Izzy shifted down the bar to talk to someone else and Hawk stepped back up, pouring him another double then pouring one for Diesel and himself. They clinked shot glasses then downed them in one swallow.
Zak slapped the glass down on the bar top and got serious. “Anyone see my dad or Axel?”
He didn’t miss when Diesel and Hawk’s eyes met briefly, a silent message, then their gaze broke and went back to him.
“See ‘em ‘round town, but haven’t had any real run-ins with ‘em.”
“Guess they won’t be here tonight,” Zak said softly, trying to fight the disappointment, but having a hard time keeping it from his voice.
“You know how it is with those fuckin’ cops, Z,” Jag said, walking up behind him and pounding him a welcome on the back. “They stick with their own. They don’t wanna get dirt under their nails by fraternizin’ with us.”
Zak turned to his cousin, and they clasped hands as if they were about to arm wrestle and then bumped shoulders.
Jag muttered, “Fuck that,” and wrapped his beefy arms around Zak and squeezed him tight.
Zak thought he spotted a tear in his blood relative and the club Road Captain’s eye.
Nah. Couldn’t have been.
Dirty Angels never cried. Even when they did.
And if they did, no one noticed or talked about it. Ever.
One time a prospect made fun of a patched member who got emotional and he ended up disappearing. Just like that.
Poof.
But then that was in the old days.
Even a hard-assed MC member shed some tears once in a while. But, again, somehow no one ever noticed.
“Uncle Mitch and your brother have been scarce. When the pigs show up here, for whatever reason they feel’s ‘necessary,’ they usually send anyone but them. And from what Dad says, they’ve circled the wagons ‘round Jayde since she’s come home from college. They don’t want her gettin’ anywhere near the club or any of us dirty fuckers.”
“With good reason,” Zak joked. Or tried to. He missed his little sister, too. The last time he saw her she was around fourteen years old. His mother and she had sat in the back of the courtroom for his sentencing and once it was over, he turned to look at them and they were gone. Disappeared. It probably had been too much for them.
So, he didn’t blame them. And he tried not to take it to heart that no one from his immediate family had ever visited him once while he was at Fayette. He understood their desire to keep their lives separate.
Though, his grandfather would have been pissed if he’d still been alive. The club had been his grandfather’s heart and soul.
Fuck.
He was supposed to be celebrating, not getting morose.
Zak cleared the thick out of his throat and said, “Proud of you for gettin’ voted in as Road Captain.”
Jag dropped his head, breaking eye contact, and murmured, “Nah, it was nothin’. Someone had to step up.”
“I’m glad it was you.”
Suddenly, he was body slammed from the back. Then slammed again. He turned to see Ace, Diesel and Hawk’s father, and Dex, their cousin and Izzy’s brother.
“Holy fuck, boy, you don’t look worse for wear,” Ace boomed. “C’mere, you fucker.”
Ace pulled Zak into his arms and squeezed tight, making it hard for Zak to breathe, but before he let go, he murmured in his ear, “Thank fuck you’re out. Gotta get this club back on track.”
Zak schooled the surprise from his face before he turned to Dex, who only smiled at him and said, “Fuckin’ A, brother. You’ve been greatly missed.”
Zak’s lips thinned and he nodded. The back of his throat tickled with unshed tears and he blinked away any evidence of weakness.
To cover up his emotions, he pointed at Ace’s patch which read Treasurer, and shouted, “You assholes still trust this guy with our money?”
Laughter surrounded him. Then he spun on Dex and pointed to his patch. “Secretary? Who taught Dex how to read an’ write?”
Dex laughed, pounded him on the back and grabbed the shot glass Izzy shoved at him. He lifted it toward Zak in salute and then downed it.
Ace grabbed Zak’s arm and pulled him over to the side, leaning in. “Left a message on your father’s phone to let him know you were comin’ home today.” Ace shook his head, his face dropping. “Sorry, son. Didn’t even get a text back.”
“To be expected,” Zak said, then gave him a reassuring half smile. “Thanks for tryin’, though.”
Then a booming voice rose from out of the crowd. “Get the fuck outta my way.”
Grizz.
Goddamn. It was going to get even harder to hide his emotions once that old man got to him. The crowd of onlookers let him through and he stopped about five feet from Zak, inspecting him from head to toe.
“You don’t look worse for wear,” Grizz echoed Ace.
“Hell, no,” Zak answered. “Was like Club Fed in there. Couldn’t ask for a better vacation.”
“Boy, come give this ol’ man a bear hug.” And with that, he opened his thick arms wide and Zak, with a smile, stepped into them. “Fuckin’ A,” Grizzly mumbled and sniffed.
“Don’t you start,” Zak warned softly. “You start an’ I’m a goner.”
Grizz nodded and then shoved Zak away from him. Zak caught his balance before facing the older man who was like a grandfather to him. Hell, like a grandfather to most of the members of the club. He’d been around forever. Zak couldn’t remember this club without him. His beard was longer, bushier, and definitely greyer than the day Zak got locked up. But his light blue eyes twinkled. He was still as sharp as a tack.
“Ten years in the slammer, son. You earned your wings. I’ll get my ol’ lady to put ‘em on your cut. An’ get Crow to add ‘em to your tats.”
Zak nodded to avoid creating any drama, but he didn’t want the wings. On his cut, on his body, or otherwise. He wasn’t proud of being a convict. A felon.
A jailbird.
And he didn’t need a permanent reminder of that, either. But he kept that to himself.
“Okay, enough of this fuckin’ mushy homecoming. It’s time to party like real men. Bonfire’s rollin’, pig’s turnin’, and there’s plenty of pussy for everyone.”
Zak turned toward the bar and saw Pierce, the current club president, standing on the polished surface, high above everyone crowded around it. A collective shout went up at his announcement and the crowd started filing out the side door to the courtyard where they had an outdoor pavilion, picnic tables, and all the shit they needed to party like a club should.
More people patted him on the back as they passed him. Some he knew. Some he didn’t. Some wore cuts, and a few of the women wore them, too.
Ol’ ladies.
He wondered how many of the members were now saddled with a ball and chain.
Fresh out of the box, he was going to make sure he didn’t have any of the female hang-arounds dig her claws into him. When it was warm enough to drag his bike out, he wanted no one on the back clinging on to him. He had plenty of time for that later.
Now... Now, he was going to enjoy life.
But first, he was going to get shit-faced. Then get laid. Or vice versa.
Zak hooted loudly, then got swept outside with the rest of the crowd.
Chapter Two
Zak slipped into the deserted clubhouse. He needed a quick break, a little peace and quiet... from the band, from the brothers, from the prospects who were looking up to him—which they shouldn’t. He decided to slip away and grab a drink inside. He’d been kept busy outside and hadn’t had a chance to drink himself into oblivion yet.
Even worse, he hadn’t found anyone to drag upstairs to his bed yet, either. He couldn’t bang any of the women out there that he respected, like Izzy AKA Bella, or Kelsea, or even Ivy. Even though they weren’t related by blood, they were still his “sisters” since they were Doc’s granddaughters. It just wouldn’t feel right to bust a nut with them.
No. But so far, none of the female hang-arounds, or sweet butts, had caught his attention either.
And he shouldn’t be this picky. Not at all. Once he broke the seal on his ball sac, he hoped he would stop being so selective. But it’d been ten years, so for some reason, he didn’t want the first time to be with just anyone.
Maybe after more beer and Jack, he would slide on the “beer goggles” and he just wouldn’t care who it was anymore. Though, he would need to make sure he wore a condom. Some of the females out there did anything wearing colors, even the prospects, who weren’t even full-fledged members yet.
No. He needed to get on the ball and grab someone. Literally.
Or he’d be stuck with the strippers Dawg had lined up for him. He didn’t really want paid pussy. Not if he could help it.
He spied the bottle of Jack Daniels that had been left behind on the bar from their shots earlier and beelined to it. With the twist of the cap, he ignored the shot glass and began to lift the bottle directly to his lips.
At least until the back door banged open, and a whirlwind swept in. The whirlwind’s eyes immediately landed on him and she approached in a flash, her long dark hair wild, her green eyes wide.
“Shit! I’m sorry I’m late.”
Hot fucking damn.
As soon as she got close enough, he grabbed her hand and yanked her even closer, snaking a hand around her hip, drawing a gasp from her.
His balls tightened at the sound and he looked her up and down. “I’m sure you were worth waitin’ for.”
She certainly was. Her thick, wavy hair fell over her shoulders and down her back, and her pink lips, made for wrapping around his cock, parted.
She tried to tug her hand out of his and shift away from his hip. He held on tighter. “If you’d just tell me where you want the cake set up—”
“They fuckin’ have them jumpin’ out of a cake? Damn.”
She leaned as far away from him as she could and looked up into his face, a frown marring her perfection. “What?”
“The girls Dawg lined up for me. You all gonna be jumpin’ out of a cake? Like naked?”
She shook her head, her cheeks suddenly full of color. “I—”
Which was really cute. Hell, she was really cute.
No. She was stunning. And fucking hot as hell. Not cute.
He found what he’d been searching for. She’d be perfect to start out the night with. If Dawg had more women like this and some of them wanted to join in later, he wouldn’t complain.
He dropped his head and kissed her hard, sliding his hand off her hip to her sweet, curvy ass and squeezed.
Fuck, did she taste good, too. Sweet, like icing. He dipped his tongue between her lips and explored her mouth with the tip of his tongue.
She made a noise. A groan? Yeah, she liked it, too.
His fingers raked through her long hair to hold her head still as he deepened the kiss. Fuck, he could eat her whole right this minute.
Eat her mouth, eat her pussy, then fuck her until she couldn’t move.
The strippers at the club must have improved over the years. He never remembered them ever looking this wholesome. This natural.
But it was a nice touch. He’d have to compliment Dawg on upping the quality.
When he broke the kiss, she blinked up at him in a daze, her mouth parted and breathing hard.
“I don’t… I’m not…” she started, looking a bit confused. “I’m looking for…”
“You found what you’re looking for. You must be new.”
“Yes, I’m—”
“Me, too,” Zak said, grabbing her wrist and dragging her behind him to the back stairway. “Let’s get this party started.”
Finally.
His cock had already started without him. It pressed painfully against the zipper of his jeans and couldn’t wait to sink into her sweet pussy. And he’d even take the time to make sure it was slick first.
Fuck.
The first time might be a little too quick for his liking. And maybe even hers. But he’d make sure he made it up to her the second round.
When they reached the bottom of the stairs, she yanked her arm and screamed, “Stop!”
Zak hesitated and glanced over his shoulder. Her face was red, but he didn’t think it was from excitement. No, her eyes were narrowed now as she glared at him.
“Let me go. Right now. I don’t think you know who I am.”
“Oh, I know who you are, but not sure why you’re fightin’ this… unless you enjoy it? Damn. That could be fun, too.”
“No! I baked the cake.”
“Well, thank you, babe. Appreciate that. I’m sure it’s good. But there’s somethin’ sweeter than cake I wanna eat first.”
She yanked her arm again, but he wasn’t letting her go. No way.
“Let. Me. Go.”
“Glad Dawg remembered I don’t like easy women. Did he coach you on bein’ like this?”
“I don’t even know who this Dog is.”
“Right.” Now she really was playing some game. “C’mon. Time’s a-wastin’.” Zak turned to her, grabbed her by the waist and tossed her over his shoulder. She yelped and then gasped at each rushed step he took up the stairs as the air bounced out of her lungs.
Fuck, if all the girls at Heaven’s Angels Gentlemen’s Club was of her quality, both face and body, business had to be booming and the money spilling into the club coffers.
Having a strip club as one of the businesses under the club umbrella kept all the brothers waist deep in pussy. Money was one benefit, easy access to women was another. Not that there weren’t always sweet butts willing to spread their legs for one of the guys at any time. There was. But it was nice to have some variety.
Especially when they were looking like this. Not like they were ridden hard and put away wet.
Zak glanced at the woman he’d thrown over his shoulder. He wondered how many of the other brothers had tasted her charms.
He scowled. He didn’t want to think about it.
Tonight, she would just be his. At least until he tired of her and was ready for something fresh.
At the top of the steps, he turned left, assuming it was his old room that the girls had gotten ready. He headed down to the end of the hall as she pounded on his back and yelled curses at him until he opened the last door on the left. Then she got very quiet. With one hand still holding her thighs securely, he banged on the wall until he found the light switch and flipped it on.
He glanced around as the room lit up. Yeah. Stark. Empty. Just the basics. Dresser, bed, lamp, shit like that. Didn’t look like anyone had a current claim on his old room. This had to be the one.
He stepped over the threshold and kicked the door closed behind him. Then turned and slid the bolt lock home, making sure they wouldn’t be interrupted.
With a grunt, he tossed her onto the bed and her eyes were wild when she landed and before he could take a step toward the bed, she shouted, “What the fuck!”
“Yeah, that’s exactly what we’re gonna do,” he said dropping his hand to the button of his jeans.
Sophie looked at the crazy man who was currently stripping off his jeans.
She was going to get fucking raped. Holy shit. She needed to get the hell out of there.
She never should’ve agreed to make these bikers a cake for someone coming home from prison. That should’ve been a red flag right there.
But she’d been desperate for business.
Damn, and now she was in trouble, all because she couldn’t pass up the hundred bucks they offered for a sheet cake for some convict named Zak.
Unfortunately, there was only one way out of this room and this insane man was standing between her and it. She quickly swept the room with her gaze. Not even a damn window to jump from.
She scrambled backwards toward the top of the bed, trying to at least put some distance between them.
But he didn’t look worried that she might not be a willing participant
, the guy kept getting more and more naked.
Hell... how his face looked, how his body looked—and she was seeing way too much of it already—he had no reason to need to take a woman against her will. But even though he looked good on the outside, he might be a bastard on the inside. A mean one at that.
“Hate to say this but...” He inhaled a breath. “Been ten years, babe, so the first time’s gonna be quick. And when I say quick, I mean instant. The second time... hopefully, not so much.”
Second time?
Christ, he already had plans to assault her at least twice.
“So, apologizin’ now, but I’ll make it up to you, make it worth that minute-man routine beforehand. Then afterward... Afterward, if you didn’t think my foreplay was worth it and I disappointed you, then you can bitch me out. I’ll understand. But lemme make this clear, I need this. Desperately. So, sorry I’m gonna be quick, but I also appreciate you bein’ my first of the night.”
First of the night?
Who says those types of things? Serial rapists?
Then some of his other words began to permeate her brain. Foreplay, bitch him out. Ten years.
This had to just be a huge misunderstanding. He thought she was someone else. She simply needed to clear that up.
“I think you’re mistaken—”
“No, pretty damn sure I’m gonna be quick. So, might wanna start takin’ off your clothes.”
Yeah, she’d get right on that. “That’s not going to happen. At least not without a fight.”
He paused at the end of the bed, his thumbs tucked in the elastic waist of his boxers. He tilted his head and studied her. “You like it rough?”
What? No!
Well, sometimes... What the fuck! What was she thinking?
“I’m the baker.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Baker? Weird name for a stripper.” He shrugged. “But whatever.” And with that, he dropped his boxers to his ankles and stepped out of them.
Down & Dirty_Zak Page 2
