Steel: Bracken Ridge Rebels MC (Book 1)

by Mackenzy Fox

  “Yes, my husband is Richie Hutchinson, President of the Bracken Ridge Rebels,” she tells me it like it should be obvious.

  I swallow hard. I don’t understand how a person like me can be this unlucky.

  “I….I had no idea,” I admit, but really, am I surprised? Don’t they own everything in this stupid town?

  “Well as I say, I’m happy to take the listing and run with it, it’s a really great property and while the market is slow I don’t think we’ll have a problem getting close to asking, and I also just wanted to assure you whatever we discuss is strictly confidential.”

  I press the bridge of my nose with my thumb and forefinger to try and stop the oncoming headache.

  It’s not like I can fire her ass now. I kick myself for not doing my research more thoroughly.

  I mean, I guess there is only one real estate broker’s office in town, so it’s not like I have much of a choice regardless, but the way my lucks going I dread to think who I’m going to run into next.

  “I’ll drop by tomorrow,” I say defeated, I rest my head on the steering wheel and contemplate what this means, I feel a nuclear migraine coming on.

  “Perfect, and don’t worry, as I say the property has a lot of pluses, I’ll get the photographer out early next week, I’m going to get you the very best price I can.” At least she seems chirpy.

  “Appreciate that.” I manage, defeated, wanting this conversation to be over.

  “See you tomorrow.” She sing-songs as if my life hasn’t just been run over repeatedly by a freight train.

  I toss my phone on the seat next to me and then bang my head repeatedly on the wheel, anyone watching me will think I’m insane but I don’t care, seriously.

  Fuck my life.

  *

  Steel

  A whole week’s gone by and I’ve not come up with any solution to the Sienna situation, other than give her space. Space I’m finding difficult after seeing her in that hot pink yoga outfit the other day. Some things should be illegal.

  If she were my ol’ lady I wouldn’t let her out the house looking like that, she’d stop traffic. I’ve even thought about just propositioning her once and for all, screw Gunner. The way she’d looked at me at the gym was sinful, she couldn’t take her eyes off my body.

  There’s nothing quite like a beautiful woman appreciating the goods to make my gym sessions all worthwhile. She may still hate me, that is actually very probable, but she can’t deny the sexual chemistry going on.

  I don’t want to see her again because I may just do exactly what I shouldn’t, given half the chance, and that’s a very bad idea. That’s why tonight I plan on checking out the smorgasbord at Church, it’s Friday night after all.

  Hutch has organized a band this weekend so everybody will be there. I don’t have to think about work, bills, or piled up invoices, or her. Maybe I’ll find some strange to sink my aching dick into and forget about life for a while. Yeah. That’s what I need, and that’s exactly what I’m going to get.

  I still keep a room at Church where I could sleep if I need, or as I plan on tonight; to use a bed and drive it home when I nail some hot chick to the mattress, there’ll be very little sleeping going on.

  The bars pumping when I arrive, some of the crowd aren’t part of the club but hang here on the weekends, or they’re friends of friends, and that ultimately brought in new chicks.

  The band are regulars and played all different kinds of rock and some country music, nothing too hard core, they’re in full swing. During the winter we usually have a bonfire lit when it’s cold out, but tonight there’s a couple of large fire pits outside, someone’s ordered in the wood-fire pizza guy and the drinks are flowing.

  Behind the bar is Summer, Gunner’s sister, who is just as pretty as he is, and Ginger one of the ol’ ladies belonging to Knuckles, and yeah he got his name because he used to fight, bare-fisted. He’s retired now but Ginger still helps out at club functions and important events because she can sling drinks like nobody’s business, and she keeps us boys in line.

  “Hey beautiful,” I say as Ginger winks at me when I stroll up to the bar. She puts a large glass of whiskey in front of me before I can blink. That’s my kind of woman.

  “You look rough,” she remarks, eyeing me in a motherly way.

  “Thanks,” I grunt but I know it’s true. It’s been a long drawn out week, and though Lucy helped a lot with my bookwork, I’ve still got shitloads to do. I’ll give myself tonight.

  “Anytime sweetheart.”

  Next to me Brock turns and tells me I look like shit too. One thing about this crowd; they won’t lie to you.

  “Nice to see you too, brother,” I mutter and throw the whiskey back, it’s top shelf, none of that cheap shit. I give Ginger a wink as she turns to leave.

  “Does this have anything to do with that little golden haired Cali chick?” He asks, cocking a brow at me. He’s only just shorter than me at six-five, all muscle, he boxed in high school and turned professional for six or seven years.

  “Don’t even say her name.” I warn.

  He has the audacity to chuckle.

  “Prez told me, sure you can handle her?”

  His mocking tone does nothing for my temper. She’s making me look like a god damned fool. I have a certain stature and reputation to uphold around here, I get shit done, that’s my whole purpose of existence of the club, as well as security and recruiting and keeping the prospects in line. Speaking of which, some of them may need a reminder tonight who they’re leering at.

  Just because I’m drinking doesn’t mean I don’t see everything that goes on around here. Club sisters are out of bounds, as are ol’ ladies; they obviously belong only to fully patched members, but the regulars, sweet butts and chicks that aren’t officially claimed are fair game on the pick up stakes. Chicks don’t come here unless they want to have a good time, they know the deal, and by the looks of Gunner, who has two girls on each side of the couch and one on his knee, the party’s in full swing, greedy bastard should leave some for the rest of us.

  “Of course I can handle her.” I grimace at the thought, my eyes flick to Colt, one of the prospects talking to a chick I haven’t seen before. “Nothin’ I haven’t handled before, what is this anyway fifty fuckin’ questions?”

  He holds up his hands in surrender. “No need to bite my head off.”

  I give him a sideways glance. “Been a long week brother, I got shit up to my eyeballs.”

  “You been on that computer again?”

  Everyone knew how useless I am when it came to technology. I hate it.

  I grunt. “Whoever invented those stupid machines has a lot to answer for.”

  “So why don’t you hire someone?”

  “In this town?” I bark, like it’s his fault I can’t hold down a permanent receptionist.

  “There’s plenty of trustworthy people, perhaps you should leave the interviewing to somebody less intimidating, and someone who doesn’t just hire chicks depending on how big their cup size is.”

  He had a good point. The last one did have huge knockers; pity she couldn’t actually do any book work or know anything about mechanics.

  “I’m fucked,” I declare, downing the rest of the whiskey and turning around to put my glass on the edge of the bar, its quickly refilled.

  “That we can agree on,” he says as we clink glasses.

  “Good crowd,” I mutter as Hutch walks toward us; he has his arm slung around his ol’ lady Kirsty. She’s still looking good for her age, nothing a bit of botox and silicone hasn’t fixed but she’s still foxy at fifty-something. She’s got bottle blonde hair and wears a lot of makeup, but she looks after herself, you gotta admire that. She puts twenty somethings to shame in her patent leather pants and leather biker jacket.

  I imagine Sienna wearing my cut and almost choke on my own thoughts. Ol’ ladies don’t have to wear your cut, your club colors, but some of the ladies like to, like Kirsty.

  “Hey boys,�
� she says, then looks as me and narrows her eyes. “You not sleeping honey?”

  I shake my head, muttering.

  “I worry about my boys,” she goes on, looking concerned. “What’s keeping you up? Girl troubles?” She gives me a conspiring wink.

  “Nothing I can’t handle,” I reply as Hutch rolls his eyes at me.

  “No news then.” He assumes gruffly. He’s still not happy with my lack of progress. Everyone just needs to stop hassling me, Rome wasn’t built in a day and all that shit.

  “I’ve got a plan.” I assure him, though I have no clue right now what that is.

  Hutch gives me the side eye. “Fuckin’ women.”

  “She actually seems very nice,” Kirsty pipes up giving Hutch a look which he ignores. “If you took the time to get to know her better, she’s very sweet, a little naïve, but sweet all the same, so you just be nice Steel and not your usual self.”

  Oh how I love being told off by someone other than my mother.

  “Well, maybe I should send my wife in to sort her out,” Hutch snorts. “She seems to have done a better job getting to know her than my own guys, perhaps I should bring her into the meeting room while I’m at it, kick your sorry asses out.”

  Kirsty shakes her head but pats a hand on his cut affectionately. These two are so lovey dovey it’s almost sickening. He kisses her chastely.

  I wonder if I’ll ever find someone I’ll actually want to be monogamous with. I have no idea why that thought just crept into my head. I don’t want a steady, I don’t need anything permanent and I sure as hell don’t need no ol’ lady.

  “Deanna here tonight?” I ask, trying to divert my thoughts. Deanna is their daughter and a couple of years older than Lily.

  “She had to work late,” Kirsty explains. “With school finishing up she never stops, I barely ever see her these days.”

  Deanna’s hot like her mama but dark haired like Hutch, and though sweet on the outside, she packs a mean punch. She takes no shit from any of us and is what you’d call a wild child.

  “She works too much,” Hutch grumbles as they move on to work the crowd.

  Prez is fiercely protective of his girls, of all the women in the club, that’s something I do respect. He has no time for men who treated women badly, he might be a sexist asshole and commands respect, but he doesn’t condone violence against women, none of us do.

  Lee, one of the other prospects, passes by picking up empty glasses.

  “Hey, pencil dick,” I call to him as he turns to look at me.

  “Hey Steel.”

  “Who’s that chick talking to Colt?”

  She’s not a hang around. She looks a little bit out of place, but the conversation seems like it’s going a little bit too good in Colt’s favor. She laughs at something he says and tosses her hair over her shoulder like girls do when they like something. She’s pretty enough; has long brown hair, a bit on the skinny side but her ass is perky. Maybe she’ll do.

  “Dunno,” he replies with a shrug and goes back to his duty.

  I sip my drink, watching her. Her eyes flick to mine suddenly from across the room and she gives me a little smile. She was prettier when she smiled. I don’t like her hair though, it’s not long enough, and her tits are too small. That isn’t a turn on, not like somebody else I know.

  I blow out a breath. I’m a man and extremely frustrated right now, I’m not ashamed to admit I jerked off over Sienna in that yoga outfit, I seem to be doing that a lot lately.

  I take another long gulp of my drink without flinching at the sting as I watch the girl flirt with Colt. Every now and again she looks over at me, it kind of irritates me to be honest, there’s no loyalty anymore, she shouldn’t be laughing and joking with one guy and making eyes with another. Of course, he’s a prospect, whether she realizes this and his insignificance is beyond me and I really don’t care, and it also doesn’t stop me from going over there. I push off the bar and stride over like a man on a mission to where they’re sitting. Why Colt is sitting down enjoying himself is a mystery.

  “Hey Steel….” Colt begins, when he sees my face and where I’m bee-lining towards his face drops with annoyance, but he wisely refrains from saying anything. As a prospect you are the bottom-dweller of the club, the only thing higher than you is dog turd, so Colt will watch on as I take who-ever-she-is away from him so he can get back to work. He won’t question me, not if he wants a fist in his face and his ass beaten.

  “You’re meant to be working.” I point at him then turn my attention to the girl. She’s not as pretty up close but it’s not her face I want to see.

  “What’s your name?” I ask her as she looks up at me blinking, she’s slightly astonished at me standing over her. Yeah, I get that a lot.

  “Melanie,” she says a little shyly. Yep she’s definitely new around here.

  “Has this weasel dick even gotten you a drink?” I ask, disgust in my tone.

  “Hey, I got her a drink…” He begins, but shuts up as I glance at him again, I haven’t given him permission to speak and I’m losing patience here, I need to know if she’s in or out.

  I lean closer and whisper in her ear. “Want to come out the back and see what a real biker looks like up against the wall?”

  Her eyes go wide as she glances down my body, lingering on my crotch, she looks back up at me. I’m not a pretty boy like Gunner but I can tell she likes what she sees.

  “Answer me,” I say harshly. “Yes or no?”

  She’s not drunk, thank god, I don’t do inebriated chicks.

  “Ye….yes,” she stutters, Colt’s long forgotten.

  “You get back to work,” I bark at Colt as he watches us.

  I grab her by the hand and yank her off the chair, ignoring Colt’s very pissed off look as I practically drag her across the room.

  Summer gives me a serious eye roll and shakes her head as I pass and make my way down the corridor toward the back store cupboard, very classy. Nailing her against a keg won’t be the worst thing I can do tonight, though I don’t exactly have a hard on yet and hopefully she’ll do something about that.

  Maybe if I imagine it’s Sienna…… I punch myself in the face internally for about the hundredth time today. All Sienna has to do is glance my way and I’m standing to attention, ready and able. Maybe I could picture her in that yoga outfit again, that might help me get it up.

  We get to the end of the hallway and I pull her into the room, she’s looking at me with a little bit of trepidation all of a sudden, now we’re alone this seems a lot more real. I’m six-foot six so I can appear to be slightly intimidating, or so I’ve been told.

  I don’t think she’s very smart, but if she wants to go, I’ll obviously let her, I’m not a total caveman.

  “You sure you wanna do this?” I say, grazing her body with my eyes. “You wanna back out the doors behind me…” I thumb towards her pending escape as she takes me in.

  She licks her lips and then before my very eyes she pulls her tube dress down and stands there in her black underwear. She’s nicer without clothes on. At least my dick seems to have woken up a bit, though still at half-mast, it’s better than nothing.

  “I’ve always wanted to do a biker,” she admits excitedly, though she could be saying her hail Mary’s for all I care, I’ve tuned out, she reaches for my belt buckle, eager little thing. It’s a pity her lips aren’t full and luscious like……fuck, why can’t I just give it a rest?

  If I could stop picturing Sienna doing this and my dick in her mouth then I would, I wouldn’t put myself through the torture on purpose now would I?

  She tugs to remove my shirt and cut but that’s not happening, only the jeans and the boxer briefs have to drop slightly to get this done, nothing else. No need to get carried away.

  “You have a dirty mouth Melanie, how old are you?” I ask quickly, though she has to be over twenty-one, I hope.

  “Twenty-three and a half,” she replies. Wow, like that whole half a year really makes a di
fference.

  That’s quite a bit younger than me by twelve years but I don’t ponder that too closely. I back her up against the wall and lift her by the ass as she squeals as I sit her on one of the Kegs.

  Jesus. I wish she was Sienna.

  “Are you gonna get my dick out or just fuckin’ fumble around for half an hour?” I bark.

  I’m being an absolute ass, but it’s clear she doesn’t expect anything less because she doesn’t balk at my tone. She also doesn’t get time to answer because at that exact moment my phone buzzes in my back pocket. She’s barely got the zipper down.

  I ignore it completely, even though I know it’s Lily because she’s set the ring tone to some stupid song that I can’t fathom how to get rid of.

  Not a good time Lil. Kinda busy here.

  I go to kiss her, hoping that a bit of tongue action might get me more in the mood, but the phone goes off again before I even reach her.

  I sigh out loud, at least the buckle’s undone, she’s now unbuttoning the top button and going for the zipper, hallelujah. I reach in my back pocket for my phone and glance at the screen.

  I read the text, then read it again.

  “Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” I mutter as the girl stops and looks up at me. I run my hand through my hair as I instantly turn away and press send to call Lily immediately, I hope this is some kind of joke. The phone rings but she doesn’t pick up. I try again. It does the exact same thing.

  “Is something wrong?” says Melissa or Melanie or whatever the fuck her name is.

  I reach down and chuck her dress at her. “Sorry sweetheart, parties over, get dressed, I gotta go.”

  I leave her standing there staring after me, it looks like Colt is going to get lucky after all, just as well because I could barely even get it up. I stride back into the bar and search for Brock and Bones. Shit. Lily’s in trouble, I need my guys.

  “Back so soon?” Brock hollers as I spot him by the pool table and march over in a couple of strides, he’s rubbing one of the sweet butts Chelsea’s ass with his hand as she tries to take her shot. He sees my face and immediately stops and straightens.