by Skye McNeil
Reaper gave him a wicked side-eye. “You’ve made friends, then?”
“Somewhat.” He laughed. “I think they all tolerate me.”
“Well, you earned a patch last winter saving their sorry arses, so I guarantee they more than tolerate you, Doc.” Reaper started toward the clubhouse. “Once you earn your place in Macha, the members respect you. We don’t hand it out like candy at Halloween, but once it’s earned, only death or treachery can relinquish it.”
His uncle was right, of course. Doc used to hang out at the clubhouse in his youth. He’d seen many members heckled. The comradery between the men was what he yearned for and what he had with a few. Sure, he’d had friends at the fire station in Iowa, but none he wanted to hang with off shift more than a few hours. The MC offered lifelong friends. At thirty-two years old, he needed something permanent in his life. He’d gained Rubble, Brewer, and Hawk, and couldn’t fault the brotherhood he felt with them.
Rubbing his left shoulder, he watched the patch members filter into the bar. With Isa safely in Queenie’s care, he was off shift for the night. A game of pool and a few beers will help. He set off toward the building, slipping inside the dark bar. Country music blared from the radio, the bartenders and waitresses outfitted in cowboy hats and fringe shirts. The interior was a mixture of western and motorcycle. Snowshoe was big into the western motif, so Macha took that and ran with it in their design. The bar was connected to the tattoo parlor by swinging saloon doors in the back.
Grabbing a shot of whiskey from Brewer, he downed it before the Jason Aldean song ended. A frosty mug of beer made it to his hand before he walked over to the pool table where Cueball, Boulder, and Rubble played.
“I’ve got next winner,” he said, tossing some cash into the growing pot.
Cueball leered. “Shove off, Doc. This game’s for established members only.”
“Aw, come on, Cue,” Brewer said, delivering a round of shots to the table. “The guy’s Reaper’s nephew. In a year, he’ll probably be president.”
Boulder and Cueball mumbled under their breaths and returned to the game.
“Don’t worry. They’ll warm up to you,” Brewer said before making his way back to the bar.
Doc nursed his beer, watching the trio play. Cueball lived up to his name. The guy was a pool shark if he ever saw one. Boulder wasn’t bad but got sloppy the more he drank. It was Rubble who shocked him. The guy was built like an ox and had more muscles than a bodybuilder, but on the sergeant at arms, it fit. He was always ready for action. In fact, Doc didn’t see more than one beer pass the big man’s lips.
“You’re up,” Rubble said, handing him a cue stick. “You break.”
Cueball moved to a seat with a club nymph in tow, and Hawk stood nearby, watching as closely as his name demanded. He didn’t miss anything.
“You’re Tank’s son, right?” Rubble said after Doc sank two solids in the pockets.
Doc lined up for another shot but missed. “Yeah. Did you know him?”
The bald man with tattoos on his skull lifted his cue stick. “No, but I heard he was a legend.” Rubble hit three stripes into pockets. His gravelly voice bespoke years of chain smoking. “You plan on staying here or going to Ireland?”
“Not sure yet.” Doc finished off his drink. “I guess it depends how this goes.”
Rubble’s mismatched eyes met Doc’s. Looking into one green eye and one blue had an eerie effect . He didn’t know which one to focus on while they talked.
“Let me give you some advice.”
Doc leaned closer.
“Don’t fuck up.”
Cueball chortled from his spot. “Yeah, don’t fuck up.”
“Shut up, Cue. Should’ve named you motherfucking Parrot,” Rubble barked.
Cueball immediately got to his feet and dragged the nymph with him. Only after Cueball left did Rubble nudge Doc with his elbow.
“That guy gets on my nerves fast.” He smirked. “Just takes a little to scare him.”
Swallowing the initial panic from Rubble’s reaction, Doc laughed. “You’re not too bad.”
The other man sank the eight ball into the pocket and stashed the cash in his jean pocket. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t let the other guys know. They’ll think I’m a softie.”
Doc zipped his lips, causing Rubble to chuckle.
“Come on, you look like you could use a stress reliever.” He wrapped an arm around Doc’s shoulders and led him toward the back of the bar. A group of patch members sat in a large booth in the corner. Smoke wafted above them, empty beer glasses on the table.
“Have a seat,” Snoopy said, motioning to the open spot.
Only after Rubble sat did Doc. Snoopy’s old lady, Legs, sat on his lap, affectionately kissing his neck. Klink was beside him, a club nymph only visible by her bobbing head under the tabletop. Boulder was sandwiched between Klink and Rubble, his lap filled with a busty brunette.
“That Irish girl is so fucking hot. I’d like to sink inside that ass. Too bad she’s off-limits,” Boulder said, pinching the brunette’s breast. She squealed in delight and started kissing down the older man’s body. Doc didn’t have to guess where she’d end up—under the table just like the other nymph.
“What do you think, Doc?” Snoopy asked, his dark eyes alight.
“She’s very hot.” He glanced to Rubble and saw him smile into his drink. This was some kind of test. If he reacted, they’d know how he truly felt about Isa. Hell, he didn’t even know how he felt about the quiet woman yet.
“You been with plenty of nymphs, yeah?” Boulder asked. “I heard you’ve been celibate since Phantom’s daughter arrived.”
Keeping his face complacent, Doc nodded. “What of it?”
“I doubt she’d like it if you were trouncing around with the nymphs.”
He shrugged, not liking the conversation’s direction. How does not fucking nymphs give me away?
Boulder took a shot of vodka. “We all figure you and the Irish cutie will get together.”
“Why’s that?”
“Cuz she’s your type,” Klink said.
“Oh yeah? What’s my type?”
A waitress dropped off another round of beers, and Doc slowly sipped his. He needed to stay sharp. Macha members weren’t known for their stupidity but keen awareness and ability to thrive in any situation.
“Anything with a hot body,” Snoopy finally said, pointing to the other side of the bar. “And that Irish lass is smokin’.”
Following his finger, Doc kept in a groan at the woman in a short red dress, dirty-blonde hair flowing around her shapely breasts. Even without seeing her face, he knew her identity. Isa. His pulse skyrocketed at the mere sight of her. He couldn’t even think about what she did to his cock.
He glanced back to the table and chuckled. “She’s allowed to have a good time, Snoop.”
Snoopy laughed. “Yeah, but this isn’t a members-only bar. You better keep a close eye on her, or one of the locals will try to slide between those long milky legs of hers and fuck her raw.”
Doc looked over to Isa again. Sure enough, several Snowshoe residents were sizing up the delicacy from Ireland.
Nobody’s tasting her except me.
Legs giggled, and Snoopy kissed her hard. The nymphs beneath the table paused their ministrations long enough to see what he would do.
Rubble rubbed his long beard, eyes dancing with merriment. They were all getting off on his pain.
“If you’d rather Rubble protect her, just say so,” Legs taunted. “We won’t hold it over your head.”
The hell you won’t. Doc finished his beer in one long chug and slammed the empty glass on the table. He stood and saluted the group. “See you fuckers tomorrow.”
“I told you he liked her,” Legs whispered before he was out of earshot.
Doc straightened his shoulders and made a beeline for Isa. The damn woman was shaking her ass to Luke Bryan, and more men were drooling over her than before. Naturally, she had no clue
what was happening or how seductive she looked swinging her little hips to the rhythm.
Taking a breath, he leaned down and whispered, “Keep shaking that ass and I’ll put you over my knee.”
Her hips paused and she twirled around, eyes wide. When she recognized him, a shy smile crossed her kissable lips. He balled his hands into fists, the urge to hike up her skirt and fuck her then and there irresistible.
“You wouldn’t dare. I’m a MC princess.” She took a shot of what looked like vodka and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.
“Oh, now you like the nickname?” He narrowed his eyes. Ever since he’d called her by it, she’d seemed disgusted by the term.
“Maybe I like when you say it,” she slurred.
Damn, how’d she get wasted already? He hadn’t seen her when he arrived, which meant Isa got tipsy fast. He glanced around the room but didn’t spot Queenie. Surely she didn’t think letting Isa loose without an escort was a good idea.
“Hmm, not sure you’d agree when you’re sober.”
Isa shrugged and started gyrating her hips to the beat of the music. It would’ve been fine if a drunken asshole hadn’t rubbed up against her ass. Acting quickly, Doc shoved the other guy, who didn’t even seem bothered by the act and went to grind on another single dancer.
“Come on, Doc, I wanna dance.” Her Irish accent sounded heavier with the alcohol running in her veins.
Gripping her waist, Doc pulled her flush to him. Her eyes shot gray daggers at him, but there was a softness to the glare. “Isa, you need to come with me. You’re not safe here.” He looked over and saw two sturdy-looking men ogling her backside. He could handle one drunken asshole, but a whole bar full of them? Not even close. “Now, princess.”
For a split second, he thought she’d argue, and he’d have to haul her out over his shoulder. Finally, she nodded and draped his arm around her shoulders. Doc managed to flip the bird to the table in the back. What they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them.
They made it out of the bar before she started giggling. Her little nose scrunched up in the cutest way, her diamond stud glittering in the moonlight. She staggered out of his grip.
“Isa—” he started.
“I’m fine, Doc,” she shot back, moving the wrong direction. “Why’d you have to go mess up my fun? I was having a good time.”
Catching up to her, he guided her toward the clubhouse. She’d need a bottle of water and some aspirin before bed, and he wasn’t about to leave anyone else to the task.
“Yeah, and a few minutes later you would’ve been stripping on the bar top.” He kicked open the door and steered her down the hall. “Not that I’d mind all that much.” She tripped on the rug outside the bedroom, laughing loudly when he caught her and put her upright again.
Doc closed the bedroom door, and before he could speak, Isa was there, arms wrapped around his neck. She leaned into him, her breasts perky and lacking any sort of bra. How he missed that before was beyond him. No wonder everyone was staring. Damn woman.
“Kiss me,” she demanded, pouty lips ready for action.
The temptation nearly outweighed his better sense, but he shook his head and kept his mouth out of reach. “Not like this, Isa.”
She frowned and shoved at him. “Eejit.”
He caught her hand on his chest and fought the urge that felt so natural. “Believe me, there’s nothing I’d rather do.”
“Then do it.”
For a split second, he almost did. The glassy look in her eyes unearthed a speck of honor. “I can’t.” He helped her to the bed, but she merely stood next to it. “You won’t remember any of this tomorrow.”
Isa crossed her arms over her chest, pushing up her breasts. Fuck, he’d have one hell of a time with her if she were a mere nymph instead of a protected princess. The longer she stood there looking like heaven on earth, the more his groin protested.
“Why can’t you kiss me?” She finally relented and crawled under the covers, yawning as her head hit the fluffy pillow.
Doc stared down into her gray eyes, darker in the dim lighting. “Because when I kiss you, I want you to remember it.”
“I’d never forget a kiss from you.” She giggled, then hugged the pillow beside her, sleep overtaking her instantly.
Sitting on the bed, he watched the slow rise and fall of her chest. Her breaths gently moved her long hair, and he couldn’t resist. Sliding a tendril through his calloused fingers, he sighed. Every fiber of his being raged when the patch members goaded him about fucking this princess. They wanted her for a quick screw because she was gorgeous. He wanted her for much more than that. Longer too. Much longer. Kissing Isa would set off a domino effect. If he had her once, he wouldn’t stop until she was his permanently. He wasn’t certain if he was ready for the kind of commitment a princess like her deserved.
He carefully lay next to her, her slight wheezing making him chuckle. Isa deserved better than a washed-out doctor turned paramedic turned motorcycle club member.
He leaned over and kissed the tip of her slightly upturned nose.
Isa deserved a prince. He was a mere servant.
It was sometime in the middle of the night when Doc woke to Isa’s long hair sprawled over his face. He looked over long enough to see her draped over him like a blanket. He tried to move her back to the other side of the bed, but she only wrapped her body tighter to his.
Being the good guy never felt worse. He lay there in complete agony until she loosened her grip enough for him to slip off the bed. Checking his phone, he guessed he had another two hours before the bar closed.
Standing, he adjusted his hard cock through his jeans and stalked to the door. None of the nymphs would be up, so a shower would have to do.
Isa reached out to the spot beside her and grunted when he wasn’t there. “Doc?”
She sat up, and he held his breath. The room was pitch dark, a dim light from the hallway the only glow. Isa slumped back over and cuddled his pillow to her chest. When she moaned his name again, it was erotic, and he bit his tongue. If that little minx was having a sex dream about him, he’d spill his load then and there.
He waited quietly until her breathing mellowed out, and he rubbed a hand over his face.
Yeah, a very long shower.
The woman was driving him mad, and she’d only just arrived.
Doc hurried out of the clubhouse and went in search of Hawk. He found him outside the tattoo parlor. The familiar buzz of the tattoo machines comforted him for the first time that night. It was familiar and a constant in the club.
Hawk grabbed a cigarette from his pack and lit it. “She a sleeping beauty yet?”
“Something like that.” He leaned against the shop’s exterior. Queenie would have their hide if they damaged the recently painted shop, but he didn’t give a shit at the moment. He needed a release of some kind. But not a nymph. For some reason, he couldn’t force himself to call for one.
“You seem tense.” Hawk exhaled a puff of smoke. “She more of a handful than expected?”
Doc reached over and took a cigarette from the carton. “Shut up.”
Hawk’s brows lifted. “Wow, she must really be bad if you’re smoking. I haven’t seen one pass your lips since you arrived.”
Lighting the cigarette, he drew in a deep breath. He’d never smoked more than a pack in his life, but every now and then, the nicotine eased his nerves. Tonight, though, it barely scraped the surface.
“She’s stubborn, gorgeous, and off-limits.” He shook his head. “Feels like a test.”
Hawk chuckled. “You think Prez wants to see if you can keep it in your pants around Phantom’s daughter?”
“Dunno, maybe. Reaper is my uncle.”
“Yeah, but he’s not cruel.” Hawk took another draw. “All right, not premeditative cruel.”
Doc studied the curling smoke above them. “The smallest things she does set me off. I mean, hell, she was having a sex dream about me just now. Not to mention how sh
e asked me to kiss her.” He shook his head. “And I want to. So badly.”
“Then do it.” Hawk flicked ash on the cement.
“Are you kidding? That’s asking to get my ass handed to me. I just patched. And I can’t fuck Phantom’s daughter like I want. She needs somebody gentle. I’m far from that.”
Hawk waved at two women entering the tattoo shop. “Then resist the temptation to slip between her legs, brother. Get a nymph. They’ll ease your urges.” He grinned. “Maybe. You do have a knack for being insatiable.”
“Fuck you.”
Hawk laughed and turned toward the door. “Gotta get back to it. Those ladies are my last appointment.” He opened the door. “You gonna be okay, or do I need to put a chastity belt on you?”
Doc tossed the cigarette to the ground and crushed it with his boot. “I’m good, thanks.”
Hawk nodded, then slipped inside.
Pacing the parking lot, Doc couldn’t get Isa out of his mind. He watched the bar fill with more Snowshoe residents, the music louder by the minute. Grinding up against a nymph wouldn’t suffice. Nothing will.
9
Isa
Rainstorms moved in during the night, and by the time Isa woke, the entire valley was covered in a dense fog. She pulled on a pair of pants, a sweatshirt, and shoes. A chill lingered in the clubhouse hallway. The dark sky peeked through the windows, reminding her of Ireland. Tears welled in her eyes. The thought of home always did that. Even when she was miles from her little shop apartment.
Doc was nowhere to be found when she woke. The vivid dreams she’d had made her grateful for his scarcity. She didn’t feel like explaining why he was the main character in her adult-rated imagination.
Drinking last night was a mistake. She winced at the bright kitchen light and frowned at the lack of bodies. The clock above the stove said it was early morning, and distant snores echoed down the halls.