Beyond Redemption: Joker (Serpents MC Las Vegas Book 1) Page 3

  “I have to ask … Joker? You don’t strike me as the humorous type.”

  “I’m not.” He grinned. “A lot of road names are the exact opposite. My father hung that on me ’cause I was so serious as a kid.” He shrugged. “Had to take on a lot of shit at a young age. My father was too busy being president of his MC and getting his dick wet.”

  Shit! Where did all that come from?

  “Why don’t we hit the beach.” She ignored his mini-bio and crumbled up the paper bag that had held the pastries. Perfect. The last thing he wanted to do was answer questions about his fucked-up life.

  “I didn’t bring a bathing suit.”

  Her eyes widened. “Who comes to South Beach without a bathing suit?”

  “Didn’t think I’d be here that long. Just came for business.”

  “Most business in Miami is done by the pool.”

  “Like your business yesterday?” She still hadn’t said why she approached those guys or what she did.

  “That was a complete screw-up. I was supposed to meet some clients for a new project I’m working on, but I was obviously given the wrong cabana.”

  Funny, the same thing happened to him, but he’d keep that to himself. She may have been hot in bed with a knockout body, but his life experiences taught him to use caution. Always.

  “What kinda business?”

  “Importing and exporting for a shipping group in Miami. I cultivate the clients, and then my partners seal the deal.”

  Vague, general answer. So she worked in Miami. He tried to detect an accent, but she had the generic speech of a newscaster.

  “And I guess that string bikini seals a lot of deals.”

  “It’s Miami. Poolside negotiations, sun, sand, and Caipirinhas.” She finished her coffee. “Ready to get you a bathing suit?”

  Chapter Four

  Joker’s bullshit meter sounded the minute he walked into the hotel’s men’s clothing store. He hated shopping at any level, but this experience would be a brand-new kind of hell.

  Daisy, on the other hand, was completely at ease. She greeted the manager, Manny, in Spanish, and although Joker knew some Spanish, their conversation was much too intricate for his amateur level.

  They switched to English obviously for his benefit. Then she wasted no time searching the rack for bathing suits and other assorted men’s clothing while he tagged along with a pained expression.

  “I just need a bathing suit.” He reminded her.

  Manny appeared with an armful of clothing. “These would look fabulous on you.” He sized Joker up. “And you’re so tall. You can wear anything.”

  “I just need a bathing suit, thanks.”

  “Let’s measure your inseam.”

  “Let’s not.” Joker put his palms up, and Daisy laughed behind him. She said something in Spanish, and Manny transferred his armload of clothes to her, then disappeared to the other side of the store.

  “You look like you’re being tortured.”

  “Good, because that’s the way it feels. Can we just pick out a bathing suit and get the hell outta here? That guy makes me nervous.”

  “Relax.” She rubbed his arm. “I’ll take care of everything.”

  The dressing room was the size of a small bedroom with chairs and couches, and a planet away from the Harley store where he usually did his shopping. A half-hour later, he’d gotten two bathing suits, a pair of pants that weren’t jeans, and two button-down shirts that she and Manny both agreed were made for him. And Daisy was right, he did relax, especially after the mind-numbing blowjob she gave him right there in the dressing room.

  They stopped at a few more stores where, again, she knew the staff, and even though she was practically naked under the sheer coverup, no one seemed to notice. A few tourists looked, but his evil glare made them turn away.

  They went to his room, fucked again, then hit the beach where it was the same thing all over. She greeted the cabana boys by name, and they were treated to a covered daybed by the water’s edge for which he never saw a bill.

  She ran her fingers over his bicep. “You obviously work out.”

  “Yes and no.” She cocked her head, and because she seemed interested, he continued. “I work with motorcycles and cars. Lifting heavy parts and equipment all day keeps you pretty fit. Plus, I do some underground cage fighting.”

  “Underground cage fighting?”

  “Kind of a martial arts, kickboxing, no rules, fucked-up free for all.”

  “Sounds dangerous—and illegal.”

  “Only dangerous if you don’t know what you’re doin’ and the illegal part we keep on the down-low.”

  “Whatever you’re doing, it’s working.” She brushed a soft kiss to his cheek. “I’ll be right back. Just want to make sure they get our drink order right.”

  Her hips swayed as she navigated the sand. Him and his dick both agreed the rear view of her Brazilian string bikini was almost better than the front. Almost.

  Joker stretched out over the huge lounger and let the balmy breeze and warm sun seep into his body, relaxing him from the outside in. He didn’t think he’d ever been this totally at ease, and he forced himself to remember that tomorrow it would be business as usual. Get in, get the job done, and get gone. Don’t lose sight of the prize.

  He stared at his phone laying beside him on the towel, and his throat tightened up. He missed his son like crazy. Only thirteen, and he was already tall for his age, and so damn good-looking. They shared the same black hair and dusky skin, but his face still held an innocence void of the hard edge of biker life.

  The phone was hot from the blazing sun. Joker shielded the screen and hit the speed dial. It rang four times, and he prepared himself for the automated message.

  “Hey, Joker.” Derek’s man-child voice pulled at his chest. The first change he’d make in their new life was his son calling him “Dad.”

  “Hey, kid, how’re you doin'?” The tightness in his voice reminded him how much was riding on this Miami deal.

  “Good. Helping Shirley with lunch. Tacos, burritos, and the best fuckin’ guacamole you ever tasted.” The second change he’d make was curbing the kid’s vocabulary. Tough to do with a club full of filthy-mouthed bikers and women whose mouths were just as bad. Thank god for Shirley, the fifty-year-old woman who cooked and cleaned for them at the clubhouse. She’d become a surrogate mother-grandmother to Derek and got the kid interested in cooking.

  “Sounds good.” Joker sucked in a deep breath. He wanted to tell Derek that when he got home, their life would be better—different but definitely better. He wanted to tell him so much, but the words wouldn’t come.

  “You okay?” Derek’s voice slipped. Alert and wary. The exact reactions he wanted to eliminate for their future.

  “Yeah, yeah. Just wondering how you’re doin’.”

  “I’m good, but I gotta go. The guys are coming in, and you know how fucked up they get if lunch isn’t ready.”

  Joker smiled into the phone. He’d thrown Derek into a dark, violent life with two promises—jail time or death—and yet the kid sounded happy. Fuckin’ amazing.

  “Sure.” Joker shifted on the lounger. “See you when I see you.”

  The phone disconnected, and he stared at the black screen for a few seconds. He’d make this work. He owed it to him after the pathetic way he’d failed Derek’s mother. Now the kid had to rely on him for a shot at a normal life, a good life away from the club. A life way the hell better than his own.

  So lost in his thoughts, he startled when Daisy slid next to him on the daybed. She caressed his chest. “You all right? You seemed a million miles away.”

  He smiled at her perceptiveness. It’d been a long time since someone asked how he felt. Desiree used to worry about him all the time, but he’d managed to ruin her, drag her down until her innocence vanished. Geez, talking with Derek must’ve brought up that depressing thought.

  “I’m fine.” How many times he’d said those words, and yet toda
y, right now, he meant them. He did feel fine. Foreign and kinda unsettled, but good.

  She squeezed some suntan oil onto her palm, then rubbed it up and over his shoulders and down his chest, making his dick come to life. Everything this woman did made his dick hard.

  “Although I loved seeing you in those designer clothes, this look is working too.”

  Daisy traced the club insignia tat that covered his pecs. “I assume this means something.”

  “Club colors. All the guys have it.” Safe, generic answer, giving nothing away. No need to tell her that the skeleton wielding a sickle instilled fear in most of the rival clubs in New York, or that he was the VP of one of the most notorious MC’s in the state.

  A club he’d belonged to all his adult life, all he’d ever wanted to be, until it all fell to shit under Digger’s regime. Even though he wanted out, the Raiders were in his blood, and if he wasn’t a Raider, then what?

  “Are you like a gang?” Her lips quirked like she wanted to hear something exciting.

  “Nah, just a bunch of guys who like to ride motorcycles.” Right, and the mafia was just a bunch of guys who got together and cooked Italian food.

  “What about you?” he asked before she could hit him with another question. “How long you lived in Miami?”

  “Just a few years. Came down here for business and decided to stay.”

  Her fingers dipped into the front of his swim trunks. The daybed had a cover, so they were partially shielded, and again she made that public sex thing seem like a good idea.

  Who the fuck was this woman, and what was she doing in his life?

  “Shit, woman. I think you’re trying to kill me.” Joker’s hips twitched.

  “What’s the matter?” She traced her finger over the tattoo on his bicep. “Not used to all this sex?”

  “Sex, yeah. Just not used to enjoying it this much.” He silently cursed himself. What was it about her that made him reveal shit?

  “So, you speak Spanish.” It bugged him how he wanted to know more about her.

  “Mm-hmm … and French.” Her hand rested on his abs.

  “Not bad.”

  “Someone told me a long time ago that knowledge is power, and I’ve found that knowing other languages is very helpful in business.”

  “So, who are you, Daisy?” He couldn’t wait to hear how she’d answer this one.

  “Nobody special. Just a woman who knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to go after it.”

  “Sounds like one of those women’s magazines in the doctor’s office.”

  “You read Cosmo too?”

  He flipped over, pinning her hands above her head on the lounger. “Don’t be a smart ass.”

  “Or what?” She laughed behind the challenge, but the fire in her eyes was unmistakable. This woman wasn’t afraid of a dare or a fight. All classy and well-groomed, but underneath he guessed his wildcat had claws, and she knew how to use them.

  “I know how to punish you good.”

  “I’ll bet you do.”

  Her fingers brushed the underside of his bicep, and he jerked. “Ticklish?” She did it again and laughed. “Big, tough, tatted guy is ticklish?

  He jackknifed off the lounger and hovered over her. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

  “You don’t scare me.” She wiggled her hips, then yelped when Joker scooped her up and headed for the water. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  He easily carried her as she kicked and tried to get out of his hold.

  “You picked the wrong one to tease, babe.” He trudged into the calm, warm water of the Atlantic, and when it reached his waist, he dropped her. Daisy sputtered but managed to keep her head above water, then regained her balance and lunged at him, laughing. He pulled her deeper until her arms wrapped around his shoulders and her legs wrapped around his waist.

  He captured her lips in a wet, salty kiss that lingered, and again, he wondered how this mysterious fantasy woman dropped into his life. She broke away from the kiss and dipped her head into the water, then slicked her hair back. Sexiest fuckin’ thing he’d ever seen, like a porn movie with the hot babe all slick and wet. His dick sprang to life, and even he was impressed. Fuckin’ thing hadn’t had much rest the last few hours, and yet it was up and ready to go again.

  Joker lowered his head and nipped at the soft flesh of her neck. “You got two choices; either I yank that strip of material you call a bathing suit off and shove my dick into you right here, or we take it upstairs and I give it to you nice and slow and dirty.”

  All he remembered about the elevator ride to his room was the expression on the older couple’s faces when the door opened and Daisy was on her knees, giving him another mind-fucking blowjob. Seconds before the door closed again, he caught the smile on the guy’s face while the woman gasped.

  An hour later, with his legs tangled in the bedsheets, it happened again. Just like the last three times they’d had sex, his mind shut down and he went on instinct. Sex usually bordered on mechanical for him. He’d always gotten off, and he never had any complaints from his partners, but his brain always stayed in the game and never truly unwound—until now.

  Joker’s tongue lapped at her as his thumb worked her clit. He kept at it until her soft moans turned to grunts, then he pulled back and gazed at her. Eyelids hooded, and those pouty, suck-me lips parted in the sexiest fuckin’ way.

  She propped herself up on her elbows, and he met her halfway, catching his mouth with hers, shoving his tongue deep, then pulling back a few inches. “See how good you taste. Fuckin’ love seeing you squirming under me.”

  “You’ve got a magic tongue.”

  He slid up her body, reached for a condom, ripped it open, and sheathed his throbbing dick. Daisy pulled at him, and he easily slid into her wet heat. He stilled, letting her adjust, as her hips shifted until she had him exactly where she wanted him.

  “Yeah, baby, that’s it.” He ground his hips against her, loving the way she moved under him. “Let me feel it. Come all over my dick.”

  When her hips rose off the mattress, he bit her nipple and she exploded. He continued to suck at her until she came down off her high. Joker liked that she knew what she wanted and wasn’t afraid to go after it.

  Frightening as fuck, but he liked everything she did, in and out of bed. A week ago he hadn’t even known Daisy existed, hell, the same could be said for three days ago, but now she filled every space in his brain: the way she teased him, the way she made him feel like he was the only one in the room, even the way she never cursed. Her soft voice captivated him. Fuck, he could listen to her read the phone book.

  He slid his hands down over her narrow waist and rested on her hips.

  “I could stay in this bed with you forever.”

  “Or we could go out, and you could wear some of those new clothes.”

  “Out? Where?”

  “You haven’t been to a club until you’ve been to a club in South Beach.” She scooted up the bed, out of his reach. “And I know just the place.”

  “I’ll bet you do. Best Cuban breakfast, best beach sex, best dressing rooms, and best elevators for blowjobs. You’re like some porno travel agent.”

  She swatted at him, and he caught her hand in his. “I haven’t had this much fun in a long time.”

  They stilled for a minute, sharing a powerful moment, then they shifted off the bed, both uncomfortable with what just passed between them.

  Chapter Five

  They’d walked the short distance up Ocean Avenue since using a car or his bike would’ve been ridiculous. Cars weaved around pedestrians walking in the street, making traffic impossible. A crazy fuckin’ scene on a Saturday night. The neon signs from the bars and restaurants meshed with the outrageous outfits worn by of most of the partiers. Joker guessed that you could walk down Ocean Avenue buck naked, and no one would give you a second glance. Some might even join you.

  Daisy stopped midway between a long line and the entrance of a club called Mambo.
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  Joker surveyed the line. “No way I’m standing on some bullshit line just to drink.”

  “You’re right, we’re not.” She grabbed his hand.

  All eyes were on them as she led him to the front of the line. Joker held no illusions about the way he looked. Rough, hard, and dangerous. Some people even said his smile was frightening. His height, his build, the tats that circled his neck, and the four-inch scar that decorated his jawline usually attracted attention; all that, plus Daisy at his side made heads turn.

  Her beige, backless dress almost matched her skin color, making her appear naked at first glance. That and her waist-length hair, smokin’ body, doll-like face, and stilettos that made her only a few inches shorter than Joker caused people to flat out stare. Probably most of them were wondering why such a knockout was with a thug like him. That’s sure what he was thinking.

  The door bouncer immediately recognized her and opened his massive arms. “Hey baby, how’re you doin’?” A broad smile cracked his granite face as Daisy walked into his embrace.

  “I’m good, Malcolm. How are you tonight?”

  “Better now that you’re here.” He tilted his chin to his headset, mumbled something into it, and turned to Daisy. “Just told Darius you’re here. He’ll meet you on the other side. And don’t be such a stranger.”

  Curious, envious eyes followed them as they broke through the head of the line and entered the club door.

  Joker leaned into her ear. “Is there anyone you don’t know?”

  A guy almost as tall as him met them inside the club, and he also embraced Daisy, then shot a wary eye in Joker’s direction. “Follow me. I have our best table waiting for you.”

  They passed the gyrating crowd and climbed up a flight of steps only lit from the back to give the illusion of a floating staircase. He led them through the smaller upstairs area with sections divided by waist-high walls and stopped by a secluded booth tucked in the back. No screaming over the pounding music here. Definitely a booth saved for their VIP guests.

  Darius flagged over a hostess. “Astrid will take care of you tonight,” he said to both of them, then turned to Daisy. “And you know where I’ll be if you need anything.”