Doc T (Macha MC Book 1)

by Skye McNeil

  Doc casually smiled at each one, silently sizing them up. He couldn’t handle them all. Not without help.

  “Sorry, I really need her.”

  The Cutthroat trapped Isa on his lap with his arm across her breast. Ice flowed through Doc’s veins at the look of sheer horror on her beautiful face.

  “Look, man, I don’t want any trouble. Just need my girl back.” He took a step closer, willing himself to stay cool. An all-out bar brawl wouldn’t be good for business.

  The highest-ranking Cutthroat chuckled darkly, his eyes equally black. “She your woman?”

  Doc glanced around at the bikers slowly closing in on them. “She’s one of our girls. You know how we like to keep them close.”

  “One of your nymphs, then?” The biker smiled. “Perfect, I could use a nice blow job.” He yanked on Isa’s long hair, and Doc gritted his teeth at the terrified sound that escaped her. “How ’bout it, sweetheart? Suck me good, and then I’ll fuck you like no other.” He nodded at his men. “Maybe even let my brothers have a taste of your milky skin.”

  “I’ll bet she’d like it in every hole at once,” one of the Cutthroats said, and the rest eagerly agreed.

  The big man nuzzled Isa’s neck. “I’ll fuck you raw, then pass you around my brothers before I fuck you again.”

  The Cutthroats let out a unified “Whoop,” and that was it. Doc threw the first punch before his brain registered what he was doing. All hell broke out, but he didn’t give a shit. He busted a nose and heard the unsettling crackle of bones in another man’s jaw. The tangy taste of blood sent Doc sprawling backward, a Cutthroat jabbing him with his elbow when Doc tried to pry Isa out of his grip.

  Before the Cutthroats could react, Snoopy, Brewer, and Rubble were on top of the group, five prospects in tow. Isa’s elbow connected with the biggest Cutthroat, and he yelped in pain. Acting fast, Doc snagged Isa’s arm and whirled her out of the vortex of punches and blood.

  “Hurry up,” he yelled, tugging her away from the bar fight that’d drawn nearly every patron in for a swing. They weaved through the crowd, careful to steer clear of misdirected punches. Doc hit the back door with his shoulder and yanked Isa out before slamming it shut.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, hands slowly checking her body.

  Tears dripped down her cheeks, but she nodded. “I don’t know what happened. One of the nymphs asked me to take her tray to the men because she wasn’t feeling well. Before I knew it, they were all over me.”

  Doc gently drew her against his chest. She buried her head in his shirt, and he wrapped his arms around her. Her shoulders shook, though from tears or fear, he wasn’t sure. Probably both.

  Yells from the bar echoed, and he led her away from the door, lest a Cutthroat decide to make an escape. They made it to the alley behind the bar before she suddenly became deadweight.

  “Isa, what’s wrong? We need to get to the clubhouse.”

  She leaned against the brick wall and pushed her hair out of her face. In the moonlight, her skin looked ghostly. “Sorry, I need a minute.” She inhaled and exhaled noisily, hands shaking as she paced. “They would’ve done it, wouldn’t they?”

  Doc shoved his hands in his jeans pockets. “Yes.”

  “Why? Do they do that to your nymphs often? I can’t believe Macha would let—”

  “We don’t, Isa.” He moved over to where she stood. “The Greenback Cutthroats are exactly that. They’re our closest rival and like to rile us up every so often. But they never get our nymphs. Not if we can help it.”

  He searched her eyes and cursed at the fear he saw there. “I should’ve left you at the clubhouse. I’m sorry.”

  “No, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have taken the tray.” She laughed. “I’m no waitress and definitely not a nymph.”

  Lifting his hands, Doc tucked her hair behind her ears. “You’re better, princess.”

  “I am?”

  “Oh yes. No woman compares to you.” He couldn’t help himself. She deserved to hear beautiful words every damned day. Lowering his eyes, he stared at her parted pink lips. He leaned in ever so slightly and pressed his lips against hers. She didn’t react, too dumbfounded to move. Catching her gaze, he offered her a smile. “And you deserve a man who’ll tell you that each day.”

  Isa opened her mouth only to shut it again. No words formed, and he was fucking glad they couldn’t.

  “Doc, you out here?”

  Stepping away, he called back to Brewer, “Yeah, we’re here.”

  Brewer jogged over to them. “Oh, good. I didn’t see you leave.” He glanced to Isa. “Everybody okay?”

  Isa nodded, still mute, and he hid a smile. The men in Ireland truly are idiots if they didn’t adore this woman.

  “We’re good. What about inside?” He nodded toward the bar. “The Cutthroats leave?”

  “Yeah.” Brewer raked his fingers through his bright hair. “But they’ll be back. Said so before they hobbled to their bikes.”

  “Reaper won’t be happy to hear that.” He grimaced but didn’t regret standing up for their Macha princess. She was his to protect.

  11

  Isa

  “Have you ever shot a gun?”

  Isa’s head turned at the quiet question. “Excuse me?”

  Doc sauntered closer. “You heard correctly.” He rested his hands on the table. “Do you know how to shoot a gun?”

  “No.”

  A slow smile crossed his face. “Come on, princess. I’ll show you.”

  He hauled her out of the chair before she could sputter a response. He stopped beside a truck and opened the door. “Hop in.”

  Isa smoothed a hand over her dress. “I don’t think I’m wearing proper gun shooting attire.”

  His blue eyes leisurely looked over her orange-and-white summer dress. It hit two inches above her knees in a bubble complete with pockets. It was one of her more favorite dresses she’d designed and made.

  “I think you look just fine.” He nodded to the seat. “Get in. I’m hot.”

  She grumped but did as he said. In retrospect, knowing how to handle a gun may have come in handy after her run-in with the Greenback Cutthroats the other night.

  Doc’s grazed kiss still haunted her. She couldn’t decipher if it was real or merely a figment of her imagination. After the trauma, she could only assume it was her mind playing tricks on her.

  Ten minutes later, she shook her head. “No, I’m not shooting that thing.” She stared at the handgun on the bar at the shooting range.

  “You’re a Macha princess. You have to learn.” He smirked. “After all, there’s only so much Dolly’s self-defense classes can teach you.”

  “How do you…?” She stopped herself there. No doubt Brewer spilled the beans. “I’ll smack that bartender good the next time I see him,” she muttered, walking closer to Doc. “What do I do?”

  “First, make sure you have these handy. Don’t want you to lose your hearing.” He handed her a pair of large orange earmuffs. “Always treat a gun like it’s loaded, and always keep your gun pointed in a safe direction. Next, always keep your trigger finger off the trigger and outside the trigger guard until you’re ready.” He grabbed the gun.

  “Seems idiot-proof.”

  “You’d think, wouldn’t you?” He handed her the gun. “You’ll want to grip the gun with two hands at first. Your dominant hand?” He glanced at her.

  “Right.”

  “Right hand should grip the gun high on the back strap. Your left hand supports the other, and you place it over the exposed part of the grip.” He watched as she followed the instructions.

  Isa easily complied, and he nodded approvingly. “Good, now all four fingers of your supporting hand should be under the trigger guard with the index finger pressed hard underneath.”

  She folded her left hand over.

  “Not quite.” Doc moved behind her and covered her hands with his own, showing her precisely how to hold the gun. His overgrown hair tickled th
e back of her neck, and she felt a shiver down her spine.

  “There, good. Now your stance. Feet shoulder width apart with your right leg a little in front of your left. Bend your knees slightly and raise the gun toward the target.”

  Performing the acts as he spoke, Isa couldn’t help the smile crossing her face. She’d always wanted to learn to shoot, but it wasn’t a mum-approved activity.

  Doc hadn’t moved from his spot behind her, and she felt his wide chest against her back. “Good. Now to aim. Always use your dominant—right for you—eye and align the sights.” He flicked a small notch on the gun, and she followed suit until it was aligned properly. Doc slid the ear coverings in place on both of them. “Relax, take a breath, and once you’re ready, squeeze the trigger.”

  Isa held the gun up and focused on the bull’s-eye at the end of the yard. It wasn’t too far away. Fifty yards if she had to guess. The sun beat down on her head, but she didn’t feel the warm rays. Birds chirped in the nearby forest, and the chatter of squirrels was unmistakable until the ear protection was in place. Now it was deadly silent. Finally, she took a breath and squeezed. The gun discharged, and she watched in surprise as it hit the target.

  Doc let out a whoop. “Way to go, princess! You’re a natural.” He showed her how to put the safety on, then tugged the orange muffs off.

  “Holy shite, that was amazing!” She placed a hand on her chest. “My heart’s beating so fast.”

  He smiled behind his sunglasses. “My heart always beats fast around you.”

  Isa rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Bloody American flirt.”

  He laughed but didn’t reply.

  She spent the next hour learning about ammo, loading, cleaning, and every other little tidbit Doc managed to squeeze into conversation about guns. By the time they made it back to the clubhouse, Isa was confident she could hold her own should the moment arise.

  Come for me, I’ll be ready.

  Rolling over in bed, Isa stretched out her arm. Only a pillow met her, and she opened her eyes in the dark. Doc wasn’t in his usual spot by the bed. It shouldn’t have frustrated her, but it did. Her close call with the Cutthroats still unnerved her.

  He’s in the next room, Isa. Calm down.

  She sat up and turned on the small light beside the bed. Grabbing her phone, she reviewed the missed messages from Orla and Niall. After replying to them, she opened a slew of emails from a blocked address.

  Blocked: We know who you are.

  Blocked: We’ll find you.

  Blocked: And take you.

  Isa gasped and scrambled out of bed. Pounding on the adjoining door, she called Doc’s name.

  “What?” he growled, swinging open the door.

  Doing her best to ignore his lack of clothes, she stormed into his room and handed him the phone. “I just received these messages.”

  Rubbing his eyes, Doc stared at the phone, his frown deepening. “Did you reply?”

  “No.”

  “Don’t.” He turned over the phone and slid off the back. “They’re trying to get a rise out of you so they can track you.” In one quick move, he disconnected the GPS. “There, now they won’t be able to find you.”

  Isa took the outstretched phone. “How’re you so calm? Somebody’s sending threatening messages to me.”

  Doc blinked several times, eyes focused on her. “Princess, I’d be worried if you didn’t get messages, but those are emails. If they actually knew where you were, they wouldn’t warn you, they’d just snatch you.” He crawled back into bed. “I’ll have Hawk backtrack the messages in the morning. Honestly, it’s probably just some dumbasses.”

  Mouth gaping, she watched him snuggle up to his pillow. “You bloody wanker! They better not be on their way right now or you’ll be sorry.”

  Doc turned over and propped his head up. “I’m already sorry you woke me up.”

  Huffing, Isa whirled around and stormed out of the room, sure to slam the door on her way. She jumped back into bed and tried to calm down. That won’t be happening for quite some time.

  She punched the pillow beside her. “The damn eejit better hope somebody doesn’t slit my throat during the night.” She grabbed the spare blanket and draped it over the one on her bed, pulling both up to her throat and swallowing hard. Even the mere possibility made her uneasy. Suddenly, every sound she heard was dangerous and out to get her. Moans from the room three doors down turned into a bloodcurdling scream in her mind.

  “Seriously, princess?”

  Isa yelped and tossed her pillow toward the voice.

  Doc chuckled and picked up the pillow. “You look like a giant blanket. How many did you grab?”

  Placing a hand on her chest, she tried to steady her breathing. Her protector stood feet away, still shirtless and looking as tempting as ever. “Blimey, I didn’t even hear the door open.”

  He plopped onto the spot beside her. “Probably because you were too worried about the boogeyman.”

  She glared at him, looking so cozy next to her. He closed his eyes, and she immediately wanted to see the blue depths once more.

  “Get some sleep, Isa. I’ll be here to scare the monsters away.”

  Patting her pillow, she made sure to smack his gorgeous face before turning over and facing the dresser.

  “Arsehole.”

  “Scaredy-cat.”

  She closed her eyes and smiled. Having Doc nearby immediately made it easier for her to slip into a dreamland where his lips caressed her every inch.

  12

  Doc

  “That girl is a handful,” Snoopy said, tossing his knife into the side of a chunk of wood in the empty lot next to the clubhouse. It’d been vacant for a year, so the club purchased it, hoping to build on it. Instead, it turned into a spot where the members drank around a small fire pit, always within earshot of the clubhouse.

  “No shit.” Cueball shook his head. “I accidentally—”

  “On purpose,” Brewer added, popping a top off his beer.

  “Yeah, whatever. So I walked in on her with Dolly, and that Irish girl nearly bit my head off.” Cueball chuckled. “But I kinda like her. She’s feisty.”

  “That can be very useful in the bedroom,” Rubble commented.

  Doc silently sipped his beer. His brothers could bullshit all day long. Normally it was fine. Today, though, it rubbed him the wrong way. Mostly because they were talking about Isa.

  “An Irish lass is trouble,” Shovelhead said, spitting his chew into an empty bottle. “Mark my words, she’ll destroy us if we’re not careful.”

  The older man stood and walked back into the clubhouse. The remaining Macha members burst out laughing.

  “That guy is nuts,” Hawk said, tossing his own knife toward the target.

  Snoopy nodded and lit a cigarette. “I heard Reaper tell Queenie that Shovelhead would never be president. Something about unsecured loyalties, whatever that means.”

  Rubble sank into one of the lawn chairs around the fire pit. “It means Prez isn’t convinced the issues we had with the Greenback Cutthroats wasn’t due to Shovelhead.”

  Snoopy and Cueball exchanged an uncertain glance. Doc couldn’t believe what he was hearing. From the look on Hawk’s face, neither could he.

  “I heard Prez tell Queenie it’d be better to send him to Belfast.” Rubble eyed them all. “But none of that leaves with you.”

  They all nodded. Being on Rubble’s bad side was a death wish, and they all wanted to see the dawn.

  A chill from the mountains swept over the area, and Doc pulled his hood up. With Isa safely playing cards with Queenie and Dolly, he’d have a few hours to enjoy solitude with his brothers before returning to sentry duty.

  “Think the Twelve Brothers will figure out who she is?”

  They all stared into the orange flames.

  “Yep,” Rubble replied, his voice husky. “Phantom made a lot of enemies when he took over Belfast. Not all the Macha members appreciate how he did it either.”
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  “You think somebody within Macha might be harmful?” Doc asked, the possibility not one he liked.

  Rubble glanced to him and nodded. “It’s possible. Reaper and I have been meeting to discuss the possibility.”

  Hawk retrieved his knife and sheathed it. “Anything we can do?”

  “Not yet. I’ll let you know.” Rubble took a sip of beer. “I trust you all more than the rest.”

  Doc looked to Snoopy and Cueball. He didn’t particularly trust them, but if their sergeant at arms did, it was enough for him. They were a brotherhood and would defend it until their last breaths.

  Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.

  One thing he knew for certain, he’d make sure Isa was fully prepared in case the Twelve Brothers came for her. She was the daughter of a legacy member and ought to know every inch of Macha. He was the man for the job.

  “How’s the Irish gal getting along?” Brewer asked.

  Doc pressed the bottle to his lips. “She received a few menacing emails the other night, but we couldn’t trace them.”

  “They’re close, then.” Rubble sighed. “Dammit.”

  Brewer took a long draw. “How’re the two of you getting on?”

  “Good most of the time.” Doc watched the embers. “There’s just something about her.”

  “It’s between her legs, Doc,” Snoopy heckled.

  Cueball threw a log onto the fire. “You gonna get some of that?”

  Doc shook his head. “She’s under Macha protection. Can’t touch her.”

  Hawk snorted and sat next to him. “But you want to.”

  “Who wouldn’t?”

  “Especially with that ass.”

  “That’s enough,” Rubble stated. His mismatched eyes peered at them. “Must I remind you what I’ll do if any harm comes to her?”

  Doc swallowed hard. He was painfully aware of the beating the last man received after crossing the line with one of their assets.

  “No.”