Down & Dirty

by Madison, Reese

  Down & Dirty

  REESE MADISON

  AuthorHouse™

  1663 Liberty Drive

  Bloomington, IN 47403

  www.authorhouse.com

  Phone: 1-800-839-8640

  © 2011 Reese Madison. All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

  First published by AuthorHouse 12/1/2011

  ISBN: 978-1-4685-0709-6 (e)

  ISBN: 978-1-4685-0710-2 (sc)

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2011961202

  Printed in the United States of America

  Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

  and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

  Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

  Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

  Edited by Lynne Foster

  Contents

  Prologue

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  Prologue

  Joe,

  Hey kid, how’s it going? Not bad here, same old club shit. Gunner had his fun with a midget, (or is it little person?) on the pool table the other night. You know how these rallies can get. I think she lost a bet, not sure. All I know is I’ll never get that image out of my head.

  Salina is fine, she had to slap another whore out of here for trying to steal from Frito. I hate that she has to deal with those bitches.

  The guys took your bike out and got her ready for you since you told me about the R&R you’re up for. It’ll be nice to have you home a year early.

  We got a new Prospect named Beans, evidently he farts a lot. I stay away from him. Mick says he’s a good mechanic, so whatever. If he patches in I’m changing his name.

  Pulled in two more cars out of the canal this week, and one out of a house. One guy had a stroke, the other two were hammered. Seems like a lot of people are driving into houses lately. Oh well, it’s good for business.

  Let’s see, what else? Oh yeah, you know that bartender Carly I’ve told you about. That bitch is crazy. Knuckles kept grabbing her ass the other night after a few too many shots. She grabbed his balls, reached in his pocket and stole his keys, then handcuffed him to the railing on the front porch so he wouldn’t wander off and get hit by a car or some shit. Only bitch I know that carries handcuffs but not a knife. I haven’t laughed that hard since Gunner tried tickling her tits out of her top.

  She seems to put up with Gunner pretty well, which surprises me. He and half the club have asked her to be their old lady, but she just laughs and tells them they can’t handle her. She’d make a great old lady, stubborn as hell, but doesn’t take any shit. The girl’s got balls, and a great rack, but don’t tell Salina I said that.

  Speaking of good old ladies, Mom called, she said Pop is driving her nuts and she wants half his chapters in the divorce. I could hear Pop in the background telling her she could have mine since I was the traitor that forced him into retirement. Some things never change.

  That’s about it. Hurry up and get your ass back home. I can’t give you a Council title until I know you’re home for good, but you’ll always be welcome in Church.

  Love you Bro,

  -Slider

  Every week for the last nine years my oldest brother has written to me about the club. For the last three he’s written about this chick Carly. She sounds entertaining.

  I can’t wait to get back to Exiles, a chapter of the motorcycle club my father started in 1939. They let me prospect at sixteen then forced me into the Marines at eighteen because I was a stupid kid with a nasty temper that kept causing trouble for myself and the club.

  I took my temper out on terrorists, and training the men to replace me, for the last nine years. First four as a Marine and the last five as a Navy Seal. Now it’s time to go home. Back to the club, back to my family. Technically I have a year left, but since I’ve done so much over the years they approved a year of R&R first. Kind of a pre-retirement.

  This Carly chick is driving me nuts. I’ve had plenty of women, but three years ago I started picturing her in my head when I was with someone else. I gave up a while ago because the mental image wasn’t enough. If she ends up a disappointment it will be nice to move on. If not, that girl is in for a surprise.

  I’m the best at what I do because I refuse to take no for an answer. If I want something, I get it. That’s part of why I got sent into the military to begin with. If I was a better man I’d thank my brother and father, but I’m not a good man. I’ve been called dangerous, mean, scary as hell, and accused of having no morals, but never a good man.

  The grunt behind the desk finally brought me my papers and I almost thanked him. This paperwork pisses me off too much for manners so I just took them and left.

  My buddy Giz met me outside for a final ride in his Huey. Fifteen hours later I hoped I was making my last drop just outside my hometown. I gathered the shoot, folded it like I’ve done over a hundred times, and walked straight to the club. The whole time I fought the urge to go to the bar first and check out this Carly chick.

  1

  My name is Carly Michaels. I’m twenty-four with long red hair and a vicious shoe fetish. I work as a bartender for the local biker bar most nights of the week. I’ve been hit on by almost every biker that’s walked through that door over the last three years. So far I’ve managed to avoid getting tangled up with any of them.

  It’s a little after six, so I expect some of the locals to start trickling in soon. I poured myself a glass of wine in a coffee cup like I usually do and changed the radio station on the new XM system the owner installed. The guys still use the juke box, but it’s been acting up lately so the owner decided XM was cheaper than fixing it.

  Almost everyone that comes in here belongs to the local MC, or motorcycle club, known as Exiles. They’re a large group of about a hundred people, mostly men. Rick, their hacker and lower level council member, once told me they don’t like patching in women because they don’t like women getting hurt. Being a member means fighting for the club when the time comes, woman or not.

  Slider is their President, and the President of every chapter west of the Mississippi. I asked him once why he lives in this little town outside of Phoenix named Apache Junction. He told me he liked the mountain and the small town feel.

  Slider’s a good guy, but I wouldn’t cross him to save my life. He’s a big dude in his mid fifties with long grey hair and equally long grey beard. I’ve only seen him mad a few times, and that had me cowering behind the bar, otherwise he reminds me of a big teddy bear.

  Salina is his old lady. She’s a beautiful brunette in her mid thirties with a smoking hot little body. She’s also mean as a snake if you piss her off. I like it when she comes into the bar because I get to see Slider drool all over her. It’s cute. Slider worships the ground she walks on, therefore she’s treated like, and often referred to by him, as his queen.

  She’s always been very nice to me, but we’re not close since I keep turning down offers by members to be an old lady. I’ve had a couple crushes on some of the members, but by the time I thin
k about maybe dating one of them, something happens and I withdraw. The life of an Exile is a scary one.

  I don’t know much about their current business practices, but I know the history. Slider’s father started the club in 1939 in California. He had a dream of building a group of men who didn’t have to live by the rules of general society. They funded their lifestyle by running guns from Mexico through the U.S. and up into Canada.

  I do know that Slider hates any drug running other than some weed and a little cocaine. Exiles have run off more than one drug oriented gang over the years.

  Rick was the first to arrive tonight. “Hey beautiful. I got something for you.” He tossed me a brown paper bag I knew had my weekly stash in it. I like to smoke pot and drink wine. Sue me.

  “Thanks babe.” I call a lot of people ‘babe’.

  He took the beer I handed him, “It’s going to be a busy night, Slider’s brother just rolled back into town.”

  “The Marine?” I asked remembering the guys talking about him the other day.

  “Turns out he’s also a Navy Seal. Big mean fucker too. If I remember correctly his father patched him in so he could force him into the military. Since 14 he was a reputation for making trouble for the club.”

  “Great. I hope he doesn’t pick fights, Bobby just got new pool sticks.”

  “He’s pretty quiet so far. I guess the military did him some good.” He leaned back and looked out the door at the sound of bikes rolling in. I love that sound.

  A minute later the guys walked in like something out of a movie. I always get a little smile on the inside seeing these big powerful leather-clad men walk through the door. They all wear black leather vests with various badges and the same patch and rockers on the back.

  The top rocker says ‘Exiles’, the bottom one says ‘Arizona’. Slider is the President of the entire western states so he has a badge on the front under his ‘Escondido’ badge that says ‘Original’. I think that means he was a member of his father’s original chapter before moving out here to Arizona. The badges tend to confuse me.

  I started pouring pitchers and handing them to the servers. Rick was already heading over to the tables the guys usually take over. I looked around for a new face and found him pretty easily. Wow, that’s a big dude.

  I walked the last two pitchers over to the table so I could say hi.

  Slider’s Vice President Goat spoke first, “Hey Red, nice shorts.” He looked me over like he usually does. Goat is a middle aged man with short salt and pepper brown hair and a goatee.

  “Thanks. I went shopping yesterday and got a bunch of shit. You guys want to try my attempt at homemade tamales?” I asked knowing they’d eat whatever I put in front of them.

  “You know it.” Gunner, Slider’s Sergeant at Arms chimed in. Gunner is about thirty years old with lots of tattoos and a mean streak a mile wide.

  “I’ll be right back.” I smiled and caught the new guy looking at me behind a long dark chocolate beard with light green eyes. “You must be Joe.”

  “I am.” He sat back to give me a looking over. “You are?”

  “Carly, or Red, doesn’t matter. Welcome home.”

  “You could.”

  “What?” I wasn’t sure if I heard him right.

  “Welcome me home.” He clarified.

  Slider coughed, “Sorry bro, Red doesn’t play with us. She’s too smart.” He winked at me.

  I smiled and laughed a little, “You know I’m just waiting for Salina to wise up and leave you so I can have a chance.” I teased. Slider knows better, so does Salina. It’s a joke she and I started a couple years ago when I got to know her over a few drinks one night.

  “Not a chance. She ever leaves me I’d be a ruined man.”

  “A girl can dream.” I left to go get the tamales I’d made this morning. I like to cook and these guys like to eat, so it works out. They tend to over tip me when I feed them so I can afford to cook again another day.

  I filled a couple orders while the microwave heated the tamales before heading back to the table. “They might be a little spicy.” I warned them.

  “Good. I like spicy.” Gunner flirted. He’s probably the horniest bastard here.

  “I’m sure you do.” Just then I felt two large hands on my hips pulling me onto a large lap. I realized it was Joe and tugged his beard. “What do you want?”

  “I hear you need a man.” He looked down as his hand ran up my thigh.

  I laughed, “Like I need a rash.” I stopped his hand before he got too far.

  His other hand moved my hair off my shoulder, “Too bad. I could enjoy you for a long time.”

  I stood up to escape, “I’m sure you could.” I patted his shoulder and went back behind my bar. Being pulled into one of the guys laps is no big deal, they do that a lot. Especially Gunner. He likes to tickle me in hopes a boob will pop out and he can sneak a peek. I don’t really care, it’s kind of fun.

  Something about Joe’s eyes was lingering in my brain. The contrast of light eyes and dark hair was jarring. He has long dark lashes and a light tan. Almost Irish looking I guess.

  I kept catching him looking at me throughout the night. When I went to collect empty pitchers he ran his finger down the back of my leg making me jump when it tickled. I scolded him and went back to work.

  A couple of the guys usually hang around to make sure I’m okay when I lock up for the night. Tonight Joe was the only one left at two-thirty when I was ready to go.

  I walked over to take his empty bottle, “Closing time.”

  “Then close.” He has a deep demanding voice.

  “You have to leave first.” I picked up my purse and opened the door for him.

  He stood up and walked up to tower over me. “I need a place to crash.”

  “And this is my problem how?” I pushed him out and pulled the door shut to lock it.

  “I don’t do hotels.” He informed me.

  I walked to my truck, “Then I suggest you make friends fast.”

  He held my door open for me to climb in. “Why don’t you have a man?”

  I started the engine and looked at him. “I had a bad experience a few years ago. Slider helped me out of it, I guess I’ve been a little gun shy since.”

  “I’m going to follow you home, and don’t worry, the last thing you’ll get from me is a bad experience.” He shut my door. I should be worried, but I didn’t get a creepy vibe from him. He should scare me, but he doesn’t. I don’t know if it was because I knew he was a soldier, or Slider’s brother. Maybe both.

  I’ve only known Slider and his ‘family’ for about three years, but I know he doesn’t tolerate abuse of women in any way shape or form. Biker’s flirt and sneak a feel regularly, but they don’t cross any major lines. They’re used to me and what I let them get away with. Our new server is still intimidated, so they don’t touch her or pull her into their laps, but they do verbally flirt. I assured her they wouldn’t do any more if she didn’t allow it.

  I allow it because it’s the only form of affection I get. It’s all I need. Letting a man into my life is out of the question after the last guy. I still owe Slider for helping me out of that one. I guess I feel like I would be disrespecting what he did for me if I dated again, especially outside his club. It’s no secret he’d like me to hook up with one of his guys.

  I drove to my apartment and shook my head when Joe pulled in next to me. I got out and locked my truck.

  “You can’t be serious. What makes you think I’m going to let you stay here?”

  He walked over and put his arm around my shoulders. “What makes you think you can stop me?”

  “I’ll call Slider.” I threatened.

  He pulled a cell phone from his pocket and held it out for me, “Go for it.”

  I pushed it away, “Never mind.”

  “Why would you call Slider and not the cops?”

  “Because the cops are in Slider’s pocket. They’d take one look at your cut and walk away unless
I was actually hurt.”

  “He takes after our father.” He said mostly to himself.

  “I wouldn’t know.” I unlocked the door and waved him in. “Try not to break anything, it’s a small place and you look like a bull in a china shop.”

  He motioned for me to go in first. “Women first, in you go.”

  I went inside and turned on the lights. “Why don’t you just stay with Slider and Salina?”

  “You’re much nicer to look at.” He pulled his jacket off and hung it on the back of one of my dining room table chairs. It’s not really a dining room, more like the area between the kitchen and the living room.

  I poured a glass of wine and pulled my heels off. “I don’t have anywhere for you to sleep.”

  “You don’t own a bed?” He sat on my couch and pulled big black biker boots off.

  “You are not sleeping in my bed.” I flicked him in the back of the head.

  He got up and followed me down the hall. “You got something against the club?”

  I turned walking backwards, “No, why?”

  “Gunner said you’ve had a lot of offers.”

  “Oh that. Yeah. It’s not the club, or the guys. It’s the lifestyle I’m not excited about. Men sleep around on their old ladies, fight too much, that kind of thing.”

  He took my hand and spun me around. “I haven’t had a woman in months.”

  “Me either.” I laughed because it was true. I tried my hand at being a lesbian a few months ago out of curiosity. It was okay, but nothing I got too excited about.

  “You’re gay?” He asked pulling me against his chest.

  “If the mood strikes.” I teased looking up.

  He bent down and set his lips close to mine. “I’m going to kiss you, then you’re going to get in that bed and sleep next to me. I’m claiming you as my old lady, but I won’t force myself on you.”

  He didn’t wait for me to answer before kissing me like a man quenching his thirst after a year in the desert. I thought about pushing him away, but he’s a damn good kisser. He said he wasn’t going to force himself on me, not like that anyway, so I enjoyed him until he let me go.