Vengeance MC Box Set - Volume 1: Call Me...Vengeance ~ Fury ~ Jonas

by Natasha Thomas

  Buying a house, making it a home, finding friends, and going on dates were all aspects of a longer-term strategy. I wanted to travel too. Go somewhere exotic. Explore. Learn. Grow as a person. I wasn’t naïve enough to think I’d be able to put all of this into play at once, I knew I couldn’t. That didn’t stop me from wanting to make progress on it before Bec arrived in a few weeks, though.

  I wanted to prove I could go it alone if I had to. Not that I wanted or needed to, but there may eventually come a time when I had to, and I needed to know I had the inner strength to do it. One day, Bec would want to put down roots of her own, meet a man and have a family, and I wouldn’t factor in that. I shouldn’t. Hence, the inception of the plan. Bethany Leanne Miller wasn’t going to be anyone’s victim anymore. I am a strong, independent woman who can depend on herself if the need arises. I figured if I said it enough times I might just believe it too.

  That brings me to now, thirty-four years old, standing in a small four room tattoo studio called, Wicked Skin in the tiny town of Furnace. My first step on the road to self-imposed freedom, and what am I doing. I’m hyperventilating over a man I’ve seen for all of five minutes, who is clearly dangerous if the leather, chains, tattoo’s, piercings, and perma-scowl is anything to go by. Well done, Beth, I congratulate myself quietly.

  Tall, but not quite as tall as Jay, his biceps are so large that you can see them straining the seams of the white T-shirt he’s wearing under his leather vest. I highly doubted I could get my two hands to meet if I wrapped them around him.

  I had been around tattooists, tattoo enthusiasts, and plenty of bars in West Hollywood, I knew a biker when I saw one. Not to mention, Jonas has told me about these guys, and what to expect. But if I hadn’t been sure before, I was now. These men were serious, hardcore, lived the lifestyle bikers. They weren’t weekend warriors or enthusiasts. They were part of a club that owned the road and in doing so lived by their own set of rules. They exuded power and demanded respect. The motorcycle boots, leather pants and vest were a dead giveaway if I’d missed everything else, which I hadn’t.

  The taller of the three men, Boss, was far more intimidating than the only other MC President I’d met. Dray carried himself well, commanded a room when he was in it, but he didn’t have the same dangerous undercurrent that Boss had. Dray was sweeter, more transparent.

  Sitting on my short stool, pulling to close to the height adjustable tattoo chair that took up the majority of space in my small room, I meticulously double-check everything I need to get my job done quickly. The last thing I wanted was to be stuck here later tonight than I had to be. I was serious when I said I still had a ton of unpacking to do. After packing my half of Bec and my unit, driving, unloading and still putting a full work week, starting the day after I got to Furnace there was nothing I wanted more than to crawl into my bed after a nice, long, hot shower. Oh, and eighteen hours of unconsciousness wouldn’t hurt either.

  Hearing a throat clear behind me, I jump a little and turn to face the origin of the sound.

  “Am I good to come in?” Dirty asked, peering around the door jam. Following closely behind him was another figure, making the doorway appear to be the smallest one known to mankind.

  Cursing myself internally, I struggle to get myself under control. Like I said, I shouldn’t be reacting to this man like this. I don’t’ know what it is about him, but whatever it is, it’s potent.

  “Hey Sweetheart, do you mind if I sit in on this?” Shoving past Dirty, not waiting for an answer, he takes the one and only spare seat in the corner as it groans loudly in protest of his bulk.

  Breathe, you can do this Beth, I repeat in my head. They’re just extraordinarily hot, tattooed, muscled bikers, nothing to get your panties in a twist over. Counting to one hundred, forward then backward, I smile at both of them hoping I don’t look as nervous as I feel.

  “Sure thing,” I say breezily. “Take a seat and show me where you want it. Is there anything specific you need me to make sure to include?”

  Looking over the stencil I’m holding out for him to check, Dirty shakes his head in the negative.

  “No, I think that covers it. As long as Vengeance is done in red, we’re all good.”

  Slipping off his vest, he throws it over the back of the chair. Reaching behind his head, he pulls his black T-shirt off adding that to the growing pile. Dirty points to his right pec with his index finger saying,

  “Right here, Gorgeous. Do your worst,” indicating to where he wants the stencil to go.

  Jonas had explained the significance of the Vengeance brothers having the right side of their chest tattooed. Apparently, Boss had begun that particular tradition at the start of his Presidency. Hog, the club’s previous President, hadn’t cared where the men got their ink as long as they did it, but Boss thought differently.

  The left side of a man’s chest was closer to his heart. A place Boss believed was reserved for old ladies and wives, according to Jonas. I thought it was as sweet as it was symbolic, but looking at the man now, I’m not sure that appraisal of him was correct. There’s nothing sweet about this man. But that didn’t change what Jonas had told me about him.

  In essence, Boss’s mentality was that a woman who belonged to a brother had to realize that the club was his other half. His woman may hold his heart, but in part so did his brothers and his MC.

  Applying the stencil to Dirty’s extremely well-defined, hairless chest, I peel back the transfer paper, tilting my head to check it’s positioned correctly. Picking up my tattoo gun, I look at him grinning.

  “You ready, honey?” At his nod, I add, “Lay back and make sure you’re comfortable because this is going to take a while.”

  The rhythmic buzz of the machine started as I depressed my foot on the pedal, but that did nothing to distract me from the sinful man sitting across from me. I didn’t know what it was about him that kept drawing my gaze, but every time I paused to wipe the excess ink from Dirty’s skin my eyes would meet Boss’s and I’d be lost for another moment.

  Focus. Focus is what I needed to get through this.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  ~ Boss ~

  When it rains, it pours

  After a brief conversation out front with Diesel and Jay, I made the decision that there was no way in hell, Dirty was getting Beth alone for five seconds, let alone the couple of hours it would take the ink his patch into his chest. Jay had been worried about the younger man making Beth feel uncomfortable, and even though I knew he wouldn’t lay a hand on her without her consent, the thought alone had me close to tearing shit apart. So I figured it would be in everyone’s best interests, especially mine if I went and played babysitter for the duration of it.

  Jay wanted to close up after they were done, but seeing as we were the only ones left and walk-in’s at this time were a rarity, I told him to head out with Diesel now if he wanted to. I offered to meet him and Diesel at Hounds after Beth was done with Dirty so that we could catch up over a cold beer. Jay jumped on the offer inside the time it took me to utter the words. He all but ran out the door letting me know that Beth had keys, and knew how to lock up. It struck me as odd that for a man who had been so protective over his new employee only half an hour before, Jay had ditched her relatively quickly without sparing much thought for how she felt about being left with two men she didn’t know.

  It was evident based on his reaction, Jay wasn’t getting out often. Not many men jump at the chance to have a beer with Diesel these days, so it was pretty clear he hadn’t seen him for a while if he was willing to brave his company. That, or he’s desperate. Diesel is a moody bastard on the best of days, and best friend or not, he can be a fucking asshole without even trying to be.

  Women didn’t seem to give a shit if Diesel had permanent PMS, apparently, broody equals hot in the land of women. But the guys and I? Yeah, we were done with his perpetually bad attitude. He needed to get his shit together before someone knocked some sense into him. And by the looks of it, Fu
ry was the front runner for that task.

  Scrolling through my texts, I notice Sly shot one off ten minutes ago.

  *Fury confirms 5 as schd.*

  I take that to mean we’re on target, sending back my own message to let him know to forward it to Jump.

  Looking up, my traitorous heart clenches at the sight of Beth chewing on the corner of her bottom lip. Her cute, little nose is scrunched up in concentration as she bent over Dirty’s chest, tightening the skin as she drops needle to flesh. Again, why I was having this reaction to her I didn’t know, but I wanted to find out.

  “So, what’s your story, Beth? Your accent says mid-west.”

  Not taking her eyes off the design, Beth answers,

  “Originally I’m from Tennessee, but I spent the last sixteen years in L.A. I didn’t realize I still had an accent, but there you go.”

  Trying to come across observational, I ask,

  “L.A. not doing it for you anymore? That’s a long time to spend in the one place just to up and move like that. The way Jay tells it, you packed up and came out here within a week of him offering you the job.”

  Watching the corners of her mouth tilt up, I can honestly say I’ve never been jealous of a pair of lips before, but I am now.

  “Something like that,” she says noncommittally. “I had been working at the same place for ten years. I wanted a change, and here seemed about as good a place as any to make that happen. Don’t get me wrong, I loved my job and the people I worked with, but eventually it starts to wear on you,” Beth adds with a shrug.

  Something about her response sent up a warning flag for me. But it wasn’t so much what she said, more like what she didn’t say. In my experience, there are a few reasons a woman would want to make a clean break after being in one place for so long. Bad break up, getting evicted from your place, or losing your job, are all valid reasons for making a significant change like this. Beth’s might sound a little thin to me, but I’ll wait and see before I jump to any conclusions about her. Call me paranoid, but I like to know what’s going on in my town and with the people in it. It’s safer that way.

  After more silence and one-word answers, Beth cleans off the excess ink for the last time, inspecting her work carefully. Walking up behind her, I lean over her shoulder to take a look. Nice clean lines, graduated gray wash, solid base elements, she’s done a fucking outstanding job with it.

  As I go to take a step away, my chest grazes Beth’s back causing her to shiver in response. Good to know I’m not the only one affected by this fucking strange chemistry we have. Deciding to test out the limits of her body’s reaction to me, I bend closer, running my nose up the side of her neck. Goose flesh prickles her skin and her pulse immediately speeds up. But it’s her gasp that seals the deal for me.

  Beth might not know it yet, but she was going to be mine. It was only a matter of time before I made that happen and she was underneath me.

  Arching away, putting a foot of space between us, Beth lets Dirty take a look at her handy work as she strips off her gloves.

  “Do I need to bother giving you an aftercare sheet?” She enquires through a grin. “By the amount of ink I can see, I think it’s safe to say you know how to take care of this one. Come back and see me if anything fades out or needs a touch up after it’s healed. Leave it, at least, three weeks to settle in, though, okay?” Beth says, smiling as she bandages and tapes him up.

  Smirking, Dirty nods.

  “Yeah, gorgeous. I can do that.”

  “Traitorous asshole,” I hiss under my breath. I don’t doubt the bastard heard me. His smirk widens as he pulls his shirt back over his head, slips on his cut, and heads for the door.

  As Beth trailed us out the front, I measured whether I should ask her to join us for a beer. Or I did until just the thought of her walking into Hounds had blood pressure rising dangerously. Hounds is an old school biker bar. By this time of night, it’s usually jam packed t with bearded, tatted up, tough guys looking for easy pussy. Beth wasn’t that. She didn’t belong in a place like that without a man at her back, if at all. And if she did get a wild hair and want to take a walk on the dark side, she’d need a man like me on her arm to make it through a night a Hounds unscathed.

  Snapping my head around, Beth’s throaty laugh stops me in my tracks. Fuck she has a sexy laugh. Eyes sparkling, Beth pats Dirty’s forearm smiling widely.

  “Goddammit,” I groan inwardly. Of all the times to have wayward thoughts about a woman who will be nothing but a distraction it would have to be now, wouldn’t it? I didn’t need my focus torn between the clubs shit and a challenge I knew I’d have to best. But wouldn’t you know it, two hours in Beth’s presence, most of it spent ignoring each other and the chemistry sparking between us, and the woman was already working her way into his system.

  “You finished?” I clip out a little harsher than I intended. “We’ve got to roll out, brother. Jay wants the shop locked down for the night.”

  Keeping his face turned to Beth, he jerks his chin rumbling,

  “Yeah, Boss. Whenever you’re ready.” Winking at Beth, he adds, “Darlin’ if you need anything you’ve got my number. Don’t be afraid to use it. Day or night, you call, I’ll pick up.”

  When had the traitorous asshole given her that? Trust Dirty to wait until I had my back turned until he made his move. Scowling at him, I give him a shove toward the door ordering,

  “Go down to Hounds and find, Diesel. Tell him if he isn’t done I’m not waiting around all night. He’s got an hour to fuck himself up, then we ride out.” Not waiting for an answer, I address Beth next. “Sweetheart, grab the keys, lock up tight, and I’ll walk you to your car, yeah?”

  “You don’t have to do that, Boss. It’s parked just outside in the back lot, so I’ll be okay. By the sounds of it, you’ve got better things to be doing,” she murmurs.

  At the sound of my road name leaving her mouth the realization that I don’t like her using it blindsides me. I don’t want her to call me by the same name my brothers do. Instead, I want to hear Jackson slip from between her lips. Moaned preferably, but I’ll take it anyway it comes, for now.

  “My brothers and the rest of the club call me, Boss, but I’d prefer you call me, Jackson.”

  She gifts me with a weary smile, tilting her head to the side as if she’s considering my request carefully.

  “Okay, Jackson it is then.”

  And, there it is. Fuck yes. Breathy, sweet, and husky. That sound goes straight to my cock, hitting its mark, making me harder than I’ve ever been with just a word.

  Offering again, Beth bites her lip assuring me,

  “Honestly, I’ll be okay. I won’t be long, anyway. All I have left to do is switch off my machines, the lights, and lock both doors.”

  “Then there’s no harm in me waiting. You go do what you have to, and I’ll just hang here until you’re ready, Sweetheart,” I counter, sending Dirty a chin lift to let him know he’s dismissed.

  Reclined against the counter, crossing my feet at the ankles, resting on my arms I watch Beth bend over, snatching up her purse and almost simultaneous come in my leathers. Her gorgeous heart-shaped ass twitches as she fishes around trying to locate God knows what in the monstrosity she calls a bag, causing me to discretely adjust my cock behind my zipper.

  It’s a foregone conclusion that I’m going to have to surgically remove my fucking pants before tonight is done. It’s also pretty clear that I’m not going to be able to spend any time with this woman without being in an uncomfortable, bordering on painful, state of arousal. Jesus Christ, you’d think I’d be able to control my body’s reaction to a beautiful woman by now, having been around them, in them, and over them, but you’d be wrong.

  Silently gathering the rest of her stuff, flicking the lights off, I double check the front door is locked, stalking after her as she gestures for me to follow her down the hallway to the back exit. But that’s not before I noticed her nipples tighten against the cups of her bra,
her labored breathing, or the way she was gripping the keys clenched tightly in her fist.

  Jesus, she smells good, I note as I move in behind her. Beth doesn’t smell like the flowery or overly musky shit other women drown themselves in. No, her scent is fresh, soap with a hint of citrus. Lime I think. Not overpowering, but strong enough to notice. Her scent makes a man want to shift closer, run his nose up the column of her throat where the scent will be most potent, just to work out exactly what it is.

  Sighing quietly, resigned, Beth pushes the heavy door open, holding it open for me to make my way past her.

  “Hand me your keys, Beth. Let’s get this shit locked down so you can get home.”

  Dropping the keys into my palm, her fingers brush mine, making her gasp as sparks of electric current passes between us. I can feel the nerve endings tingling, dancing over my fingertips and up my arm long after the whisper soft brush of her skin fades.

  There was no denying it, I won’t even bother to try, I want to fuck Beth any and every way I can, but that isn’t the half of it. And that just proves it. There’s something compelling, magnetic, captivating about her. She’d been polite, painfully so. Sure, she was sexy the way she could wind innuendo into a conversation, hinting at the playful side she hid buried deep.