by Skye McNeil
After gulping down a bottle of water, Isa made her way through the clubhouse. The décor wasn’t anything special. No doubt the old ladies didn’t even bother with the place. This was the patch members’ haven. From pool tables to dartboards, the place reeked of masculinity.
She found a smaller room with a television and two couches and sank into the one nearest the door. It was odd to be in a place like this. Her mother never went into great detail about Malcolm Kerry’s occupation. Seeing a sliver of what her father lived with over the last two decades, Isa pitied him. While the MC life had perks, all she could see were the pitfalls.
She stared at the Macha emblem on the wall. The ornate goddess with long red hair wore all black and stared at Isa with dark eyes, her faithful raven and horse by her side. The folklore of the Irish heroine was one she’d heard throughout childhood. Isa frowned. Now that she thought of it, the stories were from books sent from a distant relative. Her mother never explained who sent them. It was Phantom. Part of her wanted to be furious with her mum for keeping her father from her. The other part of her appreciated the safety. She’d had the chance to grow up without the fear of warring MCs coming for her.
Snatching the remote, she flipped on the television and rolled her eyes at the adult station. The cheesy lines and music made her mute it immediately. I’m just going to forget I saw that. Finding a history channel, she watched a show on King Henry VIII until her eyelids drooped once more.
An hour later, she woke with a start and sat up. Scanning the room, she sighed. The clouds hadn’t lifted yet, but she heard rustling throughout the clubhouse. Stretching, she stood and yawned. A myriad of framed photos caught her eye on the wall, and she walked over, tracing the snapshots. Some were black and white, others Polaroid, but they all had one thing in common: each one held patch Macha members.
Lifting her eyes, she searched for a familiar face. None came to her. Her heart dropped slightly when no women appeared in the pictures.
“Is the Macha brotherhood really enough?”
“Don’t let Reaper hear you ask that. He’ll skin your hide,” a feminine voice teased.
Looking over, Isa noticed a short woman outfitted in tight leather standing in the doorway. With cascading black hair, pierced brows, and a pair of dazzling eyes, it was hard to miss her. “Who’re you?”
“The boys call me Dolly, but my real name is Dorthea.” Her dark blue eyes scanned Isa. “But don’t you dare call me that.” She walked over and tapped one of the frames. “My old man loved this MC. Hell, it’s where he met my mom.” She straightened her leather jacket over her white tank top. A hint of tattoos covered her chest, the green and blue tempting Isa to ask their origins. “Once MC, always MC.”
“You’re a member?”
Dolly chortled. “Fuck no. I work behind the scenes.” She plopped onto the couch and propped her booted feet on the back. “I take care of the nymphs.”
“You’re a….” She couldn’t finish the thought. Suddenly her sheltered life in Ireland seemed a whole lot better than this one.
“Madam? Yeah.” Dolly swept her black hair into a high ponytail, a raven tattoo behind her ear coming into view. “Why? You interested in joining? The girls are very happy with Macha.” She looked over Isa approvingly. “I guarantee those boys would want you.”
Isa self-consciously crossed her arms over her breasts. “I’m not, um, interested. I’m actually here because—”
Dolly snapped her fingers and sat up. “You’re Phantom’s girl, aren’t you?” She whistled low when Isa nodded. “Sorry. I’ve been gone the last few days. My aunt needed somebody to help her with some shitheads on the block.”
“And you did that?”
Dolly smiled, a pair of dimples popping into view. “Honey, just because I’m a woman doesn’t mean I can’t take care of myself and the people I love.” She hopped to her feet. “It’s a must in my line of work. I can teach you a few things if you’d like.”
“Thanks, I would.” Even though their lives were completely opposite, Isa liked this woman. She was gutsy and not afraid to flaunt it.
“Great, come on.”
“Wait, right this minute?” She barely got the words out before Dolly grabbed her hand and hauled her down the hallway. For a woman five inches shorter than her, Dolly could move.
“Better than later.”
They reached the doors to the parking lot behind the bar. Remnants of last night’s party that had trickled outside sent Isa’s stomach lurching. The fog seemed to have thickened in the last hour, clouds tickling her exposed skin.
Dolly shed her leather jacket, revealing tattoos covering her arms and most of her chest beneath the tank. “Come at me.” She motioned at her.
“I can’t fight you.”
“Somebody chicken?” Dolly taunted. “Come on, girl. Show me what your Irish daddy taught you.”
“He didn’t teach me a bloody thing.” Gritting her teeth, Isa moved for Dolly, fists ready. She swung a punch, but it was easily blocked. Jabbing fast, she caught the side of Dolly’s shoulder, but her victory was short lived. In one swift move, the shorter woman kicked Isa’s ankles and slammed her to the asphalt.
Isa groaned in pain once she caught her breath. “Shite!”
Straddling her, Dolly kept her hands pinned to the ground. “You’re feisty. That’ll work well in Macha, but you need to hone your anger. Don’t let it control you.”
“What’re you talking about?” She struggled to move but found it pointless. Dolly was stronger than she looked.
“The boys talk, Isa. I know why you’re here. Hell, my girls are trained to get info from them.” Dolly released her wrists. “You can’t blame your dad for this. He can’t control the Twelve Brothers. No one can. They’re the scum MC of Ireland.”
“I can and I will.” She shoved at Dolly, the act meaningless when she all but lay on top of Isa.
“You’ve already lost your mom. Don’t throw away a relationship with your dad too.” Dolly’s eyes clouded. “You’ll miss them once they’re gone. Believe me.”
Isa stopped fighting. “Your parents?”
“Yeah. Motorcycle accident two years ago.” Her eyes shadowed. “They were Macha until they died. I’ll be the same.” Dolly pounced to her feet and pulled Isa with her. “And so will you. After a bit of training.” She grinned. “There’s a reason why a woman is the club’s patron. Men are lost without us.”
“You would say that,” a new voice called from the bar entrance.
The women glanced over and saw Brewer with a shit-eating grin on his face. His button-up shirt fluttered open in the breeze, hints of tattoos beneath. “You spewing bullshit again, sis?”
Dolly flipped him the bird. “And so what if I am? What’re you gonna do about it, big brother?”
Brewer ran his fingers through his red hair, the color a bright contrast to the fog around them.
Isa glanced between the two. She didn’t see the similarities right away, but then again, Brewer did have a bushy red beard to match his hair. He walked closer, and it was then that Isa noticed they had the same baby blue eyes that saw straight to the soul.
“I didn’t realize you were related.”
Dolly draped her arm around Isa and kissed her cheek. “Macha is full of surprises. Come on, I’ll introduce you to the nymphs. They’ll love you, especially since you’re not competition.”
Looking over her shoulder, she saw Brewer grin before following them. She wasn’t sure what to expect, but with Dolly and Brewer, it was bound to be fun.
Meeting the club nymphs took over the next two hours. The initial meeting was short, but once the nymphs started talking, Isa couldn’t shut them up. In a way, they reminded her of Orla. She discovered most of the patch members were respectful when it came to sex. The few times things got out of control, either Dolly or one of the other members would protect the nymphs.
In a weird way, she was proud of the MC for their dedication to the women they used solely for bodily p
leasure. From the little she knew about club life, that wasn’t the norm. Every Macha nymph had a tattoo like the patch members. The one difference was they also had a small nymph beside the black raven. It was surreal to Isa that these women were part of something so big, even if in just a small way.
The nymphs offered makeup and hair advice—not that she took much of it. She’d never been huge on the makeup front, and her hair was always kept different shades of blonde. If people didn’t like her the way she was, they were no friend of hers.
Lunch rolled by, and three nymphs were called to help prepare the meal, then promptly disappeared afterward. Dolly didn’t seem concerned by it. Apparently it was normal to catch a member’s eye during meal prep. Dessert, as Dolly called it, didn’t always happen behind closed doors either.
Yeah, I noticed that last night. Isa pushed back her long hair. The bar boasted plenty of dark places for people to hide—or not hide—their sexual acts. The worst part was that she wasn’t repulsed by it. I’m becoming callous already.
“Weren’t you with Doc last week?” she overheard one of the nymphs say. Moving closer, Isa held her breath.
“Yep. He was a freaking god. Hasn’t come around in a while, though. I’m blaming the Irish bitch. I’ll bet she’s getting fucked every night instead of us.”
Isa held a hand over her mouth, grateful for the curtain between them.
“Well, she’s one lucky girl,” the first nymph cooed. “Doc sure knows what he’s doing.”
“True, but he’s a little rough sometimes,” the other said.
“Oh, stop, you pussy. There’s nothing wrong with a man knowing exactly what he wants.”
Isa stopped listening after that. She didn’t want to hear any more about Doc’s exploits or even his praise. He was a cocky son of a bitch, albeit a cute one. But she hadn’t come to Colorado to get laid.
She walked down the short flight of stairs and caught a glimpse of Doc and Hawk along with two prospects. Hawk was ordering the prospects to wash the cycles after the rain, and each one appeared annoyed by the request. They didn’t baulk, though, merely followed the patch member outside and got to work.
“This is such a weird place,” she muttered, entering the kitchen. During her chatting with the nymphs, she had missed lunch.
“I’m sure I’d say the same about Ireland.” Reaper came into view. “You seem to be making friends.” He grinned and took a seat at one of the barstools. “I don’t think Dolly’s warmed up to another woman like that in years.”
She opened the refrigerator and pulled out a bowl of fruit. “Really? She seems really cool. I mean, for a biker chick.”
He chuckled. “Dolly is one of a kind. Just like you.”
“How does it all work?”
“What?”
Isa grabbed a fork and sat across from him. “The club, the nymphs, the businesses.”
For a moment, Reaper merely stared at her and scratched his bearded chin. “The nymphs are under Macha protection. They all work around the club businesses and offer the members reprieve in between.” He gave her a weak smile. “Your mum would kick my arse if she knew I was telling you this.”
“I want to know everything.” She took a bite of a slice of pineapple. “It helps me understand.”
“Well, in that case, Macha and the mayor of Snowshoe work hand in hand to keep hard drugs out of the city. Yeah, we’ve got marijuana here, and they even sell it at the lodge, but the citizens are more worried about heroin and cocaine. One of my groups patrols the city to make sure any drugs moved are done with permission. If not, well, the sheriff is also on our side.”
“That’s fascinating. How did—”
“Don’t ask questions, just listen.”
Isa clamped her lips together. She needed answers, and if sitting silently was how she’d get them, then she’d do it.
“Our day-to-day expenses are mostly covered by the proceeds from the garage, tattoo parlor, bar, ski shop, and ski lodge. During the colder months, we host several big snow events. It helps the community and our club, so the town is good with it.”
“What about illegal things?” She bit her bottom lip. “I mean, other than regulating the drugs.”
“The only illegal thing we do is protect people.” He smirked at her scrunched face. “Sounds weird, I know, but Macha is sometimes hired to protect people hiding from other clubs. It’s not illegal to the law, but to the MC code, we’ve made many enemies.”
She put down the fork. “So, you’re telling me Macha protects people who need help, and that’s why you have enemies.”
Reaper took a deep breath and nodded. “Mostly. We’re mouthy from time to time too.” He grinned. “Can’t help the fights that causes, lass.”
“I always thought motorcycle clubs were a bunch of hell-raising assholes who moved drugs for the cartel.”
“Some do, but not ours.” He patted her shoulder. “Never ours.”
“That’s oddly comforting.” Everything her mother said hadn’t been true. Malcolm Kerry wasn’t a soulless bastard. He’s actually pretty badass.
“I’m off to the garage. I have a few errands I need Doc to run.” He stood. “You should tag along. The two of you make quite the pair.”
She snorted. “Yeah right.”
Reaper clucked his tongue, a twinkle in his brown eyes. “I know when opposites attract.”
“You’re mad,” she called before he walked out of the room. In reality, he wasn’t. He was dead-on. She felt the surge of desire whenever Doc was in the room. It didn’t happen with any other club member. It’d never happened ever in her life, for that matter. There was something between them, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to find out what. Not unless he wanted to kiss her as badly as she wanted to kiss him.
10
Doc
“I need to help Brewer at the bar tonight. You want to come?” Doc waited in the doorway. He’d barged right into Isa’s room and caught her mid-change of clothes.
Not your best move, O’Brien.
“What’s my alternative?”
“Hang out with Queenie, probably.” He sniffed, her lavender scent invading him.
Her face scrunched and she stood. Her long legs looked even more tempting in the skinny jeans. How the fuck did she get in those? While his Irish princess was slender, her ass was more than two handfuls.
“I’ll go with you. Maybe if it’s not busy I can work the bar.”
“You bartend?”
Her gray eyes dropped to her stylish black boots. She didn’t need the damn heel, but it did make looking right into her eyes even more attainable. He’d never in his life met a woman her height, and he instantly adored it.
“No, but I’d like to learn.”
He opened the door. “Tell ya what. If it’s not too busy, I’ll show you how to make a few drinks.”
“Really?”
He laughed and met her excited eyes. “Really.”
An hour later, Doc was immensely regretting his offer to bring Isa along. The bar was chock-full of patrons. The normal Snowshoe residents didn’t bother him. The group of Greenback Cutthroats in the corner did. The men with red cuts on weren’t causing trouble, but he doubted that’d last long.
“Why don’t they go to their own bar?” Brewer bitched, garnishing a drink for the woman on the other end of the bar. They’d split the bar, Brewer’s usual prospect ill that evening. Even with three extra nymphs, neither had a moment to even take a piss.
“’Cause they’re assholes and like to stir the pot.” Doc wiped off his station, eyes focused on their rival MC. They surrounded the jukebox, loudly trying to decide what song to select.
“All right, I think I got this one right.” Isa presented him with a small tumbler. Since arriving, she’d tried and failed to make a correct whiskey sour. Heaven help him, but he admired her persistence.
Using a small straw, Doc dipped it in the drink, then brought it to his mouth. “You’re sure?”
She nodded confidently
, so he tasted it. Keeping her gaze, he let her wallow in uncertainty. The way she pouted her lips made it too tempting to pass up.
“Well?”
He tossed the straw in the garbage bin. “It’s perfect, Isa. Good job.”
She beamed and hugged him before he could stop her.
“All right, all right. Why don’t you check on Snoop and Rubble? They’re probably getting low on drinks.”
Isa didn’t need to be told twice. She walked out from behind the bar, and Doc watched her sweet ass sway out of sight.
“Got a little drool there, brother,” Brewer said, flicking his chin.
Doc cleared his throat and eyed the other man. A knowing grin lined Brewer’s face, and he wanted to wipe it right off. “A man can look.”
“Mmhmm, but you don’t want to merely look.”
Brewer went to help a customer, stealing Doc’s opportunity to chew him out. His brother wasn’t wrong, though. He did want to do more than look at Isa’s jeaned ass.
Focusing back on the three drink orders, Doc didn’t think about Isa again until he heard a ruckus toward the Greenback crew. He glanced their direction and had to do a double take.
“Is that…?”
He tossed the ice out of the glass he was prepping. “Yep, it is.”
Brewer chuckled. “Well, damn. She fits in real well.”
Doc shot him a glare and hurried from behind the bar. He fought through the crowd, never taking his eyes from Isa’s long hair. Reaching her, he steeled himself for the inevitable backlash. She was dangerously close to the Cutthroats, and the bikers had no issue with telling her exactly what each one wanted to do with her long legs.
“Isa, we need you at the bar,” he said, grabbing her wrist.
Isa turned guarded eyes to him, and he swore he noticed a flash of relief. How the hell she’d moved from helping Macha to serving the bar, he needed to know the moment he got her out of there.
“Nah, Macha, I think this little filly will stay here a while with us,” the biggest Cutthroats member said, tugging on Isa’s other wrist. She toppled onto his lap, and the seven bikers surrounding them laughed.