Down & Dirty: Zak (Dirty Angels MC Book 1)

by Jeanne St. James

  “You new?” he asked her tits and licked his lips.

  Sophie opened her mouth but nothing came out.

  “You taken?”

  What? He had to be at least ten years younger than her. Yikes. She opened her mouth wider to answer him, but before she could, he continued.

  “You wanna go upstairs?”

  Finally, a squeak escaped at the balls on the kid. Her mind flashed back to being upstairs with Zak. She knew first-hand what went on upstairs.

  A deep voice from behind her made her jump. “No, she don’t want to go upstairs with your weasel ass. Get gone.”

  “She ain’t wearin’ anyone’s cut, Hawk,” he protested, finally lifting his eyes. Though they stopped way above her. She had a suspicion there may be a giant standing behind her. But she was afraid to look.

  “Don’t matter, she’s taken.”

  “By who?” he asked. The kid certainly had a set of balls on him to challenge the man behind her.

  “Weasel, get gone or I’ll rip that fuckin’ vest right off you. Got me?”

  Weasel? Weasels should never challenge a bird of prey.

  “Hawk...”

  “Keep it up an’ the only vest you’ll be wearin’ is a sweater vest. An’ it won’t be in this clubhouse, either.”

  “She’s just pussy. Bros before hos, brother.”

  A growl came from behind her. “Don’t get banned, Weasel. And you ain’t my brother.”

  “Whatever, dude.”

  This so-called Weasel pushed past her, knocking his shoulder into hers causing her to lose her balance. Rude! Large hands caught her and turned her.

  She looked up at one large “dude.”

  “Hawk,” he practically grunted.

  Huh?

  “I’m Hawk,” he repeated more like a human.

  “Sophie.”

  “Know who you are. Not sure what Z was thinkin’ by lettin’ you wander around unescorted, ‘specially since you ain’t wearin’ his cut.”

  She wanted to inform this Hawk that she never would be wearing any man’s cut, whatever that was, but she thought it was smarter to keep that to herself for the moment. Apparently, if you weren’t claimed, you were fair game. And this Hawk would have no problem throwing her over his shoulder and taking her upstairs. He probably wouldn’t even be out of breath after doing so.

  He looked a lot bigger and stronger than Zak.

  “The baker.”

  She glanced up at him in surprise. “Yes.”

  “Your cake was the shit.”

  “Is that good?”

  “Yeah. You bring another one?”

  “No, sorry. The invitation to this... shindig was last minute.”

  “Next time.”

  Oh, here we go again. Once again, she thought it smarter not to tell him there wouldn’t be a next time. Especially since every time she thought that, she was the one who ended up being wrong.

  “Where you headed?”

  “Bathroom.”

  He grunted and nodded toward the open door. “Inside on the left.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Hurry up and then get back to your man.”

  Sophie’s mouth dropped open. She snapped it shut, once again, deciding it was better to keep her opinion of his comment to herself. It would do her no good to get into verbal judo with the man, especially one four times her size.

  “I’ll do that,” is what came out of her mouth instead. Weak.

  He nodded in approval, gently pushed her inside, then shut the door behind her. Sophie closed her eyes for a moment, took some calming breaths in through her nose, out through her mouth, then headed left toward the bathroom.

  The same music that was playing outside could be heard on the inside of what looked like the common room for the club, the room where she had first spotted Zak only three days ago. They must have the whole place wired with speakers. Luckily, she liked rock-and-roll, so the Black Sabbath song playing didn’t bother her. In fact, she started singing under her breath as she spotted two doors. One said “chicks,” the other said “dicks.” At least the women’s bathroom didn’t say pussy, she supposed. She pushed the door open and—

  A very large man with a very white ass was fucking a woman against the wall in the women’s room. He wore a black leather vest with all the patches like Zak’s and his pants hung down around his huge, heavy thighs. Since he was a lot bigger than the woman, she couldn’t see who it was. She assumed it was a woman, but she couldn’t be sure of that either. Though the person taking the pounding’s high-pitched wails sort of confirmed it. And there were some long, red painted nails digging into that very white, but muscular ass which was flexing powerfully as he pumped into whoever it was pinned to the wall in front of him.

  He did have a really nice ass. Though it needed some sunshine.

  “You joinin’ us?”

  The deep, amused voice startled her out of her frozen state. She looked up from his ass to his eyes. “No!” Sophie shouted, surprising herself, then stumbled backwards through the doorway, catching herself on the jamb before she fell, then mumbled, “Sorry,” and slammed the door shut.

  Why was she apologizing? They were the ones that hadn’t locked the door. It was like they wanted to get caught.

  The man’s chuckle was loud and deep enough she could hear it through the closed door which she now stared at, unable to get her feet to move.

  “Diesel fucking someone in there?” came a female voice to her right.

  So that was the man named after fuel.

  “Yeah.” She glanced toward the woman, who was standing behind the bar, wearing a knowing smile. “He’s got an awesome ass,” Sophie whispered in awe.

  “That he does.” The woman’s laughter sounded pretty and feminine, and she wore a welcoming expression. “I’m Bella,” she called out.

  “Sophie.”

  “I know. Hit the men’s bathroom, then come back out here. I’ll buy you a drink.”

  Sophie nodded her head, then shot a glance at the door labeled “dicks.” “Nobody is fucking in there, right?”

  “No. Only Diesel tends to fuck in the bathrooms. Says it takes too long to drag them upstairs.”

  Oh.

  “We’re used to it.”

  Oh. All righty then.

  Sophie pushed open the men’s restroom door cautiously, peeked inside to make sure the coast was clear, then she broke the seal.

  Chapter Eight

  Sophie sat at the bar, appreciating everything that was Bella. Who it turned out was Diesel’s cousin. Real cousin. She was a beautiful woman, but there was something haunting behind her dark brown eyes.

  Bella wore a loose black top with such a wide neck that it fell off one of her shoulders, which clearly had a large, colorful tattoo over the shoulder cap. Sophie wondered what it was and where it ended. But she didn’t feel brave enough to ask. The part she was most curious about was the statement on the front of the top in large white letters reading “Property of No One.”

  Now there was an independent woman, not putting up with any of the caveman bullshit which was clearly the norm around the club.

  The Tequila Sunrise that Bella mixed for her was the bomb and Sophie couldn’t put it down. Though she tried to savor it by taking small sips.

  “You have to stay behind there all night?” Sophie asked her.

  She wiped the bar down with a small towel, making slow circles like it was habit. “No. Just prefer it that way.”

  “Why not go out and enjoy the fun?”

  Bella rose a single brow and stopped wiping. “Not interested in the so-called fun.”

  “Then why be here at all?” It wasn’t like anyone had to pay for drinks, the private bar was a free-for-all to any of the members and their so-called “bitches.” And even women who weren’t their bitches. Or their ol’ ladies.

  Bella lifted her bare, tattooed shoulder. “I don’t mind helping out. I’m used to it. It’s family.”

  “Diesel being your cousi
n and all?”

  “All the patched members are my brothers. But Hawk is my blood cousin, too. Dex is my real brother. Ivy my sister. Did you meet her yet?”

  Did she ever.

  “Yes… She have a thing for Zak?” Sophie asked before she could stop herself. She winced and Bella laughed.

  “Yeah. Why? What’d she do?”

  “Nothing. Just curious.”

  “Sure you are. Let me tell you something. Ivy’s had a crush on Zak since we were all kids. It isn’t anything. It won’t ever be anything. Don’t worry.”

  “Not worried. No reason to care.”

  “Right,” Bella answered, throwing the towel somewhere under the bar.

  “She’s dragging some guy named Adam around,” Sophie mentioned.

  “Flavor of the month.”

  Interesting. “Zak said she’s Jag’s.”

  “He would.”

  Even more interesting. “Is that true?”

  “Did you see Jag dragging Ivy around?”

  “Nope.” Not that she knew what Jag looked like.

  “Then for now, it’s not true.”

  “For now,” Sophie repeated.

  Bella shrugged. “Ivy does what Ivy wants. Despite what she needs.”

  “She need Jag?”

  “She needs something. Not sure if it’s Jag.”

  Sophie couldn’t wait to meet this Jag.

  “Speak of the devil,” the other woman murmured.

  Sophie followed Bella’s gaze to where a couple was coming through the side door. It was a brother, obvious by his patched vest, and what appeared to be a stripper hanging all over him. She was weaving and so was he. But they weren’t synchronized, so their hips kept bouncing off one another’s as they wandered through the large room.

  “That Jag?”

  “Yep,” Bella said, her eyes dark.

  “Who’s that with him?”

  “Flavor of the minute.”

  Ah.

  Sophie watched in fascination as Jag dropped onto one of the worn couches that lined the perimeter walls, dragging the heavily made-up woman on top of him. She immediately straddled his lap and started to sway with the music, which was now Brown Sugar by the Rolling Stones. Not quite lap dance music, but she seemed to make it work. And Jag didn’t seem to mind if her rhythm didn’t quite match the song. Suddenly the woman’s skimpy top did a disappearing act, and her denim mini-skirt became pushed up around her waist as she continued to grind against the man’s lap.

  No one else in the room batted an eye at the woman’s overly large, very obviously fake, bare breasts swinging in Jag’s face.

  “Is that normal?” she asked Bella, having a hard time ripping her gaze away.

  “Yep. When Dawg brings his crew.”

  Her head spun to the woman behind the bar. Again noting there was something behind her eyes that made her older than her years. “Crew?”

  “His girls.”

  Sophie shook her head.

  “Heaven’s Angels,” she said, like Sophie should know what that meant. “Dawg manages the club’s strip joint.”

  “The club owns a strip joint,” Sophie repeated slowly.

  “Yep. One of many of our businesses.”

  Businesses. Plural. So not just The Iron Horse Roadhouse.

  “How did you become a part of the club? I figured you’d have to have balls hanging between your legs.”

  Bella laughed. “Damn. I like you. You might be perfect for Z.”

  Sophie ignored the last part. But she liked Bella, too, so far. She wasn’t a skank like she had originally thought all the women would be hanging out at the party. She wasn’t one of Dawg’s strippers, either. And her shirt made it clear she was no one’s ol’ lady.

  “My grandfather, Doc, is one of the two founding members. Which is why my uncle Ace, Dex, and my cousins are all a part of the club. It’s engrained in our blood. Ivy’s, too. We were raised here.”

  “He here tonight?”

  “Doc? No. He’s doing life at Greene.”

  “What’s Greene?”

  “A max security prison.”

  “Oh.” Sophie spun her ass around on the bar stool, finally able to ignore the show behind her. She wanted to hear more about this Doc from Bella and it might take a while. “What’s he in for?”

  “Murder.”

  Sophie’s jaw dropped open, then she snapped it shut. “Wow.”

  “Shocked?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “There’s a lot of skeletons in the club’s closet.”

  “I’m getting that.”

  “Nah. You haven’t been around long enough to get it.”

  Sophie couldn’t argue that point so decided to change the subject. “What other businesses does the club run besides the strip club and The Iron Horse out front?”

  “Quite a few actually.” She tilted her head toward a guy sitting down at the other end of the bar. “Crow runs In the Shadows Ink, a tattoo shop.” Her eyes slid over to Diesel, who was now sitting with this Crow, his recent restroom conquest nowhere in sight. Though she couldn’t get a good look at Crow since Diesel’s massive body blocked her view. “D is the club’s enforcer, plus runs all the security and protection, like the bouncers, for example. Takes care of any of the heavy hitting if you get my meaning.”

  Sophie’s gaze landed on the good-looking, but huge man Bella had indicated. The one with the stupendous ass. And hip movement if she had to admit it.

  “Ace, my uncle, runs the pawn shop. Pierce, our club prez, runs the gun shop and range. We’ve got a body shop and towing company, too.”

  “Quite an enterprise.”

  “Yeah, we all work hard. And because we do, we all live good, too. It works.” Bella slid another drink in front of Sophie, taking her now empty glass away.

  When had she finished the first one? They went down so smoothly and Bella’s information was fascinating so she must have been distracted.

  Bella continued, “Outside it may not seem like a good life, but inside... inside it is. Nothing like it.”

  Sophie sipped carefully at her second Tequila Sunrise. She wasn’t a big drinker. Because of that, she was considered a lightweight, so she knew her limits. And she didn’t think it was smart to get drunk tonight. From what she saw outside, and even inside, there were too many others doing that. She needed to keep her senses if things got out of control.

  However, Bella had some skills as a mixologist. “You make great drinks.”

  “You make great cake.”

  “Thanks.”

  Bella tilted her head and studied her. “Maybe you can teach me to bake.”

  Sophie’s brows rose before she could stop them. “You want to learn?”

  “Yeah. I want to be good at something other than slinging drinks.”

  “Mixing the perfect cocktail takes skill, too.” Sophie lifted her glass. “Especially drinks like this.”

  “Not at The Iron Horse. No one’s asking for fancy martinis. A beer. A shot. Things are kept simple. I don’t get to practice my skill too often. But I’m a pro at keeping the head low on a draft.”

  Whatever that meant.

  “So, how’d you hook up with Z?”

  Sophie took another sip, then shook her head. “I didn’t.”

  “Right. He’s only been home three days and from what I heard, he’s been with you all three.”

  Damn. Word got around this place.

  Bella laughed at her expression. “Yeah, nothing is sacred around here. Especially when you’re getting it on upstairs.”

  “Wasn’t my choice. It was a case of mistaken identity.”

  “Right.”

  “No, it’s true. I certainly don’t need a biker in my life. No matter what you say about the life.”

  “I hear you,” Bella replied, then looked over Sophie’s shoulder and shook her head, a smile curling the corner of her mouth. “It’s not a life for just anyone.”

  “Too late. You got one,” came from behi
nd her.

  She spun around to face Zak. “Well, I don’t want one.”

  “Okay,” he answered, shrugging. His gaze bouncing from her to Bella and back.

  She hesitated. That was too easy. It was a trick.

  He was tricking her.

  “You took too long,” Zak muttered.

  “We were talking,” Bella answered before Sophie could.

  “See that.” His head spun toward where Jag was now fucking the woman on his lap. The stripper still wore her mini-skirt high on her hips, but it was obvious that their grinding had become more than a lap dance. Jag’s head was thrown back against the couch and the woman was giving a show to anyone who watched. Grabbing her tits, pinching her own nipples, crying out as if on cue.

  Fake.

  But still, they had an audience. Didn’t seem that Jag minded, or Sophie would have guessed they would have moved it upstairs.

  “Fuckin’ Jag,” Zak muttered, his eyes turning back to Bella. “Sorry.”

  “He’s just trying to get under Ivy’s skin,” Bella said, not seeming to take offense that Zak’s cousin was trying to get Bella’s sister jealous. “He’s just going about it the wrong way,” she added.

  “Damn straight.”

  Just when Sophie was about to point out that Ivy wouldn’t know about it anyway, the woman in question walked in, Adam still in tow. Immediately, Ivy’s gaze landed on the couch and Jag. And somehow, Jag’s eye just seemed to open at the right time and direct his gaze to Ivy, then shoot her a wide smile.

  Ivy’s whole body jerked as if she’d been slapped. After a second, she rolled to her tiptoes to say something into Adam’s ear that made him smile, and then tugged him across the room and out the back door to the private parking lot.

  And the whole time Jag’s gaze followed them with a sudden frown, ignoring the stripper riding his pole.

  Seemed to Sophie that Jag wouldn’t ever own Ivy. Ivy already owned Jag.

  “Fuckin’ Ivy,” Zak muttered, then shook his head. Zak’s gaze landed on Sophie, then he said, “Finish your drink.”

  “Why?”

  “’Cause you left me outside too long without you. Now, we need to go make up for that lost time.”