by Skye McNeil
Cheeks burning, Isa grabbed a slice of bread and sat on one of the stools. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Queenie snorted and placed the cans near the stove. “Darlin’, you two aren’t fooling anyone.” She opened the refrigerator and handed Isa the milk carton, then grabbed a glass from the cabinet overhead. “Your connection is obvious to everyone. Hell, I overheard Doc tearing Cueball a new one because the guy commented on your ass.”
Isa choked on her bite and quickly filled the glass with ice-cold milk. “He did?”
“Yep. I’ve known the boy his whole life, and he’s never been so protective of anyone before.” She grinned. “And before you go sayin’ it’s his job and all that, Doc doesn’t take a shine to many women. At least not longer than an hour or two.”
Finishing her piece, Isa snatched another one. She couldn’t remember the last time she had homemade bread. Her mother used to make it, but that was years ago.
“I don’t have much experience with men,” she mumbled around another bite.
Queenie added water to the coffeepot. “They’re all so different it wouldn’t matter. One man isn’t like the rest, and vice versa.” She added grounds to the filter and pressed the On button. The scent of coffee started to fill the air. “We’re all inexperienced with someone new.”
“That’s not what I—”
“I know, Isa.” She winked and pulled out a ceramic mug. “Don’t change what I said.”
Isa smiled and took a drink. Queenie immediately made her think of her mum. It’d be so nice to have someone like a mum around again.
“There she is.” Reaper walked into the kitchen, three patch members plus Doc tailing him. He kissed Queenie’s cheek before pouring himself a cup of coffee. “How do you like our little casa?”
“Little?” She laughed. “This place is huge. I’ve only seen the main level and a bedroom. I can’t imagine what the rest of it looks like.”
Reaper added cream to his cup and took a sip. “In that case, why don’t I give you the grand tour? The boys and I have a few things to do today, but I have time to show you the ropes.” He glanced at Doc. “Unless my nephew would rather….”
“Like they’d get anywhere other than the bedroom,” Hawk heckled.
Rubble rolled his eyes whereas Brewer merely smirked. When she looked over to Doc, Isa was disappointed to see his brow furrowed while he studied his phone.
“I’m ready when you are.” She rinsed her glass and put it in the dishwasher before taking Reaper’s offered arm. Only Rubble followed; Hawk, Brewer, and Doc moved toward the backyard.
An hour later, Isa sensed a headache creeping into her skull. Reaper outdid himself on the personal tour. From the tech tower to the three bunkers, Macha was prepared for a zombie apocalypse.
She’d left the club president in the den, where a handful of members were playing pool, and walked toward the front door. Two boys darted out in front of her, and she slammed to a halt. Glancing around, she didn’t spot anyone chasing them, so she followed them to another set of stairs that went to a lower level she hadn’t toured.
Feminine voices carried along the air, and she curiously followed them. Reaching the bottom step, Isa scanned the basement that seemed to go on forever in both directions. The concrete posts throughout reminded her that this place was a bunker before it was a lavish residence.
Finally, she spied the two preteen boys hovering at the entrance of a new room. When she reached them, she understood why. So this is where the nymphs are hiding.
Isa peeked through the small crack in the door and held in a laugh. Dolly and four nymphs were playing cards around a circular table, but they weren’t what the boys were drooling over. No, it was the two nymphs on the opposite end of the room who were trying on new lingerie that captured their attention.
As if sensing their presence, Dolly glanced to the door. “Oye! You two little bastards better run. I’ll whoop you good this time if I catch you.” She stood and started for the door. The two boys backed up and right into Isa. They yelped, then ran toward the stairs.
The door swung open, and Isa gave the madam a shy smile. “Would you believe I followed them down here?”
Dolly smirked and jerked her head. “Come on in so I can close the door. Normally Queenie doesn’t mind the youngsters peeking, but with all the shit that’s about to hit the fan, the old ladies want their kids within spitting distance.”
Isa stepped fully into the room filled with lavish décor. The club wasn’t stingy with their motorcycles, and they were equally generous with nymphs. Her eyes widened at the assortment of lingerie hanging on one wall and the tent-like rooms set up side by side. She tripped over her feet when she noticed the sex toys lining another wall.
“I should probably go. This isn’t exactly my thing.” She looked around sheepishly. She’d never even been in a sex shop, and the easy way the women strutted around naked shocked her.
Hooking her arm through Isa’s, Dolly led her to the table and pulled out a chair. “Sure it is. You’re probably bored to death up there with the guys and their old ladies.” Her blue eyes sparkled. “This is where all the fun happens.”
Isa cleared her throat and looked around the room. The nymphs were good-looking but not perfect models. Some had curves while others were skinny. Their hair colors varied from brown to blue and several shades in between. It suddenly made her plain blonde hair seem insufficient for what a rough-and-tumble biker like Doc desired.
“They’re wigs,” Dolly said, cutting into her thoughts.
“What?”
She pointed to the girls with blue and pink hair. “The guys like them to switch things up sometimes. You know, role play. So the girls have wigs for such occasions.”
The two women in question walked out the door.
“Who’re they going to?”
Shuffling the cards, the shorter woman eyed her. “You sure you want to ask questions like that?”
“Oh, no. I guess not.” Her face heated for more than one reason. “Has Doc ever…? I mean it’s none of my business, but has he…? Oh never mind.”
Dolly quickly passed out the cards. She could’ve been a dealer in another life. “I keep track of where my girls go, how long they’re there, and if anything of note happens while they’re with a club member.” She picked up her pile of cards. “Doc’s a frequent name on my list.”
“I see.” She rubbed her lips together, unsure what to think of the statement.
“Calm down, girl. Eventually every man needs to release pent-up energy.” She discarded and gave Isa a pointed look. “Know of any reason our Doc might be sexually frustrated?”
Isa inwardly kicked herself. Of course Doc would seek the comfort of one of the club nymphs. It was one of the free perks of the brotherhood.
“But he said—”
“Don’t believe what men say. Believe what they do.”
One of the nymphs hummed her agreement.
“I’ve never done relationships. I’m kind of lost,” Isa admitted.
“Can’t help you there, dollface. Those aren’t my specialty.” Dolly tossed another card to the middle of the table.
Isa sat in silence for a few minutes. The card game continued, as did the nymphs trying out new outfits. Part of her wanted to run and hide from the thoughts filtering in her mind. Another part of her craved information. She’d known from their first meeting that Doc would be the first man she’d sleep with. She just couldn’t convince him to sleep with her.
Ironic.
“How often does Doc…?” She stopped herself. She didn’t truly want to know. Instead, she wanted to learn. “Teach me how to seduce a man.”
Dolly leaned back in her chair, mild surprise registering on her face. “Now that I can help you with.”
Isa stared at her reflection. Dolly and her nymphs set her up good. Her hair was curled but tousled to look natural. Smoky makeup lined her eyes, and a smidge of gloss made her lips shine. The rest of her makeup wa
s spot-on and professionally applied.
Her gaze lowered to her clothes. The outfit was the only part she wasn’t sure about. Her clothes were usually comfortable over sexy.
Not today.
The V-cut blue blouse brought out the gray in her eyes and also gave plenty attention to her breasts. The lace push-up bra also helped define her “best asset,” according to one of the nymphs. The jeans were more her style. The dark denim hugged her curves in the best ways and hid the lacy panties underneath.
Dolly insisted she get the proper nymph treatment, including utilizing the spa and waxing station in the basement. Isa was suddenly very self-conscious of hair missing over her body. She wasn’t a prude, but anything having to do with sex was off-limits growing up in a Catholic home.
Blowing out a noisy breath, she turned to the side. Her shirt had a matching V in the back as well. It stopped just above her bra but hinted at what lay beneath it.
She snapped a selfie and sent it to Orla. Doing the time calculations, she figured Niall and Orla were prepping for bed after working in the shop all day. Her phone buzzed with a received message.
Orla: Hot damn! Who you looking so sexy for? That biker of yours?
She giggled and bit her lip before typing a response.
Isa: He’s not mine yet.
An email came through and threatened to spoil her evening.
Blocked: We’re closing in, Isa. Are you ready for us?
Swallowing the fear the message was meant to bring, she shut down her phone. She was safe within Macha’s lodge. They’d walked her through the security herself. Nothing bad would happen while Doc was around. It was the one reassurance she clung to.
The clock on the wall struck six in the evening. It was dinnertime, and she was ready to face Macha’s bikers. Her stomach pitched at the thought that she wasn’t trying to impress anyone but Doc. His reaction to her would tell her everything she needed to know going forward.
Here goes nothing.
19
Doc
After working outside with Brewer and Hawk, Doc was ready to do absolutely nothing the rest of the night. It wouldn’t happen, but he could wish for it.
He hurried with a shower once Queenie rang the dinner bell, anxious to see Isa again and find out what she’d done with her day. It killed him not to be around her, but she was safe within the compound. No one could get in or out without a dozen club members seeing it. That offered him a little reassurance.
He took the stairs two at a time until he reached the main level. The aroma of corned beef, steamed potatoes, and blueberry cobbler hit him the instant he crossed the threshold to the dining area. Mouth watering, he grabbed an open seat and sat next to Rubble.
“You think we’re ready for the Twelve Brothers?” he asked, snagging a roll from one of the baskets on the table.
Rubble looked away from his phone. A shiver ran down Doc’s spine when the other man’s peculiar eyes connected with his. He’d probably never get used to the heterochromia paired with a shaved head covered in tattoos, but somehow it fit the bulky man who he’d heard used to be special ops for the Marines.
“I’m always prepared, Doc. But if not, I have a few tricks up my sleeve. With the lodge and our armory, we can hold them off until reinforcements arrive.” Rubble tipped back his bottle of Guinness.
Doc buttered the roll and took a bite. He’d be on edge until this whole kerfuffle was finished.
Rubble answered a call, and Doc couldn’t help but notice the man’s furrowed brows before he stood and walked out of the room. Brewer took the spot on the other side of Doc and nudged him with a beer.
“I brought an extra. Want it?”
“Definitely.” He took a long swig. Irish beer was the only kind the club kept on hand, and he was still getting used to the dark stout.
Brewer slapped his back. “You like our beer yet?”
“You work the bar, right? Can’t you get some American shit?”
“I could, but then I’d have to keep more labels in stock at the clubhouse and here.” He shook his head. “I like the simple life.”
“Yeah, yeah.” He took another drink, this time the taste growing on him more than the last. Not having eaten since breakfast didn’t hurt either. “Whose kids are those?”
Glancing over at the five children at the smaller table near the kitchen, Brewer smirked. “Cueball’s twin boys, Legs and Snoopy’s little girl, and Boulder’s grandkids. They haven’t been around much lately.”
“Snoopy has a daughter?” Doc’s eyes bugged at the thought. “And Cueball is a dad?”
Brewer smiled behind his bottle. “Weird to think, isn’t it?” He rested his elbows on the table. “They’re all actually really good parents.”
Doc watched Snoopy swoop down and tickle his daughter, who couldn’t have been more than three years old. The little girl giggled and hugged him. It was touching in a way to know even members of a motorcycle club could have children who thrived despite animosity. He sighed, knowing he was proof of that after hanging around bikers as a youngster.
“Hey, isn’t that your Irish girl?”
“She’s not my….” His words fell flat when he looked in the direction Brewer pointed. “Holy shit.”
Isa breezed through the door, shoulders back and a confident smile spread across her face. He gripped the beer bottle harder as his eyes raked over her body. The beautiful minx was outfitted in a shirt that turned every male head. Her jeans accented shapely hips and thighs and led straight to her black boots with a small heel. In his opinion, she didn’t need a lick of the makeup on her eyes and face. He had to admit, though, she looked striking all done up.
He shoved Brewer’s arm when he saw the other man ogling. It was selfish to want all of her to himself, but he couldn’t help it.
“What? She’s not taken, right?” Brewer chuckled and patted down his red hair with his fingers. “Think she’d be interested in a second-generation Irishman?”
“Don’t you have a girl?”
Finishing his beer, Brewer stood. “Nymphs don’t count, Doc.”
Isa reached them before he could say a word. “Hello.”
Her Irish accent washed over him, the silky tone giving him goose bumps.
“Hey, yourself,” Brewer replied, smiling enough that his dimples popped into view. “You look like someone special I know.” He tapped his lips as if trying to remember. Snapping his fingers, he pulled out a chair for her. “That’s right, my future old lady.”
Doc stood abruptly, chair screeching on the hardwood floor. He glowered at his brother, but the other man merely gave him a shit-eating grin. Brewer is fucking with me. He felt several curious eyes turn to them. And it’s working.
She sat in the offered chair and started chatting with Brewer once he joined her.
Pounding the rest of the beer, Doc wiped off his mouth as Queenie and the nymphs brought dinner to the table.
The food looked delicious. Reaper said an old Gaelic blessing, and everyone dug into the platters heaping with potatoes and meat.
Doc barely ate a bite. Between hearing Isa’s laughter two seats down and the way Brewer was flirting with her, he couldn’t stomach the notion that perhaps she didn’t want him specifically, just one of the club members.
When dessert came around, Brewer rested his tattooed arm around Isa’s shoulders, and Doc’s hands automatically formed fists. He didn’t even realize he was leering until Dolly poked his side.
“What?” he growled, turning to his right.
She didn’t shrink at his tone. Instead, she took another bite of blueberry cobbler and stared at him. “You’ll combust if you keep holding that in.” She nodded to one of the nymphs across the table. “Misty will gladly work all the frustration right out of you. Last I checked, you like it rough and so does she.”
He flicked his eyes to the brunette nursing a beer. “No, thanks. The guys are playing poker tonight. I think I’ll join them.”
“Oh, you mean the poker n
ight my nymphs are putting on downstairs?” Her eyes shimmered with mischief. “I’ll be sure they give you extra attention.”
“I don’t want a nymph,” he said under his breath.
“No, but you might need one.” Dolly winked. “At least until your Irish lass decides to give you the time of day.”
Thinking over his options, he couldn’t disagree with her. He was in desperate need of an outlet. They obviously wanted each other, but now he wasn’t sure she wanted anything more than that.
He swore under his breath. When did my mind change? He shook his head. He’d been so set on leaving Isa alone that the opposite happened for him. A casual hookup wasn’t what he yearned for when it came to her.
Well, fuck me sideways.
Isa and Brewer stood, and after thanking Queenie for the meal, the duo linked arms and started toward the back patio. Rage filtered through Doc, but he had to stop himself. He had zero reason to be jealous. They’d shared kisses and plenty of conversations, but he had no permanent claim on Isa.
Not yet.
20
Isa
“I’m curious. When are you going to tell Mr. Jealous over there that we’re related?” Brewer asked, dishing cobbler on their plates.
Isa snuck a glance over to the man in question. Sure enough, he was all but fuming smoke from his ears. She tried not to laugh but couldn’t help herself. Doc’s blue eyes flashed to her, and she quickly looked away.
“Soon, but I think he deserves to suffer a wee bit.” She took a spoonful of the cobbler and moaned. “Plus, this is too good to not finish every bite.”
Brewer dug into his dessert. “Queenie knows her way around the kitchen.” He waved his spoon. “The nymphs too. Honestly, they’re the ones who make the best food. Lara over there makes a fantastic crème brûlée.” He nodded to a redhead. “And Alyssa, well, her omelets are to die for.”
“You’re a foodie, then,” she stated rather than asked.