Matt
Black Tuxedos
Darlene Tallman
Contents
Acknowledgments
Blurb
Black Tuxedos MC Members
Prologue
1. Matt
2. Matt
3. Matt
4. Matt
5. Matt
6. Mandie
7. Mandie
8. Matt
9. Mandie
10. Mandie
11. Mandie
12. Mandie
13. Mandie
14. Mandie
15. Mandie
16. Mandie
17. Mandie
18. Mandie
Epilogue
Author’s Note
Stalk Darlene here
Also by Darlene Tallman
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved.
Matt – The Black Tuxedos MC
Copyright 2020© Darlene Tallman
Published by: Darlene Tallman
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from. Darlene Tallman, the author / publisher.
Editors: Mary Kern, Shannon McFadden, Nicole McVey, Jeni Clancy, Beth DiLoreto, Melanie Gray
Formatter: Liberty Parker
Cover by Tracie Douglas of Dark Water Covers
Dedication
For Mandie, who wanted Matt from the first time she read “Reese”. I hope you enjoy your fictional man!
Acknowledgments
These are always hard because I’m worried about forgetting folks! Suffice it to say, I have to acknowledge my two PAs, Nicole Lloyd and Sharon Renee, who do their best to keep me organized and on some semblance of a path. My girls, who read and offer suggestions along the way - Jeni, Shannon, Beth, Nicole, Melanie, Mary - couldn’t do this without y’all, not even gonna try. Liberty - who proofs behind me and also offers suggestions when I get “stuck”. My cover designer, Tracie, who always comes through with the best cover for me. And last but not least, the readers, who have been chomping at the bit for Matt’s story.
Blurb
When Matt Ferguson got severely injured during his last deployment, he thought he’d come home and marry his high school sweetheart and they’d live happily ever after. That dream crashed and burned when she left him after cruelly hurling words that still impact him to this day. Eventually, he finds a home with the Black Tuxedos MC and is now running the construction company that the MC owns. He’s lonely, but he knows there’s no woman alive who’ll deal with the problem he has, so he resolves to do what he can, where he can, even though all he wants is someone who he can love and who will love him back.
Mandie Matchum was dealt a crappy hand, but as her foster mother always told her, you make the best of what you’ve got and she’s trying. Raising two small children on her own with no support, she’s struggling to finish up her degree while working as a waitress at a local restaurant. She’s noticed the handsome biker but doesn’t think he’d ever want someone like her and anyhow, she’s no good at relationships so why bother?
Can two people who’ve lost faith in love still build a life together? Will they each overcome their past to forge a new future?
**This book is rated for ages 18+ due to subject matter and adult themes**
Black Tuxedos MC Members
Reese - President (Corrie)
Porter - VP (Kirsten)
Matt - VP’s Enforcer (Mandie)
Motor - President’s Enforcer
Nick – Patched Member (Shayla)
Specks - IT
Ripper - SAA
Atlas - Road Captain
Doughboy - Treasurer
Chrome – Secretary
Rex – Patched Member (Lacey)
Pug - Patched Member
Slim Jim - Patched Member
Jacob - Prospect
Joseph - Prospect
Garrison - Prospect
Prologue
Matt
I don’t like this feeling, as if our unit is being watched. The hairs on the nape of my neck have been standing upright for the past thirty minutes, ever since we arrived at a small village. “Ferguson,” my commanding officer barks out, his voice tense. “Take Gumby, Jackal, Coast, and Liner and check out that building to your left. The rest of us will investigate the one on the right.”
“10-4,” I reply. I motion with my hand and the men that I lead get in step behind me. Once we’re huddled together, I advise, “We’re checking on that building over there. Keep alert; my gut is saying something’s not right.” Each of them nods to show they understand, and we begin slowly inching our way across to the derelict building. We’ve been doing this for too long not to recognize that something is ‘off’ with this whole situation and each of my men is as wired as I am. It’s obvious that this area has seen its fair share of warfare, with the buildings all in disrepair and not a soul in sight.
We’ve made it to the building itself and are spreading out when I hear the unmistakable sound of an RPB being launched toward us. “Run!” Gumby screams. I’m halfway back to the ‘road’ when the blast detonates. I feel like the left side of my body is on fire as I fall to the ground and roll.
“We got you, Fergie,” Jackal informs me. I don’t know how much time has passed; everything is a fog and my brain is rattled enough, I can’t even think of what just transpired. He repeats himself so I look up at him and see he’s covered in blood – so much blood that it can’t just be his, only I don’t know whose it is and my head is pounding so badly that I can’t form the words so I can ask.
As the pain radiates throughout my body, blissful darkness claims me.
I wake up in the hospital, the left side of my body covered in bandages. I know I’m in pain, but I suspect it’s not nearly as bad as it could be. Right now, I’m by myself. I don’t know how long I’ve been here and have no clue how the rest of the men in my unit fared, although I have a vague memory of Jackal pulling me to safety. Spying the hospital bed remote, I push the button that has what looks like a nurse’s cap on it. When a tinny voice comes across, I manage to croak out, “I’m awake but need some help.”
“We’ll be right in, Sergeant,” the voice responds. While I wait, I play with the remote and manage to move the bed into a better, more comfortable position.
A few minutes later, a corpsman comes in and moves to my side. “Can I get something to drink? My throat hurts,” I rasp out.
“Let me get your vitals checked and I’ll be glad to get that for you, Sergeant,” the pretty little corpsman replies. She quickly and efficiently checks my pulse, takes my blood pressure, and presses a few buttons on the machine that I’m hooked to once she hangs two new bags of solution on the IV pole, after she checked my name and birthdate. Once she’s done with that, she places a straw inside the giant plastic cup and holds it close so I can take a few sips. “Your throat is sore because up until last night, you were on a ventilator.”
“Why?” I feel like I gargled with shards of glass and my voice sounds like it as well.
“You were in a medically-induced coma, Sergeant, so the worst of your injuries could heal.”
<
br /> “How long have I been here? Where are my men? What’s wrong with me?” Questions swirl in my head and cohesive thoughts are impossible.
She evades my questions and says, “I’ll let the doctor know you’re awake.” She maneuvers the table across me so that I can easily reach the cup, before she puts on gloves and takes care of the bag that’s attached to the side of the bed. When she sees my look of concern, she states, “It’s just a catheter. Once your doctor has checked you over, if he says we can, we’ll remove it and you’ll be able to take yourself to the bathroom. It won’t be easy at first, but we’ll get you back on your feet.”
I nod, exhaustion taking root once again. I notice what looks like a pain pump and ask, “Is this for my pain meds?”
“Yes, you can self-administer them. The dosage is titrated so that you can’t overdose yourself. Please, make sure that if you’re feeling pain that you use it; don’t try to be a hero. Your body has endured a lot and needs to heal. Rest and managing your pain will help accomplish that.”
“Thank you, Doc,” I state. I have no clue how badly I’m hurt or even how much time has lapsed, but she’s been compassionate and kind.
“You’re welcome. Now rest until the doctor gets here. Like I said, I’ll let him know you’re awake, but he’s due to show up in the next hour or so and it’s unlikely that you’ll see him before then.” I give her a thumbs up because it really does hurt to talk right now, then reach over and push the button on my pain pump. As the cool liquid hits my IV and I feel it coursing through my veins, I allow sleep to reclaim me.
I’ve been in the hospital for two weeks now, with the first four days completely a blank thanks to the medically induced coma. Today, I’m being discharged to a rehab facility so that I can hopefully recover some of the muscle and strength that I lost due to my injuries. As I stare in the mirror, I cringe at the damage I can see. My face and the front of my body are covered with bruises and abrasions where I hit the ground. It’s my back, however, that has me concerned. Fucking RPG damn near killed me; in fact, I’m the only survivor from my unit, a fact that has me swimming in guilt. Jackal, the man who saved me and one of my closest friends, succumbed to his injuries. But he fought until the very end, something that I hope I’m able to do if the situation ever arises. Of course, it won’t be as part of the U.S. military. Seems Uncle Sam doesn’t want those of us who have been nearly blown to pieces.
Taking a deep breath, I grab the other mirror and turn so I can fully see how things are healing. Most of my injuries are contained to the left side of my body, starting at my shoulder area, wrapping down my left flank, across my ass and to the front of my left thigh. Thank God my junk didn’t get hit. A random thought, I know, all things considered, but I think my fiancé, Jessa, will be happy about that fact. Granted, I haven’t seen her yet; she’s been ‘busy’ but is planning to visit me in rehab. I’m still unsure if I’ll be showing her all of this quite yet. Guess it depends on whether or not she asks.
I’m one of the lucky ones, though. I needed some skin grafts, but for the most part, the areas will heal. I’ll bear the scars, but it is what it is. I’m alive and that’s the important thing.
“Are you ready to go, Sergeant?” the corpsman calls out. I quickly put my shirt on and leave the bathroom.
“Yeah. How long will I be in rehab?” I question, grabbing the duffle bag of things I’ve managed to accumulate. While Jessa wasn’t able to see me, she did send me some clothes so I’m not leaving in a fucking hospital gown with my dick swinging free.
“It depends on you, quite honestly. The harder you work, the sooner you’ll be discharged to go home.”
Home.
Do I even have one anymore? I was staying with Jessa prior to my last deployment and I guess I’ll be going back there once I’m released.
“Thanks for all your help.” The corpsmen and aides here have been tremendous with all they’ve done for me since I woke up.
Six weeks later
Despite the scarring, I feel stronger than I have in years. I pay the cab driver, grab my bag and walk up the driveway to the house I’ve shared with Jessa since we started seeing one another. We dated all through high school, broke up briefly when I left for basic training, then reconnected when I came home on my first leave and have been together ever since. My dick twinges, reminding me that it’s been quite some time since he got to play, and I hope that she’s in the mood.
“Matt! You’re home!” she exclaims as I walk in the door.
“Hey, baby, did you miss me?” I ask, putting my duffle bag down inside the door and opening my arms. She flies into them and I kiss her, pouring everything into the kiss so she realizes how much I’ve missed her.
“God, yes. I’m sorry I couldn’t get out to see you more.”
“It’s okay, baby. I know you’re busy with work.” She’s a paralegal at a big firm in town and is currently being run ragged getting information for a case they’re defending.
“I’ve got dinner made; do you want to wash up so we can eat?”
“I’d rather have dessert,” I admit, grinding my hips into her.
“Dinner can wait,” she replies, holding out her hand for me. We walk into our bedroom and I take note of the subtle changes she’s made since I’ve been gone. Nothing major; it looks like she painted and changed out the comforter set. I like it since it suits us. As we both undress, I realize that this is the moment of truth. She’ll either accept me as I am, a broken, scarred man, or she’ll run.
“I’m sorry, Matt,” she whispers, tears running down her face while I pack my stuff. “I... I just can’t. The scars being right there grosses me out. I can deal with the ones on your back.” Well, la di fucking da.
I don’t reply. I can’t. She took one look at the scars that were near my dick and the look on her face caused me to deflate faster than a balloon that’s been popped. Revulsion and disgust will kill a hard-on, that’s for damn sure. Of course, since that momentous occasion last night, there’s not even been a twitch so in addition to my broken body, I guess I can add a broken dick to the equation.
Once all my stuff is packed, I pull the key off my keyring and hand it to her. “Not gonna say it’s okay, Jessa, because if we had already been married, those vows say for better or worse. Worse, to me, would’ve been coming back in a fucking box, but for you, it’s the fact that I’m alive and my leg has scars that are too close to my dick. It obviously had no damage, but I won’t stay with you when you look at me like I was some kind of freak.”
“You’re breaking our engagement?” she asks.
I can’t help the bark of laughter that her question raises in me. “What the fuck do you think? My body revolts you, how the fuck do you think your actions make me feel?” I’m hurt and disappointed, sure, but there’s a river of anger and rage that burns inside. I thought I knew the woman standing in front of me and to see that I had it all wrong is devastating.
“Fine. Have a nice life, Matt. For what it’s worth, I am glad you’re alive.”
“Yeah, me too.” I take the engagement ring she hands back to me, grab my duffle bag and head out the door without looking back.
It’s onward and upward from here on out. The fact that I can’t seem to get hard any longer fucking sucks, but I’m alive and I’ll make the best of things.
I always do.
1
Matt
Ten Years Later
I walk into the clubhouse and head to the bar. It’s been a brutal work week with issue after issue at the construction site and I need to chill out a bit. As I drink my beer and look around, I think about how grateful I am that Reese reached out to me once I was stateside and brought me into the fold. After the shit with Jessa, I was left spinning and had no clue what I was going to do with the rest of my life. There were many nights that I stared mindlessly at my television, a bottle of Jack in one hand and my gun in the other. Something always stopped me from doing anything and as my mind drifts to the cute little waitress f
rom The Steakhouse, I have to wonder if some higher being knew that she would come into my life.
Not that she’s actually in my life, of course. My brothers and I see her frequently, as the restaurant is one of the club’s favorites and somehow, we always get her as our waitress. She’s friendly and obviously hardworking, but she doesn’t do the shit that a lot of waitresses seem to do when they see a group of bikers walk into their ‘domain’; she doesn’t flirt, and she also doesn’t seem to be scared of us just because we’re bikers. I take another pull on my beer and realize that for the first time in years, I feel a twinge of desire.
I saw a therapist when I found that I couldn’t get erect and he deemed that it was more of a psychological issue than a physical one, especially since, until Jessa opened her mouth, I had no problem getting hard. Regardless, no woman will want the damaged, fucked-up body I now sport, so I’ve pushed any thought of having a relationship deep into the recesses of my mind.
“What’s going on, brother?” Reese asks as he slides onto the stool next to me and motions for a beer from one of our prospects.
Matt - The Black Tuxedos MC Page 1
