be coming through here every couple of weeks. I’d like to set up an ongoing reservation.”

  “I can help you with that,” I said as I turned towards the computer. My face turned beet red. I was suddenly flustered in his presence. In the quiet motel lobby with the ancient, peeling wallpaper and chipping ceramic tile floor, it was just us. I could feel him staring at me.

  He leaned up onto the counter, resting his strong arms just mere inches from me. The creaking of his jacket and the smell of polished leather took me far away to a place of adventure beyond these four walls.

  In my mind I was riding on the back of his bike, arms gripped tightly around his waist, the rumble of the road beneath us and the wind in our faces.

  “Mia?” he asked with a puzzled look.

  “Oh, yes?” I said, realizing I’d been daydreaming.

  “I just asked if you had ten rooms,” he said. “Ten rooms we could have every other week.”

  My face burned hot as I continued clicking around.

  “Yes, sorry,” I said. “We do. I can set up those reservations. Do you want them to be ongoing? Indefinite? Until you cancel them?”

  “Yes,” he said. I could still feel his eyes studying my face. I just prayed he didn’t see my hands trembling.

  He slid a shiny credit card across the counter. Our hands touched as I took it from him. It was only for a brief second, but in that second I felt something I’d never felt before.

  “Okay, here’s your card back,” I said a few moments later. “You’re good to go.”

  “Thanks, Mia,” he replied, my name slipping like butter off his tongue. “Listen, if that asshole ever comes in here again, I want you to call me.”

  He pulled a business card from a rack on the counter, flipped it over, and began scribbling a phone number on the back of it. He slid it towards me and raised his eyebrows. He was serious. He meant what he said.

  “You have the protection of the Black Ice MC,” he said.

  And that was when I first fell for Raze.

  CHAPTER 1

 
About a quarter of a mile from my house on the outside of our tiny, little one-horse town, was a bar called the Handle Bar. It had a cheesy name, a tacky, painted block exterior, and a faded, burned out sign that was easily approaching thirty years old. It mostly catered to truckers, bikers, and the random local drunk. Any night of the week there would be an excessive amount of motorcycles, mostly Harleys, lined up in the parking lot along with a handful of semi-trucks parked out back.

  Our little rinky-dink town was located just north of I-80 surrounded by miles and miles of corn fields on either side, so we were a great resting stop for bikers who needed to wet their whistle or truckers who needed to take a break or grab a bite to eat.

  Across the street from the Handle Bar was a seedy little motel called the Starlight Inn. It was a popular party spot for teenagers and sometimes the bikers would rent out a couple rooms to continue their late night drinking fests long after the Handle Bar had closed...I should know because I worked there.

  About once a week, a particular motorcycle gang would come through and rent some rooms for a night. It was almost like clockwork. Every other Friday I’d hear them pull up and park their bikes. Their rock solid bodies were encased in miles of black leather, chaps, fringe, sunglasses, and skull caps.

  I always got flustered around Raze, ever since that day when he rescued me from a disgruntled customer. He was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. He was at least 6’2’’ with dark, grown out hair and eyes bluer than the ocean. When he smiled, he revealed the most perfect dimples I’d ever seen. The moment he walked in the door every other Friday, my heart would pound and my face would flush twelve different shades of crimson. I was positive Raze noticed but he never did say a word about it. Perhaps he was used to having that effect on girls.

  The back of Raze’s leather jacket said “Black Ice MC”, and according to him they were a long ways from home. I had heard once that Raze was next in line to be the president of his biker gang. I tried doing a little internet research on them one day but couldn’t find much except for a couple articles from some little California newspaper. It didn’t have anything good to say about them that was for sure. It seemed they were suspected of trafficking drugs and other shady business dealings, but nothing could ever be pinned on them.

  Raze seemed so nice. The fact that he was so sweet and kind and handsome made it hard for me to believe he had anything to do with the shady practices of his gang, so I refused to believe it. He casually mentioned once that his dad was the president of the biker gang. I assumed that was how he got involved. Maybe he didn’t have a choice?

  Almost daily, I’d fantasize about leaving this two-bit town and riding away on the back of Raze’s hog. I imagined traveling from state to state by his side, seeing the sights, trying new foods, taking in the beautiful scenery as the hum of the motorcycle vibrated beneath us. Some girls wanted to be rescued by a knight in shining armor and whisked away on the back of a beautiful white horse but not me. Raze was all I wanted. I’d let him rescue me any day of the week. If he ever asked me to leave with him, I wouldn’t give it a second thought.

  It was nearing five o’clock on the second Friday of the month. I could hear the rumbling in the distance of the Black Ice MC coming up over the hill. It was only a matter of time before Raze would be wandering through the door to check in for their rooms.

  My stomach did somersaults in anticipation as my fingers drummed nervously on the counter. I saw them pull into the parking lot, one by one, and watched for Raze. After a few more seconds, I saw him pull in, only there was a girl on the back of his hog.

  My face turned a shade of red and my eyes burned with hot tears as I was embarrassed for letting myself even assume that he wouldn’t have a girlfriend. He probably had one all along. I was a fool to think I had an ice cube’s chance in Hell with someone like him. Who was I to think I could roll with a bunch of rough and tumble bikers? I wasn’t one of them at all.

  The bells on the door chimed as Raze walked in.

  “Hey there, Mia,” he said with his signature charismatic smile. His eyes lit up when he saw me, but I figured that’s how he was with all girls. He could charm the pants off a snake if he tried. “Good to see you as always.”

  “Yep,” I said. I tried not to be overly enthusiastic with him this time. I peered outside and saw the girl getting off the back of his bike. She had the tightest jeans on I’d ever seen and her long, dark hair was tied back into a low pony tail. She looked like one of them. An outsider she was not.

  “What’s wrong? You seem different,” he said as he studied my face.

  “Nothing,” I replied as I shifted my eyes from the window back to him. He noticed me looking outside but didn’t say anything.

  “I guess we’ll take the usual,” he said resting his hand on the counter. “You sure there’s nothing wrong?”

  “Here are your keys,” I replied as I ignored his question. I sat ten keys on the counter and looked away. I would’ve died of embarrassment had he noticed that I was on the verge of tears.

  Raze said nothing as he stood there and observed me for a bit longer.

  “What time do you get off work?” he asked.

  “Nine. Why do you ask?” I asked as I slammed the room keys on the counter.

  “You should meet us over at Handle Bar for a drink. My treat.”

  My stomach fluttered again. I wasn’t sure what he was trying to do. He clearly had a girlfriend. Maybe he just felt sorry for me, but then again, he’d never asked me to hang out with him before and I wasn’t about to turn that down.

  “I’ll think about it,” I lied. I was definitely going.

  “I hope you come,” he said as he flashed a dimpled smile and walked out of the office. His boots clicked on the chipped tile floor and the bells jingled as the door slammed shut.

  The next four hours were agonizing and long. I stared at the bar across the street and wondered what Raze was doing in there. I cringed at the thought of that brunette girl hanging all over him. It killed me to think about it, but it helped to know that I was going to get my chance to prove I could fit in in just a matter of hours. I had to go. I had to see him.

  By nine, my replacement showed up. I scurried out to my car touched up my makeup, sprayed on some perfume, and fluffed my blonde hair. I removed my cardigan so I was in my camisole and dark jeans, and slipped on a pair of gold heels I happened to have lying in my backseat. I was quite sure I looked ridiculous, but those guys would be so hammered by now they wouldn’t notice.

  With my heart about to beat out of my chest, I sauntered over to the Handle Bar. I had been there a couple times before with friends, but it really wasn’t my scene. It was so smoky and loud. The smoke usually made my eyes burn, and the older men sometimes intimidated me with their long beards, scowled faces, and less than transparent demeanors. They were hard to read, unlike Raze. Raze seemed genuine and not like the others, which is partly why I liked him so much. He didn’t take shit from anyone, but he wasn’t scary. He was sexy. He was the perfect combination of bad ass and Prince Charming. No one straddled that line better than him.

  I reached for the door and upon opening it was blasted with the thump of the music playing on the jukebox. The smoke smell wasn’t as bad as it was the last time I was there, but the night was still young. My eyes scanned the room until they landed on the back of Raze’s muscular physique. He was seated at the bar, hunched over a glass of what appeared to be whiskey. He was by himself, thank goodness.

  I made my way over to Raze when out of nowhere the brunette bitch got to him first.

  “Damn it!” I yelled out loud, though I was sure no one heard me due to the excessively loud Led Zepplin song blasting from the speakers above.

  I wasn’t sure what to do, but I knew I had two options. I could go and interrupt them or I could go to the bar and order myself a drink and see how long it took him to notice me. I decided on the latter.

  I took a seat at the bar about five stools down from him. The bru
nette bitch was blocking his view of me, but I hoped she would move soon. I ordered a gin and tonic and waited patiently. From the corner of my eye, I watched the brunette flirt and flitter around him like a bumbling idiot. She clearly liked him, only it seemed as if he was merely appeasing her. He didn’t flirt back with her at all. He barely said more than couple words to her. I watched as he looked down at his watch then at the door. As his eyes scanned the place he finally noticed me.

  I looked down as fast as I could. I didn’t want him to know I’d been here all along, watching him like some creepy stalker.

  “Mia?” Raze said. “How long have you been here?”