Dark Steel: A Motorcycle Club Romance Novel

by Jones, Olivia

  I got down on my hands and knees and looked through the tiny door. The shaft was small but big enough to fit a person crawling through. I glanced back at Ryker and he kicked my butt to get me going. Ouch! I inched my way through the tunnel, wiping cobwebs out of the way. Ryker followed behind me and closed the door, cutting off any light.

  We could hear the door to the bedroom break open. Boots pounded against the floor as they walked around. My pulse was pounding in my ear and fear kept me frozen. A man yelled, “Clear” and walked away. We were safe—for now.

  “Keep going, Brooke,” Ryker whispered.

  I continued my descent into the musty escape. I finally came to another small door that opened to the outside. We were still on the second story and the drop was at least fifteen feet high. “What do you want me to do?”

  “There should be a dumpster right below. Jump down into it.”

  He's got to be kidding. But I knew he wasn't.

  I took a deep breath and looked below—it might as well be a hundred feet. I felt a shove on my ass and I came crashing down into a pile of black trash bags. The overwhelming stench of rotten food made me want to vomit. I quickly climbed out of the dumpster and watched as Ryker made the same leap. His head popped out with some lettuce stuck in his hair. It took all the willpower in the universe to keep myself from laughing.

  Ryker climbed out and joined me. “It's time we split up, Brooke.”

  What is he talking about? “No, I'm staying with you.”

  Ryker and I ducked down behind the dumpster. “Listen to me. They aren't looking for you. You can walk away from this without a scratch.”

  I steeled myself. “I'm not going anywhere without you.”

  Ryker looked deep into my eyes and kissed me hard. “You're so cute when you're defiant. I don't have time to argue with you. Stay here and I'll get my bike.”

  I nodded and kissed him once again before he went off into the darkness. I sat behind the dumpster, my hands balled up in my lap, my stomach full of nerves. Minutes passed and he still wasn't back. Did he get caught? Should I check out what was going on?

  I stood up and a hand touched my shoulder from behind. I screamed and turned around to find Ryker with his index finger against his lips. His Harley sat behind him, ready to take us away from all this. “Hurry and get on. The feds are crawling all over this place.”

  “You don't have to tell me twice.” I bounced onto the bike behind Ryker and held onto him as he started the motorcycle. We zoomed through the alley and around the front of The Burger Joint. Black SUVs were parked all over the place. A woman with short hair and wearing a suit came running outside the restaurant as we sped away.

  We were going to make it.

  I leaned forward and nuzzled my nose against his neck. I never wanted to leave this motorcycle. The bike suddenly stopped. Why were we stopping so soon? The FBI were probably on our tail. I gazed over to see my apartment.

  “What are we doing here, Ryker? Do you want me to get some stuff?”

  Ryker shook his head. “You can't come with me, Brooke.”

  I hit him in the shoulder as hard as I could, but I knew he couldn't even feel it. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  “The FBI are after me and the MC is in handcuffs. I need to escape town until the heat dies down.”

  Ryker killed the engine and got off the bike. I stayed on, hoping to somehow chain myself to the handlebars. “I'm coming with you,” I said, my bottom lip trembling.

  Ryker sighed. “You don't understand. If you come with me, you'll be aiding and abetting a fugitive. That comes with some serious prison time. I can't let you do that.”

  I put my hand on his face and caress it. “I know that you love me and don't want anything bad to happen. But you need to hear me...I'm not getting off this fucking bike.”

  Ryker suppressed a chuckle. “You are truly unique, do you know that, Brooke?”

  I pinch both of his cheeks hard. “Just shut up and get back on the bike.”

  Ryker shrugged and kissed me. “I love you.”

  “I love you too.” I will always be by your side, Ryker.

  I looked back at my apartment and realized that I didn't get to say goodbye to Jenny. The FBI would surely talk to her in a couple of days when they figured everything out. It might be awhile before I could contact her. I blew her a kiss as Ryker drove us away.

  We rode through the night, red taillights streaking past my vision, no particular destination in mind. The singular headlight of the motorcycle lit up the road ahead as streetlights flashed by us. We could go anywhere we wanted to. Start over if we had to. As long as we had each other we could get through anything. Our love would protect us.

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  Description

  Charlotte

  I was assigned the Wheels of Ash MC to interview and that's when cocky and arrogant Liam came into my life. He's a hard criminal and I have no business being anywhere near him.

  Liam tells me I'm beautiful and that he wants me, but there's a secret I haven't told him yet. I'm ignoring the instinct to run for the hills. The danger and mystery surrounding him excite me too much. I can't stop imagining his naked body on top of me, his rough lips all over me.

  Liam

  I don't know what it is about this girl. I've been with hundreds before but never one like this. Charlotte's so innocent and pure. She makes me feel something deep inside—an emotion I've never felt for someone before. But the MC needs all my focus now.

  I can't let my head get clouded.

  Chapter One

  Charlotte

  I slowly creaked open the door to Cultural Anthropology 301. Mr. Capshaw's back was to me, writing with marker on the white board. It was becoming a habit of mine to be fifteen minutes late—it was impossible to find a parking spot at my college.

  I hunched down and went down the row of desks, scanning for any empty spots. Students watched me as I sneaked by, some giggling and others scoffing.

  Why did the whole world only pay attention to me when I was late?

  A vacant seat sat all the way at the end of an aisle. Everyone shifted their feet to make way for me as I shuffled through. I passed by Kyle and my heart almost jumped out of my chest.

  I was sitting so close to him! He threw a smile at me and I almost melted. Why couldn't I get a guy like him?

  I wanted so badly to tell Kyle how I felt, but I'd never even spoken a word to him before. I only watched him from afar, studying his figure closely.

  I gently laid my backpack down and took my seat. Mr. Capshaw's back was still turned away— the teacher didn't notice me.

  “Nice of you to join us, Ms. Turner,” he announced, turning around to face me.

  Busted.

  I flushed scarlet and sunk into my chair. The students around me laughed. Kyle smirked at me. This had to be the most embarrassing moment of my life.

  “Like I was saying before Ms. Turner interrupted us, it's time for your final paper.” Mr. Capshaw wrote Final Paper on the white board with a sad face next to it.

  A collective groan echoed throughout the room.

  Mr. Capshaw put up his hands in defense. “I know, I know. Most of you have been dreading this since the beginning of the year, but I assure you, it's not as bad as people have told you.”

  My palms were sweating and I shifted in my seat. I'd heard that Capshaw graded these papers with an iron fist. Since it accounted for fifty percent of your grade, some students failed the class because of it.

  “Let me explain what it's all about and then you guys can judge it. I think a lot of you will actually enjoy it.” A kid on the other end of the room raised his hand. “No questions yet. Let me talk first.”

  The kid put his hand back down. I pulled out m
y notebook and flipped to an empty page.

  “Each and every one of you will go out in the field and study a culture that I assign you,” Mr. Capshaw said in his booming voice. The students looked at one another in confusion. “You're going to use everything that you've learned over the course of the semester. I want you to interview people, observe them in their natural habitats, and record any profound discoveries. Don't just write what you think I'd be interested in, write what you're interested in.

  This is what anthropology is all about. We could read endless books about what others have done before, but until you do it for yourself, you can never really appreciate it. Now I'll take questions.”

  A girl in the back raised her hand. “Yes, Ms. Harper?”

  “What cultures will we be studying?”

  “I'm glad you asked.” Mr. Capshaw walked over to his desk and pulled out a long sheet of paper. Depending on what you get, you're going to be assigned a fraternity, sorority, or a club that's in or outside this school; for example, Ms. Harper, you will be studying the mysterious and wild Anime Club.

  The students all laughed.

  A student in the front row raised his hand. “Have you ever done field work, Mr. Capshaw?”

  The teacher looked offended but then smiled. “Of course I have. You think they'd let any old man come in and teach? I've been to Africa, South America, and the tiniest islands you can imagine. I've studied KKK groups and even tribes that practiced in cannibalism.”

  Mr. Capshaw taped the paper to the white board. “Come on up and see what you got. Mr. Shavers you can stay seated.” Everyone turned their head and looked at the meat-head jock in the middle row. “Don't worry, I assigned you the Sigma Zeta sorority.”

  “Fuck yeah, thanks Mr. C!”

  The class stood up from their seats and began shambling over to the front. I followed the crowd and waited patiently while each student found their name and what club they were assigned. My finger trailed down the list until I found my name.

  Charlotte Turner Wheels of Ash Motorcycle Club

  A motorcycle club? Is this his idea of a joke? Do they really have clubs where people just talk about motorcycles all day?

  “That's it for today. But I want you to get in contact with your clubs and set up times to meet with them. You only need a few days to observe them. We'll skip next week's class and come back in two weeks when your paper is due. If you have any questions during that time, feel free to email me.”

  Everyone started gathering their things and leaving while I stayed at the front of the class. I approached the teacher as he crammed papers into his briefcase.

  “Mr. Capshaw, I don't quite understand my assignment.”

  The teacher grinned. “Ms. Turner, you got the motorcycle club. I've been trying to get them to participate in this program for years—for some reason they said yes to me this time.”

  “Are you punishing me for being late?”

  “Punishing?” Mr. Capshaw said in shock. “I gave you the most interesting one. Would you rather have the Archery Club or the Poker Club?”

  “Well, no,” I replied, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

  “I gave you this because I know you can handle it. You may be late all the time but you have potential, Ms. Turner.” The teacher snapped his briefcase shut and began walking out. “Just be careful, Charlotte, the Wheels of Ash are known to be dangerous.”

  Dangerous?

  I smiled. “Thank you Mr. Capshaw. I'll do my best.”

  Chapter Two

  Liam

  My Harley-Davidson Dyna Super-Glide rumbled beneath me as I weaved in and out of traffic. On the road was where I belonged—a place where I could relax and truly be myself. The scenery zipped by me as I rode at a peaceful fifty-five miles per hour. I leaned to my right as the road curved around a mountain. The sun peeked through the clouds and the air was crisp—a perfect day for riding.

  Two black-and-white police cars sat off in the dirt on the side of the road—a speed trap. Three cops sat against their hoods eating donuts. One of them had a radar gun pointed right at my bike. I quickly checked my speedometer and breathed a sigh of relief—I was two under the speed limit. I passed the officers and waved. One of them put his sunglasses on and jumped into his car, blasting the annoying siren.

  Here we go...

  Bullshit like this always happened in Lake Elsinore. Motorcycle clubs—specifically Wheels of Ash—were targeted constantly. It wasn't unusual for our club to be raided weekly by SWAT team. We had grown accustomed to getting flat on our stomachs with our hands behind our backs.

  They never found anything. We weren't stupid enough to keep our guns or drugs at the club. But that didn't stop the police department from checking in on us. They were the good guys and we were the bad guys; some things never change.

  I flicked my wrist and the Harley roared as it accelerated. The wind blasted through my shoulder-length hair and a grin stretched across my face. The police cruiser wasn't far behind.

  I lived for this.

  Even if they caught me, the only thing I had on me was a concealed weapon—my nine millimeter. Never leave home without it. I'd been caught on a weapons charge before but they couldn't make it stick. The county was looking for drugs—lots of drugs; something they could use to take down the entire MC.

  I sped up, taking turns hard and fast. My bike swerved in and out of traffic, almost tapping cars as I passed by. The cop was having trouble following me. The two-lane highway didn't leave much room for passing. I looked behind me and raised my middle finger. I gained distance and when I made it around a corner, I quickly went off road and hid in some bushes.

  My heart was pumping hard as the police cruiser flashed by, his sirens still blasting. I waited in the bushes for another minute as the other cop car came speeding by. The police around here were pretty stupid.

  They weren't going to catch me today.

  I pulled out of the bushes and began riding in the opposite direction. The heat would be on for the next couple of hours until the cops gave up their pursuit. I was on my way to the MC for a vote and now I was going to be late.

  John was going to give me a lot of shit for this.

  Chapter Three

  Charlotte

  The Wheels of Ash Motorcycle Club was situated in an abandoned business district in the middle of town. They probably scared away the other businesses until they were the only ones left. Twenty motorcycles stood in the front of the building in a nice and neat line, leaning to the side on their kickstands. A cheap big sign that said: WOA was plastered above the door.

  I parked my dingy Honda Civic and checked myself in the rear-view mirror. You can do this, Charlotte. These guys are no different than anyone else. I darkened my makeup and let my hair down from a ponytail. I inhaled deeply and walked to the club.

  A guy in a leather jacket was bent over working on his bike. His red hair and beard stood out. On the back of his jacket was a big white patch that said Wheels of Ash. The symbol below it was the front wheel of a motorcycle grinding a skull, spewing fiery ashes behind it.

  “Excuse me,” I said.

  The guy didn't pay any attention to me.

  My ankles were shaking. I wanted to run away. I hardened my lips and stood my ground. “Excuse me,” I said louder.

  The man turned around and his eyes gazed up and down my body. Maybe wearing a low-cut top was a bad choice. He wiped his hands with an oily rag. “What can I help you with?”

  I pulled out the paper that I got from Mr. Capshaw. “I'm looking for John.”

  “And what business do you have with him?”

  I gulped. This guy was big and strong. His muscles were bigger than my waist—he could probably squeeze my neck until my head popped off. He ate girls like me for breakfast. “Well, I'm doing an anthropology paper and I was assigned this club.”

  The man cocked his head. He probably didn't even know what anthropology was.

  I steeled myself. “I need to spea
k with John, please.”

  He smiled at me. “No need to get your panties all bunched up. Follow me.”

  We walked into a grand hall that was floor-to-ceiling wood. Pool tables stood in one corner and a large bar dominated a whole half of the room. “Holy Diver” by Dio played on an outdated boombox behind the bar. What was this place? Guys in leather jackets sat on couches while others hunched over the bar. A few scantily-clad girls walked around wearing the shortest skirts and tightest tops. How could they go out in public wearing that?