Topaz: Book 8 of the Steel MC Montana Charter

by Michel Prince

  Topaz

  Steel MC - Montana Charter Book Eight

  Michel Prince

  Wren McCabe

  Contents

  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

  Epilogue

  Ride with the Steels

  Books by Michel Prince

  Books by Wren McCabe

  About the Author

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2020 by Michel Prince Books

  Photograph and cover by Royal Touch Photography

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  1

  Sitting behind the desk in the office of the Roadside Bar in the small town of Turnabout Creek, Montana, Sarah “Topaz” Cardwell scanned the work schedule. Leaning back in the chair she wondered what the hell she was doing here. At twenty-eight years old, she had no future and didn’t see a happy ending to her life. She was a stripper and managed most of the day to day in the bar, but that was about all. No real long term plan, while she performed an important job for the Steel MC she couldn’t help feeling a bit unappreciated most days.

  Rubbing her temples, she tried to push through the headache from the music on the other side of the wall. She had to admit it, her day was off, being down on herself hadn’t been her MO for years. Today was different and she knew why. Waking up this morning, her body laid next to a prospect and she didn’t even know his name… real or road. He’d been a warm body at the end of the night, but there had been a time when she required more. Being a Hoez had a certain level of freedom when it came to one’s body. It also came with a certain level of expectation, but still a prospect? There was a difference between loving sex and loving yourself and she might have crossed the line last night.

  She hadn’t slept with every man in the MC, but lately she’d been using men to avoid the one she couldn’t get out of her thoughts. No matter how many ways she separated herself from him the fates, magnetism, shit maybe even some twisted plan from the big man… threw him in her path. One she’d shut down years ago for reconstruction. Much like any government works project, the damn thing had gone over budget and deadline and yet a jackass was driving down the middle going ninety, picking off safety cones.

  Gathering the calendar for dancers, waitresses and cooks from the stack of papers in front of her, she stood and walked to the board on the wall. Snatching the pin holding the old schedule, she held up the new one and stabbed it through the calendar. The schedule was done for the month now. Everyone could stop bitching at her. The damn thing had been a mix of wanting to pick up extra and a group wanting the same day off to party.

  Dreamer and Freaky said they were having a simple quiet ceremony by the creek. What they wanted and the clubs want to party were at odds and those who worked at the Roadside, were betting on a party. Dreamer may be a sweet, mother of the Earth type of girl, but she was marrying a club member and that was a commitment to a family of misfits. Misfits, degenerates and wild animals. All, willing to kill to protect you, but all wanting to celebrate the big things.

  Even though the music was blaring in the bar, no one was around. When there was a break in between songs, she heard whistling coming from behind the bar. Walking back there, she found Slug counting bottles and marking an inventory sheet.

  “Doing inventory?” she asked the obvious.

  “Yeah, Cass wanted me to start keeping track for the club. There’s some inconsistencies with the volume of liquor that is sold, versus consumed. Someone is giving away the booze.”

  “More than a heavy pour?” she asked, because she’d been guilty of eyeing a shot when mixing instead of using a jigger in a pinch. “Drunks tend to tip more.”

  “I think it’s more than a free round or turning a double into a triple.”

  “That is just wrong. I haven’t seen it, but then I don’t concentrate on the bar unless they’re totally swamped and I need to keep a guy happy. I worry more over the Hoez on the stage and the servers. Maybe I can keep an eye on the bartenders as well. I can work the bar into my rotation when I’m watching everything else.”

  “I’ll talk to the club. Let them know you’re willing to help.” Slug continued to count the bottles as he moved down the bar. “Really I don’t know what their issue is, maybe they think a bottle has more drinks in it.”

  “Doubt it,” Topaz said with a light laugh. “If there’s anything ya’ll know is how many licks to get to the center of that Tootsie Pop.”

  “True.”

  Swiping a bottle of disinfectant and a towel from the folded stack by the register, Topaz wiped down the bar and tables in the room. It was nearing eleven o’clock when they opened and she liked the place to shine for the early crowd.

  The front door opened as Free, Zoe, Zen, Tempest, Lyna, Porsche and Roadkill walked in.

  “Hey, Topaz did you get the schedule done?” Roadkill asked as she approached.

  “Yeah! Hanging up in the office.” Leaning on the brass rail, she pointed to the women walking toward the office. “Did they whine to you?”

  Roadkill was the Prez’s wife which gave her an authority over the women of the club. Maybe it was more of a responsibility. They weren’t far apart in age, but Roadkill was more than an overprotective sister. She was practically a mother to them. Making sure all their needs were met, both physical and mental. Early on, they would have almost daily checks with each other, but more girls came and now, Roadkill was a mother in her own right to little baby Harlow.

  With her long golden hair and killer bod, she could easily make money on a pole. Even with the slight droop to her left eye. All the women had baggage in the MC, some physical, most mental. Roadkill wasn’t an exception, but with a nursing degree under her belt, she worked side by side with Red their Prez in the clinic. With just the right gentle to rough touch needed around the club. Reading the patient or person in front of her to be exactly what they needed. A perfect skill for a stripper, adding to her skills being wasted over at the clinic.

  “No, they just mentioned you were off and hadn’t done up this month’s schedule. Wondered what was going on with you?” Roadkill put her arm around Topaz’s shoulder and led her a table. “Sit down.” She pointed to a chair.

  Topaz sat with Roadkill across from her. “What is going on with you?” Roadkill asked her. “I haven’t seen you for a while. Ever since the New Mexico charter went home, you’ve been MIA.”

  “Just working,” she replied.

  “You know Dell is sneaking back up here to surprise Dreamer,” Roadkill explained. “Not the whole MC this time, just her and Steel.”

  “That’s nice.” Topaz absently fiddled with the sugar and creamer packets to get them lined up in the little container.

  “When you first came up from New Mexico, I didn’t know what to think,” Roadkill said. “And well, when Dell and Roxy explained my role, I wanted to lock myself in my room. But then they told me about you. How much you meant to them and how important you were.”

  �
�Me?” Topaz scrunched her face a bit.

  “Yep, if Sal wasn’t in the club, you would have been who they trusted to handle shit.”

  Roadkill reached across the table and held Topaz’s hand. “You had a great place there, friends, I get it. But it was a place. Here, you’re part of the fabric and I’m not sure what I would do without you here.”

  “Wait? You think I want to leave?” Topaz asked.

  “You’ve been pulling away.”

  “I’ve been down in the dumps lately. Kind of depressed. I thought maybe it might be time for a change.” Topaz didn’t want to tell Roadkill too much, she’d wanted to leave, but not because she didn’t feel like a part of the club. She would never want to insult her in that way.

  “What kind of change?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Well, until you figure it out snap out of it. We need you on the top of your game. These women will run over the top of you.”

  It wasn’t a lie, Roadkill had put more than one woman back in her place with the club, but Topaz was far from being misconstrued. Thankful she’d never had to reach out to Roadkill to get backup when a girl stepped out of line. In fact, she intended to have a little facetime with the bitches who went to Roadkill once she’d left for the day. Topaz may have the face of an angel according to her clients, but she was a fallen angel which meant she didn’t suffer fools. “No, they won’t. I’ve been doing my job just fell behind on a few things because Freaky and Dreamer don’t believe in long engagements. I finished it all this morning. I do need to find a few more women to dance though. Should I send out feelers?”

  “Sure, why not. Put an ad up that were looking, talk to Freaky he got subs while we were at the bachelorette party. I’ll call Dell and see if she has any girls wanting to do a change.” Roadkill glanced down at her watch.

  “Have to be somewhere?” Topaz pointed.

  “Yeah, back to the clinic. I’m on my lunch break.”

  “Let me go and make you a sandwich.” Topaz got up and walked toward the kitchen.

  Roadkill followed. “I’m coming too, this conversation isn’t done yet.”

  “Really? I thought we settled it. I’m getting my shit done, more people need to elope and that’s about it.” Topaz’s voice stayed monotone as she washed her hands, the fact she said she’d been a little depressed was an overshare she worried was coming back on her.

  Looking over at Roadkill, Topaz could tell she was irritated, but the woman remained calm even when someone defied her. A trait they shared and made it hard to spar with her. She didn’t feel like she had said anything out of bounds to the President of the MC’s wife, but that didn’t mean Roadkill would tolerate insubordination.

  “I’m sorry. Was there anything else that I forgot to do?”

  “No. But Topaz something isn’t right. I want you to call Dr. Olson.” Roadkill reached into her jean pocket and pulled out a business card. “Here’s the number. Before you do anything else today, call her and set up at least two sessions. You need to talk to someone. She’s a really good listener.”

  “Seriously? The shrink? You keep her card on hand?” Topaz went through the prep station to make Roadkill a club sandwich as Manny, one of their prep cooks, ducked in the walk-in freezer to avoid the women. “I’m good, really.”

  “And yet…” Roadkill’s hand didn’t drop.

  “Do I really have to?” Topaz asked with a sigh and took the card, tucking in her pocket, before Roadkill forced it on her. “I hate talking about my feelings and all that.” Bringing shit up hadn’t really been a good look for her over the years. Instead, stuff away, maybe work out frustrations in the makeshift gym the women used to keep shit tight.

  “Yes and I want you to do it today. If I talk to Doc and she hasn’t heard from you, I’ll be back here.” Roadkill’s eyebrow raised as Topaz slipped the sandwich in a to-go box. “Do you want me to come back today?”

  “Anything for Red?” Topaz replied as the two de facto female leaders of the club squared off.

  “Maybe when Manny’s got the fryer going you can run over a burger and fries.” Roadkill left.

  Topaz went to the office and shut the door. Sitting in the office chair, she leaned back and stared at her cell. Shifting, she dug in her back pocket and removed the card. Dialing the number, she waited for someone to answer.

  She didn’t have to wait too long after the second ring it was picked up, “Hello.”

  “Dr. Olson?”

  “Yes,” the woman’s professional, but soothing voice replied.

  “This is Topaz—Sarah from the Steel MC. I’m one of Roadkill’s girl—” the door to her office opened and she jumped up, slamming it shut. “Door’s closed for a reason.”

  “But I need to—” Lyna began to whine.

  “You’re on thin ice, want to fall through?” Topaz waited, holding the phone tight to her chest with one hand and the other pressing hard on the pressed wood door. The click of heels and mumbled words let her know Lyna was gone and word to stay away had been issued. “I apologize, are you still there?” Topaz settled back in her chair.

  “Yes.”

  “Well, anyway I need some counseling. Well Roadkill thinks I do anyways.”

  She heard a chuckle before Doc spoke, “It’s okay, sometimes we all need a new friend to talk to. I’d be happy to speak to you. Matter of fact, I just finished up with my client and I don’t have another one until later this afternoon.”

  “Oh, well that is unexpected. I thought I should make an appointment or something.” Topaz wasn’t sure she was ready to be tossed into the fire like this.

  “It’s okay. If I have time now, we might as well get started, at least with the basics,” Doc said. “I prefer facetiming, any chance we could?”

  Topaz let her know her email address and soon a link was there for her to click. Swallowing down her fear and finding a doorstop to jam under the door, she was closed in the best she could be.

  With a click, the screen filled with a black box and a small phone icon in the center. Soon, a bright light flashed and a woman with African American features, but paler skin smiled brightly from a sun soaked room. Windows behind her created a halo around the edges of her thick afro. With boldly colored lips and defined eyes, Doc’s sweet voice did not match the beautiful dark eyes. “So, do you prefer Sarah or Topaz?” she asked.

  “Topaz.”

  “Alright, Topaz, why does Roadkill think you should talk to me?”

  “Well, I’m kinda stuck in a rut. Don’t know where I want to be in the future. Basically lately, I’ve felt like I have no purpose.” The last time Topaz spoke to a shrink, they’d had little interest in what she really wanted or could even figure it out. This time, she’d stick to the lie, with a sprinkling of truth. “Or direction.”

  “Okay, so you say you have no purpose. What do you do now?”

  “I handle all the women at the Roadside. I make up the schedules and make sure everyone is doing their job. Dance, but not as much as I used to.”

  “You miss it?” Doc asked. “The dancing?”

  “Um, I guess, I mean the tips are good, but the club understood I’d be losing out on those, so they compensate.” Topaz sat back in the chair, staring at the woman on the screen

  “So it was just the money?” she asked. “When you danced, was it only the money you enjoyed?”

  .“No,” Topaz admitted. “There’s a freedom most times. Getting lost in the music. I wouldn’t even see the bills until the song was over.”

  “Do you have other ways to relax, zone out? Do you ride?”

  “I never got my own bike. I’m more of a hold on and enjoy the view type of girl.”

  “I’ve spoken to others in your group who say even rides as short as a few miles can break through a mental block, is it the same when you’re behind a guy?”

  “Maybe,” she replied and began picking with her nails. “With the right guy I suppose.”

  Doc scribbled a few notes on a pad, allo
wing Topaz time to reflect on her first ride. The one she never spoke of because she was barely seventeen and her mother would have killed her. The boy had borrowed his older brother’s crotch rocket. Not one of the sweet, smooth Harleys the men of the Steel MC rode. Still, the mix of the engine, her arms wrapped tightly to his body and—

  “You said most times.”

  Doc’s voice broke through the memory, and Topaz wiped at her cheek because a warm wetness somehow escaped her eye. Thankfully, she did it before Doc’s eyes turned from her note pad.

  “What about other times?”

  “Other times, it’s a control thing.” Topaz searched for another reason she might miss the pole. “Fifty eyes on you, all wanting you, men or just one man who can only go as far as you allow. Lead him by the nose all around the club, all the while he thinks he’s in charge.”

  “That’s empowering,” Doc said as she leaned forward in her chair. “Your job now, I would say that is a pretty demanding job. Control is there right?”

  “It’s different with women,” Topaz admitted. “Besides, it’s not like it’s hard to make a schedule.”

  “You do more than a schedule, it sounds like you’ve accomplished a lot for them, don’t you? Isn’t the bar successful?”

  Topaz intertwined her fingers and raised her arms above her head to stretch. “I guess,” she replied with a heavy sigh before dropping her arms.

  “Now, you feel you’re placeholding your life?”

  “Well, it’s not something I can see myself doing in the future. I grew up in a happy loving home. Cheerleader dating the quarterback and Homecoming queen, all that in high school. I had a path. You know checking off boxes to move to the next level.”