Bash, Volume I (Rolling Thunder Motorcycle Club Book 3)(6)

By: Candace Blevins

“On. Your. Knees. Cunt.”

Tears filled my eyes, but I took a breath and brought my emotions under control. If I had to do this, I’d do it, but he wouldn’t get my tears. I’d seen the club sluts giving blowjobs as if it was nothing — I could pull it off, too. I dropped to my knees as I told him, “My daddy will kill you for this.” My voice was totally steady as I said it. Go me.

Of course, he’d smell my terror, and my revulsion, but I couldn’t stop the way I smelled. I did not want to put his dick in my mouth, but I seemed to be out of options, and tears filled my eyes again. Dammit.

“You tell your daddy and you’ll start a Pack war with the RTMC. People you love will die. Sure you want to do that over a fuckin’ blowjob?” he asked as he unfastened his pants and pulled his cock out.

I heard something a half-second before Sloane fell away from me, and my wolf instincts had me up and on the other side of his Range Rover in an instant, using it as cover since I didn’t have the keys.

I smelled Bash, and then I smelled Sloane’s blood, and my mouth fell open as I watched Bash beat the ever-lovin’ hell out of another wolf twice his weight.

When Bash stopped hitting him, I only heard one heartbeat besides my own, which seemed to be trying to escape my rib cage.

“Fuck.” It was all I could think of to say, but it pretty much summed up the situation. My terror of a few minutes ago when I was at Sloane’s mercy hadn’t totally faded, and now I worried about the fallout of… shit, killing a Pack member.

After another two minutes of silence, with Bash standing over Sloane’s body, I finally trusted my legs enough to walk towards them. Sloane’s skull was caved in, his facial features totally gone.

“How did you know I snuck out?”

“Knew something was up, just didn’t know what. Kept an eye on you.”


His chuckle had no humor in it at all. “Glad I could help, Princess.”

“No one knows you’re here. I’ll call Duke.”

He nodded, and I called the person my dad had left in charge.

“Punkin?” God, the club had given me the nickname when I was a toddler, and it’d stuck. I might get aggravated at Bash calling me Princess, but at least he didn’t call me Punkin.

“I have a situation. We’re gonna need you and Brain, probably a cargo van, and some old timers. No bikes, no colors.” Old-timers was a code word for ‘this is as bad as it gets and make sure you bring people super loyal to the club’.

“You alone?”

“Not saying over the phone. I’m safe for the time being, but you need to come fast.”

I told him where I was, and he said he’d be there in fifteen minutes. I told him to try to make it ten, even though I knew it was a twenty-minute drive at this time of night, with no traffic.

“You’re a little scary sometimes, Princess,” Bash told me as I hung up and put my phone back in my pocket.

I looked at him a few seconds and answered, “I’m not the one who just bashed someone’s skull in.”

He shook his head. “Your dad would’ve given the same damned instructions, with the same damned tone of voice. You’re fifteen years old, Angelica.”

“You never call me by my name.”

He shook his head. “Think you’ve earned it tonight, Princess.”

I rolled my eyes and looked back at Sloane. “I owe you big.”

“You have no idea. I had three nice pieces of ass lined up for tonight, and had to blow ‘em off to come rescue your ass.”

I’d seen him with two women on a picnic table at a party a few months ago, so I didn’t doubt he could line up three. The standard party line was that his nickname stood for Bashful, kind of like one of our biggest enforcers was named Tiny. However, I’d heard it was because he had a habit of bashing people’s heads in.

And now, I’d seen him in action.

I still wasn’t afraid of him, as in, worried he’d hurt me. I knew he’d never change into a nice guy, but I also knew he’d always protect me. I wished he was keeping me safe because I was important to him, but I knew it was all about getting his last patch.

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