DIRTY ALPHAS: The Alpha Bad Boy Collection

by Franca Storm

  “Ain’t going nowhere, babe,” he says, stopping in front of me.

  God, he looks as annoyingly hot as ever. And the smell of him—a mixture of sandalwood, cologne and leather—it intoxicates me. Urgh. Get a grip, Rox.

  He looks me over for a moment, taking me in, and then his eyes rest on my belly. So Smiter told him then? Urgh. I figured as much. The whole brotherhood thing and all.

  His gaze wavers and he bites his lip like he’s trying to keep it together. He reaches out to touch me.

  I step back. “No.”

  “You’re pregnant,” he breathes.

  “You didn’t need to come all the way down here. I’m handling it.”

  His gaze snaps to mine, his eyes narrowed. “No you fucking ain’t.”

  “It’s my choice, Neil.”

  “Like hell it is. That’s my kid in there, Rox. You ain’t doing shit to it. You feel me?”

  “You can’t stop me!”

  His eyes flash. “Yeah?”

  “Is that supposed to be a threat? If so, you’re making a big mistake and you know it.”

  “You ain’t getting rid of my kid,” he growls.

  That is it! How dare he come in here and start making demands? I shove my hands into his chest, knocking him back. “You blew me off, Neil! Fine, we’re done then! I’m pissed that you didn’t have the balls to say it to my face and actually tell me, but I get it. So fuck the hell off.”

  “I love you, woman!”

  “Oh, save it. You’ve already fucked the biker princess every which way. Mission accomplished, right?”

  He grabs my arm and jerks me into him. “Weren’t ‘bout that and you know it.”

  “What I know is that I haven’t heard squat from you for three weeks!”

  “No, it’s…it’s…complicated,” he mumbles, at a loss. Well, that’s a first. Neil speechless.

  “What?”

  “I can’t…I can’t say.”

  I wrench my arm from his grasp. “Just get out.”

  “Rox, you gonna get rid of my kid? Tell me right now!” he thunders as I make my way back upstairs.

  I don’t even bother turning around as I answer him over my shoulder, “I have an appointment tomorrow morning.”

  I hear him mutter something like that’s it behind me.

  And the next thing I know, his arms are around me and he’s hauling me over his shoulder in a fireman lift.

  “Neil! No! Stop it! Put me down!”

  He doesn’t answer. He just carries me out of the house.

  Moments later, I’m being lowered into the passenger seat of a truck.

  “What are you doing?” I demand, struggling against his hold as he buckles my seatbelt.

  Something snaps to my left wrist and then my right. I look down and I’m horrified to see that I’m now cuffed to the seat.

  “Argh! Neil!”

  He slams the door closed and heads back into my house.

  I struggle against the cuffs for God knows how long before I finally give up and slump back against the seat in defeat.

  I watch him emerge from the house about five minutes later with one of my gym bags thrown over his shoulder. He locks the door and returns to the truck. He throws the bag on the backseat and then climbs into the driver’s seat and thrusts his key angrily into the ignition, revving the engine.

  “What is this?” I demand as he buckles his seatbelt.

  “Told you, you ain’t getting rid of my kid. Gotta keep you in my sights ‘til you calm down and come to your senses. Taking you to the clubhouse.”

  The clubhouse? “No way! You are not taking me to that hellhole! No, Neil!” I scream, struggling against the cuffs.

  “Stop it. You’ll hurt your wrists,” he responds calmly and unnervingly detached.

  “I swear to God, you don’t let me out of here and I’ll—”

  “You’ll what?” he demands, his eyes darting between me and the road as he pulls out of my driveway. “What you gonna do, Rox? I got you cuffed to the damn seat, cuz you’re being so fucking unreasonable. You gonna talk me to death, that it? Cuz I ain’t letting you out. I know you. Wouldn’t put it past you to jump outta a moving truck and I ain’t letting you injure yourself or our baby.”

  Our baby. His words reach something deep inside me, squeezing my heart in a vice grip. I shake it off. I’m too pissed and hurt to give into it. “I don’t want it.”

  “Cuz you’re mad at me.”

  “No. I’ve never wanted kids.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s here,” he says, eyeing my belly. “That’s our kid in there, Rox.”

  His words silence both of us for a long while as we try to wrap our heads around what’s happening here.

  He breaks through the silence, saying softly, “I’m sorry I left you. I…there weren’t no choice.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  He shakes his head.

  “Club business? You’re kidding me, right? You’re gonna pull that bullshit right now with me when things are this extreme?”

  “Not club business. My business. I stayed away, cuz I was tryin’ to protect you. I can’t say more than that.”

  “Hard to believe, Ax.” His jaw ticks at my use of his nickname. He knows it means I’m putting a wall between us. “Why the hell would you be here now then if staying away was supposedly protecting me?” The very idea of that is infuriating in itself, because I don’t need protection. Stupid macho biker crap!

  “Cuz Smiter told me you’re pregnant! Why the fuck do you think?”

  “So, you stay away from me, but come back into my life for our unborn child?”

  “That ain’t what—”

  “Save it. Just save it. I’m done talking.”

  He growls and glares at me. Yeah, I am being unreasonable, but he deserves it.

  “Turn the radio on, will you? Seeing as though I can’t, because of these damn cuffs.”

  He scowls at me, but switches it on anyway. Every Rose Has Its Thorn by Poison is playing. Great. The lyrics hit way too close to home right now. Oh well, it’s better than listening to his angry heavy breathing.

  I rest my head back against my seat and turn my head to look out of the window. That’s when I see he’s driving like an old lady. Incredibly slow. Shocking for a biker.

  “Are you gonna drive at a snail’s pace and draw this out, Ax?” I call over the music, my eyes still focused outside. I don’t want to look at him right now.

  “You’re pregnant.”

  I scoff. “Oh, please.”

  “My truck, my rules, Rox. Thought you didn’t wanna talk?”

  “I don’t.”

  “Then shut the fuck up and let me drive,” he snaps.

  Argh! Fine. I close my eyes and try to fall back to sleep after the idiot woke me up at two in the morning!

  ***

  I kick open the door to the clubhouse, Rox’s gym bag slung over one shoulder and her slung over my other. After our blow up in the car, she fell asleep quick. She’s gotta be exhausted, cuz she didn’t even stir when I lifted her outta my truck.

  As soon as I walk in I see a bunch of the boys staring my way. And not at me.

  It’s cuz Rox ain’t wearing nothing but a silk robe that barely covers her ass. Like I had any hope of getting her to change before we left.

  I shoot ‘em a warning glance and growl, “Keep your eyes off my girl or I’ll pound you all into the ground. You feel me?”

  They nod and look away. Damn straight. Perverts.

  I carry her up to my room and kick open the door. I drop the gym bag full of a bunch of clothes and shit I packed for her earlier. Then I pull the duvet cover back and gently lower her into the bed. I tuck her in and step back.

  Damn, she looks so peaceful when she’s sleeping. So small and innocent.

  I press my hand to her belly.

  It makes my heart ache real bad.

  She ain’t got no idea what staying away from her did to me. It’s, hands down, the hardest thin
g I’ve ever had to do. Every fucking moment of the day, all I thought ‘bout was calling her. Needing to hear her voice, to see her, to touch her. But Dealer was right: I put her in danger just by being with her. It was selfish of me not to consider that.

  But, the second we met, there weren’t no time to consider nothing. It was so fast, so intense and before I knew it I was in the thick of it. In love with her.

  And now she’s pregnant? Carrying my kid? Fuck. I can’t stay away no more. Ain’t no way I can justify leaving my pregnant girlfriend alone. Not for no reason. I ain’t that guy.

  Shit, I dunno. I can’t have her in danger cuz of me either.

  I gotta figure some shit out fast.

  I press my lips to her forehead, before forcing myself to step back.

  “I love you, beautiful girl. You got no idea just how much.”

  Chapter 33

  ~Ax~

  “Yeah? Well, fuck you too! When you’ve calmed down and you’re ready to talk, you come find me! ‘Til then, enjoy your little temper tantrum!” I thunder at Rox, before slamming the door to my room and storming out into the hall.

  I thrust my fist into the wall. “Shit!”

  Someone clears their throat behind me. Great.

  I turn to see a bunch of the boys standing there staring at me. Smiter, Runner, Grit and Trig.

  Smiter’s shaking his head. Grit and Runner look like they’ve just witnessed something fucking hilarious. Trig’s just rolling his eyes.

  “What?” I snap.

  “Woman trouble?” Runner asks, fighting to keep a straight face.

  He snorts and that’s it. The four of ‘em burst out laughing, unable to help themselves.

  When they calm down, Grit clears his throat and tells me, “Your temper ain’t gonna work here.”

  Is he really giving me advice? I thought he hated Rox. As the only married guy outta the four of ‘em, he’s got the experience under his belt on how to keep his woman happy. Runner’s a whore. Smiter ain’t as bad, but he don’t do relationships. And Trig’s been divorced three times.

  “What you expect me to do when she won’t listen?”

  “You listen, dickhead.”

  Smiter nods.

  “Nah, he needs to tame the bitch,” Runner comments.

  I start towards him. “What’d you call her?”

  Smiter throws out his arm, holding me back.

  “Runner, take a hike,” Grit says.

  Runner grumbles, but takes off anyway. He knows better than to take on Grit. The guy could pound him into the ground in a second. Got close to a hundred pounds on him.

  “Let’s you and me get a drink,” Grit says.

  I blow out a breath. “Fine.”

  As we start walking away, I notice Smiter lingering in the hallway. “What you doing?”

  “Gonna see her.”

  What? “She ain’t dressed. No way you going in there.”

  He holds up his hands. “All right. Chill.”

  I know he was staying with Rox while he was in Brockford, but how close did they get exactly? I can’t help it; jealously surges through me. Ain’t liking this one bit.

  “Ax, we need to talk first,” Trig says, cutting through my thoughts.

  “All right. There’ll be a whiskey waiting for you,” Grit says taking off with Smiter following. He glares at me as he walks by and I glare right back at him. I ain’t forgotten ‘bout him taking his fist to me. Shit, yeah, the way he was defending her then too. Just more fuel to add to the fire.

  “Ax!” Trig hisses at me.

  I blink back my thoughts and pull my shit together. “Yeah, I’m with you,” I say, folding my arms across my chest and leaning against the wall opposite him.

  “I ain’t heard nothing from you on Skinner. What’s going on?”

  “A whole load of nothing,” I lie. “I’m reaching out to my guys, tryin’ to get a lead.”

  Trig nods slowly. “I see.”

  “No reports from Rox or our guys in Brockford on any sightings either,” I add.

  “I want that asshole in the ground, Ax.”

  “No more than me, Trig. I feel you.”

  He slaps my shoulder. “Keep me posted.”

  “You got it.”

  He turns to go, but stops and smiles back at me, “Ax?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m glad we’re on the same page now after our disagreement a few weeks back. Need you in my corner, brother.”

  I smile back. “Yeah, Prez.”

  He walks off and I scowl at his back. Brother? What a load of bull.

  My fists are clenched so fucking tightly that I’m almost drawing blood from my palms. I’ve gotten pretty damn good at acting with him ever since Dealer told me what he’s really tryin’ to do here. But it still makes my blood boil. Tryin’ to screw me over is the ultimate betrayal.

  This club’s supposed to be a brotherhood, but with him as Prez—the way he is these days—it’s fucking all that up. The crazy bastard’s tryin’ to take me out. In a real smart way too, making me think he’s doing me a favor by giving me club backing to go after Skinner when really he’s tryin’ to send me to my death.

  I hate this shit. Hate keeping something as huge as this from the boys. Dealer being alive—the former Prez of the club—ain’t no small thing. But I got no choice. The more people who know, the more likely someone’ll slip up and make Trig suspicious.

  No, for now, I gotta play this safe.

  ***

  Well, I didn’t have just one drink with Grit. He was on a role, hitting me with his relationship words of wisdom and I ended up drinking through the afternoon right into the night. Shit, it’s been a while since I’ve been this fucked up.

  At least I’m finally relaxed. Subdued, is a better word. Can’t really be relaxed with all the shit going on even if I wanted to be.

  I ain’t spoken to Rox since our blow up this morning after she freaked out when she woke up and found me sleeping next to her. Apparently, I had no right, cuz I took off on her.

  If she only knew the truth. If I could tell her, she’d see how much doing that killed me and how much I fucking want her. I gotta find another way to show her, cuz it’s clear where her anger’s coming from now. I can’t believe it took Grit to make me realize it, but then again I’m dense when it comes to all this relationship stuff. I dunno the goddamn rules.

  She’s hurt. That’s why she’s so damn angry and flares up at every single thing I say right now.

  She’s been holed up in my room all day. I packed her cell phone before I drove her up here, so she’s probably been doing her business and shit on it. At least she’s occupied. Good, cuz the last thing I want is her coming down here tonight. The clubhouse had been on lockdown for weeks, but with no move from the Mavs in all that time and the fact that morale needed a boost from the stresses and isolation of lockdown, Trig decided it was a good idea to throw a pussy party tonight. Shit. Of all the fucking nights. I’ve already recognized ‘bout half a dozen bitches I’ve fucked in the past. Some of ‘em are recent too, just before I met Rox. Thankfully, Grit’s been fielding ‘em away.

  We’re taking a break from the craziness right now, having a smoke outside.

  “Appreciate your help, brother.”

  He shrugs. “I got some knowledge. Just happy I finally got someone to share it with other than Mullet.”

  Yeah, Mullet ain’t exactly the poster boy for a great husband. Sure, he’s been married for ‘round twenty years, but he fucks ‘round on his wife all the time and don’t apologize for it. Fine if that’s how he wants to do things, but that ain’t me.

  “Thought you hated Rox. Why you helping me out with her?”

  Normally, I’d just leave it, but I guess the alcohol’s doing the talking for me now.

  “I’ve had a chance to calm down. Seeing her again without no warning was a shock. But she ain’t that bad. Also, Smiter’s been talking her up to all the boys.”

  Smiter and his thing with Rox
again. What the fuck? I take a harsh drag of my smoke and manage to ask calmly, “Yeah, what’s he been saying?”

  “Just that she’s a diamond in the ruff. Golden. Explaining to me that she don’t respond well to male aggression and it flips her switch. Makes sense what went down between me and her now. Also, tried to win us over with her bike. A fucking Triumph, man? I was too pissed to notice that day. Damn.”

  “Yeah. Sweet bike.”

  “She ride well?”

  “Yeah. Real well. Kinda reckless.”

  He laughs. “Kindred spirits, you two then.”

  “Hey, I don’t do that shit no more. I ride safe now.”

  He slaps my shoulder. “Sure.” He stubs out his smoke. “I’m gonna head back in. You coming, or you gonna fire up another, chain smoker?”

  “Another.”

  He gives me a chin lift and then hauls open the door. The noise inside leaks through ‘til he closes it.

  I take my time enjoying my second smoke and then I make my way back inside too.

  As I walk back over to the bar, I stop in my tracks at what I see.

  Rox is making her way through the crowded clubhouse, her eyes darting ‘round, taking everything in. She has a sly smirk on her face. That devilish, dangerous look of hers. The one she always flashes me when she wants to fuck.

  The issue is she ain’t flashing it at me right now. She’s flashing it at everybody. All the boys that look her way. And they’re all looking her way, cuz she’s made sure of it with what she’s wearing.

  Fucking hell.

  She’s wearing the tiniest pair of black shorts I’ve ever seen, a pair of thigh-high leather boots and one of my club t-shirts tied at the sides and raised up just below her tits, exposing her entire fucking stomach. Hell, no. This ain’t flying with me. Just the sight of her is making my cock hard, but I’m sure that goes for every goddamn guy seeing her right now. And that don’t sit well with me at all.

  As I start to make my way over to her, my fists clench as I see Smiter take her arm, whisper something in her ear and lead her over to one of the couches in the corner. She sits down next to him as he sips at the beer bottle in his hand. Opposite, two club whores are talking, their eyes darting ‘round looking for their next taste of cock. They don’t bother with Smiter who’s right fucking in front of ‘em cuz he’s with my girl and they’re clearly thinking the two of ‘em are together. Argh!