The Dirty Dozen: MC Edition

by Kay Maree

  We don’t touch or speak until we stop at my Harley where its sitting pretty on the footpath. I give her a quick inspection—ready to bust a motherfucking nut if there’s a hair’s breadth of a scratch on her. Once I’m happy, I turn back to Tova. She’s equally as stunning and my breath becomes short because of it.

  “Tove,” I say softly. It’s all that’s needed for her eyes to find mine. I reach for the hem of my shirt showing beneath her jacket. “This changes things, you know that. It changes everything. Are you sure?”

  “I am,” she replies, determination set on her jaw.

  One thing constant with her was that once she made up her mind, it was a done deal.

  It’s only now that I close the distance between us and run the back of my fingers down her cheek. Unable to get enough of how smooth her skin is, I re-trace the path using my fingertips. She leans into my touch. It’s subtle, but I notice. I also notice how she’s struggling to maintain an even breathing pattern, and how her composure is further compromised when I angle her head to tilt her mouth towards mine.

  “Slade?”

  “What?” I grumble, fully focused on her parted lips.

  “If you don’t hurry the fuck up and kiss me, I’ll tear this shirt from my chest where I stand.”

  My fingers tighten to keep her in position as I pull back and look at her. Her ferocity provokes my temper while the look in her eye ignites my lust.

  I’m torn between leaving her hanging and giving us what we both want. The millisecond I feel Tova tense, I wrap an arm around her waist and pull her to me. Our lips collide in a desperation I’ve never known. My tongue doesn’t need to implore access to her sweet mouth—she’s readily opening for me, reciprocating everything I give her, tasting me as much as I devour her.

  My scalp stings when she weaves her fingers through my hair and pulls me closer. All sense of our surrounds blur and get lost in time as I lift her from her feet and straddle my ride with her in my lap. Tova’s back hits the gas tank and her legs wrap around my waist when I bring my chest down against hers.

  Fucking hell, I knew we’d make some wild sparks together, but this escalated quicker than I anticipated. If it wasn’t for Griz calling church, I would carry her back upstairs to finish what we just started.

  Church. Fuck. The reminder makes my lust filled groan turn into a growl of frustration, and I reluctantly pull back from Tova. Her mouth is red and slightly rashed from my stubble, and fuck me if it doesn’t make her even more sexy to know I’m the guy who put it there.

  “Why’d you stop?” she puffs.

  One word makes her curse and sit up.

  “Church.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Slade

  “You’re looking like a smug motherfucker this morning, what have you been up to?” Butch leers when I enter the club through the rear door. His suspicion increases when I step aside to give him view of Tova.

  “Bad timing, Slade. Griz is already pissed that you’re late.”

  I take a drag on my ciggy and exhale with exaggerated casualness. However, my tone is anything but laid-back as I stab a finger at the box of beers he’s about to pick up. “You just focus on your fucking task, and I’ll focus on mine.”

  Butch snaps to attention and glares at me despite knowing he’s crossed a line by questioning his VP. The fucker has always been on the snide side, and it’s the trait in his personality that sets him apart from the other members. Butch is short for butcher, and even though he’s an asset to the club, I don’t trust the prick.

  I remind Tova to stay put and leave her talking to Kandi at the bar. Minnie, one of the older bar bitches, will sort her out with breakfast.

  “And he’s come up for some fucking air!” Colt cheers as I stride into the meeting room like I own that motherfucker. “You tapped that yet, Slade?”

  When I don’t respond like I normally would, he mutters, “Shit,” under his breath.

  All eyes are on me as I stalk towards my place next to Griz. He’s following my every move, his features hard and his eyes lit with wrath. It’s the same look I get from his sister, and to be honest, hers scares me more than his does.

  “Pres.” I acknowledge, knowing full well that right now we are President and Vice, not Griz and Slade. I’m lighting a smoke when he finally speaks.

  “Your arse, my office, after business.”

  I glance up at him. “Let’s get started, then.”

  ~*~

  “Tova! Arse. Office. Now!”

  Griz doesn’t stop to see if she’s following as he steams down the corridor. She rolls her eyes and sighs. “Thanks for the food, Minnie. You make the best pies.”

  Minnie pats the back of Tova’s hand. “Your mumma’s own recipe, and I keep it specially for you.”

  The wide toothy smile completely transforms Tova’s entire demeanour from cold-hearted bitch to mantrap honey, though I don’t miss the shadows that linger in her eyes. Tova’s mumma passed away during her birth, leaving Falcon (Tova and Griz’s old man) widowed with a pre-schooler and a baby, plus a club to run. The old ladies of the club basically raised Griz and Tova. It was a rough road, and one that shaped both of them into people you don’t fuck with today.

  I rub away the pang in my chest when Tova looks at me with the full smile still illuminating her face. It’s completely out of character for her, and yet, I really fucking like it.

  Christ, I’m well out of my depth to be feeling like this.

  Before my heart can skip a fourth beat, Tova’s game face slides back into place. She’s wanting to get this over and done with as much as I am.

  Tiny is standing guard outside Griz’s door and gestures us in as we approach. “Sweetness. Slade.”

  “Might want to organise two body bags, Tiny,” Tova calls. “Griz is about to lose his shit.”

  Tiny does his signature expressionless chuckle then clicks the door shut behind us. Griz is anything but expressionless; he’s on the verge of combusting. I’ve known him for a long time, and I’ve seldom seen him this livid.

  “Griz-”

  “Save it, Slade! I’ve a good mind to beat your fucking arse.”

  I splay my arms wide in invitation.

  “Sit the fuck down, both of you,” Tova snaps and commandeers one of the leather armchairs by the window.

  I frown at her for a second before turning back to Griz. “What the fuck is with you? You’re giving me whiplash with your fucking moods. Last meeting you basically gave me the green light, now today you’re back-pedalling. Well tough shit because she’s claimed already.”

  I’m standing, breathing hard as surprise crosses his face.

  “Huh. Well, no shit! That didn’t take long.”

  “What the fuck, Griz! You planned this?” Tova shouts, now on her feet again and gunning for him.

  “Well, not the claiming part, but I always knew you two were hot for each other.”

  “Oh, shut the fuck up,” she hisses then helps herself to his liquor.

  I snatch it from her and shot it back before she gets the chance. “So why are we here then?”

  Griz’s expression darkens again. “Because, you…” he points across his desk at me, “…let Tova go out unattended last night.”

  I rear back. “The fuck I did. She left me with my dick out before I could stop her heading for the fucking door.”

  Griz snaps up a hand. “I don’t even want to know whatever the fuck was going on. I’m pissed because I gave you, my most trusted brother, a job to do and you didn’t fucking do it!”

  “I made up for it, trust me.”

  My eyes dart to Tova to see she’s giving me a warning look. I roll back on me heels and smirk. “Cuffed her to the bed and all.”

  Griz presses his thumb and forefinger into his eye sockets and cusses. “Seriously, Slade, I’ve used brass fucking knuckles for less. Give me your word it won’t happen again.”

  I plant my hands on the desk
and lean towards him. “Word.”

  He nods, and for the moment the only sound is Tova hissing down whisky.

  “How do you even know she was out without me?” I ask, not taking my eyes of Tova, waiting for her reaction.

  I notice that Griz is also looking her way when he answers. “All her fucking trolling on Snapchat, that’s how. And I had to sit through Indie replaying all twenty-odd of the fucking things.”

  “It’s not as if I’ve corrupted her,” Tova scoffs, referring to Griz’s daughter.

  “Not the fucking point. The point is, you’re meant to keep your arse either at home or attached to Slade. No fucking exceptions.”

  I bite back a snigger as Tova blanches and stills. She’s not moving a single muscle apart from her eyes seeking an escape route.

  “Are we clear?” he barks.

  Tova meets Griz head on, and fuck if she looks scared, because she doesn’t. She clenches her teeth and lifts her chin, standing up to her brother like no other club brother or bitch would dare. Without a word, she downs the waiting shot and slams the empty tumbler onto the desk. Her footsteps are loud as she storms from the room, telling Tiny on the way out that if Griz chokes and dies on his own cock to not bother calling an ambo.

  I pull myself up to full height. Griz’s eyes hold a hint of amusement at her little showdown. It’s fleeting and gone the next instant.

  “Consider it sorted, brother.”

  Griz nods in response before I’m following my woman down the corridor like a fucking pussy-whipped puppy.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Tova

  Slade’s Harley vibrates under me as we depart from the clubhouse at speed, letting every resident in the area know he’s on the move and means business.

  I’m at home on the back of a Hog, having been on my father’s since before I was crawling. Riding is second nature to me; it’s been bred into my heart and soul so deeply that I feel a surge of life every time I hear roaring pipes. As an adult, I could stand on the back without falling off, but that doesn’t stop me from sitting hard up against Slade’s back.

  Griz could get gangbanged until his eyes pop for all I care. I was fuming when we left the clubhouse. I hate being told what to do, especially from Griz. Receiving criticism from him cuts me deeper than I let on. He’s all I have left. All that remains of our mother’s and father’s blood runs through our veins, and I fucking hate disappointing him. He’s always been overly protective of me, especially once I started catching the eye of a few of the members, however, I’m a grown-arse woman who doesn’t like to be mollycoddled.

  Then there’s Slade. He’s different, yet, the same. He brings out the worst in me—and the best. He gives me a little rein but is quick to pull me into place when I run my mouth too much. I expect it, but can’t help pushing the boundaries to see exactly when he’ll take back control. No brother is ruled by his missus, and Slade is no exception.

  Truth is, I like it. Anyone else I would have pulled a knife on them already, but not Slade. He meets my fire with fire, ice with ice, equally volatile without warning yet level headed. I need someone like him; a man who can handle me. All of me.

  When he staked his claim over me this morning, I fought hard to not immediately accept what he had in mind. I had to make him sweat, make him think that it was a hard decision for me to make. A quick answer would have appeared overly desperate, which wasn’t my style. That didn’t mean my heart didn’t skip a beat—it skipped five of them in a row, leaving me breathless and unable to calm my pulse. I actually felt a little sorry for him when it dawned on him that I was turning him down. Truth is, I secretly pledged myself to him years ago, and that’s part of the reason I’ve not bothered with relationships—and also the reason I grew angrier each time I heard of Slade being with some other bitch.

  He reaches back to check I’m still tucked in behind him, just like he did last night when I was shitfaced. Just like last night, I let my fingers explore his stomach. The only difference is that right now I’m not making skin contact, restricting myself to only reaching between his cut and t-shirt. His abs tense and flex with each turn through the streets, and my body moves with his out of pure instinct.

  I’m turned on when Slade pulls to a stop outside my apartment block, and I purposely press my breasts against his back as I climb off his Hog. Slade swings his leg over then reaches into his pocket for a lighter. The cig hanging from his lips is long out, but it adds to his overall don’t fuck with me appearance. Too bad my mumma couldn’t warn me away from guys like him. He doesn’t wear a helmet unless the club is on the move, and he looks me over as he takes a long draw.

  “What?” I finally snap, torn between pissed that he’s staring and overwhelming lust when he licks his lower lip.

  “Just debating whether or not I need to reiterate what Griz said.”

  “You don’t.”

  I spin on my heel and start for the entrance, but the tone of Slade’s voice stops me in my tracks.

  “I swear to fucking God, Tova, that if you enter that building without me, I will punish you until you won’t know what goddamn day of the week it is.”

  I look over my shoulder. “Pretty sure God doesn’t condone those sorts of threats.”

  He glowers at me and drops his chin slightly, making his voice deeper. “The God I talk to does.”

  Holy shit. There’s no way this side of Slade should turn me on, but fuck the rule book, because it does. The tiniest sliver of me wants to put his threat to the test, to purposely defy him, though I know he’s not throwing around idle threats. He’ll follow through and I wouldn’t enjoy it.

  With a resigned huff, I lean against the building and scowl at him across the footpath. It’s all for show; really, I’m checking him out.

  He smirks like he knows what my true intentions are, and that’s when I realise a stupid as fuck smile is on my lips. I quickly rearrange my mouth back into the scowl, flicking him the bird to complete the bitch act.

  With a final drag then toeing his cigarette in the gutter, Slade motions for me to follow him. I cringe when I do, not used to following along behind like a meek little lamb.

  As we ascend the stairs, I fall into step beside him. The back of our hands bump, causing me to become hyper aware of Slade filling every one of my senses; his smell, the sound of his breathing, his booted footsteps, the bullshit smirk that’s back on his lips. He stands unsettlingly close when we reach my door and blocks my body from view with his large one as I slide the key into the lock. As soon as it’s fully engaged, I feel his fingers flick under my jacket and settle on my waist. My breath hitches and my core instantly aches. Slade feels the air thicken around us too; I know he does because he sets one foot beside mine and inconspicuously grinds himself against my arse. I pause, hoping he’ll do it again. His breath is warm on my neck as his lips trail lightly towards my ear. The nip on my earlobe causes a gasp to tumble from my mouth. His breathing deepens like he’s trying to control how far we push this in public view. I’m up for a challenge, so don’t suggest going inside just yet.

  “Open the fucking door, Tove, or I’ll kick it in,” Slade murmurs against my ear then adds another nip.

  I comply without argument and hurry through the door with Slade hot on my heels. That’s when I see it. On the floor. The omen of death. I back up so fucking fast I slam into Slade’s solid chest, making him growl from the impact. My head hurts from colliding with his chin, but the pain is forgotten as soon as my sight falls to the floor again.

  “What the fuck’s crawled up your goddamn arse now?” he bites.

  Unable to form words, I mutely point. Within that beat, Slade draws his Glock and shoves me from the entrance. I stumble backwards into the corridor as he stalks through my apartment with the pistol raised and ready to kill. Once he’s out of sight, my eyes draw back to where the calling card lies mocking me from the floorboards. The same card each murdered woman received before she met her demise; an Ace of
Spades playing card.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Slade

  Fear is something I’d never seen from Tova. Even when surrounded by men leering at her at the clubhouse, fear was never a present emotion. Determination—yes, defiance—yes, hatred—hell yes, but never motherfucking fear.

  She steps through her apartment door and I’m about to reach for her jeans and rip them off when she has a sudden change of plan. Her back slams against my chest before I can catch her, and her head cracks into my chin making my irritation flare on impact.

  “What the fuck’s crawled up your goddamn arse now?” I spit, well and truly not in the mood for game playing.

  When she looks at me, I immediately know something’s wrong—seriously wrong. She’s pale and still hasn’t formed words. That’s when I see it in her eyes; the unease. My sight follows where her finger points, then I don’t even think before I’m drawing my pistol and roughly forcing Tova from the room with one hard shove. My senses are immediately alert and honed to find the threat. I stalk through the rooms, clearing each one quickly and methodically as I go. Only when I’m satisfied that no motherfucker is hiding, do I return to Tova.

  Instead of cussing me out for being rough, she comes to my side without hesitation, already knowing what this sort of threat means for both her and the club; someone just started a war with brothers they don’t want to be sparring against.

  I lock the door then drag Tove to the kitchen bench. Sitting her on the top and pushing her knees apart, I pull her against my body and take her face in my hands.

  “Shit just got real, little bird. No more fucking games.”

  “No more fucking games,” she echoes, her tone soft but strong.

  No arsehole is gonna get near, not with me, or anyone else from the club for that matter, protecting her.