by Debra Kayn
"Speaking of women. A couple ladies were looking for you earlier." Roar stepped away. "Go ahead and take off."
He remained in the hallway. The bar would be closing in twenty minutes. Roar had reminded him that time was short. At any time, Moroad Motorcycle could put the club in a position where they'd need to hunker down.
Striding to the back door, he pushed out into the alley. In his role as vice president, he needed to check in with the members of Slag. There was a meeting scheduled for tomorrow, and he needed to find out the members' concerns ahead of time.
Elling straightened from working on his motorcycle. Blinded by the light rigged up nearby, Brage shielded his eyes.
"Running okay?" He reached up and grabbed his cigarette from the top of his ear, lighting the end.
"Do all pots have lids?" Elling wiped his hands off on a rag. "I'm just changing the oil. I wanted to get it done before I hit the mattress."
He had Elling on the first crew that went out and protected the Slag property. "Did you see anything tonight?"
Elling shook his head. "Quiet. A couple prostitutes down at the corner."
"The working girls aren't doing any harm to us." He inhaled deeply and blew out the smoke. "Any concerns about security?"
"Meeting coming up?"
"Tomorrow." He dropped his cigarette and shredded the filter with his boot.
Every member understood the risks of what Slag was doing. They not only had to support themselves but provide guns and money to the Slag Mother Chapter in Norway. For that to remain possible, the Portland Chapter needed to draw the attention away from Seattle where the shipments went out on one of the cargo ships.
The best way for that to happen was to force the other motorcycle clubs in the Pacific Northwest and inner PNW to come after Slag. Make them too busy to stop the shipment.
He slipped his hands in the back pockets of his jeans. It could be any day that the Feds got a whiff of what they were doing and moved in closer.
One step. One slip. One fuck-up and Slag could lose men.
It was imperative they make no mistakes.
Chapter 4
Monica held a bag up in the air and gingerly stepped over the train tracks. Dinah sat on the step of the rental house and clutched her cell, praying her brother wouldn't call her again in the next several minutes until she could send Monica away.
"Why in the world would you wear four-inch heels to walk across the tracks?" Dinah stood and stepped down into the grass.
"Oh, trust me. It's not a mistake I'll make again." Monica made it to the edge of the yard and kicked off her shoes, leaving them behind, and approached her. "Roar wanted me to bring over these outfits and see if they'll fit you. They belonged to a previous employee but have been laundered. You're about her size, well before she got pregnant."
She removed one of the shirts, looked at the tag, and held it up. "I think it'll fit."
"If not, I'll order new uniforms for you. Since you were hired last night and plan on working tonight, we didn't have time to get everything together." Monica looked behind her. "It's strange to be over here. We're neighbors, but I've never seen the tracks from this side before. It really has an industrial feel. I'm surprised people wanted to build houses this close to the trains."
"Old homes. I bet they were here before the railroad came through." Dinah hugged the sack. "How long have you been living at the clubhouse?"
"A year, I think." Monica wiggled her toes in the grass. "It's been an adjustment."
"Where are you from?"
"Seattle." Monica blew her lips, making a raspberry. "I'm used to seeing the water. I miss it."
"What's stopping you from moving back?" Dinah waved her hand. "Not that I want you to move. I just met you, and you're my only friend around here."
Monica shrugged. "I go with the club, with Joel. I wouldn't be happy being apart from him. It's tough enough when he's gone overnight on a run."
In her life, she'd never had time to nurture a relationship. Simply trying to survive on her own took consumed her life. Not to mention bailing her brothers out of trouble all the time took up any freedom she had when she wasn't working.
"Yeah, I get that," she said softly.
Homesick to go back to Idaho, she understood living somewhere that would never be home.
"I better get back." Monica pointed behind her. "Joel's waiting for me."
She raised her gaze and followed the fence line in the distance and found a figure standing outside the gate. Finding it odd that Monica wasn't allowed to walk over without someone watching out for her, she kept her opinion to herself. "I'll see you tonight."
"Enjoy the rest of the day." Monica retrieved her shoes and slipped the heels on her feet. "Try and take a nap. You're going to be tired the first week before you rearrange your sleeping schedule."
"I'll try." She waved before returning to the house. Instead of staying outside, she walked in and texted Tony with information that pointed to Slag Motorcycle Club having come from Seattle. She wasn't sure if that information involved all the bikers or only Monica and Joel. Without knowing when the two of them became a couple, she couldn't be sure the details were correct. But, it was something.
Tony texted her back. Meet me tomorrow night at the boardwalk.
She groaned. Not having any idea where that location was, she replied that she had a job. She couldn't go anywhere at night, except on Sundays and Mondays. Besides, Tony wasn't supposed to travel out of Idaho. If he was in Portland, he was in big trouble.
When no reply came, she set her phone down and jotted the information Monica gave her in a notebook. Somehow, she needed to link all the little details together to get the bigger picture.
She stared at the bag Monica had brought with her. Her stomach fluttered. Despite being confident that she could tend bar at The Fire Ring, last night's test was hell.
On top of being clueless of the layout behind the counter, having Brage show up and watch her from the other side of the room made her self conscious. She couldn't read what was going through his mind.
Was he wondering what she was doing at the bar or if she'd come there to see him?
She had no desire to hook up again, despite how good the sex was with him. Though she couldn't deny her attraction to Brage was off the charts.
Stretching her legs out, she looked around the room. The bareness matched her mood. What did she really have in her life?
Nothing was permanent, except her brothers, and even they came and went whenever it pleased them. They never thought of her. Brad certainly hadn't when he broke the law and ended up in prison. She'd tried to convince Tony to leave Moroad Motorcycle Club and live with her, get a normal job, and get back on his feet, but he only told her to shut up.
She picked up her phone to call Tony back and then let her hand fall to her lap and closed her eyes. Tony wouldn't care if he could get in trouble.
He never cared.
Chapter 5
Brage rode his Harley in front of the bar. The inside lights already dim and the closed sign hung in the door. He'd come back later than expected from his rounds.
He turned on the side street and headed for the gate to the alley. A figure in the distance showed in his headlight.
Stopping outside the gate, he lifted his chin at Dag, a prospect for Slag MC. "What was the walker doing?"
Dag stepped out onto the sidewalk and peered behind the clubhouse. "That's the new woman who works in the bar."
Brage's chest tightened. "What's she doing?"
"Going home after work." Dag pushed the gate open more, making room for Brage to ride through to the alley. "She mentioned last night that she lives on the other side of the tracks."
"Close the gate." He turned the front wheel of his Harley and rode forward, getting back on the dead-end street.
Dinah looked over her shoulder the closer he came, walking faster over the tracks. He stood on the pegs, looking for a way over the rails. Spotting a switch, he revved the engine
and crossed the eight train rails and cut off Dinah before she could go wherever she was going.
Cutting the engine, he toed the kickstand and took off his helmet. "What are you doing walking by yourself in the middle of the night?"
"God, you scared me. I thought someone was trying to run me down." Her shoulders sagged.
"It might not have been me. It's dangerous out here, not to mention sometimes there are two or three trains going by at the same time. You need to stay off the tracks."
She stopped chewing her gum and raised her brows. "I'm not going to walk out of my way to get home, and I can't park my Jeep in front of the bar."
"Mhm." He held her gaze.
She pointed to a run-down white ranch style house. "I live right there. It would be stupid to walk clear around two blocks when I can walk home in a few minutes. There's nothing out here but trains, and as long as I get across them before three o'clock, it's safe."
"It's not safe." He clamped his teeth together and exhaled through his nose.
She frowned, snapping her gum. He made her nervous.
There were a hundred things that could happen and being close to the Slag clubhouse meant there could be dangerous men out for blood. For a female to get caught between two different clubs while adrenaline ran high would be foolish. Not to mention she was a beautiful woman any man could take advantage of.
For some reason, it angered him that she was here, hanging around the club. There was something about her that made him think her motives were questionable and he couldn't pinpoint what it was that raised his alarm.
Dinah stepped backward. "Then, I'll go home and lock the door."
"Do that," he muttered, watching her turn around.
She wasn't his responsibility. The woman could do whatever she wanted.
Dinah's ass swayed, reminding him of what he'd sampled, as she hurried into the yard. He started the Harley and followed her before he could talk himself out of changing his mind.
She jumped onto the porch and fumbled with the key in the lock, finally opening the door. He parked in the grass and got off the motorcycle. In two strides, he was in front of her.
She gazed up into his eyes. He waited, giving her every chance to tell him to leave, and he would if she opened her mouth.
He dropped his gaze to her mouth. Her tongue came out. Thick tension pulsated between them.
His gut tightened, and he squeezed out an exhale. "Babe?"
She blinked slowly, breathing hard.
"You better stop me if you don't want me to take you inside and fuck you again." He cupped her cheek, tilting her head.
"I'm not stopping you?" she whispered.
He hooked her neck, bringing her forward, and claimed her mouth. Walking her backward, he took her into the house and kicked the door shut.
Dinah slid her hands between his chest and his vest, pushing the leather off his shoulders. He tugged at the bottom of her shirt.
"Stop." She pushed his hands away and worked on the buttons. "Uniform. Can't ruin it."
He moved his pistol from underneath his belt to his back pocket, then undid his pants, letting them sag. Eyeing Dinah in the dark, he strained to see more of her body in the glow from the street light out in front of her house.
She pushed down her shorts, taking her panties off, too. He wanted more time to strip himself naked but wouldn't waste time taking off his boots or jeans.
Leaning over he dug in his pocket for a condom and rolled the protection on while Dinah removed her bra. The paleness of her breasts enticed him forward.
He held out his arm. She slipped her fingers into his hand. There was only a couch in the room, and he wanted nothing getting in their way.
Bending her, he went to the floor with her and settled between her legs. Braced on his elbows, he pushed her hair away from her face. He wanted to see her.
Last time with her was quick and impersonal.
He entered her slowing, taking in the way her eyes fluttered at the pressure of his cock going deep inside of her. His gut tightened, and he held still when all he wanted to do was pump inside of her.
The tight warmth she provided felt better than anything.
He moved slowly, short strokes, and held her head in his hands. "Don't close your eyes."
"I won't." She panted, grabbed on to his forearms. "I just..."
He stilled. "What?"
She tried to shake her head, but he wouldn't let her. He wanted to hear what she had to say.
"Doing this once was one thing." She closed her mouth and swallowed. "I normally don't do one-night stands."
"Ja?"
Her brow lowered at the language slipping out of him. "Huh?"
She made him lose control. He was here to fuck, not become friends.
"It doesn't matter." He kissed her lightly. "Not a damn bit."
"It does to me." Her lips found his ear. "You make me feel good."
He raised his head. She'd gone serious on him. There was no flirting or bullshit in her confession.
He'd make her feel good.
Moving his pelvis, he lengthened his strokes. Sliding deep inside of her, he no longer wanted to pound her. He wanted to linger and watch the light come back into her eyes and feel the wisp of her breath on his neck.
Her fingers tightened on his forearms. She had nothing to fear. He wasn't going anywhere. He wasn't going to stop. He was going to bring her back to that place where satisfaction became a drug.
Her wetness coated the condom. The uninterrupted glide of his cock fueled her body. Caught up in her reaction, sweat broke out on his back. He should've stripped naked. He should've put her on a bed. He should've planned tonight.
Instead, he moved the way his body commanded. The way she needed. The way he wanted.
"Oh." She inhaled swiftly, arching her neck. "So good."
She hooked her ankles underneath his ass. He pumped into her, his body going crazy with her wrapped around him.
It was better than good.
He pushed to his hands. Her legs tightened around him, and she lifted her head. He could read the panic that he was leaving her before he finished.
He wasn't going anywhere.
Lengthening his strokes, he pulled out until the head of his cock slipped out, only to experience her tightness again when he slid back in. The power behind his rhythm moved Dinah against the floor. Her head tilted back, and she grunted with each full impact.
He repeated, again and again, and again.
Flailing her arms, she grabbed, pulled, hit him as her pleasure escalated. Their rapid breaths filled the quiet room. His pulse roared in his ears, and he strived for the pleasure waiting for him.
Dinah held her breath. Her body strained.
As if held in a vise, Brage groaned, pumping hard. His toes curled in his boots. She squeezed down on him and stifled her scream of release. Charged, his body unraveled as his balls throbbed, and he filled the condom.
He slowed.
Her legs slid from around him.
She closed her eyes and turned her head.
He dropped to his elbows and palmed her cheeks, forcing her to look at him. She wasn't going to forget him that easily. She wasn't going to ignore what happened between them. She wasn't going to shut him out. Not when she was on his mind every damn minute lately.
"Don't ignore me." He stroked her face. "Not yet."
"I'm not." She arched underneath him. "You can get off me."
Planted deep inside of her, he was comfortable. His dick wanted to stay inside her warmth. It would come out on its own. In time. When it was right.
"You don't hang around Slag because you have a man in the club." He took in the way her body hardened underneath him. "You came around before you got the job."
"So," she said.
"You claim not to fuck around, and you felt I needed to know." He pulled out of her and pushed to his feet, taking out the condom. "So, why me? Not once, but twice."
She sat up and grabbed her shirt, slippi
ng her arms inside and buttoning it halfway up. Then, she threw an empty plastic sack at him. "Maybe you should ask yourself that question."
"I have, babe." He threw the condom in the bag.
Her brows lowered. "Babe?"
He shook his head. What the hell was he doing?
Tucking his dick in his jeans, he fastened his belt and moved his pistol into position. He never put demands on a woman because of sex. It was a human act. A way to feel good. She'd told him as much earlier.
His personal lines blurred because of his need to protect Slag members. He asked the members to refrain from bringing anyone outside the club around while they dealt with the retaliation of stealing the extortion money out of Moroad's hands. He needed to do the same, no matter how attracted he was to Dinah.
He looked back at her; his vision accustomed to the darkness. "Roar always has a Slag member standing by the front door of the bar. I'll make sure they all know that they need to walk you home after work. It's risky to cross the train tracks by yourself."
"I'm able to take care of myself." She bunched the edges of her uniform top together.
"You heard me." He approached her and kissed her forehead, softening the tone of his voice. "Lock up behind me."
Music suddenly played in the room. She looked around and stepped toward her purse, pulling out her phone. He opened the door and walked out on the porch, lighting a cigarette, and waited for her to lock the door.
"I told you I had to work. I'll meet you on Sunday," she said inside the house
He looked behind him at the closed door. The walls were thin. There was no mistaking the irritation in Dinah's voice to whoever she talked to on the phone.
She must've disconnected the call or lowered her voice because he heard no more as he enjoyed his smoke. Eventually, the click he listened for came behind him and he walked out to his motorcycle.
In the distance, the train whistle blew. It was almost three o'clock in the morning.