Dex whacked Ace on the arm. “True, brother. Maybe good head’s a close second.” His eyes landed on her lips.
Brooke tipped her head down to hide the roll of her eyes. She needed to keep them on the topic at hand. “I’m sorry. I just know he’s a biker and might own a business in Shadow Valley. I asked around town, and there seems to be a few businesses owned by bikers, so I’m stopping at them all. This just happened to be the first one on my list.”
“Well, the only bikers workin’ in this shop are me an’ Dex here. An’ this boy might be a horny fucker but doubt he knocked anyone up when he was two.”
Brooke fought the twitch of her lips. “Are you two related?”
“Uncle. An’ club brothers,” Ace stated, then tilted his head. “Sure your pop was an Angel?”
“Pretty sure.”
“How come you’re only lookin’ for ‘im now?”
“My mom passed away a couple months ago, and when I was going through her things, I found out my father wasn’t really my father. Or at least he wasn’t my biological father.”
Ace regarded her for a long moment. “Got a name?”
Brooke shook her head. “Nope. Just found some things hidden away in the attic. Some of it mentioned your MC and it was dated about the time I was born.”
“You think she hung ‘round the club thirty years ago?” Ace asked her.
Brooke shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m not sure how involved she was with this biker. Might have been just a one-night stand since she was married when she got pregnant with me. Whatever happened, she never talked about it, never told me the truth. I always just assumed my father was... my father. His name was even on my birth certificate.”
Dex shifted next to her. “So why do you think he ain’t your father?”
She regarded him for a moment. “Besides the stuff that I uncovered? I found it curious that I never looked like him. I never looked like my brother or sister, either. I just didn’t fit in.” Though, she looked like her mother, she looked nothing like her father, while her younger siblings did. Brooke had always wondered about that, but never got a good answer. So she let it go. Until she began to wonder again as she cleaned her mother’s house out, and came across a few things that made her question who her real father was.
“D’ya ask your pop?” Ace asked her, hands on his hips.
She shook her head. “No, he died from a heart attack when I was a teenager.”
“Damn. Lost both your mom an’ pop. Sorry to hear that,” Ace mumbled. “But still don’t get why you’d think your biological father was an Angel. Just a few mementos, or whatever, don’t indicate shit. Been a member of this club forever. Hell, I was born into it. My pop was a foundin’ member. So I know everyone who’s come an’ gone an’ has worn our colors. Had to be a brother who was ‘round my age or older. Unless...”
“Unless?”
Ace shrugged his broad shoulders. “Unless it was a hang-around or prospect who didn’t pan out. Ain’t too many members left from back then. Rocky an’ Doc’s in prison. As for the rest, quite a few of ‘em got taken out when shit began to get hot an’ heavy with the Shadow Warriors.”
“Grizz,” Dex mentioned.
“Who’s Grizz?” Brooke asked.
“One of the oldest members,” Dex answered. “At least not in prison,” he added quickly. He glanced at Ace. “Could it be Grizz?”
“Fuck. Don’t even say that out loud. Momma Bear would have his balls on a spit an’ be servin’ ‘em up at The Iron Horse lickity split.”
“Is The Iron Horse one of the club’s businesses?” Brooke asked. She didn’t remember if that one was on her list. If it wasn’t, she needed to add it.
“Yeah,” Dex answered.
“Who runs that?”
Ace snorted. “My son, Hawk. He definitely ain’t your father, either.”
“If it ain’t Grizz, then who?” Dex asked. “One of the members the Warriors killed?”
Ace pulled at his beard slowly and frowned. “Could be.”
“How ‘bout Rocky?”
“Dunno, boy. He’s old enough to be.” Ace regarded Brooke. “Question is, if you find ‘im, then what?”
That was a damn good question. She hadn’t thought that far ahead. She figured she needed to find out who he was and if he was still breathing, then...
Then depending who it was...
“If it ain’t you, an’ it ain’t Grizz. Might be Rocky.”
“Could be anyone, Dex. An’ she don’t even got any solid proof. Not even a fuckin’ name.”
“Maybe she could talk to D. Maybe his crew can help ‘er out.”
Ace scowled at Dex. “For what?”
“To help her figure out who ‘er pop is. What the fuck, Ace?”
“Why do you fuckin’ care, boy? Why do you wanna bring more drama into this damn club? Ain’t we got enough? You just wanna stick your dick in ‘er, an’ think she’ll give you a little grateful pussy if you help ‘er. Keep your nose outta it. For all we know her pop could be the same as yours since that deadbeat took off, leaving your fuckin’ mother with three little ones.”
“Ace.”
“No.” Ace threw up his hands. “Don’t be stickin’ your dick in ‘er ‘til you know she ain’t your sister. For fuck’s sake! That’s all we fuckin’ need.” He stalked away grumbling.
“Um,” Brooke began, heat crawling up her neck.
“Yeah,” Dex muttered. He raked his fingers through his dark hair which was a little on the longer side. Not quite shaggy but not trimmed tight, either. His dark brown eyes landed on her. “Sorry ‘bout that. Kinda killed my fuckin’ boner, too.”
Brooke’s gaze automatically dropped to where his hand landed, then she closed her eyes and cursed herself for doing just that. But Ace was right, they could be siblings. She shuddered as she thought back on how Dex was staring at her earlier.
A knuckle grazed her cheek and she opened her eyes. “Ace is wrong. Ain’t my sister. My pop was no longer an Angel when your mom got knocked up. He got on his sled, took off an’ never came back.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, babe. ‘Cause that woulda sucked.”
“Why?”
“’Cause I’m gonna buy you a fuckin’ beer.”
She wasn’t sure if that was supposed to be a pick-up line. Because it if was, it sucked. But she had to admit, the man had a lot of confidence. “I don’t drink beer.”
“Whiskey, then.”
“We could still have a whiskey together even if we were related.”
“Yeah, but couldn’t do the rest of the stuff I have planned.”
Her eyebrows shot up her forehead. Maybe what she thought as confidence was actually cockiness. “Oh?”
“Oh, fuck yeah,” he whispered, then licked his lips.
Well, now his confidence was bordering on creepy. She needed to get the hell out of there.
“Dex!” Ace yelled across the shop. “Leave ‘er alone an’ get the fuck back to work. She needs to get gone.”
That was one thing she could agree on.
Dex’s lips twisted in a frown. “Guessin’ you ain’t from ‘round here.”
Brooke shook her head.
“Where you stayin’?”
“I...” Why the hell was she even going to answer his question? “Nowhere, yet.”
“Need a place to crash?”
“Are you offering?” she asked in disbelief.
“Gotta room above church. Bed’s too small. Was hopin’ you had a motel room or somethin’.”
Or somethin’.
“Church,” she repeated. She knew that didn’t mean what it should. She had done some research on MCs before hopping in her car and heading to Shadow Valley. But she couldn’t remember what church meant in biker speak.
“Yeah. Was gonna move into the apartment upstairs, but D’s a stubborn fuck an’ thinks he’ll be raisin’ his kid up there. Jewelee’s havin’ a shit fit about it.”
She shook her h
ead, lost on who he was talking about.
“Don’t matter. You end up bein’ a part of the DAMC, you’ll meet ‘em all eventually. This club’s like a big dysfunctional family.”
Her plan wasn’t to join the MC. Her plan was to find her father. Ask some questions. Take care of business and go the hell home. She wasn’t here to settle in with a bunch of bikers like they were long-lost family.
“How about if I just meet you somewhere?” She quickly added, “For that whiskey.” She certainly wasn’t meeting him for anything else. But she wouldn’t mind getting together with him and asking more questions since he seemed willing to help. Maybe get a chance to meet more of the club members. Try to find out who her father really was.
Or is.
And why she should even care, she hadn’t figured that part out yet, either.
She had loved the father who raised her, whether he was blood or not. But when she dug through that shoebox and found info in it to make her wonder who she really was, something had pulled at her.
Curiosity.
And maybe he would understand the meaning behind some of the things her mother had written down in the diary that had been buried under some old newspaper clippings. Maybe he could clarify some of the cryptic scribblings.
But no matter what, it wasn’t like she needed an actual relationship with her biological father. She just wanted to know who he was. At thirty, she didn’t need any type of “daddy.”
Especially not the type that stood in front of her.
Wanting to buy her a whiskey.
Chapter Two
Dex downed the shot of whiskey Linc had placed in front of him only seconds earlier. He winced until the burn subsided, then tapped the shot glass on the bar. Linc shot him a frown since The Iron Horse Roadhouse was busy for a Friday night. He snagged the bottle of Jack Daniels and slammed it down in front of Dex.
“Ain’t fuckin’ here to serve you,” Linc growled. “Do it yourself.”
“Gonna tell Hawk you’re treatin’ his customers like shit.”
Linc flipped him the bird as he moved down the busy bar. “Since when are you a customer?”
“Whatever, dude,” Dex yelled out and snagged the bottle. “Hey, I need another shot glass!”
“Get it your fuckin’ self!” Linc shouted from the other end of the bar as he poured a draft.
“Work all fuckin’ day, can’t even relax an’ get some service ‘round here,” he muttered to himself.
He pushed from the stool and rounded the bar. He found clean shot glasses and grabbed one. When he glanced up, he spotted her coming through the front door of the bar.
He wasn’t the only one who spotted her. A muscle began to tick in his tight jaw when he noticed almost every male in The Iron Horse straining their neck to watch her cross the floor.
For fuck’s sake.
Yeah, it was fucking December and, yeah, women wore jeans because it was cold out. But, fuck, how many women could look that smoking hot just by wearing skin-tight denim which clung to fucking long legs that looked like they could wrap around his waist twice. And worse, those high-heeled boots made her legs look even longer...
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
He needed to get his own place and move the hell out of church. His shithole upstairs wasn’t a place to take a woman of this caliber. No, it fucking wasn’t.
She stepped up to the bar, leaned into it and he forgot all about her legs. Now her tits were on his radar, since she wore some sort of deep V-necked thing that showed her very generous cleavage. This was not the top she was wearing earlier. Though that was hot, this was blazing hot. All that cleavage was framed by the little brown leather coat that hugged her curves perfectly.
But it was her breathy, “Hey,” that almost took him to his fucking knees.
He opened his mouth to say it back. When nothing but a squeak came out, he grimaced. Holy motherfuck!
Then she laughed. A throaty sound that came from deep within her that went right to his dick. He had to grab onto the bar to keep upright.
Her slate blue eyes dropped to the bottle of Jack sitting on the bar. “Are you going to pour me a whiskey? Or are you just going to stand there looking like you just shit your pants?”
His spine snapped straight and he grabbed the bottle, twisted the cap, and poured her a double.
After sliding it in front of her, he refilled his glass, too.
“Dex,” she said softly.
Goddamn, she remembered his name.
Then he remembered his name was sewn onto the front of his cut. Shit.
“Dex,” she said again.
Holy fuck, she could say his name a million times in that tone. He’d never get sick of hearing it.
“Dex! Yo, dickwad, get the fuck out from behind the bar,” Linc yelled at him. “It’s busy an’ you’re blockin’ me an’ Jester from gettin’ shit done.”
“Dex, what the fuck you doin’ behind the bar?” Hawk came up behind him and clapped him hard on the shoulder. “You ain’t a bartender. Get gone.”
“Linc’s a rude motherfucker,” he muttered.
“Yeah, but he gets shit done an’ he’s good at keepin’ the money flowin’. An’ I need that green since I got a kid on the way. Right now, you standin’ there’s fuckin’ him up. So, get gone.”
Dex rounded the bar, his eyes never leaving the woman. Then he realized he’d never found out her name!
But he knew how to remedy that. As he stepped up next to her on the customer side of the bar, Dex said, “Hawk, this is...”
The woman held out her hand to Hawk. “Brooke.”
Hawk’s gaze dropped to her outstretched hand, then he looked back up at her face. “So?” His gaze landed on Dex. “Since when d’you start introducin’ your pussy?”
“She ain’t my pussy.”
Yet.
Hawk’s dark eyes narrowed. “What is she, then?”
“She’s lookin’ for her father.”
“Yeah?” Hawk’s attention went back to Brooke.
“Yeah,” she answered softly.
“Did you lose ‘im?”
“Never had him to lose,” she stated.
Hawk stared at her for a long moment. Dex could tell his cousin was trying to figure out if she looked like anyone familiar. “Think he’s here at The Iron Horse?”
“She thinks he’s a part of DAMC.” Dex added, “Or was.”
Hawk cocked a brow. “Why’s that?”
“Because of something I found in my mother’s attic.”
Hawked lifted one broad shoulder. “Ask your ma, then.”
“She’s dead.”
“Fuck,” Hawk muttered and scrubbed a hand over his mohawk. “That sucks. So, who’s your pop?”
“That’s the million-dollar question.”
Hawks brows rose. “Don’t have a name?”
“No.”
“Well, good luck with that shit,” Hawk replied and moved down the bar.
“That’s Ace’s son?” Brooke asked as she watched Hawk talk to Jester.
“Yeah.”
She took a sip of her whiskey. “And you’re his...”
“Cousin.”
“Cousin,” she repeated slowly as if she was trying to build a family tree in her head. “Are all of you in this MC related?”
“No. Doc an’ Bear were the foundin’ members of our club. Most of us were born into the club, but there were two distinct trunks of the tree. Now? Not so much.”
“Why’s that?”
“The tree’s kinda gettin’ a bit twisted.” He downed his double shot, hissed, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Like incest?”
He slammed his glass onto the bar. “No! Fuck no. Like... look if I told you, you’d get confused. But back to your question, no, everyone ain’t related. Plenty of members who didn’t come from Doc or Bear’s blood.” He lifted his chin toward Linc. “Linc for one. Prospected an’ got patched in. Jester’s still a prospect an’ should be patched
in soon. Neither are related to any of the rest of us.”
“How many members are in this MC?”
Dex shrugged and poured himself another double. “Haven’t counted lately. Enough to keep the club’s coffers fat.”
“With these businesses the MC owns.”
“Yeah.”
“Do these businesses support everyone?”
“Pretty much. Everyone’s gotta do their part.”
“Or what?”
“Or you’re out.”
“I didn’t think it was easy to leave an MC.”
“It ain’t.” He sighed. He wasn’t going to get into club business with her. Even the women of the DAMC didn’t hear all the business. It wasn’t for women’s ears. “Look, got a private bar on the other side of this buildin’. Let’s head over there where we can talk easier.”
“We’re talking just fine here.”
Dex glanced around the bar. “Too many eyes on us.” Truth was, there were too many eyes on Brooke. He wasn’t sure he liked that. No, he was sure. He definitely didn’t like it.
“So?”’
Dex gritted his teeth at her stubbornness. “Wanna get to know you better since you might end up bein’ a club sister.”
“Club sister? Do you look at all your club sisters like you did me at the pawn shop, or how you did when I walked into this bar?”
Dex frowned. “Fuck no. I’m related to some of ‘em.”
“But not all of them.”
Damn, this woman didn’t miss a thing. She was sharp. “Grew up with the rest. Same shit.” He grabbed the bottle of Jack and jerked his head toward the double doors leading to the kitchen that separated The Iron Horse and church. “C’mon.”
“Leave the Jack here,” Linc shouted. “There’s enough of it over there.”
Dex scowled at Linc. “Fuckin’ Linc. Don’t know what’s been up his fuckin’ ass. Wouldn’t have voted his ass in if I knew he was gonna be such a dick.”
“Maybe he’s having a bad day,” Brooke suggested.
“Just probably needs to get laid.”
Brooke smirked. “Sometimes we all need that.”
Dex’s head spun to consider the woman in front of him. Damn. “Yeah, we do. Some of us more often than others.”
Down & Dirty: Dex (Dirty Angels MC Book 8) Page 2
