Dude with a Cool Car (Concrete Angels MC Book 2)

by Siobhan Muir

  “Like Eisenburg.”

  Coop nodded. “Yeah, exactly. You already knew Eisenburg was undercover FBI. But he also worked for Backlog, funneling money into their coffers that the FBI didn’t even know about. I knew he was Backlog. I’d been tracking him for a while. Hopkins, too. But what I didn’t know was if the Concrete Angels were in on it or just pawns in the game…”

  He paused, waiting for me to catch up with what he inferred. It took me a few moments. “You were investigating the club. You approached me because of that, not because you wanted me specifically.”

  “Yeah—well, no, not quite.” He had the grace to wear chagrin on his face. “I saw you first. I was watching the compound from up on the hill, and I swear you looked at me.”

  I remembered that day. The itching between my shoulder blades of someone watching me had been a constant thing. Just before I’d stepped into my cabin, I’d looked up on the hill above and seen the guy in the hills watching us. Watching me. He’d jerked when I winked at him and that perversely made my day. No wonder Coop came looking for me. I basically gave him an invitation.

  “So, when I saw you leave the compound, I sort of followed you to see where you went. And then I made sure to bump into you.” He didn’t smile as he met my gaze. “I could’ve followed anyone, but I really only wanted to get to know you.” He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck again. “It doesn’t excuse what I did. I wasn’t completely honest with you and I was investigating how much involvement the Concrete Angels had with Backlog. I now know your club was being used to hide their activities, and probably launder money, but I didn’t tell you everything up front.”

  He stepped closer to me and knelt down, resting his fisted hands on his knee. “I was investigating the club, but when I met you, all I wanted to do was be with you and forget the investigation. Nothing I said to you about me or my feelings was fake. I had to be sure the club wasn’t with Backlog, but I’m sorry I didn’t tell you everything.”

  His remorse was genuine and I could understand why he didn’t tell me what he was really doing here. But it still hurt. “Is that everything? I’m not a big fan of surprises, especially when it comes to being intimate with someone.”

  Coop opened his mouth to answer when someone knocked on the door.

  “Karma? It’s Loki. We need to talk, ja?”

  I sighed and rose. “Hold that thought.” I moved to the door as Coop stood up, and I pulled it open to reveal our crazy-ass leader.

  “What’s up, Loki?”

  He glanced in the cabin and caught sight of Coop watching him warily. “Oh, good, he’s dressed perfectly, ja? Have you told him yet?”

  “Told me what yet?” Coop raised an eyebrow.

  “Uh, no, we were getting to that.” I shot him a rueful grin as Loki nodded.

  “What were we just getting to?”

  “The strip show.” Loki grinned.

  Coop’s eyes widened. “What?”

  “She hasn’t told you yet?” Loki tsked and shook his head, but his grin never slipped. “And you had him dress like a cowboy. We give him a mask and he’ll be the Lone Ranger, ja? Det er bra.”

  “What the hell is he talking about, Karma?” Coop crossed his arms over his chest.

  “Yeah, so, um, every year, we do a strip show with detachable costumes and whatnot.” I rubbed one arms with the opposite hand. “The first year, the strip show was women strippers, but a few of us complained that it was unfair. We’d like to see something like Thunder From Down Under. So Loki agreed that some years would be women only, some would be mixed men and women, and some would be men only. Guess what year it is this year?”

  “Mixed?”

  “Yeah, no. Men only. Would you, uh, well, would you be willing enter?” I shifted under his gimlet gaze.

  “Me? Are you serious? What the hell do I know about stripping?”

  “Come on, Coop. You’d be great at it. We’d call you Deputy Dick and give you a mask, ja?”

  “Deputy Dick? Oh, you gotta be fuckin’ kidding me.” Coop scowled. “No. No way. This is insane.”

  “What if I told you to do it?” My voice changed, infused with some of my Madam tones. I liked the idea of watching Coop strut around on the stage in front of everyone. They’d be able to look and enjoy, but not touch. He was mine. “No one could touch you and you can keep the mask on your face.”

  He met my gaze, his unease warring with his need to obey his Madam. I was pushing him outside his comfort zone, but stripping was a minor requirement, just a little exhibitionism for me.

  “Are you sure, Ma’am?” His gaze hadn’t left mine, but I knew he really asked if I was okay with showing of what we both considered mine.

  “Yes, I think it would be fun.” I turned my gaze to Loki. “But only down to his skivvies. Anything under those are mine alone.”

  Loki pouted. “Aw, that’s no fun. Perhaps an ass shot?”

  “No. Down to the skivvies or not at all. Your choice.”

  I wasn’t giving anyone that treat. Loki, Attila, and the other members of the Concrete Angels would just have to enjoy Coop’s torso and legs. The good stuff is mine alone. I wasn’t about to share my man with porn star proportions.

  “Fine. Down to the skivvies.” Loki sounded resigned but his eyes twinkled. “The show starts at 2030 and he’ll go on as Deputy Dick. See you soon.”

  Loki damn-near skipped out the door and I closed it behind him, not sure I should laugh or cry. Coop hadn’t been with us for very long and he didn’t know all the weird things Loki sometimes made his crew do. Well, he’s been watching us for almost two weeks. That’s long enough to get a clue. I turned to meet his gaze, enjoying the bemused expression on his face.

  “Are you sure, Ma’am? I really don’t know dick about stripping, if you’ll pardon the expression.” He stood with his feet shoulder-width apart and his hands loose at his sides, but his shoulders had tightened.

  I strode up to him and grasped his chin, forcing him to look into my eyes as I soaked in his energy signature. I sensed anxiety, but also arousal and excitement as he thought of the possibility of stripping. I suspected he’d be easier with it if I made it a command of his Madam.

  “You’d be doing this for my pleasure, Coop. I want to see that gorgeous body up there, slowly taking your clothes off.” I gave him a slow grin but kept the steel in my voice. “You’ll be so sexy everyone will want you. But you’re doing this for me and my pleasure. Do you understand?”

  He held my gaze and swallowed hard. “Yes, Ma’am.”

  “Good. Then we’ll table our earlier discussion for later and I’ll let you get ready.”

  He blinked. “Ready, Ma’am?”

  “Yeah.” I released him and strode into the bedroom as he trailed behind me. “When I said down to your skivvies, these are what I had in mind.”

  I held up some brightly colored manties in jewel tones with cutout sides in black elastic. He swallowed again. But the sense I got was he wanted to wear those for me even while wearing them for others made him nervous. Aw yeah. My sexy private eye has an exhibitionist side. And I was gonna enjoy the hell out of it.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Cooper

  I’m gonna be a fuckin’ stripper.

  Of all the times I’d been undercover and had to do something odd, I’d never expected to be a stripper. But when Karma told me to do it for her pleasure, I couldn’t get out of my clothes fast enough. Fortunately, Samurai, Sam for short, had a wide collection of stripper clothing for both men and women, and I found a pair of rip-away jeans that would fit over my ass well enough. He appraised my shirt and hat, and pronounced me ready.

  “Now, all you have to do is go out there and shake your ass while you get undressed. It’s pretty easy and no one will care if you aren’t smooth.” Sam didn’t smile, but I swore he had a twinkle in his eye. “Just save the pants for last and rip ’em away with your ass facing the audience. That’ll give ’em a thrill, Deputy Dick.” He’d eyed my package while h
e said it and I suspected he’d like to see it as much as the audience would. “You sure you won’t go down to skin?”

  “Yeah. I’m sure.”

  He shook his head. “That’s too bad.” He shrugged. “You’ll be dancing to this old 90s rock song. It’s one of Karma’s favorites and she requested it.” I hoped it didn’t have a fast beat because there was nothing sexy about bouncing balls in a banana hammock. “And wear this on your undies somewhere.” He handed me an honest-to-glory tin star that read “marshal.” I damn near choked. “I suggest you pin it to the front of your package, but make sure you don’t prick your dick.”

  He turned away and I held the star in my hand, afraid to move. Did they know who I was? Had Oriana Hunter already told them? Granted, I hadn’t told Karma the whole truth about who I was, but they wouldn’t be this subtle about letting me know they’d found out, right? They’d just run me off or kill me.

  “Need some help with that?” A gravelly voice with a northern English accent cut through my thoughts and I looked up to meet the eerie gaze of the balding man with more scruff on his face than his head.

  “What?”

  “Your star. You need help with pinnin’ it on, Deputy Dick?”

  “Uh, no. Thanks. I think I got it.” I shook my head as I pinned the badge on my shirt instead. There was no way I was shaking my star for everyone.

  “Suit yerself, mate.” He shrugged into his cut and matching leather tear-away pants.

  I raised an eyebrow. “Who are you supposed to be?”

  “The Schlong Ride.” He grinned and winked as I choked out a laugh.

  “Accurate?”

  His grin widened. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”

  I laughed at his arrogance and shook my head, grateful for the small moment of humor. I’d missed that in the Marshal Service. With the infiltration of Backlog, everyone had been edgy and withdrawn, me included. Laughter was a thing of the past, and sharing it with a rough biker while preparing for something as crazy as a strip show eased my heart.

  “All right, guys, get ready to strut your stuff.” Sam nodded with approval at my outfit with the tin star on my chest. “We’ll start with The Kilted Nutsack, followed by Firehose, The Schlong Ride, Deputy Dick, Pocket Rocket, Kiddie Pool Shark, Happy Hardon, Harry Longballs, and Wally Ballbanger. Go out there and shake your asses for the ladies and some of the gents.”

  Attila hadn’t changed much, though he’d added a shirt under his cut and a pair of lace-up Roman style sandals. Sam made the announcement that the show was about to start and the feminine crowd went wild. Attila shot me a grin and adjusted his package before Sam announced The Kilted Nutsack. Then the big Scot sauntered through the door to what I’d discovered was a little movie theater with a raised dais. Apparently, the Concrete Angels had enough of these shows throughout their year that it was worth the up-keep. A biker named Gadget ran the sound and light boards, and she kept the projectors for the movies in top condition.

  “Bad Romance” began to play through the speakers and Attila twirled onto the stage, his kilt flying around him like a pinwheel. Despite his size, the man was remarkably light on his feet and I tried to remember some of his moves for when it was my turn. The crowd seemed to enjoy it, high-pitched laughter and squeals echoing through the room. Attila soaked it up and he finished with a flourish, ripping his kilt off his body as he bent over and wiggled his ass, allowing his balls to swing between his thighs. The crowd went wild as he sauntered off the stage.

  “All right, people, you sound all hot and bothered. Guess you’re gonna need some cooling off. Say hello to Firehose!”

  The next guy to get on stage wore a fireman’s outfit complete with red suspenders and a helmet, but he moved with a sinuous grace that made my back ache. He used a chair as a pivot point to flip himself over and flash skin, and I thought I’d do the same. If nothing else, it would be a good way to show off my ass with my back to the crowd. Firehose danced to “Hot Hot Hot” and if I’d swung more toward the bisexual side, I would’ve found him sexy as hell. As it was, I found myself nodding to the salsa beat.

  “Woohoo! I’m definitely feelin’ hot, hot, hot, right ladies? But we don’t want to get too worked up, so let’s slow it down a little for The Schlong Ride.”

  The man in leather with scruff and the northern English accent headed onto the stage to the opening chords of “You Can Leave Your Hat On” and the crowd cheered. He moved with practiced ease in his stipping moves and I watched with my jaw dropping. He was impressive and I hoped I wouldn’t disappoint my Madam with my lack of skill. When he ripped off his leather pants, he exposed his white mesh “manties”, as Karma had called them. His cock and balls could be glimpsed behind the mesh, along with the crack of his ass, and the crowd roared its approval. He sauntered off stage with his cocky grin still in place.

  “All yours, mate.” He winked at me as the other guys pounded him on the back with, “Nice job, Friar.”

  Holy shit, I’ve been outdanced by a man of the cloth...or lack thereof.

  I swallowed hard and grabbed the chair as Sam nodded to me before he headed for the stage to announce me.

  “Oh yeah, did you enjoy your long, slow ride, ladies? Well, then, let’s pick it up a bit in the “Wild Wild West” with our next guy. He’ll take you back to the 90s, but he’ll give you an easy ride. Give it up for Deputy Dick.”

  The drums and cowbell intro started and I sauntered on stage, setting the chair in the center of the space. I kept my back to the crowd and stood with my feet shoulder-width apart, bouncing one heel to the beat. I hadn’t danced like this since I was in high school, but most of the moves came back to me. Of course, I’d never stripped while dancing, but I figured it wouldn’t take much to modify the moves.

  When the voice started, I spun around and swayed my hips, undulating my body as I skipped my feet across the stage. I looked out into the crowd, searching for Karma. She sat to one side with a smile curling her lips. I winked at her and rocked my hips, mimicking the motions of sex as I opened each button on my shirt. I yanked the tails out of my belted jeans and showed off my abs to the crowd. They cheered at the view and I worked the shirt over my shoulders, leaning back with my hips thrust forward.

  I moseyed over to straddle the chair with my back to the crowd and pulled the shirt off, looking over my right shoulder with a grin. It was stupid and silly as hell, but the cheers and squeals of the people in the audience made me feel good and egged me on. I tossed the shirt to the side, relieved I no longer wore the tin star, and stood up, presenting my ass to the audience. I used the back of the chair to support my upper body as I wriggled a bit then dismounted like getting off a horse. It wasn’t as smooth as Friar, but the crowd didn’t seem to mind.

  I strutted across the stage, unbuckling my belt. It didn’t have a big cowboy buckle on it, but the act of pulling it out of the loops seemed to electrify the audience. I glanced toward Karma as I tossed the belt after the shirt. A big grin split her face and she cheered along with the rest. Her pleasure made my chest puff up and I strutted my stuff a little harder to the beat of the song.

  In the end I damn near put my back out when I bent over and tried to rip the jeans off. I’d done everything Sam showed me to get them ready for the big rip, but they resisted my initial jerk. I had to roll over and do a full body plank, face up, to get the damn things to start the Velcro to release.

  The only saving grace came when I rolled up onto my knees and pulled the jeans off from behind me. They finally split off my thighs and calves, revealing the jewel-toned, cut-out side manties Karma insisted I wear. Just the thought of her watching me had my cock filling out the pouch of them with a decent hardon as I faced the crowd, left leg bent, right hand on my hip, and left hand holding the crown of my Stetson on my head.

  The song ended and my chest rose and fell like a bellows along with my abs, but the crowd seemed pleased with my performance. Karma cheered just has loud and hard as the rest and my heart damn near burst.
I jogged off the stage, collecting the chair and my clothes as I went.

  The next guy after me only came up to my chest in height and wore a sequined jacket against his dark skin. He snagged the chair from me and headed out onto the stage as Sam announced him.

  “Damn, ladies, Deputy Dick got me hot and bothered. I’m gonna need a cold shower. Whew!” Sam wiped his forehead with the back of his hand and the audience laughed. “But in the meantime, we got the Pocket Rocket encouraging you to ‘Come and Get Your Love.’”

  Say what you want about the little guy, he could move, and he was sexy as hell. The women in the audience were very impressed. I laughed as I put my pants back on and shrugged into my shirt with the tin star. It felt weird to wear it because it fit me so well even if it was just a costume accessory. None of the people around me knew how accurate it was sitting on my chest.

  You have to tell Karma the truth.

  I bit my lip as Pocket Rocket finished to cheers and Sam introduced Oriana Hunter’s man, Scott, as Kiddie Pool Shark. I laughed along with the crowd. The name fit him considering she’d completely skunked him at pool. Strip pool. So he belonged in the kiddie pool.

  “Nice job, Coop.” The man known as Firehose stepped up to me and clapped me on the shoulder. “For a spur-or-the-moment entry, you had some good moves out there. Name’s Torch.”

  Oddly enough, his praise made me feel pretty damn good. “Thanks. I learned from watching all the rest of you. Your moves were badass.”

  He snorted and I swear I saw tendrils of smoke rising from his nostrils, though I hadn’t seen him smoking any cigarettes. “I’ve had a lot of practice over the years. Before I joined the Concrete Angels, I was a stripper at clubs all over the world. It was an easy way to make money and keep in shape.”