by Lane Hart
Nolan
Savage Kings MC - South Carolina
Lane Hart
D.B. West
Contents
Synopsis
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Epilogue
Coming Soon
About the Authors
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue were created from the authors’ imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual people or events is coincidental.
The authors acknowledge the copyrighted and trademarked status of various products within this work of fiction.
© 2021 Editor's Choice Publishing
All Rights Reserved.
Only Amazon has permission from the publisher to sell and distribute this title.
This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Editor’s Choice Publishing
P.O. Box 10024
Greensboro, NC 27404
Edited by Angela Snyder
Cover by Marianne Nowicki of www.PremadeEbookCoverShop.com
WARNING: THIS BOOK IS NOT SUITABLE FOR ANYONE UNDER 18. IT CONTAINS SEXUALLY AND PHYSICALLY VIOLENT SCENES THAT MAY BE A TRIGGER FOR SOME INDIVIDUALS.
Synopsis
Nolan Bishop has felt like an outsider in the Savage Kings MC ever since he gave up the nomad lifestyle to try and put down some roots. He’s a convicted felon, searching for his place in the world without screwing up his probation.
The last thing Nolan needs is a giant oaf from a rival biker gang showing up at the MC’s clubhouse, threatening to kill Nolan if he doesn’t give his estranged wife, Rita, a divorce.
The funny thing is, Nolan is certain that he has never been married.
The name Rita does, unfortunately, ring a bell - she’s the reason he went to prison.
If Rita is lying about them being married, then she must be in serious trouble. Nolan just has to decide how much trouble the woman is worth.
Unlike before, now he knows that even the smallest mistake could not only send him back to prison, but also endanger the lives of all the Savage Kings.
Chapter One
Nolan Bishop
Five years ago…
“Nolan, man, I still don’t understand why you keep coming back to this dump,” Abel says as he reclines in his chair next to me, arms crossed over his chest. “The girls aren’t that hot and the service sucks.”
He’s right. This strip club in the slums near the coastal city of Cape Cartwright is a joke. The girls on the stage all look like they’re strung out on coke and are only working the pole to make a few dollars to buy their next high. But the topless dancers aren’t what keep me coming back to this dive. Hell, I’ve been here three times just this week.
“If we were smart, we would be burning up the road right now,” Hugo mutters, looking equally annoyed from his seat next to Abel. “Being nomads means the original Savage Kings already distrust us. They’ll throttle us if we don’t make it up to Virginia in time for the raid.”
The three of us met and became close after doing several jobs together for the Savage Kings. We wear the crowned skull king patch and are full members of the club, but we don’t have a home chapter. We’re nomads, basically the club’s pack mules and workhorses. Whenever one of the chapters needs more bodies for one job or another, we’re the first ones they call. Our assignments can be anywhere up and down the east coast; and at any given time, we just have to pack up and go when called.
“We’ll leave early in the morning and get to Norfolk in plenty of time,” I tell the grumpy bastard. “And I don’t keep coming back for the strippers.”
“The waitress isn’t going to get naked for you,” Abel says confidently. “It didn’t work yesterday or the day before. Why do you think you’ll break her today?”
“Because the third time’s the charm,” I say as I watch the sexy little tease wait on every man in the club except for us. Finally, I give in and raise my arm to try and get her attention. Instead, the brunette with ear-length hair sidles over, not looking nearly as cute in her solid black dress.
“What can I get you boys?” she asks, tucking her empty tray under her arm.
“He came for her,” Hugo says, nodding his chin in the direction of the tall, voluptuous woman with straight, strawberry blonde hair down to her waist.
“Oh yeah! I remember you,” the brunette says. “You’re wasting your time, buddy,” she tells me.
I pull out the wad of cash in my pocket and fold off a twenty for her. “Switch tables with her, will ya?”
“Sure thing, handsome,” she says when she stuffs the money into her apron. “I’ll tell her you’re waiting, but it’s Friday and we’re swamped. May be a little while.”
“We can wait,” I say as Hugo and Abel both groan in annoyance.
Peeling off another twenty, I hold it out to the brunette. “Can you bring these two a beer to keep their panties untwisted?”
“You’ve got it,” she replies with a wink before looking my boys over. “And in case you’re wondering, I will give you a private dance for the right price.”
“Good to know,” I say just to get rid of her.
But I know my boys Hugo and Abel even better. If they go in one of the back rooms, it won’t be for a dance but to get blown by one of the desperate women on stage. So far, they’ve been content to sit at the table with me, drinking and laughing while I embarrass myself, getting shot down by little miss Cherry Pie over and over again each night.
I still don’t even know the woman’s name. She won’t give me an inch, and it’s driving me fucking crazy.
Rita Collins
“Two beers, cheapest you’ve got,” Dana tells Kurt, our bartender, when she comes up beside me. “Your stalker’s back again tonight.”
“I know,” I say with a sigh, refusing to even look over in his direction. He’s sitting at the same table in the back corner with the same two men, all of them wearing their Savage Kings MC patches proudly. That was his first strike. I don’t fool around with outlaw bikers. The second was thinking he could buy me for a quick fuck for the right price. And the third, well, the third strike was that I almost said yes because he’s hot and I’m horny.
If I had plenty of money, then I sure as shit wouldn’t be working in the strip club at night and then playing office assistant when the sun is in the sky. His offer is tempting, but no, I can and will pay my bills without getting paid for sex.
“I would dance for him and both of his buddies for a hundred,” Dana says as I wait for my shots of tequila for the rowdy table of college boys.
“That’s the problem. He doesn’t just want a d
ance,” I tell her.
“Well, sorry, girl, but he wants you to take over their table. He gave me twenty bucks to switch with you and another twenty for two beers for his friends.”
“Of course he did,” I mutter.
“Cheer up. He could be fat and gross,” she says with a smile as Kurt loads up my tray with shots and his own chuckle.
“So, which one is he?” our other bartender, Jason, asks when he glances over at the table of bikers. “Damn, Rita. It doesn’t matter. Dana’s right. I’d fuck all three for a hundred bucks.”
Shaking my head at them, I take the shots to the boys, who are barely old enough to drink, knowing it’s only a matter of time before they get sloppy drunk and Lance, our bouncer, has to throw them out.
“Here you go,” I say as I place a shot glass in front of each of the four guys. “Let me know if you need anything else,” I tell them, but I may as well have been invisible when AC/DC’s “Thunderstruck” starts playing over the sound system. Their attention, along with every other man in the club is suddenly glued to the stage where Felicity, now on her second song, is hanging upside down in nothing but a nude-colored thong, her wavy black hair brushing the ground.
Well, everyone except for the persistent biker, who is watching me with hooded eyes as I make my way over to his table.
Nolan.
All three of the bikers could be described as tall, dark, and handsome. Oh, and dangerous. Not because they enjoy riding around on donor-cycles doing no telling what kind of criminal activity, but because the three men look strong and experienced enough to tear this entire place down with their bare hands.
Nolan Bishop told me his name the first night he came in, but I still haven’t given him mine. Sure, he could’ve asked Dana or one of the dancers, but he hasn’t, determined to pry it from my lips on his own.
“Back again,” I say as come to a stop at the side of his chair, not wanting to obstruct the view on the stage, not that Nolan is watching. His friends, though, both look mesmerized. And then I remember they’ve only been here on weeknights before now. The girls who dance on Fridays and Saturdays are prettier and not quite as desperate and pitiful as the Monday through Thursday women. The weekend headliners get paid about three times as much cash in two nights as the others do all together in four.
“That’s right,” Nolan agrees, licking his sensual lips as his dark eyes eat me up. His voice is deeper and smooth as velvet when he goes on to say, “And I’m going to keep coming back until I get that sexy little ass of yours on my lap.”
“Then you’re going to waste your time. I’m a waitress, not a stripper,” I remind him. “What can I get you to drink?” I ask.
“A grand,” he says, and I know he’s not referring to his beverage choice but increasing his ridiculous offer to get me alone in one of the private rooms.
“For the millionth time, I don’t take my clothes off!” I tell him. Pointing a finger to the stage, I say, “If you want a lap dance, talk to one of the women grinding on the pole.”
“But I don’t want any of them,” he says. “I want you to dance for me.”
“You haven’t even seen all the women tonight. The club has better options on Friday nights,” I explain over the rock music.
“No shit,” the man next to Nolan says, the strobe lights from the stage reflecting in his glazed over eyes.
“I want her,” their other friend says. “How much for her in the back room?” The way he says that makes me think he’s after more than a dance.
“A hundred for two songs,” I answer for him. “You’ll have to talk to the manger to set up a private lap dance, though. Felicity is popular, so you better hurry.”
Without another word, the biker is up and gone as the song finally comes to an end.
“Hell, I need a smoke and a cold shower after that hot fucking number,” the one in the middle grumbles before he’s up and out of there too, leaving me alone with Nolan.
“Don’t you want to go with them? Four men can fit in a private room,” I say, already knowing his answer.
“Nope.”
His rapt attention to me is flattering even if he is a chauvinist pig. I’m not blind. I know I need to lose at least twenty pounds before I could even think about taking off my clothes for men, which is just one of the many reasons I’m a waitress and not a dancer.
But even if I did look like the girls on stage, I don’t think I would ever have the confidence to do what they do.
With a hand on my hip and the drink tray in the other, I ask, “Do you want me to bring you something to drink or not? I do have other customers to serve.”
When he grins at me, his eyes crinkling at the corners, I know I’m not going to like his next words. “Depends. Is there one I can drink off of your beautiful tits?”
“No, there absolutely is not!” I answer with a bark of laughter, unable to help myself.
“That’s too bad,” he replies. “I’m leaving tomorrow morning and won’t get to see you for a whole week. If I don’t get a little taste of you before I leave, I’m not sure if I’ll live.”
Rolling my eyes, I tell him, “I’m sure you’ll be just fine. It’s not like you have any trouble getting a woman into your bed. Dana would go with you in a heartbeat.”
“Maybe. But I don’t want anyone in my bed but you, Cherry Pie.”
“Cherry Pie?” I repeat in disgust at the nickname, no doubt thanks to the color of my hair.
“You look so sweet I just want to eat you up.”
My face flames in embarrassment when I realize exactly what he means. “If you hadn’t tried to buy me like a prostitute, who knows, maybe I would’ve let you have a taste. Now, you’re shit out of luck.”
“I wasn’t offering to pay you for sex!” Nolan grumbles, almost sounding offended. “I just wanted a lap dance, woman!” His palm shoots out and grabs my hip to pull me between his spread thighs in the blink of an eye. His warm, strong touch sends a jolt of desire through me. One so strong, I go weak in the knees. “If I ever got you in my bed, you’d be offering to pay me afterwards.”
Laughing at that, I grab his calloused hand and pry his fingers off of me. “Is that right?”
“That’s right,” he agrees, leaning forward like he’s going to make a grab at me again. “Just give me a chance to prove it. I’ll eat your sweet pussy so good you won’t remember your name. Better tell me what it is, so I can remind you.”
“Ha! Nice try, but no,” I tell him, taking a step back.
“That’s too bad.” He leans back in his chair, pulling a wad of cash from his pocket. “Then I guess you better bring me a beer to cry in.”
“Ah, sure,” I say when he holds out a hundred.
“I’ll let you pick the brand,” he says as I take the cash from him. “And keep the change.”
“Are you sure about that? I’m not going to…”
He puts the rest of the cash back in his pocket and pulls out his cell phone. “Yeah, I know,” he says with a sigh. “Guess I’ll just have to take a picture of you and make do with it until next week.”
Before I can protest, the flash goes off and I’m left blinking from the bright light.
“Great,” I say as I turn around and another flash goes off. Glancing at him over my shoulder, I narrow my eyes at him in warning.
“It’s not my fault you’ve got a beautiful ass too,” he says with an unrepentant smile.
The rest of the night goes by in a blur of serving drinks, getting my ass grabbed, and cleaning up spilled alcohol.
In fact, other than two more beers, I didn’t even have time to deal with Nolan’s inappropriate flirting.
Thanks to the rowdy crowd, it’s three a.m. before all the customers are gone and I start wiping down tables. The dancers are crowded around the bar, waiting for their payouts and having a drink to close out the night.
“Great job, tonight, ladies. Hell of a night, Felicity,” I hear Johnny, one of the club’s managers, saying to the woman as he hands
over envelopes. “But you should’ve told me you were going to fuck the bikers. I would’ve got them to cough up a few hundred more.”
“Nah, it was fine,” she says. “That’s the first time I wasn’t faking it in months! In fact, they’re supposed to be waiting outside for me.”
“The Savage Kings?” I blurt out, and everyone turns to look at me. No one likes to remind me that I’m not in the same league as the dancers as much as, well, the dancers. “I mean, you’re leaving with those bikers?”
“Yeah, why?” the raven-haired dancer asks, her head cocked to the side. “You jealous, Xena?”
Heat floods me from the top of my hair down to my toes at her insult because of my size.
“I am,” Jada, one of the other dancers, says as I try to go back to cleaning tables, wishing I could become invisible.
“Why don’t you come with me tonight? I’m sure the guys wouldn’t mind.”
“Hell yes,” Jada agrees. “Let’s go.”
I can’t help but wonder if Nolan will be invited to their little afterhours party. Why wouldn’t he want to join in with his friends and two beautiful strippers?
“Lock up before you leave, Rita?” Johnny asks.
Dammit. Being the most dependable sucks. It means I’m always the one who closes.