Down & Dirty_Jag

by Jeanne St. James

  The prospect probably texted someone when Jag rode in. Most likely their President or Sergeant at Arms. Someone who, no doubt, would greet him as soon as he stepped through the door.

  After he kicked his stand down, he turned and noticed Ivy’s Charger parked in a very dark corner of the lot. That made his jaw tighten even more. She could be ambushed there, raped, and no one would see it or maybe not even care if they did.

  The woman was fucked in the head for coming here alone. Hell, for coming here at all. Of all the hair-brained ideas she could come up with to piss him off... this was at the top of his list.

  Putting herself in known danger.

  And what was worse, not getting permission to do it. Or letting any of the brothers know. Diesel would bust a blood vessel for sure when and if he found out.

  However, right now, he needed to get her out of there. And in one piece. If anyone was going to tear her apart for this stunt, it was going to be him. Not a Dark Knight.

  And, for fuck’s sakes, if she slept with any of them...

  He bit back a curse, his fingers clenching into fists.

  Though he would never hit a woman, the thought of her fucking a Dark Knight to get information made him want to explode. He would make Diesel look like a newborn kitten.

  He stood next to his bike and sucked the night air through his nose. He needed to get his shit together before walking into this nest of Knights to confront her. And maybe even them. All by himself.

  He’d decided to come alone because he figured he could get in, get Ivy, and get out. If he brought a bunch of brothers with him, the Knights might see it as a threat and war could break out.

  They weren’t enemies at this point, and he wanted to keep it that way. He didn’t want to have their club added to their list of rivals right below the Shadow Warriors. Things were tense enough when it came to that nomad MC.

  As he approached the badly lit entrance, the young prospect had his arms crossed and legs spread, attempting a look of strength. Jag could easily take the guy down, but that would be a bad start to his mission. As well as counter-productive.

  Jag did a chin lift toward the guy.

  “You got business here?” the young recruit asked.

  “Yeah, somethin’ inside belongs to me.” Whether that somethin’ realized it or not.

  “You or your club?”

  He knew it was risky wearing his colors to the bar, but he needed to establish a claim on Ivy. “Both.”

  “The redhead?”

  Jag’s spine stiffened and his chest tightened. “Yeah,” he grunted.

  “Been here last three nights.”

  A muscle in his jaw popped. “Figured as much.”

  “Gonna get greeted on the inside.”

  “Figured that, too.”

  The prospect then did his own chin lift as if giving him permission to proceed. Jag returned it. A silent way of saying thanks for the heads up.

  He yanked the old, cracked wooden door open and was immediately assaulted by loud music, the stale smell of beer and heavy cigarette smoke, as well as the muted sounds of conversations.

  But there was no mistaking it when eyes turned toward him and a majority of the conversation halted.

  He steeled himself and stepped deeper into the grungy bar. He ignored the attention and let his gaze bounce around the dimly lit room.

  Her back was to him, her unmistakable red hair falling around her bare shoulders. She was wearing a snug black tank top, tight black leather pants and thigh-high black suede boots with probably a three-inch heel. She must have gone shopping with one of Dawg’s girls at Hookers-R-Us.

  He was going to strangle her.

  It took everything in his power not to rush over there, grab that hair of hers and drag her out of that bar on her ass.

  Then teach her a lesson she would never forget.

  Instead, he found himself face to face with one big black dude blocking his way. Their gazes met—though, Jag had to raise his a bit—and the guy did a chin lift.

  Jag returned it reluctantly.

  “Magnum.”

  Jag didn’t miss the Sergeant at Arms patch on his leather cut. “Jag.”

  The club enforcer’s head turned to where Ivy was talking to three Knights in the back corner. “Can’t help but notice why you’re here. She belong to you?”

  She belongs over my knee, that’s where she belongs. “The club.”

  The man cocked a thick, dark brow. “Then she lost her way.”

  “That ain’t the half of it.”

  His beefy hands landed on his hips. “What she doin’ here?”

  Jag might be able to take the prospect but there was no way he could take this guy. He needed to keep things cool. “Bein’ a pain in my ass.”

  The larger man cracked a smile. “Ain’t they all?”

  “Fuck yeah.”

  “My brothers have takin’ a likin’ to her.”

  Jag sighed and his eyes slid back to Ivy, who still didn’t know he was there yet. “I’m sure.”

  “She doin’ it just to piss you off? Or is there another reason she’s been hangin’ here makin’ nice?”

  Hopefully they had no idea she was there trying to grab intel on their territory grab.

  “Doin’ it to piss me off. Truth is, she’s not just the club’s. She’s mine. She just likes to be difficult.”

  “Difficult bitches are usually the best fucks.”

  “That she is.”

  “Be a shame for none of my brothers to try her out then.”

  Fuck. The guy was testing him. Once again, he reminded himself to restrain his temper. “Prospect out front said she’s been here last coupla nights.”

  The enforcer grunted, “Yeah.”

  With a calmness he didn’t feel, he asked, “None of your boys got a taste?” Strangling wasn’t going to be good enough if this man said they had.

  Instead of answering, Magnum asked, “You said she’s yours, why she out lookin’ for strange?”

  “Like I said, likes to piss me off. Likes an angry fuck.”

  “Hear you there. Sure can’t piss a white brother off more than his woman chasing a black brother. Once she gets a taste, she may never wanna come home.”

  This was no time to be comparing dick sizes.

  When Jag didn’t answer him, the Knights’ enforcer did a chin lift to one of the guys Ivy was talking to, one who faced their direction.

  The guy did an answering chin lift and leaned toward Ivy, saying something close to her ear.

  The tension in Jag’s body ratcheted up a hundred notches at that. But then the guy pointed in his direction and he couldn’t miss Ivy’s spine straighten like a steel rod. She slowly turned around.

  Even from where he stood and in the bad lighting, he could see she wore heavy makeup. Her eyes were dark, her lips as red as her hair.

  She looked like a damn whore.

  “Jesus,” he muttered.

  Her eyes had widened when she first spotted him, but they narrowed as she stalked toward him in those hooker boots.

  It hit Jag then that she wore no fucking bra, and he knew every man was watching the bounce of her tits as she approached him.

  “Looks like you’re gonna get an angry fuck tonight, too, brother.” Magnum laughed and whacked him hard enough on the back that the air fled his lungs.

  “No shit,” he muttered.

  “Think I’m gonna go piss off my old lady so I get some of what you’re gonna be gettin’.”

  Jag gave him a nod of thanks as the larger man stepped away when Ivy got to him.

  “What are you fucking doing here?” she whispered angrily.

  Jag cocked a brow in disbelief. She had some nerve. “You fuckin’ kiddin’ me? You gonna back talk me right now?”

  Ivy pressed her lips together as he grabbed her arm and yanked her toward the entrance and out the front door to a bunch of cat-calls and whistles.

  He did a cursory nod to the young prospect, who now wore a large,
knowing smile, and pulled Ivy through the parking lot as fast as he could walk. She leaned back but couldn’t stop his forward motion.

  “Slow down! I can’t keep up like that in these boots.”

  “Think I give a shit? Those damn hooker boots are goin’ in the damn garbage.”

  “The hell they are. I paid a fortune for them.”

  He glared at her over his shoulder, but didn’t stop walking until they got to her car. He spun her around and pushed her against the driver’s door, his knee between her thighs and his hands holding her arms tightly. Just in case she tried to start swinging.

  “Have you lost your damn mind?” he yelled in her face, his breath coming hard and fast.

  She winced. “No.”

  He dropped his head, tried to steady his breathing and counted to ten. Of course, it didn’t help. “You didn’t think you’d be recognized? Fuck. You could’ve blown this whole thing. Even started war between us an’ the Knights.”

  “Thought I could slide in there.”

  “Slide in...” The pressure in his head became unbearable. “Slide in where? Into one of their beds? How else you think you goin’ to get info? You think they just gonna get a loose tongue around some white bitch hangin’ around their bar? Fuck no. If anything, you’d have to be doin’ one of ‘em to get anythin’ out of ‘em.”

  “I’d do what I have to do.”

  His head jerked back at her response. She did not just say that. “Stop being a whore, Ivy,” he said through gritted teeth.

  “I’m not a whore.”

  “Then stop acting like one.”

  “You know, I’m sick of the double standard. No one blinks an eye when you fuck Goldie in front of everyone at church.”

  Holy mother fuck. “That shit again?”

  “And I know you’ve had plenty of women in your room at the clubhouse. It’s okay for you, but not for me.”

  “Right,” he grumbled.

  Ivy shook her head, looking like a pissed off hellcat. “Right.”

  “When were you watchin’ me, Ivy? How do you know who’s up in my room?”

  Her expression quickly became a blank mask. “I don’t watch you.”

  “Must be. Keepin’ tabs.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Haven’t been with anybody but you since the night you broke into my room. Didn’t notice that, though, did you?”

  Jag heard her suck in a breath. He leaned closer. “You keep tabs on me. I keep tabs on you. Must mean somethin’, baby.”

  She shook her head. “How do you keep tabs on me? Do you follow me?”

  “How do you think I know when you got dick up in your place?”

  “You follow me?” she repeated much slower this time.

  “Not always. Sometimes. Should’ve been following you the last few nights, but thought we had a deal. Should’ve known better. Could’ve stopped you before you even set foot in that place.”

  He tilted his head and wished he could see her face more clearly. Though the heavy makeup on her face would probably piss him off all over again. She needed to wash that shit off.

  Reminded him of one of Dawg’s girls. And that’s not what he wanted in his bed. That’s not who he wanted as his ol’ lady.

  “You don’t belong here,” he said softly. “Dirty Angels’ property don’t belong in a Dark Knights’ bar. You know that, Ivy. That’s why one of Dawg’s girls was gonna go in. You played with fire by doin’ this.”

  “Nothing happened.” She shrugged. “Made some new friends.”

  Jag snorted. “Made some new friends? You gotta death wish? What do you think Diesel or Hawk would do if they found out you were here? Messing with Dark Knights?”

  “I wasn’t messing with anyone.”

  “It was stupid. Grow up, Ivy before you make a mistake you’ll not only regret but won’t ever recover from. Got me?”

  “I’m not DAMC property.”

  He shook his head at that same old song and dance. “The fuck you aren’t. Always been. Always will be. Don’t need to tell you that you were born into it. Hell, you got Doc’s blood runnin’ through your veins. You don’t get any more DAMC than that. But even if that wasn’t enough, the second you dragged me upstairs that night and climbed into my bed, you cemented it.”

  “A drunken mistake.”

  He released her arms and stepped back. “Right.”

  “You want to talk about regrets? There you go. Biggest one ever.”

  “You’re a fuckin’ fool, Ivy. And a fuckin’ bitch. Go home.” He spun on his heel to leave.

  “That’s right, I’m a bitch. And apparently a whore. So move on, Jag.”

  His shoulders straighten and stiffened before he said over his shoulder, “Nothin’ to move on from. You just killed whatever was there.”

  Ivy winced.

  “Go home, Ivy. I’ll follow to make sure you get home safe, then that’s it. Done with your ass.”

  “About time,” she muttered, yanking open her driver’s door and sliding in.

  Jag watched her for a moment, then shook his head, stalking back to his bike. He didn’t doubt she’d take off without waiting for him.

  And he was right.

  Fuckin’ Ivy.

  Chapter Seven

  He was done with her.

  He was done with her!

  Like she cared.

  No, she didn’t.

  Fuck him. She was sick and tired of goddamn nosy bikers. All up in her business all the time.

  Sometimes she just wanted to be free of this club. Free of this life. Run away. Find a new life somewhere else. She had her Bachelor’s degree, she was good at computers and programming. She could get a job anywhere. Do anything she wanted.

  She paced her kitchen, her stomach twisted in knots.

  There was no way that Jag followed her tonight to Dirty Dick’s. If he had, she never would have even made it through the front door. He would’ve stopped her long before then. Jewel must have spilled the beans.

  It certainly wasn’t Pierce, or Jag would’ve said so.

  She didn’t blame Jewel. The brothers could be demanding and relentless if they wanted info. And quite possibly she started worrying about Ivy’s safety.

  Whatever. She just wished she’d had more time to dig deeper into the Knights. She had caught a few tidbits but nothing concrete. But the little she did hear, she’d have to report to Pierce, to give him the heads up.

  She rushed to the door when she heard straight pipes rumbling into the pawn shop lot. He’d followed her home like he said he would. Not that she waited for him. Most likely she was partway home before he even got his Harley started. And she certainly didn’t go the speed limit. Hell no. She had pushed that Hemi engine so she’d get home with the speed of lightning.

  She yanked open the door and stepped out onto the second-floor landing, hands on her hips, watching him park his bike next to her Charger and quiet the engine. He ripped the bandana off the lower half of his face and yanked off his goggles to squint up at her.

  It was clear he wasn’t a happy camper. Well, fuck him, neither was she.

  “I’m home safe. You can go now,” she yelled down the metal staircase.

  He didn’t dismount, didn’t even move. Simply stared at her. A shiver shimmied down her spine.

  He was done with her? No way.

  Finally, he spoke, “Givin’ you five minutes to wash that shit off your face, hide those fucking boots where I can’t find ‘em, an’ change out of those pants that emphasize your camel toe. You got five. Hurry up.”

  “I don’t know who you think—”

  “Five. Go.”

  He didn’t yell it, no. He growled it softly which made her realize how pissed and serious he truly was.

  “If I gotta get off this bike before those five minutes are up, Ivy...” He dropped his head and shook it.

  She swallowed hard. She could continue to stand there and argue with him, or she could go inside and lock him out, which would mean she wo
uld need another front door.

  Or she could go do what he demanded. Though, that wasn’t her first instinct. No, every bone in her body wanted to continue to fight him, but she realized it may be smarter to just get done what she was going to do, anyway. Remove the heavy makeup and get undressed for bed as she originally planned.

  At least that’s how she rationalized it.

  She threw up her hands in a show of disgust and stomped inside, slamming the door behind her. She didn’t bother to lock it since she figured the prospects who changed out the door gave him a key. She didn’t bother to chain it either because that had proven to be a joke when it came to a biker’s boot.

  She ripped off her new thigh-high boots, threw them in the closet by the door and then headed to the bathroom.

  Ten minutes later, she opened the bathroom door to find her apartment quiet. She peeked down the hallway and was surprised to find he wasn’t there taking up space in her living room. Nor was he drinking a beer in her kitchen.

  Huh.

  She pulled the tie on her black silk robe tighter and tiptoed down the hall to her bedroom. The door was open, the bed empty.

  She sighed as every muscle in her body relaxed. Maybe he was done with her. Maybe she finally got what she wanted. Because that was exactly what she wanted, right?

  Right.

  Fuck. Her. Life.

  In frustration, she scrubbed her hands over her now squeaky-clean face and moved into her bedroom. It was two AM, and she needed some sleep so she could deal with this whole thing of getting caught at Dirty Dick’s more clearly in the morning.

  She yelped when a hand came out from behind the door and grabbed her by the throat. After shoving her into the wall, Jag came nose to nose with her.

  His voice rumbled out low and growly like his straight pipes. “I know you like it rough, baby, but one of ‘em coulda raped you. Left you beaten an’ bloody. Torn apart. Possibly even dead.”

  Her fingers pried at his grip on her neck. “You said you were done with me.”

  “I am.”

  “You slamming me against the wall of my bedroom proves otherwise.”

  His nostrils flared, and he blew out a harsh breath. He dropped his hand like it was on fire and stepped back. “Coulda been seriously hurt or dead, an’ no one woulda known,” he said it so softly Ivy’s heart squeezed.