Magnum: A Dark Knights MC/Dirty Angels MC Crossover

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Magnum: A Dark Knights MC/Dirty Angels MC Crossover Page 2

by Jeanne St. James


  He raised his eyes back to her green ones, the color reminding him of a gemstone. “An’ what?”

  “And my courage.”

  His head snapped back. “Nobody more confident than you, Caitie.”

  Fuck. He didn’t mean to call her that. It was just a slip of the fucking tongue. Just like what happened at Diesel’s wedding. A slip of the goddamn tongue.

  If she was here for that... If she was here for more...

  Whatever this was, whatever she was here for, he needed to shut this down. And do it right fucking now. “Already lived half my life. You’re just startin’ out. You don’t need the hassle that comes along with a man like me. Got your whole life ahead of you. What we did at D’s weddin’ was a mistake. Told you that. Thought you understood.”

  “I’m not here about that.”

  Yeah, it was over a year ago, but he still hadn’t forgotten it. Still hadn’t rid himself of the memory of how sweet she tasted on his tongue. It was the one and only time he did something more than watch her.

  He did something he shouldn’t have. And he was lucky he hadn’t been caught. Once he realized what a stupid fuck he was being, he got away from her and stayed away.

  He didn’t need that temptation.

  But here she was.

  Her lips twisted. “I mean, you’re hot and all that. But you’re not irresistible.”

  He cocked a brow, pursed his lips and sat back in his chair. “I’m pretty fuckin’ irresistible.”

  “Mmm.” She tilted her head and made a show of studying him. “Jury’s out on that. Irritable, more like it.”

  He surged forward, slammed his palms on the table and growled, “Didn’t...” He flared his nostrils and sucked air deep. She played him. Jesus fuck. “Woman, spill it or get the fuck out of my bar.”

  She glanced around. “This is your bar, Magnum, or the Knights’ bar?”

  “The Knights’, which means it’s mine. Talk, Cait.”

  The flame in her eyes suddenly extinguished.

  As much as he didn’t want to see her in Dirty Dick’s, he also didn’t like seeing that light dim.

  His chest tightened as she leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes, her fingernail now nervously picking at the carved letters and making little shavings. If she didn’t stop, she’d shred her nails and they weren’t very long as it was.

  Something was up and he didn’t like it. He didn’t like it one fucking bit. “Cait!” he barked, because he couldn’t take much more of her hesitating.

  Her eyes slowly opened, and they looked troubled. That did not help his damn soaring blood pressure at all.

  “I need your help.”

  Those four words made his heart seize, then begin to pound as loud as a bass drum in his ears. Why the fuck was she coming to him? What the fuck was going on?

  Keep your shit together, brother. Keep it the fuck together. “Don’t need my fuckin’ help, Cait. Got a whole club at your back. And it’s not mine. Like I said, don’t need a fuckin’ war.”

  Goddamn it. He didn’t need anything to cause tension between the Knights and the Angels. No fucking way.

  “I can’t go to anyone in the club with this. It’ll create more of a... a mess than it already is.”

  Goddamn it. “The Shadows.”

  “They work for Diesel who won’t keep shit from Dad.”

  Goddamn it. “The pigs.”

  She sighed. “Axel. He’ll tell Bella and Bella will tell D or Dawg.”

  Jesus fuck. She was probably right, Axhole would run to his wife like the pussy-whipped pig he was. “Yep, screwed no matter who you go to.”

  “Except you.”

  He could debate that, too. Because there was nothing more he wanted to do than pound her like a nail into the wall.

  He downed his remaining shot, slammed his hand on the table, making his empty shot glasses jump, as well as her Jack and Coke—or whatever the fuck she was drinking, or actually not drinking—spill over the rim. “Nina!” he bellowed and lifted two fingers. “Now!”

  Not even a minute later, Nina rushed over with two more shots and slid them both in front of him. She gave Cait a frown, who gave her an answering shrug and then scurried away.

  The woman was at least smart enough to know to stay away from him when he was not in a good mood. And right now, he was on the wrong side of a good anything.

  He downed one double shot, then the next, and waited for the warmth to hit his gut and his pulse to stop raging. But it ended up being more of a searing burn which turned his stomach. “So far, you haven’t told me shit. And not sure I wanna hear it if you can’t tell anyone in your club. You belong to them, Caitie. You’re Angels’ property. I can’t step in and interfere.”

  “I’m not property of the club.”

  Her cheeks were now flushed, and her eyes held a hard glitter. She was getting pissed. Good. Because so was he.

  “Babe, you became property of the DAMC the second your daddy’s swimmer hit your momma’s egg.”

  Fuck yeah, she was getting pissed.

  “I didn’t know my father until I was almost fifteen!” she shouted.

  “Don’t fuckin’ matter.”

  She shot to her feet. “Fine! If you don’t want to help me, I’ll go elsewhere.”

  Oh, now she was getting an attitude. Fuck that.

  He reached out, grabbed her wrist and jerked her back into her seat. “Sit the fuck down and fuckin’ spill it, Cait. Least tell me what the fuck’s goin’ on that’s got you all fucked up.”

  “You have to promise not to tell anyone.”

  He almost rolled his fucking eyes. And it took a lot for him to do that. “Not promisin’ shit.”

  “Then, fuck you.” She tried to surge to her feet again, but he still held her wrist. That outburst had him tightening his grip to keep her in her seat.

  “Woman, you walk into this fuckin’ bar, try to get me involved in shit and now you’re gettin’ an attitude with me? That shit ain’t gonna fly.”

  When she squeezed her eyes shut and her wrist trembled within his fingers, he knew that very fucking second he was not letting her leave without knowing what the fuck was going on. Even if he couldn’t help her, he wanted to know.

  He needed to know. Because now his thoughts were spinning, and his gut was a raging fire.

  “Cait, you’re killin’ me here.” He had done his best to soften his tone, even though he was ready to flip the fuck out. “Cait!” he barked so loudly, she jumped and opened her eyes.

  What could be so bad, she was afraid to say it?

  What happened to her unwavering confidence? What the fuck happened to her?

  He rose from his seat, not releasing her wrist. He was not risking her running out of that bar and him being left in the dark. Because he could not chase her down if she did that. Especially if she ran back to Angels’ territory and back to Dawg’s house in the DAMC compound.

  That would raise way too many red flags. And he hated the color red.

  No, he was getting to the bottom of whatever the fuck was going on and he was doing that right now.

  Chapter Two

  Cait’s heart became a deafening beat in her ears as Magnum pulled her out of her seat and began to drag her from the back corner where he “ruled” the Knights’ hangout with a meaty fist. He slammed the double swinging doors to the rear of the bar so hard with his palm, if someone had been standing on the other side, that person would’ve been knocked out. He continued through the kitchen where several heads popped up, eyes went wide, and mouths dropped open.

  She understood their reaction. She was having it, too.

  She had no idea where he was taking her, but he was on a mission. His long, thick legs propelled him like an out of control locomotive past the kitchen staff as he dragged her along, with her attempting to keep up.

  She had long legs for a woman, but not as long as his. It also didn’t help she was wearing heeled ankle boots with her jeans. They weren’t crazy high like stile
ttos but enough of a heel that she would’ve stumbled a couple times if he wasn’t like a Belgian draft horse pulling a loaded cart.

  Her being the cart.

  She was surprised he hadn’t simply tossed her over his shoulder so he could hoof it to wherever they were going even faster. Though, for a big, bulky man, he moved pretty damn quickly.

  Suddenly, they were at a rear door with an emergency exit bar, which he slammed, then they were outside in the dark of the mid-September night.

  He did not hesitate, he did not pause, he kept barreling along.

  “Hey,” she said, getting a little worried as they got farther away from the rear of Dirty Dick’s.

  Did she trust him? Yes, definitely. But he was still freaking her out.

  “Hey!” she tried again, louder this time.

  Nothing. He had a mission and he was on it.

  Which she realized was him heading toward what looked like a garage behind the bar. Was that the Knights’ church? Was that where the members met?

  Stopping in front of a solid metal door, he jerked a ring of keys out of his front pocket, inserted one into the deadbolt and twisted it. She was surprised when the key didn’t snap in half.

  “Are you kidnapping me?” she asked halfheartedly as he shoved the door open and pushed her inside. “Magnum!” she snapped when he didn’t answer.

  He slammed the door shut behind them, and she heard the twist of the lock before the lights came on, blinding her for a second.

  She blinked.

  Whatever this was, it was not what she was expecting.

  A garage, yes. A storage building, yes. But what she found was neither of those things.

  It could be said the inside did not match the outside. Not even close.

  While anyone would think this was just a plain building that stored vehicles or someone’s stuff, it was anything but.

  He finally released her wrist and moved past her deeper into his...

  House? Apartment?

  The interior had a totally open floor plan similar to a loft apartment where the lower level consisted of the main living space, with stairs along one wall to an open loft above. She could barely see the edge of a large bed and a couple dressers up there, but from where she stood that was all she could see.

  “This is,” she whispered, “unexpected.”

  “You showin’ the fuck up at my bar was unexpected, too.” He jabbed a large finger at a high quality, dark brown leather sectional and barked, “Sit.”

  She turned around in place and took it all in. It was really freaking nice. Like he’d brought in some sort of interior designer and just let whoever it was loose to do his or her thing.

  “Brooke or Kelsea?” Those were the only two designers she knew, and it would make sense if he’d used them since they were two people he could trust to be in his personal and private domain.

  He only grunted as he moved into the nice sized, open concept, modern kitchen, jerked open the stainless-steel fridge door and pulled out a beer.

  He didn’t ask her if she wanted one, nope. After guzzling the whole beer down, he slammed the empty bottle on the counter, then grabbed a second one, ripping off the cap before directing his sights on her and moving back to where she now sat.

  In the hot seat.

  He took a long pull from the second beer, offered the bottle to her but she shook her head.

  Her stomach was already in knots. Beer would not help. Hell, the first Jack and Coke she downed in Dirty Dick’s hadn’t even taken the edge off her nerves and that had been strong.

  She blew out a breath.

  “Talk,” he barked as he stood over her. “Say whatever shit you need to say. No matter how bad it is. No one’s gonna overhear it in here.”

  She was really rethinking about coming to him for help. But she’d wracked her brain on where she could go, on who she could trust, to help handle her issue.

  When she said she couldn’t go to anyone in the DAMC, she wasn’t lying. The situation was a touchy and embarrassing one, and either her father, the club enforcer, Diesel, or Diesel’s former Special Ops crew, the Shadows, would take that situation and, instead of handling it smoothly and efficiently, it would be a major explosion with casualties left in their path.

  But with Magnum, while his club was an ally to the Angels, he wasn’t tied to them. In truth, he had no obligation to tell them anything. Or reveal what she was about to tell him.

  At least, she hoped so.

  Yes, he was afraid of causing issues between the clubs but as long as neither of them said a word about it to anyone, just kept it between the two of them, then no one would ever know.

  No harm, no foul, right?

  Enough harm and a major foul had been already done. Damage control was now needed.

  She looked up at the one person who might be able to handle it. “Are you just going to stand over me?”

  “Yeah.”

  Her lips flattened out. “Can you not?”

  “Cait.”

  “What?”

  “Got five seconds before I lose my fuckin’ shit.”

  She closed her eyes, twisted her fingers together in her lap and whispered, “Okay.” She kept her eyes shut as she began and hoped she didn’t regret it. “I think you know my stepdad got me my job—”

  Magnum’s loud grunt told her exactly how he felt about Paul. Not that the men ever met each other before and most likely never would since they ran in totally different circles.

  A nervous giggle almost slipped out from her as she pictured Magnum and her rich stepfather sitting down together, having a beer and shooting the shit.

  The two men couldn’t be more opposite.

  Even so, she was sure Magnum knew of him and about him and the whole situation between her mother, stepfather—who she had been told was her father for almost fifteen years—and her biological father, Dawg.

  She shook those thoughts loose and continued, opening her eyes and directing her gaze to the huge man hovering over her and wearing a major scowl.

  She had kissed those broad, powerful lips once... About a year ago...

  She mentally shook herself again. That was not why she was here. “So...”

  “Woman!” he bellowed so loudly, she swore the windows in the place shook.

  She sucked in a breath, braced herself and continued, “Anyway, Gallo Marketing Agency is one of the top marketing firms on the east coast. It’s small but powerful, it’s tight knit and Henry Gallo—he prefers Hank—”

  Magnum growled.

  She ignored that because for him to understand the situation, he needed to know the background. “Hank only hires the best and brightest to protect the firm’s reputation and to land and keep big name clients, which he does. He’s got a lot of clout in the industry.”

  “Should I give a fuck about all this?”

  “Do you want me to tell you or not?” she bit out. She already felt like a tight wire about to snap. He didn’t need to make it worse.

  “At this rate, gonna be dead from old age before you fuckin’ finish.”

  “You want to know why I can’t go anywhere else and I’m going to tell you. Just let me...”

  “Talk,” he barked.

  She should just say screw it and leave. Find another way. Just like any hard-headed biker, he was impossible to deal with. She had found that out only too well in the past ten years being around them.

  “Cait!”

  She sucked in another deep breath before she did just that. “Hank likes to think of his employees as family. A close-knit group. And for the most part, it is.”

  “Cait, fuck me,” he groaned, scrubbing a big paw over his bald head and down his smoothly shaven face.

  “Give me a chance!” she snapped. “Christ, Magnum, stop being a dick. You either want to hear this or you want me to go. Which is it?”

  His black eyebrows pinned together. “Talk.”

  She pulled a long breath in through her nose. “Anyway, it’s hard to get in the
re but it’s a great firm to launch your career if you can get your foot in the door. Paul pulled strings with Hank to get me hired after I graduated from U of P. I mean, without him, I wouldn’t even have had a chance. Not even close. But I was offered an entry level position there as a Social Media Specialist. This was a golden opportunity to prove myself and move up the ladder, eventually get promoted to a manager, even earn my masters with them paying the tuition for me. I’m telling you, it’s a golden egg. And I love my job. I’m learning so much, getting experience under my belt, making connections, building my resume. Maybe enough to start my own firm down the road.”

  “Didn’t know any of this shit,” he said at a more reasonable volume and with a lot less obvious irritation.

  She lifted her face to him. “Of course not. We don’t talk. And that one time—”

  He cut her off. “Not hashin’ that shit again. Keep goin’ since my hair’s turnin’ white faster than you’re talkin’.”

  Since he had no hair, he had to be making a joke. Sort of.

  But she felt more like puking than laughing right now. The more background she told him, the longer she could put off getting to the issue that kept her from sleeping.

  “I just need you to understand how important this job is to me, how important it is for my future. This is what I got my degree in, this is what I’ve been working toward, so I can’t just walk away. No,” she said firmly and shook her head, “I refuse to walk away. And I refuse to be chased away, too.”

  She caught the flare of his wide nostrils and his dark brown eyes got sharp and intense again. The man was handsome, especially when you were on the receiving end of one of his rare smiles, but he was also scary as hell. He was like a clone of Diesel, the Dirty Angels’ Sergeant at Arms. He was almost as big and just as frightening when he was pissed, but with just a lot darker skin tone.

  If either of those men directed their ire at you, you’d shit your pants. Or at least have a tightly puckered anus. Their fists were like sledgehammers, their tempers short and their unbridled strength could be deadly.

 

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