Naked Dirty Love

by Selene Chardou

  Cillian nodded. “I get that. The point I’m tryin’ to make is…that night had consequences. Nine months later to be exact, Brianna gave birth to our daughter, Caitlin. I knew she wasn’t mine and my ex-old lady knew it too. It was kinda a ‘fuck you’ to me, so to speak. What could I do? I loved her from the moment I held her in my arms—blood relations didn’t matter. After all, she’s still my half-niece.”

  Trey’s heart began to thump in his chest as a cool sheen of sweat covered his body.

  What. The. Fuck.

  He had a fucking daughter and didn’t know jack shit about her?

  How old was she now? Seven or eight? He was a fucking baby himself when she came into the world. Nineteen-fucking-years-old and a father? How fucked up was this shit?

  He met his brother’s eyes; they were upset but there was also something else there…panic, perhaps. Cillian had no intention of handing her over so he must’ve wanted to tell him something else.

  “Okay. This is…I don’t know what to say. I didn’t know and even if I did, I don’t have any legal recourse. Caitlin was born within your marriage, brother. She’s your kid, legally speaking. I wouldn’t do anything to destroy that. I can be accused of a lot but I’m not fuckin’ stupid,” Trey explained, sounding calmer than he felt. “I know you’re not and that’s why I’m tellin’ you about this.”

  Cillian leaned toward him and continued, “She’s mine. I know you supposedly got rights with you bein’ her birth father and all but if you ever pull a stunt like my old man did with you, I’ll put you in the ground myself. I don’t give a fuck. I know what that means too. It means the brothers would most likely vote to put my ass in the ground as well but it’s a chance I’m willing to take. Caitlyn. Can. Never. Know. About. You. Got me?”

  The whole picture became crystal clear to Trey.

  Cillian was worried and with good reason. If their father had basically stolen his son from under his father’s nose, he might try to do the same.

  “I respect you, brother,” Trey began with sincerity. “Not because you’re gonna be Prez one day soon but because you’re my blood. We got the same blood flowin’ through our veins. Ask Trista how hard I love and what I will do to protect those I do. I could never betray you like that. Relax, man. You’ve got nothin’ to fear ’cause that shit will never happen. I give you my word. Right here. Right now.”

  Cillian nodded, his blue eyes softening. “Glad to see we’re on the same page. And just so you know, I didn’t tell you because I had to. I told you ’cause you had a right to know. The Feds—they’d use it against the club if they could. I don’t want those sons of bitches to have any leverage when it comes to us. Furthermore, I’m tired of what you and my ex-old lady did causin’ bad blood between you and me. We gotta work through that shit. Like it or not, we have to protect and have each other’s backs. I’ve got yours—I need to know you got mine.”

  “Yeah, brother, course I do.”

  Cillian stood and smiled. “Thanks for the beer. I gotta get home to my family but I’ll see ya tomorrow. We gotta talk about you gettin’ a place in Birch Tree. The development I live in has a home on the market. Why don’t you move there? Kink lives there too. It would be better for you, security-wise. This place is just too far out.”

  They walked side-by-side toward the door as Trey nodded his head. “Sounds good. If you get me the details, I’ll set up an appointment for a walk-through. I have enough cash circulatin’ to put down a substantial down payment. Not that I need a huge-ass fuckin’ house. I feel swallowed in this one, but it’s better than the alternative.”

  The VP raised his dark eyebrows. “What’s that?”

  “Sleepin’ at the damn clubhouse. We spend enough time there as it is. I gotta have a sense of normal at the end of the day.”

  Cillian smirked. “True that.”

  Shortly after a few closing words, they fist-bumped and Trey watched as he left.

  He immediately felt lonely and empty again. He should have been used to it by now but sadly, he didn’t think that would ever happen. He needed someone in his life, if only to fill the hole Keri had left.

  It was time.

  Trey decided a Saint slapper wouldn’t be so bad after all, even if she only lasted a night.

  Anything was better than the void in him that seemed to grow bigger with each passing day Keri was not in his life.

  Chapter Two

  Kyra

  “Ms. Hughes, I have a Mr. Henderson here to see you.”

  I sighed while trying to get some much-needed work done. The last distraction I needed was my very improper and younger biker boyfriend showing up.

  “Can you please send him in,” I replied to the receptionist and hung up the phone.

  Cricket walked into my office, all cockiness and pure male hotness. From his overly long blond hair pulled into a ponytail to his sexy goatee and arm-sleeves hidden under a long black t-shirt, tucked underneath his leather Saints cut. He was bad boy personified and certainly not someone my father approved of.

  Rule number one: if I, Kyra Hughes, decided to have a relationship with a biker, he should be a part of the Demon’s Bastards. My father was parent chapter Prez and my brother was the VP.

  I also had a sister, Keren, who exclusively dated bikers and was starting to get serious about one of the guys from the club. Problem was, he hadn’t been voted in yet and still played bitch-boy to the other club brothers.

  Fucking a prospect was always a problem, especially if you happened to be the Prez’s daughter. He might never get patched in - that was an issue Keren had to deal with whether she liked it or not.

  Christian “Cricket” Henderson, was a huge thorn in my dad’s side. He couldn’t stand him. The fact that he was a member of a rival MC made the hatred all the more putrid.

  As the son of Brendan Henderson—an Originals member of the Lucifer’s Saints—he also happened to be the brother of the notorious Lacey Henderson. Before her infamous status, she merely was a young biker brat who graduated from high school, and slated to attend University of Nevada in Las Vegas. The previous summer, she’d had a passionate affair with Carlito Navarro, ran off with him, and now, they were engaged.

  Before the past year, the Bastards and Saints had a very cordial relationship. Sure, they weren’t buddy-buddy but no retaliation against the clubs happened at the hands of one another. They could count on each other to keep the peace. The treaty was good, not only for the clubs, but the towns of Birch Tree and Pine Bluff. They were still considered nice places to live. There were many upper-middle class and Yuppies who populated each town, and they still thrived, unlike the unsavory Black Oak.

  Unfortunately, Desmond “Dizzy” Cox held an Ace up his sleeve. He had a secret son named Trey Lennon. The problem: Trey had been a dedicated member of the Bastards.

  He was one of the youngest to be voted in as a prospect.

  The youngest member in history to be patched into the club.

  The youngest brother ever to be voted into the powerful position of Sergeant at Arms.

  It was unheard of for a guy in his twenties—no matter how talented with a laptop or a gun—to have that title in an MC. It just didn’t happen. My father upset a lot of the old guard when he’d barely won majority vote to upgrade Trey from a soldier to Sergeant.

  However, no one could deny the guy was a born prodigy. He wasn’t only one of the most intelligent men I’d ever come across; he was hot as hell too. Pure sex on a stick territory. Unfortunately, he was also younger than me but only by three years. I still thought he was the hottest biker in the Tri-Cities area but I would never admit it to anyone other than my best friend, Gisela.

  Now that he was a Saint, through very extraordinary and unorthodox measures, his sexy body and brilliant mind were verboten to me…permanently. Unless I wanted my brother and father to put a bullet in his brain, I would stay away.

  I smiled at the thought and realized Cricket had already taken a seat. He played on his phone and seem
ed completely oblivious to my daydreaming. Perhaps this was the reason a thirty-year-old woman should not be dating a twenty-five-year-old guy. They were way too immature and, really, what did I have in common with him?

  Would I ever learn or did my hormones, which sought out a stiff, young cock with brains being optional, curse me forever? I wasn’t a slut, a whore or a woman of loose morals. I loved sex and was not afraid to act like a man in that regard. I pursued, I conquered, and I could walk away with the best of them. Men weren’t the only ones who could be players and not feel guilty about having a voracious sexual appetite.

  “What’s up, sweetie?” I glanced briefly at my MacBook Pro and sighed as new emails appeared in my inbox. “You know I’ve got a busy day today so what can I do for you?”

  Cricket put his phone away and leaned back in the leather seat, crossing his arms behind his head. “Listen, you know I’m not one to beat around the bush, right?”

  “Yes,” I said with waning interest.

  I really wanted to answer those emails before my last client of the day arrived.

  “Well, this here—you and me—we ain’t workin’. I like you, don’t get me wrong, and you are one of the sweetest pieces of ass a guy like me could ever hope for but…I gotta get my priorities straight. What we got is a no-go for the long term.” He continued to rock back and forth in his seat.

  I wanted to see red, get angry or show some kind of emotion but hell, I was having one of my non-hormonal days. I didn’t care all that much and not being one for excessive drama, I would have rather he moved on rather than forcing him into a relationship he didn’t want.

  “Okay, I understand. Obviously, this has to do with some unresolved feelings toward her and you don’t want to tell me about them.”

  “Jesus, woman—she ain’t got shit to do with it. What we had was nothin’ to you. Fuck, Kyra, half the time I felt like the motherfuckin’ bitch in our relationship and that shit don’t sit well with me!”

  “Christian, calm down.”

  “Don’t fuckin’ call me that! You know everyone calls me Cricket!”

  I rolled my eyes. “Why do you care? It’s your given name. Does she know? I mean, that your name is Christian? Has she had any shady fantasies about you yet?”

  “Fuck off, Kyra!” he exclaimed as he stood. “Here I am thinkin’ I’m doin’ the right thing and all you wanna do is fuckin’ joke about it. This shit ain’t funny.”

  I laughed out loud. “Ah, but it is. If you never see the humor in life, you’re gonna have a heart attack at an early age. It just doesn’t pay to be so serious about everything all the time.”

  “You’re never gonna get me to agree with you. This is the precise reason why we shouldn’t be together. You don’t even want me, do ya? I’m just a working peen for you—better than your battery-operated toy but not by much. I get it, believe me, I do.”

  “Get what?” I stopped laughing and stared at him.

  “What could we have in common?” Cricket wondered in a quiet voice. “I’m not smart like you…hell, all I’ve got is a high school diploma and an ASE Certification as a mechanic. You had your fun with me and I had a great time with you but I gotta do what’s best for me. I wouldn’t expect any different from you, either. If the situation was reversed and you were endin’ it with me, I’d handle it like a man and move on.”

  I linked my hands and took a few measured deep breaths. “Listen, I hope I’m conveying that attitude, sweetie. I can’t afford to be bitter about this whole situation because how would that help anyone? I wish you all the happiness in the world and whether or not it’s with this woman or another, you deserve to live your best life.”

  Shit, did I just say that?

  Christ, I sound like one of those fucking inspirational show on OWN.

  Cricket’s “best life?” Did he even know what that meant?

  Apparently he did because my ex-boy toy stood up and placed both hands on my ornate oak desk.

  “You know what, Kyra? Go fuck yourself and have a nice life.” He smiled ingratiatingly though it never reached his arctic, cerulean blue eyes. “I’m out of here.”

  I sipped from a bottle of water I had on my desk before sitting back and contemplating my life.

  Perhaps bikers weren’t working out for me and I should try to find a nice, intelligent guy who would be happy to have me on his arm. How easy that would be if I weren’t so embroiled in the life. Even my fancy Stanford and Harvard educations couldn’t get me out of Northern Nevada.

  My best friend, Gisela Jackson, and I founded Jackson & Hughes together after we finished law school. Her father and mine put up the capital we needed to get started and since we already knew so many people who worked on both sides of the law, we started with a built-in clientele.

  We now represented Gisela’s father, Raymond Jackson, and the Abandonato Crime Family, the Demon’s Bastards, and Lucifer’s Saints motorcycle clubs. It was one of the few reasons why Gisela wasn’t looking at disbarment for carrying on a relationship with her client, Cillian Cox. Technically, the club—not him—employed us. They paid all his fees and the billable hours accrued on his case.

  Gisela wasn’t completely out of the woods though. Word around the grapevine was the Nevada Bar Association intended to carry out an investigation. Until it happened, she still helped me with cases but due to most of our current workload pleading out, I could rely more on our paralegals than my very-pregnant best friend to aid me.

  Life was good and, other than my fucked up romantic attachments, I didn’t have many problems. I was an attractive woman with a healthy sex drive and I had zero qualms about the way I’d chosen to live my life. However, my problem stemmed from the men I decided to take to bed as opposed to my enjoyment of carnal knowledge.

  I knew I wouldn’t get much done after the dissolution of my relationship with Cricket. It had been coming for a while and it was certainly something I expected but, nevertheless, I hadn’t completely prepared myself for what would happen. That was my problem, not his, and the sooner I moved on, the better it would be for everyone involved.

  The phone rang again and I immediately grabbed it. “Yes?”

  “There’s a Ms. Kerrigan to see you. She said you’re expecting her?” the receptionist informed.

  “Ah, yes, I am. Send her in.” I sighed as I hung up the phone.

  Eve Kerrigan was my last client of the day, newly acquired. I knew very little about her except she traveled a lot and needed help with a family issue that would require an attorney’s involvement. It was all very cloak and dagger but I went along with it. I’d had more outrageous and stranger requests than hers.

  I stood as Ms. Kerrigan walked into my office. She was a beautiful, middle-aged woman with dark olive skin, hazel-green eyes, and a severe dark sable bob accompanied by brilliant, black cherry highlights. Of medium height and rather slender, her designer Jil Sander black pantsuit fit her perfectly.

  “Ms. Kerrigan? I’m Kyra Hughes, it’s nice to make your acquaintance.” I held out my hand and she shook it firmly as her eyes met mine. “Eve Kerrigan. You can call me Eve, Ms. Hughes,” she replied, her voice husky yet overtly feminine.

  I smiled and tried to relax as we both took our seats. “I’m sorry, how rude of me. Would you like coffee, water, tea, a soft drink perhaps?”

  “Earl grey tea is fine, if you have it.”

  “Absolutely.” I stood again and walked to my own little personal coffee bar I’d set up in my office.

  It was nothing ostentatious but it had all the necessities, including a professional-strength Keurig, more than enough coffee and tea, along with Sugar In the Raw, Splenda, and Equal. I kept both flavored cream along with half-in-half in the small refrigerator beneath the oak table.

  I quickly made the tea and brought over a couple sugars after Eve declined creamer.

  She smiled at me though it never reached her eyes. “I know you must be wondering why I’m in your office or why I contacted you in particular as opposed
to your partner, Ms. Jackson.”

  As soon as I sat down, I leaned back, maintaining a straight posture while I faced her confidently. “The thought had crossed my mind but some people are more comfortable with Gisela while other clients ask for me. It’s nothing personal. We try to satisfy all tastes here.”

  Eve cleared her throat before she sipped her tea. “This place seems very successful and professional. It looks like the kind of establishment where the attorneys are very good at keeping…secrets.”

  I glanced around my upscale office though my attention quickly wandered back to my client. “Yes, confidentiality is a must. We take attorney-client privilege very seriously here and I can assure you, I don’t do pillow talk. Not only is it tacky but also unprofessional, illegal, and I could be disbarred. I enjoy my job too much to let something like that happen.”

  She nodded her head, her eyes never leaving mine. I could lie and say this elegant woman wasn’t starting to get to me but the feeling of déjà vu was too damn strong, I felt like I’d met her before. It pissed me off I couldn’t place her because I never forgot a face…ever.

  “Well, I guess I should cut to the chase and specifically tell you why I’ve come here—why I requested you, personally. Do I write the retainer to you or the law firm?” Eve pulled her checkbook out of a top-of-the-line Louis Vuitton handbag with a matching wallet.

  “You write it to Jackson & Hughes.” I arched my eyebrows quizzically as she wrote the check with careful calligraphy. “Seriously, you don’t have to do anything until we’ve spoken at length—”

  “No, I’m afraid that’s not possible, Ms. Hughes. What I’m about to tell you is a matter of life and death. I can’t risk not knowing everything I say to you will be held in the utmost confidence…do you understand?”

  Her eyes, those gorgeous pale green irises with amber circles surrounding the pupils, were beginning to have a desired effect on me. Eve Kerrigan had secrets and why did I feel like they might directly affect me? This wasn’t the best position for me to be in at all.