Ice Cream

Greg’s POV

Duluth Hotel

Heather was a wreck after watching the service.

She couldn’t stop crying, so eventually we ended up in the bed, her body clinging to mine as her tears soaked the shoulder of my T-shirt. She finally fell asleep about four in the afternoon, leaving me to my own thoughts. The first and foremost was how good she felt against me.

I’m no blushing virgin; I grew up in a remote Pack with long winters and few people my age. The Banff Pack was larger than Arrowhead, but had few children, and no one within two years of me. There were about fifty unmated adults, more men than women, and the women’s lusts were wolf driven. Few paired up, hoping for their mates, while the rest hooked up. When I turned eighteen, the ladies taught me about sex on a nightly basis.

The only time the parties would pause would be when we were visiting or being visited by another Pack. Things tended to go downhill quickly if a male found your seed inside your new mate. To prevent conflict, the Alphas ordered a 72-hour cooling off period.

When the other wolves came in and we didn’t find our mates again, the hookups with new partners could be explosive. Drunken orgies in the hot tubs and Warrior quarters were common, as were fights and bets. It was a fun time, unlike now. I’d been without relief for longer than 72 hours and Heather could tempt the devil himself. I didn’t find my mate when I arrived, and Beta Coral warned me about playing their field. Arrowhead had a lot of females still struggling after being in horrible situations.

Which brought me back to my current predicament; lying in shorts and shirt under a sheet tented high by an erection that wouldn’t go down. I tried math problems, distracting myself with news or sports, but nothing worked. I’d feel her leg draped over mine or the press of her unbound tits through the shirts, or the way her mouth twitched, and I was rock hard again.

My real problem was that I was falling in love with her. She was smart, tough, beautiful and loyal. All the things I dreamed of finding with my mate, she had in spades. The only thing she didn’t have was a wolf.

I couldn’t fall in love with her, and I couldn’t let her fall for me. It would end badly. I had a job to do.

Then her hand slipped down my body. The tent was pulling the waistband away, allowing her hand to slide inside. I froze; I was barely holding myself back from pulling her shorts down and taking her already. If she started to play with my cock, even in sleep, I might just wake her up and do that.

“Greg, we got word from Beta Coral that the Sons of Tezcatlipoca know we were involved in the Orlando mess. They are going into lockdown.”

I was relieved to be called in bed with a woman for the first time in my life. “I figured that when I saw the Alpha next to Manilo before he spoke, Charles.”

“They left it up to us to decide if we need to move. The Alphas are going to Oxbow Lake when they return tonight.”

I thought about it; the hotel we were in was among the humans but surrounded by water, off the normal travel routes. “You said you liked this from a defense standpoint. Still feel that way?”

“Yes, it’s easy to patrol.”

“Let’s stay for now. The room works well for Heather and we don’t risk her being recognized so soon after the service. She wouldn’t be comfortable with a long drive, either. We should have plans ready. Look for suitable places within one, four and twelve hours driving and check availability. I’ll do the same.”

“No problem, Greg. Hey, I’m picking up barbecue tonight, do you want me to bring some to you? I can play delivery guy.”

“Sure. A meat sampler for four with a few sauces and sides. Get extra corn bread and pecan pie, too. The room has a fridge if I don’t eat it all.” She shifted, moving until she was on her back. “Can you wait a few hours? Heather was upset after watching the service and I just got her to sleep.”

“I bet. She’s been through so much, I’m surprised she’s still functioning.”

“She is strong inside,” I said as my hand moved to hers, holding it gently. “She wants to learn to fight so she can take them on.”

“Teach her to survive first.”

“I will.” I sat up and turned the cable news up a little. The panel of experts was discussing the surprise appearance of President Manilo at the memorial, and whether he was truthful in saying it was all the fault of a rogue chapter.

“Of course he’s going to say that,” a former Federal Prosecutor said. “What else can he say to limit the damage? The Task Force and the State of Florida are going to fall on this club like a ton of bricks. They will raid, seize, arrest, and flip people until the whole gang is broken up. I’m sure they are already working on RICO charges; once they prove the gang is an ongoing criminal conspiracy, they will take them all out.”

“What about the Steel Brotherhood? Will they get the same,” the host asked.

“They are claiming to be a law-abiding club, and I haven’t seen anything contrary to that yet. If they are just victims, they will cooperate. I know the Orlando Police Chief has been outspoken about wanting them out, so they will be fully investigated. If they have nothing to hide, they’ll be fine.”

A defense lawyer laughed at that. “Have we learned nothing from the Special Counsel investigations? This task force is going to crawl up their collective butts and pull out a microscope. They’ll charge low-level people to flip on others, figuring eventually they get the big fish. It rarely works that way in real life. They will destroy dozens of lives and ruin the club, and come out with nothing.”

“Exactly,” a talk show host said. “The Brotherhood had a family tortured and killed, the daughter shot then kidnapped and killed by these animals. The dead Sons got what was coming to them. We should be buying them drinks, not arresting them. What happened to the Chapter President, Mongo, is a travesty.”

“He has eleven bodies in his garage, you can’t ignore that,” the prosecutor countered.

“You can’t be bothered to investigate it in Orlando. They go from a robbery in progress call to arresting Mongo in less than an hour, while he was with dozens of witnesses. They were taking crime scene photos at the same time as his mug shot!”

“If I was the District Attorney I would not indict,” the defense lawyer said. “His lawyer is already writing up the lawsuit for false arrest. I’ll bet you a coke he’s released in an hour,” he said.

“I’ll take that action,” the prosecutor said. “Today’s hearing is not evidentiary and it is capital murder with multiple counts. The judge can’t let him walk, and the formal indictment can be filed in 59 more days.”

“Great leadin, because we have just received word that the Attorney General of Florida is declining to indict, and Mr. Lane is being released now.”

The defense lawyer slapped his hand down. “I prefer bottles,” he teased.

An hour later I saw why. Security cameras on a neighboring house had caught images of men heading to the house two doors down.

One was Manilo Correria.

As the tape ran, Sons were seen walking by in the company of a thin white male, who would walk back alone and fetch the next guy. They inset photos of the dead men as they walked past, then Manilo returned the way he came.

Just like I thought, it was a setup.

Why would the Sons kill their own?

To protect Manilo and the rest of the club. Only with them all dead could the cases be closed and the Club deny involvement.

Heather woke slowly, her back arching and pushing her breasts out towards me. Goddess, she was built for sin. “Feel better?”

I helped her sit up. “Yes. I’m sorry, Greg.”

“For what?”

“You’re a great guy, and I’m sure you’d rather be doing something other than babysitting a bawling freshman girl.”

“So you think I’m a great guy?” I gave her a puppy dog look and she laughed. “I love hearing that sound.”

“Help me up.”

She used the bathroom and I helped her back to the table. “Good news, Mongo is being released without charges.”

She looked at me, then the television. “It was Manilo?”

“Yep. Caught on a neighbor’s security cam after a cursory investigation.”

“Thank God. Three Tequila had enough going on.”

“He should make it back to the clubhouse for the wake.” There was a knock on the door. “I didn't want to wake you but I knew you’d be hungry.” I grabbed a fifty and a ten out of my wallet, then kept the Glock behind my back as I opened the door. I keptmy body in the way so she didn’t see Charles. “Thanks, keep the change.”

“That smells amazing,” she said as I set the round tray and a bag down.

I set the table, then opened up the food. “Did you get enough? I’m not some salad and a Diet Coke chick, you know.”

The tray had a pound of brisket, pulled pork, a full rack of ribs and a full chicken, plus beans, cole slaw and cornbread. “Pace yourself, there’s pecan pie for dessert.”

“With ice cream?” I shook my head no. “Sooo close to getting into my pants with all this and he can’t stick the landing.”

I just about choked on a piece of brisket dipped in hot and smoky barbecue sauce. “I’ll know better next time,” I finally replied.

Over dinner we talked about what had happened today and what it meant for us. “Manilo is still at large, and he knows Chase and Rori are with the Brotherhood. If they don’t believe the Feds have you, and they didn’t kill you, it makes sense you might be hiding in Minnesota. You’re still in danger, and still presumed dead.”

She thought as she ate, another nice trait. She was measured, not blabbing incessantly. “You should do my hair. A hotel worker might see me.”

“Later.” We’d made a good dent in the food by the time we’d discussed the Brotherhood, her upbringing with a DEA Dad and prosecutor Mom, and being the niece of the Club President. “You must have been hit on a lot in that clubhouse,” I said.

She roared with laughter. “Are you kidding? I could have ridden my Harley naked through the clubhouse and no one would have touched me. You don’t know biker culture, do you.” I shook my head no. “Women in most Clubs can’t be members, so you only get in as family, a member’s Old Lady, or you’re there to fuck. My Club doesn’t have sweetbutts or club pass-around whores like some, but there’s a lot of women attracted to the bikers. Those men get more ass than an airport toilet seat.”

“But family’s different?”

“Hell yes. Since I’m family, the whole Club watches out for me. One visitor grabbed my ass last year and didn’t wake up until the next day.” She grabbed the last rib, smirking as I tried to grab it from her. “If you wanted to date me, you had to get permission from my Dad and Mongo. Permission usually comes after a beating and a warning. No biker ever got that far; there’s a prospect who I know wants to, but he can’t until he’s patched.”

It was quite the cock block. “What about dating me? I’m not in the club.”

“Oh, then they just cut your dick off and dump you in the swamp,” she said sweetly. “Pie, please?”

This girl would be the death of me.

And I was seriously considering ordering room service ice cream.