by Skye McNeil
Isa finished her drink and brought the empty glass to the bar. “Perhaps, but don’t tell him.” She smirked and leaned her elbows on the bar top. “He’ll get a big head.”
“Girl, please, he already has a big head.” Dolly snorted. “Don’t believe me, ask any of my nymphs.”
Turning around, Isa studied the array of Macha nymphs. They were all shapes and sizes, but none as tall as her. It didn’t happen too often in her experience.
“He’s been with all of them?”
Dolly jumped off the bar and patted Isa’s shoulder. “Aw, sweetie, that’s what the nymphs are for. They keep the bikers sated.” She jutted her chin toward the redheaded nymph practicing a dance routine on an empty table. “At least until they find an old lady. Even then, some Macha members have open relationships.”
The mere mention made Isa’s pulse skyrocket. I have a lot to learn about Macha. The television shows about bikers weren’t based on this club. Most people preferred the rough bikers like the ones she’d heard of in Ireland.
Isa shook her head. Not her. She’d much rather learn about Macha. From her short time with them, the MC showed her that all bikers weren’t scoundrels.
“‘Old lady’ sounds so derogative,” Isa said, handing the glass to Brewer. He eyed her, then refilled it before returning to his duties.
“Oh, but it’s not.” Dolly pulled her away from the bar and toward a booth. “Being an old lady means your man values you above any other girl.” She grinned. “It means you’re in a committed relationship.”
“So, then it’s the same as being married?”
“Not always, but sometimes. Macha promotes marriage but doesn’t tie her members to the tradition unless both parties want it. My parents weren’t married, but that didn’t stop them from being fully committed to each other until death.”
Isa sipped on the whiskey, letting the liquid burn her throat. Already two tumblers in, she was feeling the effects of day drinking.
Dolly kept chattering about Macha’s take on marriage and relationships, but she wasn’t listening anymore. I wonder if Doc wants an open relationship or if he’d be satisfied with just one woman.
She chewed her bottom lip and watched a prospect turn on the jukebox in the corner. A rock and roll song filled the bar, and two nymphs hopped on a tabletop and started grinding on each other. The two prospects stopped what they were doing and watched the girls dance. Brewer smacked them on the back of their heads when he caught them gawking, and the two scrambled to busy themselves.
Isa smirked at Brewer, and he offered her a wink. Out of all the bikers, he was the least intimidating. With a full head of red hair, he didn’t have the typical biker look. Well, at least here. She’d seen plenty of redheaded bikers on the isle. She watched him hurry behind the bar. He was the sweetest too. Never talked down to anyone. That she saw, anyway.
“He went to jail, you know,” Dolly said, cutting into Isa’s thoughts.
She turned toward her. “Brewer?”
“Yep.”
“When? Why?”
“When we were teenagers, Brewer used to sneak out at night and race motorcycles.” Dolly smiled, her memories clearly flooding her mind. “Sometimes, I’d go too just to egg him on and check out the competition.”
“Sounds innocent enough. What happened?” Isa finished off her drink and squinted at the new glass full of whiskey waiting for her. A prospect must’ve dropped it off. She shrugged and took a drink.
“He and another guy got into it. Brewer said he cheated on the last lap, and with no one to doubt him, they started scuffling. The cops showed up and tossed him in jail for the night.” Dolly gathered her hair into a ponytail. “The next morning, our dad whooped his ass so bad he couldn’t sit for a week. It was kinda funny.”
“Who was the other guy?” She held her breath, somehow already knowing the answer.
“Doc.”
“Lovely.” Isa threw back the shot of whiskey. “Can’t say I’m surprised. He seems like the type to get into fights.”
“Only when it matters.” She waved at a prospect, and he brought a bottle of whiskey to the table.
“I shouldn’t,” Isa protested when the glass was filled to the top.
“But you will.” Dolly tossed back the drink and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Drink, then we’ll dance. I think I can teach you a few things that’d help you snare your Macha man.”
The dim lights of the bar seemed brighter after two more shots. Locals started pouring into the room, and lively music drowned out her better sense. Dolly tried and failed to teach her about dirty dancing. Evidently, the old movie wasn’t so dirty by today’s standards, which meant she was royally flushed.
“Hey, beautiful, what’re you up to?”
His voice washed down her back, his chest against her hair. A shiver shot straight to the spot between her legs, and she slowly craned her neck to meet Doc’s stunning blue eyes. They were even more glorious after a few drinks.
“Taking a breather after Dolly gave me a dancing lesson.” She cocked her head. “How was church?”
Doc rested his left hand on the bar and positioned his body between her and the next barstool. “Same shit. I should be grateful. Better than new shit.” He nodded his thanks to Brewer when he set a beer in front of him. “So dancing, huh?” he asked after taking a drink of the dark Guinness. “Didn’t you get enough of that the other week?”
Isa thought back to her second night in Colorado. She’d managed to slip away from Queenie and down several very needed drinks. “That was to let off steam.” She stood and grabbed his hand. “But this was for fun. Want to see my new moves?”
He glanced around the bar, uncertainty painted on his face. “Princess, you nearly caused a riot the last time you shook your ass.” He pointed to her jeans. “And in those, you just might tonight.”
“The only riot I want is with you,” she said under her breath. Doc’s gaze snapped to her and she giggled, pulling him toward the dance floor. If he’d heard, he didn’t let on.
Her anxiety momentarily subsided. She wasn’t a flirt. At least not a good one.
A popular country tune blared through the speakers, and she wasted no time summoning her eighties-themed moves. Swaying her hips to the tempo, she rested her arms on his shoulders. Doc’s eyes darted to their audience, and she gritted her teeth. He was more concerned for her safety. She should have been glad he was so attentive. Instead, all she craved was his attention to her body.
Looping her arms around his neck, Isa forced his eyes to return to her. “Don’t you dance, Doc?”
“Not if I can help it.”
She turned around and grinded her arse against his jeans. Already, she felt his cock come alive beneath the denim. A shot of desire ran up her spine, and she locked her hands behind his head, deepening the connection.
“You sure that’s a good idea, princess?” he said gruffly. He gripped her hips, trying to stop her suggestive moves, but she only tried harder to tempt him.
She spun around and rolled her eyes. His reaction was well worth the act. “Aye, very sure.”
His blue eyes darkened. “Isa, I’m warning you.”
She leaned forward to kiss him, but Doc stepped back before they could connect. “We can’t. Not here,” he said quietly.
Pouting, Isa clenched her jaw and moved farther into the throng of nearby dancers. “Well, I’m not done yet, so I guess you can wait.”
“You know I don’t like to wait.”
“And you know I like to dally.”
She spotted a single man dancing and moved in his direction. Tossing a glance over her shoulder, she swallowed a giggle at the expression on her biker’s face. It was borderline murderous. The man, slightly taller than her, didn’t waste any time. He grabbed her hips and pulled her flush to him, gyrating his hips along with her arse. Never had she felt naughtier or more empowered.
“Isa.”
She heard Doc’s rumbled warning but ignored it.
The song changed to up-tempo rock, and she grinned at her unnamed dance partner. It didn’t matter who she danced with. Doc would be watching, and if he was too ashamed to kiss her or dance with her in front of his brothers, then she’d make him suffer a little.
The man smelling of cheese and ale slid his hands down her hips and to her arse. She didn’t have a chance to correct him before Doc’s large body came into view. With one swift move, he swung her over his shoulder and swatted her left arse cheek.
“What the feck!” She yelped, but it was drowned out by manly laughter. She narrowed her gaze to the table full of club members and opened her mouth to curse them.
Doc walked out of the bar before she could spew one word. She gasped at the unusually cool rain pelting her exposed back.
“That’s bloody cold, you wanker.”
A low growl emitted from Doc, and she swallowed hard. He set her on the gravel, and she shoved at his attempt to grab her again.
“You can’t disregard my words.” His brows furrowed together, frustration evident on his face. “The men in that bar….” He shook his head. “They don’t care if you’re Macha royalty. You’re not a member’s old lady either. No patch is on your shirt, so all they see is a tight ass, perky boobs, and plump, dick-sucking lips.”
His brash words startled her, sending her a step backward. She pushed her rain-plastered hair out of her face. “I’m fair game unless you’re going to claim me.”
A vein in his neck bulged. “I can’t do that, Isa.”
She closed the distance between them and poked his chest. “Why not?”
“It’s complicated.”
“Bullshit. You don’t want to—” His lips overwhelmed hers in response. A surprised gasp escaped her, and he picked her up off the ground, this time gently. She looped her arms around his neck and kissed him back, rain splashing on them but neither caring. His tongue invaded her mouth, and Isa matched his frantic act with her own, relishing the tangling of their lips.
“Not here,” he rasped, pulling away. His eyes looked nearly midnight, lust rimming the blue. He didn’t bother to wait for a response, merely carried her to the clubhouse and to her room. Once the door closed, he pushed her back against it, fingers working beneath her shirt.
Not wasting any time, Isa yanked on his shirt and shivered at the delicious muscles her fingers traced. “Holy shit, you’re ripped.”
He grinned and tossed his tee to the floor. She stood in adoring silence, taking in the sheer mass of the man in front of her. He was handsome, sure, but his body screamed dedication to a workout routine. The lines that went from his hips underneath his jeans made her flare with heat. Feck a Greek Adonis. An Irish Doc’s better.
She swallowed the fear his muscles ignited in her. He could snap her neck so easily. But he won’t. That realization summoned her forward. Her lips hovered at his, their heights ideal for kissing. No other man could make her tall stature appear small.
Doc’s hands easily stripped her shirt off and tossed it to the floor. His breathing hitched at her green bra. His knuckles slowly traced the swells of her breasts, her heart pounding beneath his touch.
“Your skin’s so soft. I’m afraid I’ll hurt you.”
Covering his hand over her breast, she met his gaze. “You can’t hurt me, Doc. I’m not a porcelain doll. I won’t break.”
He offered a slight smile. “Isa, you should know I’m not exactly the ‘sweet and tender lover’ type. I like to get rough, as you already experienced.”
“How rough?” A tinge of fear trickled back to her. Never being with a man suddenly sent her nerves into a nosedive.
Doc tilted her chin up with his index finger. “Not as rough as I’m sure you’re imagining, but more than you should have for your first time.”
Her heart sank. “I was hoping you wouldn’t figure that out.”
“Babe, give me a little credit.” He smirked. “I want you, Isa. I want you so fucking bad it physically hurts.”
“But—”
“But I want you to be ready. One hundred and ten percent ready.” He searched her eyes. “Because once I have you, princess, I’ll want you every chance I get. I don’t think you’re ready for that. Are you?”
Isa worried her lips together and lowered her gaze. Her body told her she was ready, but her heart disagreed. “Maybe not.” She sighed. “But I want to be.”
Gently tugging on her bra strap, he led her to the bed. “Then let’s get you ready, yeah?”
She nodded and followed him. “What do you want me to do?”
Doc propped his head up on his hand. “Tell me about yourself, Isa.”
“What?” She smiled. “What do you mean?”
“Well, I’d like to learn more about you.”
He was content to merely lie on her bed shirtless, displaying his ornate canvas of skin.
Getting to know each other was a good idea. She wasn’t sure why they hadn’t before.
“All right. I grew up in a very Catholic family.”
Doc snapped his fingers. “There it is. That’s why you’re such a naughty girl.”
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, smartarse.”
He chuckled. “Go on.”
“It was Mum and me for the most part. Well, and Niall and Orla.”
“Your friends?”
She smiled reminiscently. “They were always there for me. It’s odd to be away from them even for a short amount of time.”
“I can understand that.” He kicked off his boots, clearly ready to stay all night. “Have you always wanted to design clothes?”
“Well, no. There was a time I thought for certain I’d be a model.”
“You could definitely pass for one.” His eyes dipped over her, and she immediately remembered she was half naked. Somehow, it didn’t bother her. The slight chill in the room, on the other hand, did. She rolled off the bed and grabbed a sweatshirt, pulling it on fast.
“Mum and I spent a lot of time outside. She loved to garden. I’m not the best at it, honestly. Sketching and designing I learned quickly.” She sat opposite him on the bed. “Once Orla found her niche in candle and soap making, it fell together.”
“Where does Niall fit in?”
Isa thought back to her two best friends. “Niall is our finance whiz. His family comes from money, so he set us up with the shop. Orla lived with me in the flat above it until she and Niall got together. Orla had a huge crush on him, but the twat didn’t make his move until she was almost in love with someone else.”
“Timing is everything.”
She met his eyes. “I suppose it is.” Silence simmered momentarily. She wasn’t sure how much to tell him about her life in Ireland. Even if they had an iota of a chance, she didn’t want to scare him off with tales of her secondary school adventures.
“Your friends sound nice. You’re lucky to have them.”
“I really am, but enough about me. I’m boring.” She crossed her legs. “What about you?” she asked, turning the tables. “What’s your given first name?”
Sitting up slightly, he lowered his voice. “Tad, though nobody but my mom has ever called me by it.”
Her brows shot up on both accounts. “Tad? As in tadpole?”
Doc cursed under his breath, a smile lining his lips. “Something like that. I’m just glad Macha gave me a different club name. I doubt I could pull off Tadpole and make it fierce.”
She leaned over and kissed him softly. “I think you could, but I am interested in how you got your MC name.”
For the next hour, Isa and Doc exchanged stories about their lives. She finally understood his biker name and commended him for his valiant behavior. He’s more than a biker or paramedic. He’s good all the way to his soul.
A loud ruckus woke her in the middle of the night. Thankfully, Doc heard it too, and they both sat up in bed. The sheets were rumpled but their clothing intact.
“Go back to sleep, princess,” Doc said, pulling on his boots. “It’s t
he guys being dumbasses.” He stood and walked to the door. “I’ll be back. Don’t go anywhere.”
“I couldn’t if I tried.”
He smiled in the dark, and Isa settled into the warm comforter once he closed the door behind him. They’d fallen asleep sometime after talking about university. His cologne on the pillow beside her made returning to dreamland impossible. She needed him beside her now. Sleeping by herself felt lonely.
Bugger, I’ve gone and fallen for him.
16
Doc
“Everybody shut it!” Shovelhead roared above the chatter in the large room.
One by one, the MC members clammed up and looked to the head of the table. The VP’s beady eyes stared them down until there was complete silence.
Doc sat back in his chair on the opposite end, waiting for the president to speak. The last-minute church session was called due to an emergency from their Belfast location. The thought made him queasy from the moment he heard it. Can’t be good news.
“All right,” Reaper began. “Phantom and the boys are still fending off the Twelve Brothers.”
A unison grunt resounded from the members. Shovelhead glared at the group, silencing them immediately. Doc studied the VP warily. Shovelhead never gave him a good vibe, but then again, he barely knew the old biker. Each Macha member had skeletons. So long as they didn’t destroy the future, their past could stay buried.
Reaper stood and flipped on the large television at the front of the room. Phantom sat waiting on the other side. “The situation has elevated exponentially. I’ll let Phantom get you boys up to date.”
Phantom nodded, eyes weary and grim. “The Twelve Brothers know about my daughter, Isadora.” He looked at each member and held up a message. The ink looked like blood.
“Tick tock, Phantom, your crew’s weak. We’ll have your lass within the week,” Reaper read aloud.
“As you can see, they’re coming for my daughter.”
Doc’s heart dropped to his stomach. Every eye fastened on him.
