by Skye McNeil
“And as humble too.”
He walked deeper into the room dotted with pool tables. On the back wall sat a long bar, beer tapped at all times. Most of the club members had rooms here instead of living in town. A select few lived in Snowshoe, but most members preferred being close to the MC action on the edge of town.
Hawk and Rubble were playing a game nearby. Both paused and looked their direction. Rubble’s expression remained unreadable, but Hawk might as well have drooled all over the floor.
“She a new nymph?” Hawk called, grinning at Isa.
“You wish,” she said sassily.
Doc exchanged a humored look with his brothers and followed the tall woman. She didn’t even know what a nymph was, but already she’d made her status known among the members.
“You know where you’re going?” he asked when she scrunched her nose at the three hallways. The little diamond piercing in her nostril was perfect for her cute little nose.
“No.”
“I’ll set you up in the spare room.” He held in a smile when he added, “It’s connected to mine through a door. The place used to be a hotel. Macha bought it and refurbished it years ago to fit the club.”
Isa’s light brows lifted, but she didn’t reply. The sooner she realized he was going to be glued to her until the danger passed, the better. Isadora Walsh was the Belfast chapter president’s daughter. To the club, she was royalty and would be treated as such.
He plopped her two bags on the floor. “It’s not much, but until Reaper says otherwise, you’re here.”
Isa sat on the bed and laughed when it creaked. “Any chance the bedding has been recently washed?”
“Of course. What do you think we run, a hostel?” a woman’s voice said behind him. Both turned in time to see Queenie step into the doorway. Her rich brown hair was lined with auburn highlights, and her cut-off shirt showed tatted arms. “I’m Queenie, Reaper’s old lady.”
Standing, Isa held out her hand. “Nice to meet you.” She rubbed her lips together. “How long do I have to stay here?” A moan sliced through the air from down the hall, and her face turned bright red. “I, um… I’m not used to roommates.”
Doc snorted, and Queenie shushed him. From where he stood, the little princess wasn’t very worldly. The realization bolted his feet to the floor. If she was as innocent as she seemed, he couldn’t let any of the brothers near her. He’d protect her no matter the cost. No one would lay a finger on his princess. He’d make sure of it.
“We’ll get you set up at the lodge next week. The guys are finishing up the renos.” Queenie laughed. “Damn men like to take one too many smoke breaks.”
Isa nodded, but her face didn’t match her compliance. “Sure. Any chance I can speak with Lorcan—I mean Reaper? My… er, Phantom didn’t explain much before he shipped me out. I have a few questions.”
Glancing at the clock on the wall, Queenie nodded. “Supper will be ready at seven. You can meet the rest of the club now or after we eat. You and Reaper can chat tomorrow.” She eyed Doc. “Aren’t you late for church?”
The time registered, and he stepped into the hall. “Yeah, I’ll catch the tail end. You’ll make sure she’s okay?”
Queenie nodded and promptly shut the door in his face.
He stood there for a good twenty seconds before his feet followed his command. He didn’t want to go anywhere without Isa beside him. No woman ever had this effect on him, and he’d only met her an hour ago.
I’m in deep shit.
“The last topic today is our latest protection detail, Isadora Walsh.” Reaper looked over his small reading glasses. It was only a matter of time before he’d hand the reins to someone else. According to Hawk, Prez didn’t ride his chopper as much these days either.
Doc leaned forward, watching his uncle. He was moving slower since his arrival. If a member couldn’t ride, he had to step down and retire. No one wanted to lose Reaper. He was the best president they’d had. But at the same time, each member was eager to know the successor for the Snowshoe chapter.
“Isa is Phantom’s daughter. She was sent to us while Belfast takes care of an issue with the Twelve Brothers MC.” A rumble of grunts echoed around the table. They all knew the bad blood there. It wasn’t merely territory the Twelve Brothers wanted. They desired Ireland to be held only by them.
Reaper’s gaze swung to him. “Doc is assigned to her, but I expect each one of you to watch out for her as well. Macha’s never lost anyone under our protection, and I’m not about to start now.” He shuffled to his feet and grabbed the small gavel. “May the goddess ride with you.”
With church officially adjourned, the members stood and started chatting. The unique ending unnerved Doc at first. Once he learned the complete history of the club patron—not the dumbed-down version his dad used to tell him—he’d wanted the badass goddess protecting him too, no matter how odd the closing prayer sounded.
“You helping at the bar later?” Brewer asked, clapping a hand on Doc’s shoulder.
“Nah, but I may stop by later with the princess.” He grinned. “I’m sure after meeting all you assholes, she’ll need a drink.”
Snoopy flipped him off, and a couple other patches laughed. They left the room as a group and headed to the main living area. Dinner was still a ways off, and with Queenie watching Isa, he figured he’d better take advantage of the free time. Not that I mind her all that much.
Cueball let out a loud catcall, and Doc looked up in time to see a group of nymphs headed their way with beer in hand. Their role was twofold tonight: serving drinks and serving their bodies to the Macha men. They were paid handsomely and treated equally well.
Since he arrived, only two nymphs had left and were replaced with new ones. According to Boulder, they left to pursue alternative careers with club backing. That among other reasons cemented Macha in Doc’s veins. They didn’t use and then discard anyone. They supported the people under their care until they left.
“Care for a cold one?” a busty blonde with short denim shorts and a low-cut paisley shirt asked, sitting on his knee. She looked familiar, but he couldn’t place her.
Doc took the offered beer just as Hawk grabbed a cue stick and headed to the nearby pool table.
“I had fun with you last night,” the nymph said, wrapping an arm around his neck.
He sipped the beer and kept his gaze on the felt tables. “Yeah.”
“Jules and I are ready for another round if you are.” She nodded to the other blonde nearby.
For a moment, he glanced between the two nymphs. Both were gorgeous. The problem was he could hardly recall them. “Maybe another time.” He took a long gulp and tried not to give the nymph a reason to stay. His body wasn’t reacting like usual. He doubted any amount of sucking his dick would get him there mentally. Not tonight, for some reason.
“Aw, come on, Doc. We had a good time.” She kissed his neck. “We can have even more. You know we’ll do anything for you… to you, if you want.”
He finished his beer and shook his head. “Not tonight, nymph.”
The blonde sat up and pouted. “But—”
He glared at her, and she immediately got to her feet. Once she stalked away in a huff of blonde hair and perfume, he let out a breath.
“Damn, Doc, you done pissed off that nymph.”
He eyed Hawk. “She’ll get over it.”
Cueball took a shot, and a striped ball sank into a pocket. “Since when do you turn down pussy?”
“Yeah, I’ve never seen you do that,” Brewer added, joining the group.
“Just not in the mood.” He shrugged and grabbed another beer from a passing nymph.
“The fuck you talking about?” Hawk scoffed. “You’re always in the mood for a quickie. Hell, last week you had a line of nymphs out your room, just fucking them and then sending them on their way. It was epic.”
Brewer nodded. “And the week before that, you sent a prospect out to Costco to get condoms because you alread
y went through the megapack.”
Doc gripped the bottle tighter. They were right. Turning away nymphs was seldom for any of them, but especially him. He’d earned a reputation among the nymphs for being fast and rough but equally satisfying, and they kept coming back for more.
“Had her last night,” he improvised since he didn’t have a good excuse. “I like to keep them on rotation.”
The other men seemed to accept his statement and continued on with their pool game.
Standing, Doc watched for a while, mind unable to focus. It was too busy wondering how Isa was settling into the club.
He didn’t do relationships. He didn’t get wrecked over women.
So why is this one consuming me?
5
Isa
The scent of leather clung to the air despite Doc’s absence. After telling her about the club members, Queenie left to check on dinner preparations. Doc was the newest member, and Queenie was the proudest aunt she’d seen.
She’d learned a few things about the MC from the president’s old lady. More than her own father cared to mention.
Firstly, Macha, the Celtic goddess of war, life, and death, was their patron. Each patch member had the same ghost raven tattoo in honor of their goddess. The members revered women, no matter their place in the club. Queenie let it slip that the club nymphs—or club whores, as Isa discovered—were simply that. The members could sleep with them but must never make them their old ladies. Macha took care of them, and in return they earned money from working for the club’s businesses.
Secondly, no Macha member could ever lay hands on a woman, nymph, or old lady. If he did, his patch would be stripped, burned, and force-fed to the member. That was before a brutal beating and banishment.
Queenie made it brazenly clear that they weren’t a church by any means, but they were strict in their treatment of women. That being said, the president’s old lady also mentioned that sexual innuendos were more common than cigarette butts.
The rest of the Macha rules would make themselves known, Queenie implied. Isa wasn’t too concerned with it. If she had her way, Colorado would be a short vacation, and then she’d return to Ireland to run the shop and live in the flat above it.
Digging through her first suitcase, she found a pair of jeans with a couple fashionable rips. Surely Doc won’t complain about these. She rolled her eyes. They’d known each other a whole two hours and he acted like he was her savior. Cheeky bastard.
She glanced around the room. It lacked a homey feel, but it was a room. A bed sat in the middle, a dresser to the side with a mirror above it and a small closet. True to his word, a door on the right wall was locked but when she opened it, she saw it led to Doc’s room. It’d do until they moved her to the lodge. Wherever that is. She fluffed her hair and opened the door right as Doc’s hand lifted to knock.
His blue eyes dipped over her outfit, then back to her face. “Supper’s on,” he said gruffly.
Taking a breath, Isa hurried to keep up despite her own long legs. When they reached the dining area, he abruptly stopped, and she barreled into his back. The scent of leather and musk drowned her nostrils.
“Blimey, can’t you warn a girl?” she grumbled, pushing at him. When she noticed he wasn’t meeting her gaze, she turned. A table full of food sat waiting, as did about twenty men and women. “Oh, bugger.”
A balding man with a white beard at the head of the long table chuckled. “You’re Phantom’s girl all right. Have a seat, lass. I’m sure you’re starved.”
Noticing Queenie next to the man, Isa identified him as Reaper, the president of Macha’s Colorado chapter. Seeing two open seats, she pulled out one and heard Doc take the other. The members dug into the food, chatter lively from all sides. It sounded and felt like one big happy family.
Surveying the room, Isa admired the handcrafted wood table and chairs. No doubt one of the members’ handiwork. The food spread along the table looked scrumptious. From pot roast and potatoes to lasagna and garlic bread, not one plate was empty.
She pushed around the boiled carrots and slice of beef, gut queasy from the long flight. As delicious as it all smelled, her senses were on overload. If not from the food, then from the varying scents each man and woman possessed. Car oil, suntan lotion, and cigarette smoke assaulted her until her stomach refused to let her eat.
“You all right?” Doc asked, leaning over.
She shook her head. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
His eyes widened and he set down his slice of bread. Standing quickly, he pulled her out of the room and to a toilet before she spewed her measly stomach contents everywhere. Isa held on to the porcelain bowl as if her life depended on it. “Feck.”
Doc knelt beside her, brushing her hair out of her face. He used a rubber band from his wrist to keep the lengths at bay when another round of nausea ripped through her. His big hand tenderly rubbed her back.
Groaning, Isa felt tears creep into her eyes. Most men wouldn’t be caught dead within five feet of a puking woman, but Doc wasn’t going anywhere, it seemed. Being so far from home with no one hit her hard. Fat tears fell down her cheeks, and he sighed.
“Come here, princess.” He held her against his chest, and she hated herself for sobbing into his shirt.
“I’m not a princess,” she mumbled, eyes heavy.
“You are to me.”
Isa stirred more than fifteen hours later, her eyes swollen from crying but not nearly as stiff as her body. Yawning, she fluttered her eyelids and held in a gasp when she saw Doc lying next to her. She double-checked beneath her sheets and sighed in relief that she was in her pajamas.
Wait, how’d I get in these?
He shifted beside her, and she looked up in time to see his eyes pop open. “Shit, I must’ve dozed off.” He got to his feet and checked his phone.
It was then she noticed he was still fully dressed in the same clothes. “How am I wearing pajamas?”
“Queenie.”
“Oh. Why didn’t you go to your own room?”
Running his hands through his hair, he shrugged. “You weren’t feeling well. Being sick in a new place… I figured you could use a familiar face.”
Isa bit back a snarky reply. He was a familiar face, even if only barely. “Thanks. You didn’t have to.”
“I did. It’s my job.” He shoved his hands in his back pockets. “But you’re awake. I’ll let you get up, and I’ll grab some food since we missed breakfast.”
Watching his hasty retreat, she smiled. Her appetite was back, and after last night, she was in dire need of sustenance.
Sitting up, she glanced around the room. Doc’s cut was on the chair next to the bed. A shimmer of black metal beneath the leather cut made her do a double take. Even without seeing the entire thing, she knew it was a handgun.
Gathering her toiletries, she went in search of a shower. Thankfully, she found one, and fifteen minutes later, she felt like a new woman. Running a comb through her straight hair, Isa almost missed the slight intake of breath when Doc entered the room. She glanced in the mirror and saw him behind her and to the left. His gaze was glued to her, his blue eyes darker than before. Looking at her reflection, she saw the reason. All she wore was underwear. It wasn’t uncommon for her at home. On warm days, she’d spend all day in them with a robe overtop.
“Sorry, I should’ve knocked.” He averted his eyes and held out a sandwich. “This should hold you over.”
She took the offered food and waited for him to meet her gaze again. He wouldn’t. He kept his eyes glued to his black boots. According to him, this was all a job, and his failure to look at her meant he wanted to keep it as such.
“When you’re, uh, done, Reaper wants to talk with us,” he said, turning on his heels and closing the door behind him.
Isa took a big bite out of the sandwich, disappointed he didn’t let his eyes wander over her.
Her skin flushed at the thought. She’d never been with a man, but suddenly she want
ed all Doc could offer.
6
Doc
Standing near the door, Doc tried his damnedest to keep as far away from Isa as possible. With her lavender-scented body wash, his actions were for naught. She filled the room, and he was trapped in her confines.
“How do you like Colorado?” Reaper asked, leaning back in his chair. After lunch, the MC president called them into his office, most likely to discuss the situation.
Isa shrugged. “I haven’t seen much of it. Jet lag has kept me sleeping for most of my stay.” She shifted her weight to her left leg, which looked longer thanks to the tiny shorts she wore.
Reaper’s eyes flashed to him. “My nephew will take you on a tour once we’re through. There’s much to see in Snowshoe.”
“Such as?”
“Our businesses, for one.” Reaper stood and pulled open the shade. The bustling city of Snowshoe lay in the distance. “I hear you design clothes.”
“Aye. I designed all the clothes I brought.”
This got Doc’s attention. A drop-dead gorgeous woman who was good with her hands and made his mouth water? Yep, this is very bad.
Isa nodded, her dirty-blonde hair falling over her chest. “My best friends and I own a shop. We mostly sell candles and soaps, but I try out my clothes designs too.” She grinned. “The locals like them.”
Reaper’s bushy gray eyebrows lifted. “As they should. If you get a chance, chat with Queenie about designing something for the club. I’m sure the boys would appreciate some new Macha shirts.”
A slight blush crossed her features. “I’m not sure they’d like my style.”
“I guarantee they will.” He moved closer and gave her a fatherly hug. “You’re under our protection, Isa. If you need anything, let Doc know. He’s your bodyguard of sorts. He’ll do anything for you.”
Isa’s gray eyes lifted to his. “Anything?”