“Yeah, baby girl, they entertain,” he finally answered her what-felt-like-millionth question as he dragged her inside.
The pool tables were occupied, a dart game was in full swing, and there was a crowd around the club’s private bar.
A voice yelled out from the left. “Dawg, where’s your girls? You only brought one tonight?”
Dawg’s eyes narrowed as he swung his gaze in that direction. It landed on Badger, one of the newer prospects.
“Stand right there,” Dawg said in a low voice to Emma. “Don’t move, got me?”
He released her hand and moved toward the pool table before she could answer.
He snapped his fingers high in the air to get the attention of all the prospects playing pool. “Listen up an’ listen good. See her?”
All eyes left him and landed on Emma, who surprisingly still stood exactly where he left her.
That was at least the second time today that she actually listened to him. Imagine that. A woman that followed directions. They were hard to come by.
“Asked you assholes a question. Didn’t hear an answer yet.”
“Yeahs” came from the wet-behind-the-ears bikers around the table.
“Ain’t touchin’ her.” Dawg heard a few complaints muttered.
“She ain’t off limits if she’s a stripper,” Badger claimed. “Can’t touch the sweet butts, but was told your girls are fair game.”
Dawg pinned him with his gaze. “She’s off limits,” he clarified slowly to make sure they did not mistake his meaning.
“Brother, why d’you bring ‘er if we can’t touch the fresh m—”
Before Badger finished his question, Dawg had fingers wrapped tightly around the newest recruit’s throat. Eyes wide, his hands came up instinctively and clawed at Dawg’s wrists.
“Prospect, you questionin’ me? Need a reminder you’re lower than a piece of shit stuck to the bottom of my fuckin’ boot?” Dawg pushed the prospect away by his neck and Badger stumbled back. “Makin’ this super fuckin’ easy. She talks to you first, you can answer. She don’t, don’t say a fuckin’ word to her. Got me?” He waited for their answers. “Got me?” he bellowed.
“Got yous” and “yeahs” answered him.
He nodded, then strode back to Emma, who watched him with her eyebrows so high they were clinging to her hairline.
“You need anything. Anything. Your toenails painted. Air in your tires. Mud cleaned off your shoes by one of their tongues. Get any one of ‘em that’s wearin’ a vest that says ‘prospect’ to do it. They say no, you tell me. Got me?”
“Got you,” she whispered, her gaze bouncing off each of the prospects as they went back to their pool game. She grabbed his arm and leaned in closer. “So what’s a prospect?”
“A nobody.”
“Doesn’t Moose wear one of those vests?”
“Yeah. Moose’s a good one. He’s gonna make it. Some of those over there won’t.”
“Are they like a frat pledge?”
“A what?”
“Never mind.” She shook her head then turned it toward the front of the room. “Why is everyone looking at us?”
He grinned. “’Cause you’re fuckin’ beautiful. An’ they’re jealous you ain’t with them.”
“Dawson...”
“Fuck!” he barked. He lowered his voice. “Don’t call me that here.”
“Why?”
“Just don’t.”
She grinned up at him. “Are you going to say please?”
“Fuck no.” He grabbed her elbow and steered her toward the private bar. “Let’s go. People you gotta meet.”
People she “gotta meet.” There sure were a lot of them. Her head was spinning with all the names and faces, both men and women alike. All staring at her with curiosity and also glancing at Dawg with sly, knowing looks.
Which she had no idea what that could be about.
The best part was when she got to hold the cutest baby named Zeke. She had no problem remembering his name. Emma had shoved her nose into his downy hair and inhaled deeply. She missed that sweet baby smell.
From what she gathered, this was the MC’s clubhouse and some of the members lived upstairs, some lived other places, like Dawg. Dawg had also shown her the public bar at the front of the property, The Iron Horse Roadhouse. When she was being introduced to some of the bikers, she was told who ran what. Like a body shop and a towing company. And Zeke’s mother, Sophie, ran a bakery with another woman who had dark long hair.
The women seemed openly friendly and welcoming. The men didn’t hide their interest.
Emma sipped at the rum and Coke that the dark-haired woman behind the bar had made her. A shiver ran through her when she tasted how strong it was. Dawg slipped a hand beneath her hair and wrapped his warm, long fingers around the back of her neck.
“Okay, baby girl?” he asked against her ear.
“Yes, it’s just strong. She must be trying to get me intoxicated.”
“Yeah,” he murmured. “Loosen you up a bit.”
His deep voice and warm breath so close to her ear made her shiver like the strong drink. It also didn’t help that he kept brushing his thumb across her skin. She shook herself mentally. This biker shouldn’t have an effect on her like he did. “What was her name?”
“Bella.”
“Bella,” Emma repeated in a whisper. “Beautiful name for a beautiful woman.”
“Yeah, she is. Gonna talk to her ol’ man.”
“Who’s her ol’ man?”
“A pig.”
Emma blinked. “Does ol’ man mean husband?”
“Same shit.”
“And her husband’s a cop?”
“Her ol’ man is, yeah.”
“What’s she doing here, then?” It seemed that it would be a conflict of interest for a cop to have a significant other as part of a motorcycle club.
“She’s DAMC born an’ bred, baby girl. She’s family.”
“And her... ol’ man doesn’t mind her being here?”
“He minds.”
“But she does it, anyway?”
“Ain’t got a say.”
Emma pursed her lips, thinking about what Dawg just said. “Is he going to be able to help me?”
“Dunno, baby girl. Gonna ask ‘im. In the meantime, gotta find Diesel.”
“I didn’t meet him yet?”
Dawg chuckled. “No. You’d know if you’d met him.”
“He sounds... interesting.” Especially with a name like Diesel. “Is that his real name?”
“Yeah.”
“Is he here tonight?”
“Probably outside. Don’t let his ol’ lady out of his sight.”
“Why? Is she untrustworthy?”
Dawg snorted and grinned down at her. “No. She’s pregnant.”
Emma blinked in surprise. That was a weird reason. “So?”
“So... since he found out, he don’t let her out of his sight,” he repeated, like that answered her question.
“I don’t understand. Why?”
“Jesus, the fuckin’ questions! Because he’s just like that. Keepin’ her safe.”
“From what?”
“From...” His eyes slid to the side as his words drifted off.
“From?” she prodded.
“Nothin’ for you to worry ‘bout. Got enough problems on your plate.”
That she did. But she was still curious about why a man would have to follow his pregnant wife... ol’ lady... whatever around like a guard dog.
And what did she need protection from? Just what was this club involved in?
Maybe she should rethink letting Dawg help her. Maybe they were doing some illegal activity which would only make things worse for her.
Oh boy, she just gave up her apartment, too. Maybe she could convince the complex office to—
“Baby girl.”
“Huh?” She looked up into Dawg’s deep green eyes which were crinkled at the corners as if he was amused.
“Gotta stop bitin’ that lip of yours before I do somethin’ that’ll make you blush.”
She released her lip and glanced around quickly. “Here?”
“Here.” He pinned his lips together, tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear, then jerked his head toward a side door. “C’mon. Gonna go talk to D.”
Emma sat on the top of a wood picnic table under an open pavilion that was not far from a stage where a band played. An actual live band. They were good, too. Dawg had said the band’s name was Dirty Deeds and that one of his “brothers” played and sang in it. She was starting to pick up on some of the language Dawg used in regards to his club. Like brother. Ol’ man. Ol’ lady.
And speaking of ol’ lady, even in just the glow of the roaring bonfire, she could see Diesel’s headed in her direction. Emma’s eyes slid to where Dawg was talking to this ‘D’ in the shadows next to the pavilion. Even though Dawg was a big guy, Diesel was even bigger. Big as in huge and scary.
Not the type of man you’d want to meet in a dark alley.
When Dawg introduced her to Diesel, he just grunted as he took a good look at her. It was almost as if he was scrutinizing her. Though, she wasn’t sure if she passed inspection or not since she got no reaction from him at all.
Dawg was right about Diesel keeping an eye on his woman. The man’s eyes tracked the petite woman as she crossed the courtyard and approached Emma.
“Hey,” Jewel said and hauled herself up next to her on the table. The woman wore a snug black camisole that had large white letters proclaiming she was a “bad ass biker bitch” across her chest.
“Hey,” she greeted the woman back. “I’m still learning these biker terms. You’re Diesel’s ol’ lady, right?”
The dark-haired woman smiled. “Yeah. Sure am.” With a groan, Jewel leaned back, unfastened the top button of her shorts and then sighed with what sounded like relief. “Sorry. Shorts are getting tight.”
“Please excuse my curiosity, but are you officially his wife?”
“No. Not legally.”
“So, you’re his girlfriend?”
“An ol’ lady is more than just a regular piece. It’s almost the same thing as being a wife.”
“A regular piece?”
“A regular piece of ass is like a girlfriend; however, they’re not officially claimed. But, either way, your man ends up in your bed every night. They’re not out sticking their dicks in every hole that’s available.”
“Claimed?” Emma squeaked. Another term she needed to be “schooled” on, but she wasn’t sure if she liked the sound of that one.
“Yeah, your man can take it to the table and claim you, which means you become an official ol’ lady.”
None of that sounded appealing. At all.
Jewel lifted her hand with a laugh. “And before you ask, taking it to the table means they go in front of the Executive Committee and request a vote.”
That was the most bizarre thing she ever heard. Well, maybe not the most bizarre but pretty damn close. It sounded like the women were treated like property.
And that couldn’t be right. It was the twenty-first century; no man owned a woman. Right?
“Are the guys loyal to their ol’ ladies? Once they’re officially claimed, I mean.”
Jewel hesitated. “For the most part.” She shrugged. “Like a marriage, there’s no guarantee.”
Emma glanced over at the two men standing at the corner of the pavilion, talking. “How long have you known Diesel?”
“My whole life. We were both born into this club.”
“Oh wow!”
“Yeah.”
“I guess you like being a part of the club, then.”
“Wouldn’t want anything else.” She placed a hand on her slightly rounded belly. “Especially now.”
“Congratulations, by the way. Dawson... Oh damn! Sorry. Don’t tell him I called him that!”
Jewel’s eyes widened, and she barked out a laugh. “Dawson?”
“Well, that’s his name.”
“It is?”
Emma looked at Jewel in surprise. “You didn’t know that?”
“Hell no!”
Oh double damn. Emma’s heart began to race in panic. “Oh Lord. Please don’t tell anyone.”
“How did you find out what it was?”
“It’s listed like that on Heaven’s Angel’s business license. I did a search online for a contact name...”
“Holy shit.”
“Please, please... don’t say anything. He didn’t want me to call him that here.”
The corners of Jewel’s blue eyes crinkled. “Just here?”
“Well, everywhere. He gets annoyed when I do.”
Jewel nodded then made a twisting motion at her lips like she was locking them, then she tossed the invisible key away. “I won’t say a word. Promise.” Jewel leaned back and crossed her ankles, glancing over to where Dawg and her ol’ man were talking.
“Daw—Dawg told me that you’re pregnant. How far along are you?”
Jewel tilted her head and studied her for a moment. Finally, she said, “Four months.”
“How exciting! I was walking on air when I found out I was pregnant!”
“You have a kid?”
“Yes, a daughter. Lily. She’s seven.”
“You don’t look old enough to have a seven-year-old.”
“Oh, I am.”
Jewel’s eyes narrowed. “But didn’t the prospects just move you into Dawg’s place this morning?”
Emma wondered how she knew that, but then from what she could tell so far, it seemed to be a close-knit club. She imagined news traveled fast. “Yes, they did.”
“You want your daughter living over a strip club?”
“No... No, it’s just temporary...”
“Until what?”
Emma shook her head. The fact that she allowed her daughter to be stolen from her was embarrassing. It shouldn’t be, but it was. It made her feel like such a failure as a mother. How could she not protect her own daughter better? So, she wasn’t sure she wanted to talk about it with people she didn’t know. People who might judge her.
“You don’t mind your daughter living over a strip club even temporarily?” Jewel asked again.
Damn, that made her sound like an even worse mother! “She’s... not with me.”
“Where is she?” Jewel asked then raised her palm. “Look, I don’t mean to pry. If you don’t want to tell me, that’s your business. But I have a feeling that whatever it is, it’s what your man’s talking about with mine.”
“He’s not my man.”
Jewel pursed her lips as she studied Emma for a moment. “No?”
“No. We just have a...”
“A?” the woman prodded.
“An arrangement.” Emma guessed it could be called that. Honestly, she didn’t know what it should be called.
Jewel’s brows pinned together. “Are you his new house mouse? Because if so, I didn’t know he was looking.”
Another term she didn’t know. It was like these people had their own language! “What’s a house mouse?”
“Usually someone who needs a place to live, but normally is a bit younger than you and is related to the club in some way. Instead of paying for rent, food and shit like that, she keeps the brother’s place clean, does chores like grocery shopping, beer runs, and does the cooking. It works out well since none of the females in the DAMC can live at church.”
“Huh. He did ask me to clean up around his place,” Emma murmured.
“Has he asked you to cook yet?”
“Not yet.”
“Doesn’t mean it isn’t coming,” Jewel said.
“Has Dawg ever had a house mouse before?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Do you think I’m his house mouse?” Emma asked in a panic.
Jewel laughed. “It’s not a bad thing. It’s certainly not like being a sweet butt or even one of his strippers.”
&n
bsp; Emma rolled her lips under. She figured she better not tell Jewel that was how she met Dawg, by begging to become one of his strippers. “What’s a sweet butt? That’s a weird term.”
“A sweet butt puts out to any of the brothers. Sometimes we call them patch whores. They do that in exchange for being allowed to hang around the club and party, shit like that.”
The woman was just a wealth of information. “Why would a woman want to be used like that?”
Jewel shrugged. “I don’t know. In hopes to become an ol’ lady, maybe? To drink for free? To get access to dick?”
“Wait. The men share these women?”
“Yeah. Gross, right? And Dawg’s girls, too. The prospects can’t touch the sweet butts, but Dawg’s girls are free rein.”
Emma’s eyes slid back to where Dawg was standing. She did a double-take when she realized that both men were staring in their direction with serious looks on their faces. “Do most of the bikers take advantage of using these sweet butts and the strippers?”
Jewel followed her gaze. “If you’re asking me if Dawg does sweet butts and strippers, you’d have to ask him.”
“He told me he doesn’t do his girls.”
“Yeah, that’s one of his rules now after...”
“After what?”
“Shit got sticky with one of them. Hard to scrape off a woman when you employ her.”
“Sounds messy,” Emma said, now wanting to ask a million more questions. Questions Jewel probably wouldn’t answer for her.
“Yeah, so why’s Dawg talking to D? And why’d you move into his place this morning? And why’d he bring you here tonight?”
“Woman,” came a loud bark nearby before Emma could answer.
She twisted her neck to see the massive man named Diesel standing at the end of the table, Dawg by his side. Both wore very deep frowns.
“What?” Jewel answered.
“Quit the yappin’. Got work to do. Let’s go.”
“Now?” Jewel asked.
Diesel grunted, “Yeah.”
“I can catch a ride home.”
The big man cocked an eyebrow in his woman’s direction. “Know better than that.”
Down & Dirty: Dawg (Dirty Angels MC Book 7) Page 8