Black and White (Storm's Soldiers MC Book 1)

by Notaro, Paige

  Black and White

  Paige Notaro

  Contents

  CHAPTER ONE-Meagan

  CHAPTER TWO-Vaughn

  CHAPTER THREE-Meagan

  CHAPTER FOUR-Vaughn

  CHAPTER FIVE-Meagan

  CHAPTER SIX-Vaughn

  CHAPTER SEVEN-Meagan

  CHAPTER EIGHT-Vaughn

  CHAPTER NINE-Meagan

  CHAPTER TEN-Vaughn

  Thanks!

  Other Novels

  Copyright

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or copied without the express written consent of the author. This book is licensed for personal use only.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  ©2014

  Paige Notaro

  Cover Design:

  ©2014

  SilverLight

  Also by Paige Notaro

  Stand Alone:

  Uncaged

  I love hearing from fans!

  Here’s how you can reach me:

  www.facebook.com/PaigeNotaroAuthor

  PaigeNotaro@gmail.com

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to my loving family who suffer through my long silences and then sudden bursts of excitement as I’m about to publish.

  It is dedicated to my friends and fellow authors without whom I would have never gotten half as far in twice as much time

  Most of all it is dedicated to you, dear reader. I am truly honored by your kind words and outpourings of emotion. Thank you for reading!

  CHAPTER ONE

  Meagan

  Sometimes trouble takes you by surprise. Like a call in the wee hours of the morning to let you know that family’s in the hospital. Or a boyfriend who turns out to enjoy using you as a punching bag.

  This wasn’t one of those times.

  It was evening and I was taking orders on the Sudsy Volcano’s patio when those bikers thundered up. We had people who rode here on bikes, of course, but these guys were bikers – Harleys, leather boots, club jackets and all. There was just the pair of them, but even the rumble of those two pipes had drinks damn near rattling off my tray.

  I unloaded the cosmopolitans quickly. One of the girls at my table was wagging her head and saying something. I bent in till I just about had her lips on my ear, but still couldn’t hear. Then the twin engines cut off and her words whooshed through me.

  “This isn’t as good as the one I had in Atlantic City,” she slurred, still slurping at the drink.

  “I’m…so sorry about that, ma’am,” I told her with all the concern I could muster. “Would you like me to get something else?”

  “No!” She ducked away from my hand. As if I was gonna steal her damn sorority afterwash.

  “Well, alright then.”

  I nabbed the empty glasses and went off to the other tables. Right as I was about to hit the door, the bikers clomped up the last flight of patio stairs right next to me. I was right. This wasn’t just some Meetup group. They had on matching jackets with skull logos that glistened where they bulged with muscle. Tattoos rode out of the collars and wound up their necks. Chains hung out of their rough jean pockets.

  It all looked fierce, but I wasn’t scared. My brother Darryl had practically been a mural since he’d grown old enough to get ink. I liked to think of it as makeup for boys.

  “Hey fellas,” I said. “Inside or out?”

  I made myself beam at them, but they glared back without a lick of kindness on either face. Both were clean shaven, with no more than a shadow of stubble even on their scalp. The one up front had his lips pursed as if my charm had insulted him.

  The taller one to the back had the same grim mouth, but his brows were lifted in appraisal. His cold gaze flicked up and down my body. I stood transfixed, not minding his look as much as the other’s. He had a dark sincerity about him – a promise that he behaved exactly how his appearance advertised. There was no use scolding him.

  “Inside,” he said.

  “Sure thing,” I offered. “After you, boys.”

  A gentleman might have kept the door open, but these two barged in and left it swinging back at my face. I managed to keep the glasses on my tray from turning into shards, but it was a close thing. They went off to a dim corner booth by the pool tables, and I spat evil thoughts that way as I looped over to the bar.

  “What’s with you?” Jeannie asked as she wiped down a mug across the counter.

  “Just shady characters in my face, is all.”

  “We work in a bar, Meagan.”

  “Yeah, but it’s not a damn dive joint.”

  I blew out my steam and took a long loving look at the Volcano. The inside was big and cozy, with warm red walls and little native-style animal masks peppered along them. I’d loved coming here after big tests back when I still went to Emory. It had just the right mix of hot and cold to loosen you up and then let you relax. Even working here, this place still brightened me up. It deserved a classy clientele.

  “You getting their orders?” Jeannie asked.

  I looked over at the two and found them staring right back. Their mouths bristled with small words. I tried to piece together the cuter one’s thin lips but they revealed nothing.

  “I thought Kiara had the inside covered,” I said. “Or Marissa.”

  “Kiara’s changing clothes.” Jeannie sighed. “Some guy tried a pick up line that mostly consisted of him tipping over a pint of beer. Marissa’s busy.”

  She ticked her head over to an eight person table that looked to be playing a very tense game of split-the-bill. Marissa crouched amongst them, snapping her head from face to face like a bookie taking bets.

  “Fine,” I said. “I’ll go. But keep an eye out. I might need reinforcements.”

  “What do you think they’re going to do to you?”

  “Nothing good. Best case, I’m getting tipped in meth.”

  I took Jeannie’s drinks outside to people waiting, then headed back in to their corner. Their attention had drifted, but as I came up, the gruff little one locked on to me. He tracked me like an unexploded bomb all the way up to their table.

  “Hey boys,” I said. “What can I get y’all today?”

  “We ain’t boys,” the guy sneered.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, keeping up my beaming facade. “Gentlemen, then.”

  “We sure ain’t gentle either,” the other guy piped up. He turned his eyes on me. They shone turquoise in the dark booth and chilled the frustration right out of me.

  “Well, whatever noun you’d call yourselves, I’m figuring one of the adjectives right now is thirsty,” I said. “Can I help you fix that?”

  “No,” the short guy near growled at me.

  The other one kept his lean face blank, but I didn’t get a peep out of him either, just a terse shake of the head.

  “I can see you need a few minutes,” I said. “Just give one of us a toot when you’re ready.”

  I went back to the bar, feeling their gazes like heat on my back. The short one, I could tell he just plain hated me. It wasn’t a surprise. Black president or not, people around Georgia were keen on traditions and for some, that still meant hate. If hate kept him less parched than a pint of lager, well, he could just drink me in deep.

  The other one, though, just seemed to turn into a wall with me around - a tall rugged wall, with just enough cracks to reveal a flash of him here and there. I chanced a look back while they were
in conversation and saw him nodding to the other guy. The hard features of his face imprinted onto my mind as his brow sank and lifted. He picked up my stare and looked my way. Our eyes met for a second before I could hide. He didn’t seem so simple as his friend.

  Or maybe that was just me hoping.

  Kiara came back out in jeans and a tight black top. The pitch-black fabric really set off against her pale skin. She looked like a tall glass of milk and I didn’t even like milk.

  “God,” she said, stretching at the bar. “I think I should just call it a night after that. That was some serious psychological trauma.”

  “If guys aren’t hitting on you, then you’re not gonna make ends meet in this gig,” Jeannie said.

  “Hitting on me, ok, that’s like one thing. Taking me by my bra strap and pulling me into his beer? That’s so not the same.”

  “Shit.” Jeannie perked up. “Should we kick them out?”

  “Na.” Kiara glanced at a booth. A bunch of college boys popped their heads back down like prairie dogs. “I think they’re the sort that tip big when embarrassed. Just annoying, is all.”

  “Come on, sweetie,” I said. “That’s the third time it’s happened. I think half our regulars come here just to spill something across that chest.”

  She threw me a massive eye roll. “Ha ha, Meagan. If we’re hosting a wet t-shirt contest, then why are you so dry?”

  It was a fair question in more ways than one. I wasn’t too proud to admit I looked good these days – in many ways I looked better than even before my bout with depression had packed on weight. The only part of me that remained supersized was my bust.

  So why did I getting nothing more than a few drunken advances here? I should have every male eye in this bar on me. Maybe that’s why I was so taken by the attention from that murky white boy sitting with his angry buddy.

  Or imagined his attention. That would be better anyway. The real deal would be nothing but trouble, and I’d had enough of that for a life or two.

  Right then, the biker snapped his fingers. I made every effort not to look.

  “Kiara,” I said. “This one’s you.”

  She started to groan until she saw him. “Ooh, I wouldn’t mind slipping out of my shirt for him.”

  One good thing about dark skin is it hides you when you flush. “You sure?” I said. “They don’t look like they’re playing at being tough.”

  “I like tough,” she said. “Tough and rough and sinewy and all the other words that only work on a proper male specimen.”

  She wiggled her hips and went over. The guy who’d scowled at me melted into a puddle as Kiara crouched next to them, and my crush-for-the-night leaned into her head. I burned with envy again and shoved out to the patio to trawl tables for more orders. I didn’t get any so I just chilled and let the cool air sing down on me. The summer heat had finally cut off for good, and the nights were starting to get downright comfy. It’d be a nice walk back home. A lonely walk, though.

  Some of the smaller wooden tables around held couples on dates. By this time, the failed ones out had bailed, so these pairs were all in various stages of getting frisky: hands whispering through hands, exaggerated laughs that showed off the way their mouths could move, legs twining under the dark shadows of the wood.

  Maybe I would go out after my shift ended. We shut down kinda early for Little Five Points. I could head to one of the last-call places, see if there might be any handsome college guys around. I’d given myself enough time away from dating. It was time to get back to solid food.

  Just not at work.

  A table called out and I slipped back into the hustle. I chanced a look when I went back in and saw the two bikers sipping at cheap beer. What had even made them come to this place if all they wanted was a low cost buzz? Maybe they were just passing through, though if it was on business, I didn’t want to know what.

  The tall one took an extra-long draw and I watched his jaw thrust and his thick, graffitied neck ripple as he gulped. It looked like art, not that I’d been much interested in art before this.

  Maybe I wasn’t as invisible as I thought, cause he perked up and looked around the room. I ducked away, but not before I caught a shimmer of those translucent blue eyes finding me.

  Save it, Meg. I reminded myself. If I kept looking I’d end up disturbing the peace, both the bar’s and mine.

  When I came back in from another round outside the two were playing pool. They sipped intently at fresh beers and the short guy saved his glares for the cue ball. The taller one had his jacket off and his back to me. His t-shirt rippled with every twitch of him.

  “Hey baby, you going to stick around a bit after we close?” Marissa asked as she dropped off a tray.

  “I think I’ll go find someplace a bit more lively,” I said.

  She followed my gaze. “Ah, Miss Meagan finally wants a bit of danger.”

  “No,” I sighed. “I just want to have a life again.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Vaughn

  “Bitch can’t stop looking,”

  “I’m not blind, Thurge,” I said.

  “She must be in heat something fierce.”

  “Yeah.”

  “It’s not her fault, you know. Can’t control it any more than a dog could.”

  “Just shut up and take the goddamn shot.”

  Thurge grunted under the swaying cone of light and tweaked the pool cue another degree or so. I sipped at the beer to keep my anger in check. I didn’t even know why he was getting under my skin tonight. He wasn’t saying anything he hadn’t said a hundred times before.

  He pumped the stick once and the table clattered with motion. I pieced together the angles and saw myself lose two solids right before they sank into the pockets, along with the white cue ball. Thurgood fished it out and nodded to it like he were its commanding officer before handing it over.

  “Is that what you were waiting to see, pretty boy?” he asked, as he sauntered over to his beer.

  “Savor the moment,” I said. “You won’t be feeling it for long.”

  I stalked around the board mapping out the battlefield. In pure numbers, my cause was long lost. Thurge had had a good long run. But he’d overstretched his supply lines and now I had a chance to act. As I got around to the other edge, it became a sure thing that I could tilt the odds in my favor. I dropped the white ball and bent in to set it just right.

  My eyes drifted past the table. Thurge hadn’t been wrong. The black waitress had her dark eyes set on me – or my gaze sent hers skittering. She started an intense conversation with the Mexican waitress next to her. Her dark bob of hair shimmered as she forced a laugh.

  I shook her from my thoughts and set my sights back on the ball. I drew the stick back, made a few fine adjustments and struck home. The balls rattled out. Two stripes sunk into pockets and the white ball cozied up right next to another one.

  “Lucky,” Thurge grumbled.

  “That ain’t luck, son,” I said. “That’s god given talent.”

  “Only thing god gave you was a sharp tongue.”

  “I’d be ok with that. Nothing wrong with being able to keep a woman happy.”

  I took the next shot without a second of setup, but then I had a tough choice to make. I swung back and forth along a corner, while Thurge shouted abuse my way.

  A sudden commotion billowed at the bar. I snapped up. It was just the bartender and the waitresses laughing, nothing big, but my eyes went immediately to the black girl’s profile – her wide brow drawn back in surprise, her plump lips taut and wide, her narrow waist heaving against the stool.

  I stayed on that scene a good while longer than I needed. There was no use lying to myself. I was looking at her. Nothing wrong with a look, as long as it stayed a look – that was my take. Calix might have a word or two to say about that, but, hell, you couldn’t stop light from hitting your eyes.

  “Who’s dilly-dallying now?” Thurge asked.

  “I didn’t want to shock tha
t chubby little heart of yours with a lightning defeat,” I said, tearing myself away. “Thought I’d ease your little brain into the idea.”

  “My brain may be small, brother, and so might be my heart. But that’s so I can put those inches to use somewhere else.” Thurge wiped his mouth clear of suds. “And if you don’t hurry the hell up with my so-called doom, you’ll find that somewhere slapping you upside the face.”

  “Thought you were keeping it clean for our waitress.”

  “Eh, I’ll slap on a rubber on if she warms up to me. Though I’ll be damned if she ain’t the vision of purity I dream of planting my seed in someday.”

  “She is pretty fucking hot,” I nodded.

  “I do hope we’re talking about the same waitress.”

  “Fuck you.”

  I took the shot, but I was off by a little. The cue ball didn’t quite push in a stripe. Thurge came over with a look of deep concern and patted my shoulder. I shoved him off and retreated to my beer. That should have been a sure thing. I was plain pissed now, way more than I should be. I didn’t have more than a twenty riding on the game, so it wasn’t that, but Thurge needed shutting up. He was the one who’d had us stop in this college town. Why was he trying to wind me up for every little twitch of my head?

  “Ya know why I love pool?” he said, drawing out the shot.

  “I know.”

  “Because,” he breezed on. “For once, no one makes a fuss when a white puts a colored in its place. Everyone just sees it as the natural order.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  He took a strike and knocked out my last solid. He grinned that gap-toothed smile, aging a dozen years in his ill-gotten victory.

  “And the best part,” he boomed, “is the coup de grace. You take out all the other colors, and it’s just white on black. Either you take the black out, or you lose. You can’t miss him with your shot, that’s a loss, and you can’t go down together, cause that’s an out too. No. Either you take out the black or he takes you out. It’s all just a matter of time.”