Down & Dirty: Books 1-3: Dirty Angels MC Series Box Set

by St. James, Jeanne

  He released her and took a step back. His eyes raked her from top to toe. He bit his bottom lip, shook his head, grumbling, “Shit. Want you like no other, but fuck, baby... Gotta be in or out. Not goin’ to deal with this half-assed shit. In?” He leaned close enough that she could feel his warm breath brush against her cheek and he narrowed his eyes. “Or out?”

  Out.

  Out.

  Out.

  Goddamn it.

  She couldn’t give in. Not now. Not ever.

  “I can’t,” she said under her breath. But she knew he heard her because his face changed to a mix of disappointment and frustration. He started to step closer but stopped, put his hands on his hips and dropped his head to stare at the floor. He nodded, avoided her eyes, then grabbed his boots and cut.

  As he walked out of the room, her stomach twisted and her chest felt as though a heavy biker boot had stomped on it.

  Then a crashing sound came from outside that made the hair rise on the back of her neck. She snatched her robe and slipped it over her shoulders, cinching it with the belt, before rushing out of the bedroom to see Jag rip open her door and run out.

  The metallic scraping and screeching continued to be heard through the open doorway but sounded like it was getting farther away.

  Then she heard Jag shouting from the top of her steps, “FUCKING MOTHERFUCKERS!”

  Chapter Eight

  Jag stood in the way too early morning light, hands on hips, staring at what was left of his baby.

  The sight was almost cruel enough to shed a damn tear. But he wasn’t upset. No. The air may be humid, but he was steaming.

  Dex, Diesel, Hawk, Rig, Crash and Jag’s sister Jewel, all appearing as if they were in mourning, also circled the hunk of metal that used to be his customized Harley.

  Rig had brought the rollback during the night and they had loaded the pieces up and hauled them back to the garage. Now they were in a pile. A fucking pile. The chain that the Warriors had hooked to his sled to drag it through the pawn shop parking lot and down the road, effectively scattering pieces of metal for about a tenth of a mile, was still wrapped around what was left of the handlebars.

  His baby. Forty thousand dollars and two years of work. His custom baby was destroyed. Royally fucked. And it wasn’t some simple fix. It was totaled.

  What good was a Road Captain without a ride?

  “See nothin’?” Diesel asked in grunt speak.

  Jag blew out a breath trying not to drop to his knees and pound the pavement with his fists until they were bloody. “No.”

  “Too busy with your ears between her thighs?” Jewel asked, her lips curved slightly at the corners.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Jag saw Dex’s head pop up and twist toward him. His brows knitted together. “You fuckin’ my sister?”

  The heavy gazes of Hawk and Diesel landed on him. He didn’t need to have his body parts strewn alongside his bike’s either.

  He dragged a hand through his hair. “Yeah.” He eyeballed Dex. “Gotta problem with that?”

  Whacking Jag on the back, Dex barked out a laugh. “Fuck no. ‘Bout time.”

  He turned to Hawk and Diesel. “You two gotta problem with it?”

  Even though both brothers were Ivy’s cousins, they tended to be more protective of her than her own brother.

  Diesel cocked a heavy brow. But before he could grunt his answer, Jag said, “Don’t matter anyhow, shit’s over before it began.”

  “What do you mean?” Jewel asked, her mouth hanging open, her eyes round.

  Jag ignored his sister and glanced around the circle of his brothers. “Wasn’t just Warriors I dealt with last night. Dragged Ivy out of Knight’s territory. Was hangin’ at Dirty Dick’s.”

  The air changed around him. Both Diesel and Hawk’s spines straightened and suddenly they appeared taller, broader and definitely scarier than usual.

  “What the fuck?” Hawk asked. He turned to Dex. “You know about this?”

  Ivy’s brother shook his head. “Fuck no. I did, would’ve stopped her.”

  Hawk gave a sharp nod and his eyes fell on Jewel, who abruptly became pale. And when Diesel’s gaze fixed on her, she took a step back. “I— I gotta go back to the office.”

  “Don’t you fuckin’ move,” Diesel growled, his brows pinned low, his face twisted in a scowl.

  Jewel spine straightened as she slammed her hands on her hips and faced him. “Can’t tell me what to do, D.”

  His nostrils flared and his jaw tightened. “Fuck I can’t.”

  “Beast,” she said under her breath and he took a threatening step forward but stopped.

  Jag had no idea what the hell that meant, but Diesel certainly didn’t like it and usually no one challenged him. Not even the man’s father, Ace. At least not since Diesel outgrew him when he turned sixteen.

  “Spill it,” Diesel shouted.

  Jewel’s body jolted. “Nothing to spill,” she whispered, her voice a bit shaky. She looked at Jag and raised her eyebrows, a silent plea for his help.

  Jag frowned at his sister. He hadn’t stuck around last night after overhearing Jewel mention that Ivy was at Dirty Dick’s to one of the prospects. But he had questions of his own.

  He’d let the club’s enforcer get the answers from her. He wasn’t really happy with his own blood right now. Especially since she knew Ivy was going to Dirty Dick’s on her own.

  “Woman. Talk or else. Got me?”

  Jewel pursed her lips, tilted her head as she considered the large angry man in front of her, then said, “She went to Pierce and he okayed it. That’s all I know.”

  “Fuckin’ bitches gotta meddle,” Crash said, shaking his head. He looked at Jag. “They fuck with her?”

  “Not that I can tell. She says no. Dragged her ass outta there as soon as I found out. Talkin’ all sweet to three of ‘em dressed an’ made up like a goddamn hooker.”

  Jewel’s mouth dropped open. “No, she wasn’t,” she whispered like she didn’t believe him.

  “The fuck she wasn’t. No bra, tight tank top, leather pants an’ thigh-high hooker boots. Makeup so thick, need paint thinner to remove it.”

  Diesel’s expression became more intense and crazier as he confronted Jewel that even Jag began to worry. “You women dress like that when you go out?”

  Her eyes flicked up to D then slid to the side. “No.”

  A sound escaped Diesel that even made Hawk raise his brows in his direction. “Fuckin’ better not,” Diesel practically roared. “Now get gone, woman. Get back to the office. We gotta talk.”

  Jag was pretty sure Diesel meant “we” as in the men, but he wouldn’t doubt D’s “we” had a double meaning.

  Jewel scrunched her face up at Diesel, but after a quick eye flick to Jag, she turned and headed back toward the office. Slowly.

  “Hurry up,” Diesel yelled at her.

  Without turning around, Jewel flipped him the bird over her shoulder, but she started to walk faster. A couple of the guys snorted, and Rig bent over in laughter, slapping his thigh.

  “She’s another one that needs tamed, just like Ivy,” Crash mumbled. When Diesel’s gaze dropped on him, he threw his hands up. “Not for me to take on, though. Noooo doubt. Like my pussy a lot easier and agreeable. Gotta be a helluva good fuck to want to put up with that hassle.”

  A-fucking-men, Jag thought, that “hassle” from last night still fresh in his mind.

  “Fuckin’ women,” their VP, Hawk, grumbled. “So we gotta deal with two issues. First one bein’ Pierce allowin’ Ivy to head into the Knight’s territory. Supposed to be one of Dawg’s girls goin’.” He looked toward his brother.

  “Couldn’t get one to cooperate,” Diesel said, his eyes still pointed the direction Jewel went, though she was no longer in sight.

  “Think Pierce approached Ivy or think it was the other way around?” Rig asked, scratching his barely-there beard.

  “Knowin’ my sister, she probably went to Pierce,” De
x answered.

  Diesel grunted.

  “Even if any of us were okay with it, he needed to bring it to the table. He didn’t,” Hawk said. “Bad move for a prez.”

  “Gonna need dealt with,” Diesel said, his attention finally back on the group of men.

  “Pierce is fucked,” Jag muttered.

  Hawk raised a placating hand. “Yeah, well, let’s not do anythin’ stupid. This is gonna have to be a bigger discussion than just the few of us. Can’t accuse Pierce on Jewel’s word alone. Ivy coulda told her a story about Pierce okayin’ it when she just went an’ did it on her own. Let’s get to the bottom of it first. Then deal with it at a later date once we got all the facts.”

  “Agreed,” Crash said and some other assenting grunts rose up around the circle. “Second problem...”

  “Yeah, that,” Hawk continued.

  Jag chimed in. “Doubt it was the Knights’ retaliation for me draggin’ Ivy’s ass out of Dirty Dick’s, stealin’ away some possible fresh pussy. Or even for DAMC violating their territory, be it a bitch or not.”

  “Got Warriors written all over it,” Diesel said, kicking the heavy chain that laid next to the destroyed bike parts. Another round of grunts rose in agreement from the brothers.

  “You don’t fuck with my woman or my bike,” Jag muttered, though he felt like screaming it at the top of his lungs.

  “Anyone call 5-0?” Hawk asked, his eyes on Jag.

  “Not me,” Jag answered. “An’ none showed their pig faces before Rig picked up me an’ what was left of my sled.”

  “Goddamn shame,” Rig grumbled, kneeling down and patting what was left of the custom gas tank that had one side crushed in and most of the custom paint scraped off. Road rash.

  “Good,” Diesel spoke up. “Keep this on the D.L. We’ll handle it.”

  Hawk turned to Jag. “Guess you’ll be in four wheels for a while until you get a new sled. Grab a loaner cage from Crash.”

  Jag nodded, although he wasn’t happy about being stuck driving a car. Especially one of Crash’s junkers.

  However, unless he bought a temporary bike, it would take him another two years to build something like he already had. His pride and joy. His baby. All that work, all that money, gone in minutes by those nomad assholes who had a chip on their damn shoulder.

  But better his bike than them grabbing Ivy. Bad enough she had been hanging with the Knights. He would have lost his mind if the Warriors had snagged her. No telling what would have happened. To her, anyway, because there was no doubt what would have happened to the Warriors. They’d all be dead. And he would be holed up at SCI Greene with Doc and Jag’s father, Rocky.

  “Guess you’re gonna have to make another custom.”

  Jag lifted his eyes to Crash, and he grunted in agreement. His mouth flat-lined at the thought of all the work that was involved. It was one thing to build a custom bike for a customer. Building customs was his passion, but it was something he got paid to do and paid well. He was always in demand and never had a lack of work. People came from all over to get a custom from him. Even the biker cops did, too. He’d take their money, it spent like anyone else’s. Quite a few of the Blue Avengers MC members had a custom from him. Even Axel, his cop cousin and Zak’s brother, had one. The man had spent a small fortune to get what he wanted. And Jag had loved taking Axel’s hard-earned money.

  However, when it came to building his own bike, he had to do it on his own time. Nights, weekends, and every spare moment. Plus, he had to dump his own money into it. He’d been squirreling away some scratch so he could move out of his room at church and buy a house. Not a big place, but something that was his and not the club’s. Now it didn’t look like that would happen anytime soon. A new sled came before a house. As club road captain, not having a bike was like missing an arm or a leg.

  Fuck.

  Hawk clapped him on the back. “Wanna say a eulogy before we recycle her?”

  Jag snorted and with a last look at his baby in ruined pieces, he shook his head and walked away before he broke down in front of his brothers.

  He lost both Ivy and his bike in one night. He needed a drink and didn’t care that it wasn’t even nine yet.

  * * *

  “Sit,” Pierce barked, tipping his chin toward the chair to his right. He sat at the head of the polished wood DAMC table.

  Ivy shook her head. She wasn’t getting comfy with Pierce in the club’s meeting room, especially with the door closed. “I’m not going to be here long.”

  He tilted his head and ran his heated gaze up her legs, over her breasts where he hesitated, then finally met her eyes. That was after staring at her mouth for a few seconds. Ivy had fought not to lick her lips.

  “Anythin’ happen?”

  “Jag found out and dragged me out of there last night.”

  He lifted one brow, picked up the gavel in front of him and spun it absently in his fingers. “Yeah?” He tilted his head and asked, “He pissed?”

  “Let’s just say he wasn’t thrilled finding me there.”

  The corner of his mouth twitched. “Told you you’re on his to-do list.”

  Ivy ignored that.

  “D’ya find out anythin’?”

  “A little bit of chatter. I wasn’t there long enough to get anything good.”

  He shook his head. “Fuckin’ Jag, gotta let his dick screw shit up.”

  Ivy was sure that Pierce’s dick had screwed things up before, too, so he had no room to talk. “Yeah, well, I kind of told a couple of the Knights I lived in Baldwin. They seemed to know the area well, so makes me wonder if they’ve been scoping out the town.”

  Pierce released a low whistle. “Baldwin? Shit.”

  “Problem is, I’m not sure if they’re going to be suspicious since Jag came in claiming me as DAMC. If the Knights compare notes, they might figure out I was lying to them. It might put the club in a bad spot.”

  “Nothin’ we can’t handle.”

  “Right... Sorry I couldn’t get anything more.”

  He studied her. “Like I said, probably wouldn’t get more unless you took some Dark Knights’ dick. Least we know to watch Baldwin. They grab that town, we know they’re headin’ in this direction. Doesn’t mean they won’t push our boundaries, though. Or they might stop there. Hell, they can have Baldwin.”

  Ivy kept her face neutral but she couldn’t believe Pierce was telling her this stuff. Usually they didn’t share shit with the women. But he was talking to her like she was one of the brothers. Because of that she wasn’t going to interrupt him.

  Suddenly a look came over his face and he narrowed his eyes. “That doesn’t leave this room, got me? Don’t be flappin’ your lips to the other bitches ‘bout what you heard at Dick’s or in here. Club business ain’t your business. None of ya.”

  And there it was. He was running his mouth in front of a vagina with ears and realized his mistake.

  Asshole.

  Ivy closed her eyes in a struggle not to roll them. When she had it under control, she opened them and asked, “Are we done here?’

  “Unless you want me to fuck you over this table, we’re done. Close the door behind you.”

  The man was probably going to whack off when she left. Her stomach turned and so did she as she rushed to leave the room. Quickly closing the door behind her, she was relieved to see Grizz sitting at the club’s private bar in his normal spot.

  She ducked behind the bar, grabbed his almost empty pint glass and poured him a fresh draft, sliding it in front of him.

  “Where’s Mama Bear?”

  He lifted his bearded chin toward the kitchen and grumbled, “In the kitchen where she belongs.”

  Ivy didn’t stop her eyes from rolling this time. She made sure Grizz saw it.

  He swatted a hand towards her in dismissal, but his heavily wrinkled eyes narrowed in her direction. “Watcha doin’ in there? You an’ Prez fuckin’?”

  All the blood rushed from Ivy’s face. “No!” She shot a gl
ance toward the closed door to make sure Pierce had remained inside and didn’t hear that.

  “Watcha doin’ with him alone then? You know that’s no good.”

  She dropped her eyes to an empty shot glass that sat on the bar. “Just talking.”

  “’Bout what?”

  She picked the shot glass up and sniffed it. Jack. Someone had been hittin’ it already this morning. “Nothing.”

  Grizz slammed his palm on the bar top, causing Ivy to jump out of her skin. “Ain’t nothin’, girly. Spill it. Or I’ll tell everyone you doin’ him on the sly. Wait ‘til his ol’ lady hears that. She’ll pull out your hair an’ scratch your face.” Then his eyes became distant like he was imagining the two women getting into a cat fight. His lips twitched.

  Crazy old man. Though, she loved the big old bear no matter what a grump he could be.

  She jammed her hands on her hips and frowned at him. “You wouldn’t.”

  He swiped at the beer foam clinging to his overgrown grey mustache. “Fuck I wouldn’t. Tell me. If he’s hidin’ club business, I gotta know. Don’t trust that slimy fucker. Especially after...” His gravelly voice faded off.

  “Especially after what?” she prodded.

  He shook his head and pulled at his long, raggedy salt-and-pepper beard. She could hardly see his lips buried in all that untrimmed wiry hair but she could tell he was now frowning.

  “Just listen to me, girl. Don’t be alone with him. That’s all I’m sayin’.”

  A chill ran through her. She looked over her shoulder back to the closed meeting room door. “He’s prez though,” she whispered.

  “Yeah.” He tilted his pint glass to his lips and downed half his beer, then slammed it back onto the polished wood bar top. “Now... spill it or I will.”

  “You’re ruthless, Grizz.”

  “Yep.” He nodded. “How the fuck you think I survived long enough to get this grey?”

  She leaned over the bar toward him and murmured, “Can’t tell anyone.”