Rock's Redemption(Insurgents MC Romance Book 8)(9)

"What the hell does Liam have to do with him?" Jerry asked.

"He buys big, expensive, and illegal toys for the ultra-wealthy. Men  like Frederick Blair have too much money and time on their hands. That's  what makes them dangerous as hell. But what they buy and what they do  with it isn't our business. We're there to babysit a bunch of rich  fucks. That's pretty much it."                       
       
           



       

"I know I'm gonna be on this fuckin' babysitting duty," Rock said aloud.

"Me too." Jax shook his head. "The muscle of the club always does this type of work. Shit."

"Yeah. Shit."

"So, Rock, Bones, Wheelie, Throttle, Jax, Rags, Chas, Bear, and Axe will  be the ones to cover this detail. The party is this Saturday night. You  have to be there at six o'clock in the evening. The security at the  estate will brief you on where things are and the lay of the land. The  money earned from this job will go in the club fund after the brothers  who work it get their pay. Rock is in charge. Any questions?"

"Is this gonna be something the club's gonna start doing regularly?"  Bruiser asked. "I remember doing this shit before some of the brothers  were even born." He chuckled. "We used to do the nightclubs and concert  halls. You remember that, Banger?"

Banger smiled and nodded. "You're taking us back pretty far, dude."  Bruiser grinned, and Rock noticed a warmth pass between the two older  brothers. "Anyway, we're just doing this to help Liam and make some  money too. We'll see how it goes, and if the rich fuck needs us again,  we'll do it. It's easy money." Banger looked around the room. "Any more  questions?"

The members shook their heads and their president picked up the gavel,  hit it on the table, and announced that church was adjourned.

By the time the guys shuffled to the great room, the sun had begun to  set and a golden pink glow bathed the room. The scent of hickory chips  tantalized Rock's nostrils as wisps of smoke filtered in from the opened  back door. Two large grills were smoking as they waited for Bruiser,  Bear, and Hawk to cook up steak and chicken. A large pot of baked beans  simmered on a hot plate, and mountains of potato and macaroni salad were  placed on the long buffet table by Wendy and Rosie. The club girls had  made up the sides, and the tinge of pink in their cheeks told the  brothers they were excited to start the party.

Rock, beer in hand, walked out back. The smell of grilling always  brought him back to his childhood. His mother would use the grill they'd  had in the backyard to smoke ribs and andouille sausages. She'd also  boil crawfish in big pots on their outdoor propane cooker. Since he'd  moved to Colorado, he hadn't had a crawfish boil, and he suddenly missed  it. Damn. Why the fuck is my mind back in Lafayette? What the fuck's  going on? For the past seven years, Rock rarely thought about his life  back in Louisiana; there was no need for it. But talking to Isa the  previous night stirred something inside him. Something he had buried  deep where it couldn't hurt him.

"You hungry?" Hawk laughed as he lined up the steaks on the grill.

"Huh? Oh, yeah. I'm fuckin' starving." Rock watched as the juices from  the steak sputtered and sparked in the flames. "You need some help?"

"Nope. I have a handle on it."

Soon the members and the women-both club girls and hoodrats-congregated  near the food as Puck and Blade hurriedly set up a makeshift bar  adjacent to the buffet table. Rock grabbed a spot at one of the aluminum  picnic tables and scanned the crowd, soon spotting a pretty brunette  whose hair ended right above her butt. As if she sensed him staring, she  turned around and smiled at him, her eyes moving over his six-foot-one  body.

Rock was a sight to behold with his dark wavy hair curling right above  his collar, inky black eyes, strong jaw, and a perfect Roman nose. His  tanned skin was taut above hard, defined muscles that moved and flexed  in a mesmerizing way, making the tats adorning his flesh come alive.  Several earrings dangled from each ear, and a thick silver-chained  necklace gleamed against his corded neck. When women spotted him, they  vied for his attention, but he'd walk past them, a smirk dancing on his  full, sensuous lips. He knew women wanted him, and when they spotted the  Sergeant-At-Arms patch on his cut or jacket, they promised him wild sex  any way he wanted it. Sometimes he took them up on their offer, but  most times he'd just smile and say, "Another time," in a low, throaty  voice that stroked the women's senses like velvet. He rarely went with  citizens, preferring the no-strings-attached sex the club women and  hoodrats offered.

Kristy, one of the club girls, slipped in the space next to him, her  nails running up and down his forearm. "You want me to get you a drink?"

Rock noticed the look of disappointment on the pretty brunette's face as  Kristy fused herself to his side. He slid over a bit and put a sliver  of space between them. "I'll get my own. Bones was looking for you."                       
       
           



       

"I want you. Don't you want me?"

His gaze lingered on her breasts as they practically popped out of a  crop top a size too small for her. He'd licked, sucked, and fucked those  tits more times than he could count. Kristy was a club girl who'd be  available the following day, week, month, and, most probably, year. That  night he wanted something new, not a club girl he could fuck any time.  "I've already decided on someone, babe. Be a good girl and go find  Bones." He dipped his head down and kissed her gently on the cheek.  "Tomorrow, okay?"

She squeezed his inner thigh, her fingers close to his dick. "We got a date for tomorrow. Where's Bones?"

He lightly brushed her hand away and then jerked his head toward the back door. "He's in the great room playing darts."

Kristy stood up and he smacked her jiggling ass as she walked away from  him. She threw him a big smile and headed toward the back door. He  watched her until she disappeared, then turned back to find the cute  brunette he wanted to bang. She was next to the buffet table, plate in  hand, spooning some macaroni salad on it. He saw Rags giving her the eye  and Rock scrambled over to her before Rags could reach her.

"You don't want any steak?" he asked her.

She smiled broadly when she turned around and saw him. She shook her head. "I'm vegetarian."

"How the fuck does that work? You never eat steak or ribs? How the hell can you live without them?"

She laughed and moved close to him so her orchid-scented body brushed  against his. The softness of her touch, her scent, and her cute upturned  nose made his dick jerk. He figured he'd be fucking her senseless right  after they finished eating. With his arm around her shoulders, he  carried her plate back to the table and pulled her close to him.

The night was turning out like most of his nights at the club: strong  booze, delicious food, and hard fucking. He lived a hedonistic life of  drinks, parties, and sex, and he couldn't imagine what more a man could  want.

The brunette leaned into him and placed her soft hand on his face,  turning him to her. She kissed him passionately and moaned when his  fingers kneaded her tits.

Another night in paradise.

Fuck yeah!

* * *

On Saturday evening the bodyguard brigade made the one-hour trip to  Aspen to the lavish estate of Frederick Blair. Hidden behind thirty-foot  stone walls, the Blair mansion had twelve bedrooms, sixteen bathrooms,  twenty wood-burning fireplaces, and two kitchens. It also had a fully  finished basement that was off-limits to the staff who lived and worked  at the estate.

Rock whistled under his breath. "Fuck. The place looks like a hotel. You could fit a small town in there."

"Why the hell would anyone want to live in something so big?" Axe asked.  "Shit, if your woman is pissed at you, it could take a week to find  her."

The brothers laughed as they waited for the iron gate to open and let  them in. In a few minutes they were roaring up the driveway, parking  their iron machines to the left of the house in a small parking lot, as  they had been instructed to do. They met with a large-framed man who  sported a reddish-brown, bushy moustache. He tilted his head at them.  "The name's Kevin, and I'm head of security for Mr. Blair. Tonight your  duties are making sure the outside is secure. Mr. Blair has five  thousand acres, but you'll be responsible to make sure no one gets near  the house. Three of you will be stationed in the house and the others  will be outside. Do you have any questions?"

Since Rock was the Sergeant-At-Arms, he was in charge of every security  gig the club did. He shook his head. "It seems pretty basic. How long do  you figure this shindig's gonna last?" Rock didn't want to waste an  entire Saturday night babysitting a bunch of rich people.