Gearhead

by Evelyn Glass

  This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places, events, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.

  Gearhead: A Motorcycle Club Romance (Hellions MC) copyright @ 2017 by Evelyn Glass and E-Book Publishing World Inc. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embedded in critical articles or reviews.

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  Contents

  Gearhead: A Motorcycle Club Romance (Hellions MC)

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Epilogue

  Books by Evelyn Glass

  Muck: A Motorcycle Club Romance (Satan’s Cubs MC)

  Gutter: A Motorcycle Club Romance (Ashes MC)

  Grime: A Motorcycle Club Romance (Hangman’s Crows MC)

  Raw: A Motorcycle Club Romance (Minutemen MC)

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Gearhead: A Motorcycle Club Romance (Hellions MC)

  By Evelyn Glass

  I had everything a man could want. But I'd rather have her.

  From the second she stepped into my office, Marin was the answer to my problems.

  And I was the only shot she had at survival.

  Technically, what I did to her was blackmail.

  But when her clothes were stripped off and she was bent bare over my desk, I didn’t hear her complaining.

  All I heard was her moaning.

  In return for me letting her live, she gave me what I needed most:

  A fake fiancé.

  Out in public, we’re the spitting image of a couple in love.

  And in the bedroom, she follows every single one of my commands.

  Once this is over, I’ll cut her loose. Never to be seen again.

  Wipe my hands clean of this whole sloppy, filthy mess.

  But there’s one big flaw in my plan. One thing I never expected…

  Actually falling for her.

  Chapter One

  Marin

  The restaurant was dead. Weekday afternoons were usually slow, but it had reached another level. We’re talking sloths crawling through cement slow. I told the same joke to Kayla while she was wiping down a table she had already wiped down three times, but she only rolled her eyes.

  “It’s a wonder we’re even best friends,” I said. “You don’t laugh at any of my jokes.”

  Kayla threw her dingy rag at me, missing by a solid three feet, so it landed in a soiled heap behind the bar. “That’s because you don’t tell jokes. That wasn’t even funny.”

  I checked to make sure the manager wasn’t around and then stuck my tongue out at her. Joy had already reprimanded Kayla and me on more than one occasion for acting too childish, but I say one can never be too old to stick their tongue out at someone who deserves it.

  “What are we going to do tonight?” Kayla asked, leaning across the bar, so her ample chest rested on the wood top. “I’m thinking takeout and a rom-com. Maybe Chinese?”

  I tried to avert my eyes away from her cleavage, but it was like a car crash. A car crash I was intensely jealous of.

  Kayla saw where my eyes were directed, and quickly stood up, placing her hand on her chest chastely and looking as though she were deeply offended by my wandering eyes. But I knew better. She wore her Jasper’s Grill polo two sizes too small for one reason: it made her boobs look enormous, and she got way better tips.

  I laughed and then shook my head. “I can’t. I’m meeting up with a new student from the mentorship program tonight.”

  Kayla groaned. “Why are you still doing that? I thought you were going to pull out of the program, like, two months ago.”

  “I was, but I just couldn’t. They have so many kids who need someone to look up to and help them with homework and give them advice. I can’t deny the youth of tomorrow the chance to experience my sheer awesomeness.”

  “What about your best friend? I’d love to admire your sheer awesomeness. You’re so busy it feels like I live on my own sometimes.”

  Kayla and I had been roommates since we’d graduated from high school six years ago. She was enrolled full-time at the local community college and didn’t want to live in the dorms, and I needed to escape my house and couldn’t afford to pay rent by myself. We made the perfect pair.

  “I know,” I said. “And I’m sorry I’m such a crummy roommate. Volunteering is just the closest I can get to social work until I finish my degree. Even though I’m busy, I don’t think I could bear to give it up.”

  “You’re an amazing roommate, Marin. Which is why I get so sad when you aren’t around very much,” Kayla said, walking around the bar to sidle up next to me and wrap her arm around my shoulder.

  I bumped her hip with mine. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

  “But seriously, you need to make some time for yourself, Mar. Between volunteering, working, going to school, and taking care of your siblings, you are stretched paper-thin. No twenty-four-year-old should be taking on this much. We’re supposed to be getting drunk and sleeping with guys we don’t know but will regret in the morning.”

  “I’m only taking one class each semester. It’s barely a burden, though I’ll probably be in school until I’m forty. And if my only choices are to continue living my current life or contract some kind of mutant sexually transmitted disease from sleeping with too many men, then I’m fine with the way things are now.”

  “Hey,” Kayla said, winking at me as she headed into the kitchen. “Don’t knock it till you try it.”

  I rolled my eyes and smiled at her, but it quickly faded as I refocused on filling the salt and pepper shakers. Kayla was right. I’d been stretched too thin for far too long, and it felt as though any day now I would rip in half. More important than achieving my dream of becoming a social worker, my siblings needed me.

  My mom was the most fertile woman on the planet, and she insisted on sleeping with a slew of worthless men just long enough to find herself pregnant. The men would bolt as soon as they found out, and Mom would move on to the next loser in line. So, I had six younger siblings ranging in age from seven to eighteen, and I’d been taking them to soccer practices and school and daycare, packing lunches, and changing diapers since I was in first grade.

  Luckily my mom was pushing forty now, and her baby making days were more than likely behind her, but we still had many years before the youngest kids were grown and out of the house, so my work was never done.

  I was on the last salt shaker when Kayla crashed through the swinging kitchen doors and plowed into my back, sending me sprawling onto the bar and the salt and pepper shakers clattering to the floor.

  “What the—?”

  “He’s here,” she whispered, loud enough that had there been anyone in the restaurant, they certainly would have heard her.

  “Who is?” I whispered back, us
ing my arm to sweep the spilled salt and pepper into a neat pile on the bar.

  “Jasper!” She giggled, then straightened and put on a serious face. “I mean, Mr. Black.”

  “Jasper Black?”

  She nodded, her eyebrows raising and lowering as quickly as humanly possible. “One of the girls in the back saw his car pull into the lot. He should be in any minute.”

  Just as the words left Kayla’s mouth, the wooden front door pounded open, bouncing off the wall, and Jasper Black stepped inside. He walked in like he owned the place, which made sense –he did own the place. He owned five Jasper’s Grills across the state of Texas and ten others stretching from Oklahoma to Michigan. Rumor had it two more grills would be opening in the next few months, but I hadn’t heard anything official yet.

  The moment he walked through the door, Kayla practically melted next to me. She leaned forward onto the bar as casually as she could, using the wood and metal structure to prop herself up because her legs were as sturdy as melted butter.

  “God, he’s sexy,” she whispered.

  “Shh,” I said, my face blushing at just the thought of him overhearing her.

  He was sexy. No one could deny that, but I did not need him to know I thought so. He had short dark hair trimmed into a neat fade on the sides, and a jawline so strong I felt compelled to see if Michelangelo had signed his name to it. Muscly thighs threatened to rip the seams on his navy-blue suit pants, and he had a white button-down rolled up around his forearms.

  I thought I caught the slightest hint of a tattoo peeking out from beneath the starched fabric, but that was probably my imagination working overdrive. Jasper Black could have been the poster boy for a luxury line of men’s underwear or a ridiculously fancy watch or cologne. Whatever it was he was selling, every heterosexual woman – and some men – with a pulse was buying.

  Kayla and I had been the only waitresses at the front of house all afternoon, but suddenly the place was swarming with them. Shelly and Lauren had been holed up in the kitchen watching soap operas on one of the fry cook’s small TVs, but now they were sweeping the floors and rolling silverware on the bar.

  I couldn’t blame them though. Since starting work at Jasper’s Grill four years earlier, I’d only spoken to Jasper Black eight times. He stopped by the restaurant quite regularly, but he wasn’t typically one for chitchat.

  Jasper was alone, but he had a cell phone pressed to his ear, his heavy brow furrowed. He said something into the receiver, but I was too far away to hear it. Then he decisively shoved his phone into his pocket and turned towards me.

  Well, he turned towards the bar, where all of the waitresses were gathered, but he might as well have been shooting lasers directly at me. His icy-blue eyes cut straight through my cool girl resolve, and I fought the urge to pinch myself.

  “Ladies,” he said, his voice deep and sweet, the auditory version of dark chocolate. He tossed out an easy half smile in our direction, and I swear I heard Shelly moan. “How are things going?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at the spilled salt and pepper littering the bar and the floor.

  “Fine.”

  “Great.”

  “Absolutely amazing.”

  “Wonderful.”

  Everyone answered at once, clamoring over one another to be heard.

  I saw amusement flash behind Jasper’s eyes. “Glad to hear it.” With that, he turned and disappeared into the rarely used office he kept in the back corner of the building.

  As soon as the door clicked closed, the waitresses turned into Victorian women, giggling and fanning themselves.

  “His office has its own entrance,” Kayla whispered. “He just comes in through the front door for the attention.”

  “Which you readily gave him,” I teased.

  “Like you didn’t?” she asked, one eyebrow raised. “When he walked in I’m pretty sure I heard your vagina call out to him.”

  I elbowed her in the side, but I did feel a very distinct warmth between my legs. Kayla didn’t need to know that though.

  Joy came out in a huff fifteen minutes later wondering why no one had told her Jasper was there for a visit. I wanted to tell her she would have known if she didn’t spend all of her time in the supply closet having virtual sex with her long-distance boyfriend over video chat, but I kept my mouth shut.

  All of the waitresses and Joy hung around, waiting to see if Jasper would come out of his office again, but after half an hour they all got bored and drifted back into the usual routine. By the time our first dinner customers began to make their appearance, I’d almost forgotten Jasper was in the building at all.

  Kayla didn’t though. When we met in the alley behind the restaurant for our fifteen-minute break, she was deep into an Internet wormhole.

  “Did you know Jasper is an MC leader?” Kayla whispered, her mouth puckered in a little ‘O’.

  “What is that, like a DJ club or something?”

  “What? No. Seriously?” Kayla raised her eyebrows at me. “MC stands for Motorcycle Club, you dip. I swear, you are so sheltered.”

  “That’s a rumor. Where did you even read that?”

  “HTX news.” Her voice sounded haughty and authoritative. I didn’t like it. “The local news tells no lies, my young friend. The article also said he is suspected of dabbling in some not so legal side businesses.”

  “Why would he even need to do that? He has fifteen of these bar and grills. He has no need for a side business,” I said, the words muffled by the granola bar I’d had stashed in my back pocket all afternoon. The chocolate chips had melted from my body heat, but I was too hungry to care.

  “The restaurants could be a cover,” she said, gasping. “We could be doing his dirty work without even knowing it. What if they are stuffing cocaine in the burgers we serve?”

  “You’re delusional.”

  Kayla ignored me, still scrolling through endless articles she’d pulled up about Jasper Black. “You know, I think he’s single,” she said.

  “Interesting,” I mumbled, texting my younger brother to make sure he knew how to cook the casserole I’d left in the fridge.

  “Maybe he’s here to find himself a girlfriend.” Her voice was going high-pitched and giggly.

  “I doubt the owner of a popular chain of restaurants is scouting out his next girlfriend from his employees. Plus,” I said, standing up and dusting granola crumbs off of my pants, “I thought you just said he was a criminal.”

  “Why should that mean I don’t still want to date him?” she asked. “Criminals need love, too. And he’ll need someone to write to him while he is in jail, and I have a monogrammed stationery set I’ve been meaning to use.”

  I opened the back door to head back to work, but then pushed it closed again, turning to Kayla. “Date a criminal if you want, but if you do manage to get him into bed, promise you’ll talk me up. I’d love a promotion. Joy is a shit manager, and I could use the extra money.”

  Kayla folded her arms like she belonged on the set of I Dream of Jeannie. “Your wish is my command.”

  Chapter Two

  Jasper

  Out of all the Jasper’s Grill locations, the Houston location had the worst office. Wood-paneling covered every wall, and the green shag carpet was threadbare and dusty. The building used to be an all-day buffet, but I’d bought it for cheap and remodeled every square inch, except for the office. That particular project had been sitting at the bottom of my to-do list for a few years, and I had no hope that it would ever find its way to the top.

  I wouldn’t use the office at all if the location weren’t so primo. The restaurant sat just off the interstate, far enough away from the city and its suburbs that we didn’t have many regular customers, and a huge empty field stretched out behind it. As far as a low-key place to conduct MC business, it was perfect.

  I’d promised myself a day off because I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had one, but my phone rang moments before I could seal the deal with a model I’d met at an MC par
ty the weekend before. She was a hand model, though the rest of her body seemed worthy of being photographed, as well. But her hands. Just thinking about what she could do with them was enough to nearly send me over the edge.

  Two loud knocks on the side door of the office, which acted as a private entrance from the parking lot directly to my office, forced me to push the thought out of my head and compose myself.

  “Come in.”

  The door opened, and Tats and Bear walked in, a third man strung between them, his face swollen and bloody. I didn’t know how long I’d been in the office, but the sky had gone dark, so it must have been a few hours, at least. They threw the man on the floor and moved to close the door.

  Tats, aptly named because of the tattoos running across every inch of his skin, guarded the side door, and Bear, named for his sheer size, moved to guard the door from my office to the main restaurant. The third man, name still unknown, cowered in the center of the office. His Kutte bore the colors of the Jagged Jackals MC, which was already one strike. Actually, the Jaggad Jackals were our biggest rivals, so it was at least worth two strikes. One strike to go.