SLY: Kings of Carnage MC

by Nicole James

  Sly

  Kings of Carnage MC

  Nicole James

  Contents

  Sly

  Also in this series

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Epilogue

  Dirty Deeds Sneak Peek

  Dirty Deals Sneak Peek

  About the Author

  Sly

  Kings of Carnage MC

  By

  Wall Street Journal and USA Today bestselling author

  Nicole James

  Published by Nicole James

  Copyright 2020 Nicole James

  All Rights Reserved

  Cover Design by CT Creations

  Editing by Lisa Cullinan

  Created with Vellum

  Also in this series

  KINGS OF CARNAGE MC

  CHAOS – President

  Hilary Storm

  BASH – Vice President

  Sapphire Knight

  JINX – Road Captain

  Chelsea Camaron

  NORTH – Enforcer

  M.N. Forgy

  BOUNCER – Nomad

  Kim Jones

  SLY – Treasurer

  Nicole James

  One

  Michaela—

  “Yes, sir, I’m a girl. I know it looks like a boy’s name, but it’s pronounced Mih-kay-lah. That’s all right, sir. No need to apologize. I get it all the time. Just send in the payment this week if you can. Okay, thank you.”

  I hang up the phone on my desk and drop my head.

  “Another one?” my co-worker, Carl, asks from behind me, chuckling.

  “I swear to God, I’m changing my name.”

  “Here, check this out.” He rolls his chair across the tile floor of the storefront office, TR Ross, Private Investigations. Atlanta’s cheating spouses keep the place busy. Carl is an investigator, who mostly follows around those “alleged” straying spouses and gathers photographic evidence for nasty divorces. I’m more of an apprentice—handling paperwork, collecting bills, and fetching coffee. Having only a community college degree in communications, my dream job of being a travel reporter is pretty much out of reach. To compensate, I’ve started up a travel blog, but the only problem is, I have little money to travel. In fact, I’m barely scraping by on what I earn.

  Carl slides a flyer in front of me. There’s a picture at the top with the price and description below. “I’m selling my fifth-wheel travel trailer. You interested?”

  He knows I am; that’s why he’s showing it to me. I stare down at the paper. I’ve been saving up for a long time, managing to set aside a little each month for a used one in decent shape. My goal is to travel around and live out of it while visiting every national park in the continental U.S. That would surely give me something to write about.

  One glance at the price makes my shoulders deflate as I swivel my chair around. “Can you come down on the price at all?”

  “I really think I can get six grand for it, honey. But for you, I’ll lower it two hundred.”

  I bite my lip, a habit of mine since I was a child. “I’ve got forty-eight hundred saved up so far. Can you give me a little more time?”

  Carl huffs out a long sigh. “All right. For you, kid, I’ll give you another month, but then I’ve got to list it. I really need it gone. Marge doesn’t want it around anymore. Says she’s tired of lookin’ at it, and with her bad health, our days of traveling are over.”

  Another month. How can I possibly scrounge up another thousand dollars in a month? Somehow, I’ve got to find a way. Maybe I can sell some of my furniture.

  I sigh. Who am I kidding? It’s all secondhand and probably not worth half the amount I need, even if I sold it all. I lift my chin, my stubborn Irish background giving me the determination that gets me through every challenge I face. “Thank you, Carl. I’ll find a way to come up with the rest.”

  He grins. “I get how much you love it, girl. I’d be thrilled to leave it in such good hands, knowing you’ll take care of it just as I have.”

  “It’d be perfect for me.”

  A short-tempered voice hollers from the office in the back. “You got that contract I asked for, Michaela?”

  Carl rolls his eyes, pushes up his black frame glasses, and twists in his chair, his overweight body barely fitting between the arms. “He’s in a mood today, sweetie. Better not keep him waiting.”

  I stand and start gathering up the documents he wants, when my phone vibrates in my pocket. I pull it out, glance down at the screen, and frown as my aunt’s name pops up. It’s very unusual for her to call, especially during a workday. I put it to my ear. “Aunt Kathleen?”

  “Michaela? I’m sorry to bother you at work.”

  “That’s okay. What did you need?”

  “Well, it’s your father, dear.”

  “Da? What about him?”

  “There’s been a … Well, you see, dear—”

  “What is it?”

  “He’s passed away, Michaela. They found him this morning.”

  “Found him? What do you mean?”

  “It’s all so horrible. I hate to be the one to tell you, but … Well, your mother is beside herself. I know this is a shock, but you see, your father committed suicide, honey. She’s devastated. We need you to come home. Can someone drive you?”

  I pull the phone from my ear and sink back in the chair, staring off into space. This can’t be real. This doesn’t make any sense. My da? My Irish Catholic father commit suicide? It can’t be possible.

  “Michaela, honey, are you okay?” Carl asks behind me.

  There’s a roaring in my ears and my heart starts pounding in my chest. Rage swells inside me and explodes as I throw the papers across the room and wail out my anguish. Forgotten, the phone drops to the floor, and I grip the edge of the desk, my fingers white with tension. My face contorts in pain, and I sob uncontrollably as the tears roll down my face.

  I’m barely aware as Carl rushes to my side and puts his arm around my shoulders. Everything but my crushing grief disappears.

  Two

  Sly—

  I crack an eye open to the late afternoon sun filtering through the blinds and hitting me in the face, then squint down at the tousled blonde curls spread across my chest. Those pretty locks belong to Sabrina, one of the dancers from the strip club. She’s stunning and a real pro, who brings in a bunch of our regular business.

  Centerfolds is an upscale place, and the best investment the Kings of Carnage MC has made since we cleaned house and got rid of the old leadership. We make our biggest income off the dancers, and as such, we treat them well and protect them from harm. With twenty girls working per night and each paying the house fee of a hundred bucks a night to dance, we clear almost three quarters of a million on them alone. Add in what we make at the door and the liquor we sell, and the place is a mint.

  I slide
free of Sabrina’s curvy body and lean on an elbow to check the time on my phone. It’s almost four in the afternoon. We partied like hell last night after the club closed. One thing led to another, and I let Sabrina talk me into a ride on my bike. I don’t usually let bitches on the back, but Sabrina was pretty persuasive, and I was feeling no pain.

  I roll to my back and slap her sexy, firm ass. “Yo, Bri. You work tonight, right?”

  She makes a muffled groan and puts the pillow over her head. I can’t help but chuckle. My eyes skate down her naked back to that phenomenal ass. One thing I’m good at is waking women up. I slide down the bed and spread her legs, then get to work with my tongue, and before long, she’s writhing and moaning and begging me to finish her off.

  I’m a greedy bastard, so I flip her over and grab her hand, pulling her up to a sitting position. I kneel on the bed and she doesn’t hesitate to wrap her lips around my dick and take me down deep.

  A groan bubbles up from deep in my chest as I sink my hands in her silky blonde hair. When I’m almost there, I pull free, then grab a condom from the nightstand and suit up, my eyes holding hers. Sabrina smiles and licks her lip. I push her down on the bed, and spread her legs wide. She eagerly wraps them around my waist as I plunge into her wet pussy.

  She throws her head back and I lean over her. Those gorgeous breasts thrust up so pretty for me, her nipples erect and begging for my mouth. I suck them hard, one, and then the other, and as she whimpers, her pussy clamps down around my dick like she’ll never let it go. I grab both thighs and pin her to the bed; she’s wide open for me and I ride her hard.

  We’re both a sweaty mess when I finally collapse on top of her after a damn good orgasm.

  I’d like to keep Sabrina here for a few more hours, but time is money, and she’s one of our headliners.

  Moving off the end of the bed, I grab her hand and pull her to her feet, ignoring her protests. Then, with my shoulder to her stomach, I carry her fireman-style to the shower while she kicks her feet and squeals.

  After we soap each other up thoroughly and play a little more, I step out and give her the space and time to wash her hair. I dry off, slip on a pair of jeans, and pad to the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. Once I get one going, I dial up my bookie.

  “Yo, Alfonse, how’d my boy do last night?”

  “Went down in the third round, good thing you only put a nickel on him.”

  “Damn. All right. Thanks, man.”

  “Call me tomorrow about the Ramirez fight in Vegas next week. He’s lookin’ real good.”

  “Gotcha. Later, man.” I move to the table and grab a pack of smokes, shaking one out. I light it up and walk out through the sliders onto the back deck.

  There’s not much of a view, since my backyard faces a set of train tracks, but I’ve got a big pecan tree that gives some shade and is home to a dozen squirrels. I look off in the distance and see my new buddy. He’s sitting by the tracks, just on the other side of an overgrown boxwood bush that’s covered up in spring honeysuckle vines.

  As soon as I give a whistle, he comes loping toward me with his tail waging. He’s a young German Shepard mix with one lopsided ear and a heart of gold.

  I grab the hose and fill the large aluminum water dish I set out for him. Then I step inside and grab a big scoop of the kibble I’d bought last week.

  He laps at the water until the sound of the food hitting the matching bowl has him practically pushing my hand out of the way to get at it.

  I laugh and run a hand down his mostly black coat. I’d love to take him in permanently, but with the life I lead, and the MC, things change at the drop of a hat, and I never know if I’ll be home. It wouldn’t be fair to keep a pet. Still, I do what I can for the pup.

  The slider opens behind me, and I glance over my shoulder. Sabrina is dressed in jeans and a simple scoop-neck t-shirt. Nothing too sexy, she keeps it modest when she’s not on stage. She’s smart with her money too. One of the few I know who is.

  She wraps her arms around me from behind, pressing a kiss to my shoulder. “Who’s your friend?”

  “Just a stray. Been comin’ around for a while. You want a dog?”

  She pulls back. “Me? No way. I don’t want dog hair all over my white furniture.”

  “Or your new Corvette, I suppose.”

  She grins. “That too.”

  I look back at the dog and scratch his head. He’s taken to lying around the yard most days, so maybe he’ll be here when I get back. “Be a good boy, buddy.”

  “Is that his name? Buddy?”

  I shrug. “Gotta call him something.”

  She traces a finger over the club tattoo on my back. “I should get going. I’m on at six and I need to get ready.”

  I take another hit off my smoke and stub it out in the ashtray on the glass patio table. “Sure. Let me throw on a shirt. I made coffee. Help yourself to whatever you find in the fridge.”

  I head down the hall to my room and pull a black t-shirt over my head, and brush my teeth. When I walk back into the kitchen, slipping on my leather cut, Sabrina is leaning against the counter and eating a Snack Pack chocolate pudding with a spoon.

  “Slim pickings, huh?” I grin.

  She points the spoon at me. “I didn’t know big, bad bikers ate chocolate pudding.”

  I grab her waist and pull her to me. “We also eat butterscotch.” She smiles, and I order, “Feed me.”

  She scoops up a spoonful and as I dip my mouth to it, her eyes drop to one of the patches on my cut. “So, I never asked you, what exactly does the treasurer of an MC do besides count money?”

  I laugh. “It’s all about the money, babe.”

  She arches a brow. “I suppose we have that in common, then.”

  We arrive at Centerfolds, and at five in the evening, the parking lot holds only about a dozen vehicles. I pull around to the side and back into a spot next to another bike, which I immediately recognize as North’s, our club’s enforcer. I’m surprised to see him out so early.

  We climb off my bike, and I put a hand on the small of Sabrina’s back to escort her inside. My eyes scan the lot. It’s a habit of mine, especially around here. These girls attract stalkers like bees to honey. It’s kind of early yet and all the cars are empty; at least there aren’t any freaks waiting in them like trolls. We keep a good handle on security here, making sure to escort each girl to her car at night. They’re not allowed to leave the building with a customer, although some of the newer dancers, naïve to the business, have been stupid enough to slip out with one. That never seems to end well.

  I pull the door open and Sabrina strolls inside. I follow, lifting my chin to the door girl behind the podium, who’s there to collect the cover charge. We also strictly enforce that every customer’s ID is photographed upon entry. It puts the fear in most of them. They know if they try anything, they’ll be dealt with, and swiftly. If not here, then we know where they live.

  “Hey, honey. How’s business tonight?” I don’t need to ask, because I saw the cars, but I always like to converse with the employees.

  “Hi, Sly. It’s slow, which, I guess, is good because we’ve got a couple new girls tonight. Always better for them to get their feet wet when we’re not packed.”

  I nod. “Thanks, doll.”

  We move on down a corridor into the main room, which has a big stage with a runway and barstools that line up alongside it. There are also tables with plush, comfortable chairs in groupings that are more suitable for lap dances. Down another dimly lit hallway, there are several private VIP rooms that always have a bouncer stationed nearby to ensure the girls aren’t assaulted. Amazingly enough, some guys still try it.

  Sabrina gives me a quick parting kiss and moves toward the dressing room in the back. I pause at the bar, where North is sitting on a stool facing the stage with his elbows on the bar top.

  “How’s it going, brother?” I ask.

  He looks over his shoulder at the bartender, a redhead I haven’t seen be
fore. “Bring Sly a beer, will you, angel?”

  She smiles and fetches one for me.

  North reaches back and grabs it, passing it over. “On me.”

  “Thanks, man.” I take a sip and sit on the stool next to him, gazing up at the dancer currently performing. She’s been working here a long time and she’s good—not Sabrina good—but she’s getting there. “How’re you doin’?”

  “Great.” He grins over at me. “Sabrina, huh?”

  I shrug. “I was up here at closing last night. One thing led to another.”

  He chuckles. “Right. That’s usually how it happens with you.”

  “Hey, all my brothers seem to be busy with their ol’ ladies these days. I’ve got to find ways to occupy my time, don’t I?”

  “You’re so full of shit, Sly. You’ve never had a problem finding women to occupy your time.”

  I grin because it’s the damn truth.

  “Shit, half the women in here are hot for your ass.”

  “Bro, you make me feel like a piece of meat,” I tease him. “I’ve got feelings, you know.”

  North about chokes on his beer. “Fuck off, Sly.”

  I chuckle. We’re both watching the show for a while when North elbows me and nods toward one of the tables. A dancer who I’ve never seen before is giving a lap dance to a guy wearing a ball cap. He looks bored and she’s not smiling; instead, she’s staring into space, not giving her customer any eye contact and barely engaging him. I frown. “She new?”