Jack (The Kings of Mayhem MC TENNESSEE series, book 1)

by Penny Dee

  Sebastian and Riley follow my appreciative gaze across the clubhouse. Both pair of eyes land on him, taking in his muscular form and the way his ass looks criminally delectable in his jeans. As he leans against the bar, he rests a booted foot on a stool, and his silver wallet chain glints in the dim light.

  “And who the hell is Jack?” Riley asks, her voice husky with appreciation.

  “Jack is a friend who is helping me out for a bit.”

  “A-ha, and is Jack helping you out with his dick, too?”

  I pull my eyes away to look at her. “Very funny. No, Jack is a family friend.”

  “If your family friends look like him, then I want to join your family.” Sebastian eats Jack up with his eyes. “That man looks like he’d be a monster in the sack.”

  “Will you two stop!” I laugh. “He lives next door, and when I told him about my situation, he insisted I stay with him until it gets sorted.”

  “Sure, but you have to admit he’s hot.”

  Oh, I have no problem admitting that.

  This afternoon’s bathroom encounter replays in my head, and a wave of lusty need sweeps through my lower regions.

  I feel both their eyes on me. “What?”

  “Tell me you’re tapping that,” Riley says.

  I raise an eyebrow at my best friend. “When did you turn into a frat boy? No, I’m not tapping that. He’s Cooper’s brother.”

  At the mention of Cooper, all the teasing stops. They know Cooper’s death is a trigger for me, and it brings an instant change of subject.

  “So, what is this place? You’re hanging out with bikers now?” Riley asks as she takes a sip of her drink.

  “Think yourself lucky. You’re in the hallowed halls of the Kings of Mayhem clubhouse.”

  “The Kings of Mayhem?” Riley takes a mouthful of her beer. “How did you manage this? Who even are you?”

  “This is where I grew up.”

  Riley’s brows disappear behind her fringe. “You’re part of a biker gang?”

  I never really thought of it that way, but when she says it like that, I realize she’s right. I am part of the Kings of Mayhem. And if the last couple of days have taught me anything, it’s that I belong here. These people are my family. Warmth washes over me at the thought.

  “Yeah, I guess I am.”

  Riley looks at me like she’s seeing me for the first time.

  While Sebastian can’t keep his hungry eyes off the different bikers walking around. “God, it’s like a smorgasbord in here,” he whispers.

  He spies Merrick across the room and begins to salivate.

  Spotting us, Jack saunters over. I feel both Sebastian and Riley eating him up with their eyes while my body hums with excitement, remembering how his eyes had burned with lust as they’d swept over my naked body.

  Keep it together.

  When he arrives at our table, Sebastian’s jaw drops, and I can almost smell the pheromones bouncing off him.

  Jack is exactly his type.

  “You okay, wildflower?”

  He’s talking about the whole I saw you naked thing.

  “I’m good.” I try to make my tone as reassuring as possible. “Jack, this is Sebastian and Riley, my—”

  “Friends from Nashville,” he says. He offers Sebastian his hand, and Sebastian is speechless while Riley gets a wink and a smile that I imagine unlocks panties all over the county. “It’s nice to meet you both.”

  “No, the pleasure is ours, really,” Sebastian pants out like a small puppy.

  Jack’s gaze finds mine. “Can I have a word with you?”

  “Sure.”

  Scooting out of the booth, I catch Sebastian and Riley’s enthralled faces before I join Jack a few feet away.

  “Is it okay that they’re here?” I ask, suddenly realizing that bringing strangers into the clubhouse is a big no-no. “Sorry, I didn’t think.”

  Jack waves it off. “Don’t worry about that. Paw and Ares probably already know their social security numbers, who they voted for, and how many times they got detention in high school.” He nods absentmindedly toward the cameras installed secretly in the roof space. “No, this isn’t about them being here. If they’re friends of yours, then they’re welcome. But I wanted to catch you before the party starts and things get crazy in here. About what happened this afternoon—”

  “It’s okay. It was an accident,” I reassure him. “These things happen all the time.”

  He smiles, but it’s awkward. “I suppose it’s one of those things that happen when you have a roommate.”

  Our eyes linger. “I suppose it is.”

  Standing opposite him, I want to ask him a million questions.

  Like why he didn’t look away?

  Like why it took him so long to move?

  Did he like what he saw?

  But of course, I don’t ask any of them.

  “I don’t want things to be weird between us,” he says.

  Oh, they are beyond weird.

  I shake my head. “I’ve already forgotten it happened.”

  I could live a million years and never forget how good it felt having his eyes on my naked body.

  “Well, okay… if, you’re sure.”

  “Yes. Now stop your fussin’. This is meant to be a party. Go have some fun.”

  For a moment, he doesn’t move, but a small smile does play on his lips. “With Faith in charge, I won’t have any other choice. I will enjoy myself, or she’ll kill me trying.”

  He leans down and presses his lips to my cheek, and for a moment, I allow his scent to engulf me. I squeeze my eyes closed, my body aching for so much more.

  When he walks away, I rejoin Riley and Sebastian at the booth.

  Sebastian drops his head to my shoulder as he watches Jack cross the room at the bar. “Wildflower? Girl, I think I just died and went to heaven.”

  BRONTE

  “So, listen to this… on the way over here, Sebastian and I were talking about The Poet, and we’ve totally solved the case,” Riley says excitedly over her second beer.

  “You have?”

  “But what Riley isn’t telling you is that we both came to very different conclusions,” Sebastian adds. “I think the police should look into your creepy neighbor.”

  “Eamon?”

  “While I think the police should look into Officer Johnson,” Riley says.

  “The cop?”

  “He asked you out on a date while he was attending a crime scene. The guy has serious issues.”

  “Sure, but being inappropriate doesn’t mean he’d go as far as leaving me Polaroids pinned to my door.” I look at Sebastian. “And being creepy doesn’t automatically make you a stalker. Eamon’s just a bit—”

  “Strange? Crazy obsessed with you?”

  I give him a pointed look. “Socially awkward. I’m sure if we got to know him, we’d find out he’s simply a shy guy.”

  Riley gives Sebastian a told-you-so look. “See, it’s Officer Johnson all the way.”

  “How can you be so sure?” I ask.

  “Because my creepazoid radar is totally on point. And it’s positively screaming at me that Officer Johnson is the person following you.”

  “You don’t look convinced,” Sebastian says.

  I shrug. “I’ve been talking to Wyatt and Paw. They’re two of the bikers here. Wyatt used to work in private security, and Paw used to be an FBI agent.” I explain to my friends what they told me. “Plus, I haven’t heard from The Poet in nearly a week. He doesn’t know where I am, and he’ll probably lose interest. He’s most likely some jerk on campus who’s doing this to a bunch of other co-eds.”

  Riley seems to brighten. “Great! Then you can come home now.”

  “Yes!” Sebastian agrees excitedly. “We can collect your things and be home in a few hours.”

  I think about Jack. If I leave now, I’ll be walking away from unfinished business.

  “I’ve got a better idea. How about you guys stick around for Ja
ck’s birthday party tonight, and we’ll talk about this tomorrow.”

  This piques Sebastian’s interest. “Did you say party?”

  I give him a pointed look. “Dude, look around you. If the balloons don’t scream party, then I don’t know what does.”

  “Maybe that giant sex doll that the gorgeous hunk of muscle who looks like one of the Skarsgårds is stuffing into that chair,” Riley says as she watches Ghoul wrestle a sex doll into a booth across the room.

  Sebastian’s eyes gleam as he presses his index finger on the table in front of him. “There’s a party here tonight?”

  I nod. “You ready to let your hair down and celebrate?”

  Sebastian clicks his fingers. “Oh, Brontosaurus, I am the King of Party.”

  “Ah, yes, but you haven’t seen how we do it here in Flintlock,” I say.

  Sebastian throws me a challenging look. “Bring it on, girlfriend. If it’s one thing this boy knows how to do, it’s put on his party pants and get wild.”

  “Better buckle up then, buttercup.” I give him a wicked grin. “Because you’re about to do it he Kings of Mayhem style.”

  JACK

  She’s drunk.

  Straight up plastered.

  I’ve watched her downing beers with her friends all night long and, at one point, wanted to step in and tell her to slow down. Except she’s a grown woman surrounded by her friends, and this is probably the most relaxed she’s felt in months. I don’t want to take that away from her. Or clip her wings. Or come across as some overprotective father figure.

  Instead, I keep a protective eye on her throughout the night to make sure she’s okay. Even when the two dancers from Candy Town give me a birthday lap dance—courtesy of my well-meaning Kings of Mayhem brothers— I keep my eye on Bronte.

  Yet, during the lap dance, she keeps her eyes on me too.

  In fact, her gaze sears right into me as she watches the two beautiful dancers bump and grind their assets in front of me. Her face is tight, her lips pressed firmly together.

  I don’t touch the girls. Hell, I don’t even really notice them. Not when Bronte has me spellbound with a look on her face that I can only describe as stormy. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she’s jealous.

  But I do know better.

  Know better not to go there.

  Shooter comes up to me. “We need to talk.” The tone in his voice and the look on his face tells me it’s business.

  “My office?”

  He nods and follows me out of the bar. My office is down a long hall, past the kitchen and bedrooms, at the end of the corridor. Back in the day, it’d been the hotel owner’s office and is one of the more opulent rooms in the hotel. Spacious, with high ceilings, like the rest of the clubhouse it has the bones of a one-time fine establishment. But now all the glamor has faded.

  “The harvest starts in three days,” Shooter says, closing the door behind him.

  I frown, confused by what this is about. “I know. I’m president, remember?” I lean against my desk and fold my arms across my chest. Shooter’s got something on his mind. Something that’s agitating him enough to pull me out of my birthday celebrations.

  “We’ve been friends a long time,” he says.

  I nod.

  “Been through a lot over the years.”

  Again, I nod.

  “I like to think I know you better than most.”

  I let my arms fall to my side. “Look this trip down memory lane is good and all but get to the point.”

  “Bronte,” he says without hesitation.

  “What about her?”

  “The girl looks like she’s trying to forget.”

  “She’s got reason.”

  Like the rest of my Kings of Mayhem brothers, Shooter knows what’s going on with Bronte and The Poet.

  “I don’t disagree. But are you sure you want to get caught up in this right now? The club’s got a lot riding on this harvest. We need your focus on it one hundred percent.”

  I straighten. “And you’ve got it. But I ain’t gonna turn my back on her when she needs help.”

  “That’s not what I’m suggesting, but you don’t need to be the one to help her. Let Bam or Loki watch out for her so you can keep your mind on the harvest.” He gives me one of his questioning looks. “Why does it have to be you?”

  “She was Coop’s best friend. She’s family.”

  “Is that the only reason?”

  “You think there’s another?”

  It’s his turn to fold his arms across his chest. “I think that maybe you and her look at each other and see something a little more than friendship.”

  “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

  “It means right now you’re thinking with your balls and not your brain, and that’s no good for business. Especially with the biggest harvest we’ve ever had coming up. Fuck her if you have to, but get your head out of her little panties and back in the game.”

  I let his comment slide because of our friendship, but if he talks about her that way again, I’ll put my fist where his words are falling out. “You questioning me where my head is at?” I ask darkly.

  “I’m questioning your involvement with her, and how it’s the worst timing for you to be preoccupied. The club needs you to focus, not get distracted by a piece of puss—”

  I act without thinking and shove him against the wall, pinning him there by the front of his cut. “How about I put you through this fucking wall if you keep shit-talking about Bronte that way!”

  Shooter is as cool as a cucumber. He doesn’t flinch. Just looks at me with those hooded, apathetic eyes.

  Because I have just proved his point.

  Fuck.

  I let him go. “She’s just a fucking kid.”

  His eyebrows lift. “Last I looked, twenty-five is an adult.”

  “She’s Cooper’s best friend.”

  “So?”

  “So, she’s off-limits.”

  “If you say so.”

  I glare at him. “That’s what I’m fucking saying, asshole.”

  “Seems to me I’m not the one who needs convincing.” He points a finger into my chest. “I think you’re trying to convince yourself, and you’re fucking losing. Do yourself a favor and fucking forget it.”

  I turn away and light a cigarette, taking a deep drag. “It’s not a problem,” I say over my shoulder. But even as I walk away and slam the door behind me, I know I’m lying.

  My attraction to Bronte isn’t just a big deal.

  It’s a big fucking problem.

  Agitated, I make my way down the corridor toward the bar when I notice Riley making out with Gabe. They’re kissing up against the door to his bedroom and then disappear inside. When I walk past, she winks at me before closing the door behind her.

  I shake my head, and my mood begins to lift.

  By morning, Gabe will be head over heels in love. He has a habit of attracting psychos, so it’s good to see his luck has changed.

  In the bar the party is winding down. Caligula is dancing with Sebastian to Heart’s “Barracuda” both of them wasted and dancing out of time to the music while Dakota Joe, Banks, and Merrick watch on and throw pretzels at them.

  It’s after one o’clock in the morning, and I’m spent. Days of fighting my attraction to Bronte have me feeling every single one of my forty years tonight.

  I look around for her but can’t find her. She’s not in the bar nor outside.

  “You know where Bronte is?” I ask Dakota Joe.

  He shakes his head and throws another pretzel at Caligula.

  I look at Banks and Merrick, but they both shrug.

  My stomach tightens.

  I find Wyatt and Ghoul talking shit at one of the tables, but neither of them has seen Bronte either. Neither have Venom and Ares who are shooting a game of pool with a couple of club girls.

  I check with Faith, but she’s busy with a bottle of Jack Daniels and debating with Paw about something she prob
ably doesn’t even care about, just so she can argue, but neither has seen her.

  Feeling wound up, I leave the party behind me to check for her in my bedroom and breathe a sigh of relief when I find her curled up on my bed.

  She’s out of it.

  Stone cold out.

  Face-planted into the pillow.

  I relax and let out a deep exhale, feeling the anxiety drain away.

  Feeling shattered from the push and pull of the last few days, I take off my cut and T-shirt, then slide onto the bed beside her, and fall into a deep, exhausted sleep.

  JACK

  My head feels like it’s been through a blender.

  Keeping my eyes closed, I try to swallow back the disgusting taste in my mouth, but my throat is as dry as sandpaper and the movement sends another shard of splintering agony into my brain.

  But there is something else.

  There’s warmth wrapped around me, a softness draped across my body, a heaviness in the bed beside me.

  And a fucking hard-on in my jeans.

  What the fuck?

  How the hell am I sporting a major erection when my brain feels like it’s splitting in two?

  I open one eye and immediately understand the reason for my predicament. Bronte is curled up next to me on the bed. Her arm is draped over my naked torso, and her legs entwined with mine.

  Thank God, I’m still wearing my jeans.

  I cast my fractured mind back to last night’s party.

  To going to bed.

  To sleeping next to Bronte’s warm body all night, and it does nothing to soften what’s going on in my jeans.

  I should move.

  Sneak out of the bed.

  Find coffee.

  But a part of me wants to stay, just for another minute, to enjoy the comfort of having her warm little body pressed against me a little longer.

  I hear her breathing, the soft puffs of air falling from her plush lips. My eyes trail over the long lashes fanned against her cheeks and the relaxed curve of her dark brows, and an ache of pure longing spreads through my chest.