Forging Steel (Steel Riders MC Book 3) Read online

  “Okay,” she said with a smile. She climbed up into the passenger seat and buckled in. “I never get to sit up here. The guards always sit up here. I like this much better.”

  They were out of El Cajon and nearly to Lakeside when she said, “Now that I am a rich widow, perhaps you could marry me. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

  “That would be very nice, Sibel, but unfortunately I have given my heart to someone else and I am unavailable.”

  “That is too bad,” she pouted.

  “Yes, but you are a rich widow, so handsome men are going to be at your door in no time.”

  “Handsome men are already at my door because I am grandfather’s favorite. None of them impress me, though,” she sighed. “Besides, do not tell my grandfather, but I think I am a gay.”

  “Why do you think that?”

  “I did not like the sex with Orlin at all.”

  “Did he touch you yesterday?”

  “No, no, he said not until after the wedding, but I wasn’t looking forward to that either.”

  “I don’t think you should measure his taking of you last time as real sex. You may find it much more pleasant with someone you wish to sleep with.”

  “Si?”

  “I would at least wait for better information,” he suggested.

  “Hmm, okay. Grandfather would not be happy if I was a gay. So, I will take your advice,” she decided.

  Hank smiled and put his phone into the handsfree setup the Hummer had on the dash. He dialed Rivera.

  “Bueno?”

  “I have your granddaughter with me. If you give me an address in Tijuana to take her to, I would be happy to deliver her. And by the way, it appears that she is a rich widow now with a hacienda in El Cajon and two houses on the coast.”

  “No,” Rivera said, and then what could only be the sound of a gunshot came through the speakers. “Now she is a rich widow. I can’t thank you enough, Hank. You have truly been a blessing to me. I will give you an address. And by the way, you are free and clear of any reprisals. All of the lieutenants are accounted for.”

  Hank put the address into the GPS system. He continued to Lakeside to drop off his spoils before he headed south to Mexico. Explaining all of the cash and other items to the Border Patrol on the way back would be difficult.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Cynthia woke to Hank’s ringtone at four in the morning.

  “Yes? Hank?”

  “Where are you?”

  “Spending the night with James. Where are you?”

  “About to come up to the house. After that, I’m going to Mexico to drop off a young lady named Sibel, who was kidnapped and wants to go home.”

  “Oh. Um, speaking of the house, we had some visitors yesterday.”

  “I heard, and last I heard they were all dead.”

  Cyn bit her lip. “Yes, all dead. But the house is, well … I had to use the hand grenade in the nightstand at the bottom of the stairs, so watch for the hole in the floor there, and I had to fire an Uzi through the bathroom wall into the stairwell. Also, the concussion grenades I took off the bad guys and set off on the patio broke just about every dish you own and most of the widows and — stop laughing, James, this is serious — anyway, Hank, it’s a mess. Oh, and all the guns laid out on the bed are mine. So is the cash and jewelry on the pool table.”

  “So, to sum up,” Hank said, “you wrecked my house and spent the night with another man.”

  “Ah, after having sex with a woman this morning, yes,” she added.

  “I see. And how are you going to make this up to me?”

  “I was thinking of the same thing you got Wednesday night, only with more enthusiasm on my part.”

  “I’m on speakerphone dear,” Hank interrupted, and Cyn heard the sound of girlish giggles. “But yes, that sounds very inviting, if all parties are willing.”

  “I’m sure they are, but I’ll check and get back to you.”

  They said goodbye. She broke the connection and then slapped James on the arm. “Shut up! Can we go yet?”

  “You and Daphne are having sex?”

  “Yes,” she sighed, “but if you tell anyone, I’ll poke your amazingly sexy ass with a pin and not even feel bad about it at all.”

  “Mum’s the word,” James said. “And yes, I think we can sneak out of here now, or at least give it a try.”

  He used the night vision goggles to head down the trail again, onto the main fire road, and then out to the highway, where he took them off and turned on the lights. Cyn called Knight and told him they were almost there.

  Knight and Boston were waiting. She gave them both a hug, and then loaded her new toys into the Hummer before getting in.

  “Wow, twenty-four hours and I’ve gone from freelance editor to fucking Rambo,” she said to Boston as she jumped into the passenger seat. Knight had already chosen to sit in back with James.

  “Any word from Hank?” Knight asked.

  “Yes, and all good words,” Cyn told him. “He made a date with me tonight at his house, so maybe it’s even better than we hoped for, since he doesn’t feel like he needs to bug out today.”

  “That sounds very hopeful, yes,” Knight agreed. “Where is he now?”

  “On his way to Mexico to drop off a girl who was kidnapped. I don’t know the whole story on that, but apparently it is highly important,” Cyn told him.

  “Well, with border crossing traffic, he probably won’t be back until noon, then, so tell him that we’ll get together tomorrow to debrief and figure out our next steps,” Knight told her.

  “Will do,” Cyn said. “Boston? Could you drop me off at Daphne’s place? I want to check in on her and relieve Sally.”

  “Don’t see a problem with that,” Boston agreed. “Do you think she’ll want to go for a ride on Saturday?”

  “Yes, Boston, I do. And I think you should take off the kid gloves with her. She’s a big girl,” Cyn told him.

  “Well, she’s been through a lot—”

  “Yes, she has. Hence the big girl title. She can take it. I think you should take her for a ride straight to your place and carry her over the threshold and straight into your bedroom,” Cyn told him.

  “And from Rambo to Dr. Ruth,” Knight laughed.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Cyn would always recall that day as the day she was nearly sexed to death in twenty-four hours.

  Daphne, finding her sleeping beside her when she woke up, had her way with Cyn for nearly two hours. After that, they had breakfast and went to Hank’s house.

  Erik was there. He had replaced all the broken windows and was looking over the rest of the damage. He left about an hour later while they were in the bath together.

  Hank came home about an hour after that, and then he and Daphne had their way with her for another two hours.

  They had to go out to dinner, because there were no dishes in the kitchen any longer except for one coffee mug that said, I love Mondays, which Hank was far too happy about (in Cyn’s opinion).

  After dinner, they made it through half of a DVD sitting on the couch before both she and Daphne were undressed and sharing Hank’s cock in a deep throating contest.

  Hank then took them upstairs for a three-hour session, which was prolonged because he tied them both to the same bedpost and then massaged their asses and thighs with his large hands and coconut oil until both of them were offering all sorts of pleasures and servitudes.

  Cyn’s offer to go down on Daphne for his viewing pleasure won out, which she did, willingly, while Daphne was still tied to the bedpost. As soon as Daphne was writhing in orgasmic joy, Hank fucked Cyn to a wild orgasm from behind while she lay on Daphne with her face buried in her breasts.

  In the morning, Hank fucked them both slowly and lovingly, one after the other, climaxing with Cyn. Then Cyn, while Hank went for a shower, gave Daphne her fantasy of real, honest, loving lesbian sex with her for nearly an hour.

  “Boston wants to take you for a ride today,” she
told Daphne as they cuddled together afterward.

  “I really like him. He’s a good man. I know most girls go for the bad boys, but I’ve been with a bad boy, and it wasn’t much fun after awhile. I think Boston will be good to me, and I would try to be very good to him, if he would let me.”

  “I told him to take you for a ride to his house and then take you to bed,” Cyn told her.

  “You did?”

  “Yes,” Cyn admitted.

  “You think I’m that kind of girl?” Daphne asked.

  “I think you are for Boston, yes,” Cyn told her.

  “Oh, well, that’s true,” Daphne agreed.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Five Years Later

  The metric ton of cocaine filled the coffers of the club to bursting. Hank was offered the million that Knight promised, but he refused such a large amount since he had come away with a large sum on his own and there was no need for him to go into hiding. So, Knight gave it to Cyn, who kept this fact hidden from Hank until their honeymoon in Hawaii, when she admitted to having half a million.

  Knight also gave half a million to Daphne, who accepted it shyly and kept this information from her new husband Kent “Boston” McGregor until after little Henry was born a year after their marriage, when she admitted to having a quarter of a million.

  ***

  “It’s a nesting thing, Boston,” Hank told him as they played with trucks and cars on the living room floor with three-year-old Henry. “I’ll bet both of them have even more hidden away somewhere that they won’t admit to until a need for it arises.”

  “I’m not mad or anything about it. I just wonder why she didn’t trust me, that’s all,” Boston told him.

  “It’s not really a matter of trust; it’s more like instinct.”

  “So, you’re just fine with it.”

  “Didn’t say that. But there’s no point in making more of it than it is.”

  “So when Cyn gets pregnant, you think she’ll suddenly pop out with another nest egg,” Boston surmised.

  “Not sure that’s going to happen. She loves being Aunt Cyn, and babysitting, and even having Henry over for the weekends so you two can get in some riding time together, but she doesn’t seem to have any maternal need to spawn.”

  Cyn popped in from the kitchen with, “Did you just say spawn? Is that how you think of it? Well, you’re right! I don’t have any desire to spawn for you, Neanderthal man!”

  “Told you they were listening. Pay up, Boston.”

  “Fuck, how do you know all this shit,” Boston gripped, and he dug out a twenty.

  THE END

  Enjoyed the Steel Riders MC series? You may also enjoy Carmen Faye's Chrome Horsemen MC series!

  Available now worldwide!

  Read on for an excerpt from Book 1:

  BLOODMARE

  CHAPTER ONE

  Nicole Bower never set out to be a call girl. After running the streets from age sixteen to nineteen, however, giving up her ass for a bit of cash, coke, and occasional place to stay became nearly routine. Survival sex is what they call it, she found out later, and a lot of kids lose themselves from its erosion. After a long-term stretch with an abusive boyfriend after that, she was introduced to the idea of being a call girl.

  Prostitution wasn't a new idea and after leaving Jorge, she was at the brink of making it real, but this was a major refinement of that old idea. It sounded much better than working the streets alone. Safer, too, and despite her long history of bad decisions, this one seemed to turn out as planned – while resulting in some serious cash for the effort.

  She went from a woman with no goals and no direction to a successful, highly sought-after call girl. One of the best, she had been told by many sources.

  It still felt like fucking for handouts, though.

  The only time it didn't feel dirty on her skin was with men like Max. He waited in his chair, working his laptop while she approached with rolling hips and warm eyes across the space of his downtown flat.

  Max was the kind of successful that reaped in barrels of power, as well, but that wasn't what Nicole liked about him. What she liked was the open humanness he offered during his time with her.

  He came to her broken and didn't try to hide his emotional state. His wife, who he dearly loved, had died recently and loneliness was tearing him apart. He was looking for comfort, not really sex.

  She gave him both.

  She picked up pieces and puzzled out where they fit inside of him. She soothed his heart and strove to fill the hole in his chest.

  That was nearly two years ago. Max still paid top dollar to see her at least once a month, though five visits from him in a month wasn’t unheard of and he didn't seem to mind doing so.

  Sleeping with powerful men like Max and getting great money for doing so wasn't an easy job. She spent most of her free time reading newspapers, watching financial reports, and studying areas of her clients’ interests.

  She trained her body with the intensity of a world-class gymnast, and sought out unique sexual skills and seductive abilities. She took her job seriously. As a result, she found that the men she was with took her seriously.

  It still wasn't what she wanted, though. Being a good whore simply wasn't fulfilling, but the likelihood of getting out and doing something with her life seemed like a pointless dream. She didn't even know what she would do or what might be interesting to her. She had no passions of her own. In spite of all her reading and efforts, nothing appealed to her personally. So, what was the point in stopping?

  The thought of her new driver crossed her mind, and she indulged in a personal smile thinking about him. He was appealing, perhaps not in a life-altering way, but definitely appealing.

  She brought Max his drink and then curled across the arm of his large, overstuffed, leather chair while he finished his workday on his laptop. Then they talked about some of the current world issues and discussed some stocks that could be affected. She had a personal portfolio worth nearly a million now, and growing. Not nearly enough to retire in the lifestyle she wanted, but some serious cash, nonetheless.

  Max was the first of her clients to get her to develop that portfolio and to commit to building it up. Others helped her, as well, by suggesting investments, giving advice and tips, and developing her understanding and skills. Some serious leaps in profit came from what amounted to insider trading -- pillow talk had its uses if you knew enough to take advantage of the situation.

  She let Max talk and offered an engaging level of conversation for more than an hour. Max was a man who needed to decompress after his day if she were going to give him the level of pleasure he had come to expect from time spent with her. After that hour, though, she enticed him into the shower and scrubbed him down while guiding his attention away from the world and into her arms.

  Max was a focused man, intense even, so this altering of attentions required skill and patient acts of will. Really, though, it was this seduction of his attention that made the night worth what he paid.

  Men like Max were rarely out of their world-bubbles. Their minds didn't truly leave the boardrooms and investment portfolios. They had money and some had a great deal of power, but nearly no freedom. No freedom from their world-bubbles.

  Pulling them out of those bubbles and letting them escape for an evening was worth more to them than the sex, much more, in fact. They could have sex with their secretary, or nanny, or wife, or girlfriend -- and often did, sometimes with two or three of them in the same day. No, getting his rocks off wasn't the goal. Popping his bubble and letting him enjoy being himself for a few luxurious hours was the only goal worth going after with men like Max.

  Her rate of success with this was why they paid her enormous fee and why they sometimes dropped as much as a grand on her table beside the front door on their way out. Max would slip it into her purse, because she came to him. Others had their own methods of tipping -- some sweet, some blatant. Every one of them was happy to do so, just to remain on h
er list of acceptable clients.

  All of her tips went straight into her portfolio -- every cent. In addition, any gifts that she could sell were converted to cash and invested. Gifts of jewelry were common, but she often received tickets for cruises and resorts. Spa memberships were another common gift. Selling these was sometimes beyond her means, but what she could sell, she did and then invested the money. That was her commitment. She lived off the rest, spending it guilt free.