Down & Dirty: Books 4-6: Dirty Angels MC Box Set 2

by St. James, Jeanne

  “So we go to a club and go dancing. Simple as that,” Kelsea said.

  “Somebody really wants to go out clubbing,” Kiki murmured.

  “What else is there to do?” Kelsea, the youngest of all the club sisters, asked.

  “Not goin’ out dancin’,” came the deep grumble from the direction of the bakery kitchen.

  “Ah, fuck,” Kelsea muttered next to Di as Zak came through the door.

  “Ain’t goin’ out runnin’ ‘round puttin’ yourself in danger with the fuckin’ Warriors on the warpath,” he continued.

  “The Warriors aren’t going to be at a night club in Pittsburgh,” Kelsea huffed.

  Z shook his head, making his dark shoulder-length hair swing, and stepped up to his wife, curving a hand along the bottom of her extended belly. “How’s he doin’?”

  “She’s doing fine,” Sophie corrected him.

  “Why didn’t you guys find out the sex?” Kiki asked with more than a little exasperation in her voice.

  Sophie waved a hand around, then laid it over Z’s. “We want it to be a surprise. And I already know it’s going to be a girl.”

  “Ain’t gonna be a girl,” Z grumbled.

  Bella snorted at the argument that kept being repeated for almost the last nine months. And it was driving them all crazy.

  “What are you going to do if it is?” Kiki asked, her eyes crinkling with amusement at his stubbornness.

  Z opened his mouth and shut it. His eyes narrowed, and he frowned. Then he said, “You women wanna party, do it at church.”

  “Z! No!” Kelsea yelled.

  “No, we’re not doing it at church,” Jewel seconded Kelsea.

  “No lip. Ain’t gotta choice.”

  “The fuck we don’t!” Kelsea cried.

  Z raised his brows and swung his head toward her, laying down the law. “Church or nothin’. Got me?”

  “What the fuck,” Kelsea muttered. “We’re not having our meetings here anymore.”

  Di sort of agreed with Kelsea. It was difficult to have their meetings at the bakery now when it always seemed that Z was around. Instead of working in any of the other club businesses, he decided he’d help “manage” the bakery, which, to him, pretty much meant he got to boss his wife and Bella around and sometimes do paperwork.

  But really, Diamond thought the reason he wanted to “work” in the bakery was to keep an eye on and protect his pregnant wife.

  Sophie cupped her man’s cheek as she grinned up at him. “Then you men have to promise to stay out and we can have male strippers come in.”

  His blue eyes swung back down to his wife. “What?”

  “You heard me,” Sophie murmured, her grin widening to a smile.

  His eyebrows hit the top of his head. “Strippers?”

  Di tried not to laugh at the way he spit that word out of his mouth.

  “Yeah, you know, like the ones that are always at all the club parties, except these have dicks instead of tits,” Kelsea said, crossing her arms over her chest. “Shouldn’t have a problem with that, right? With equality and all that.”

  Z’s eyebrows dropped low and his expression turned dark and stormy. “Equality? Have you lost your fuckin’ mind?”

  “Nope. Time for this club to come into the twenty-first century. We’re demanding equality,” Kelsea declared as she stomped her foot. Ah, there it was.

  Z snorted, dropped his head to stare at his boots and shook it. “Brain musta got scrambled,” he muttered to the floor. He raised his gaze to his wife. “You ain’t goin’ nowhere with my kid in your belly, got me?”

  Sophie pinned her lips together as she patted his chest reassuringly. “First off, I’m not going out dancing in this condition.”

  “In any condition,” he corrected her in a mutter.

  “And your concern with our safety is duly noted.”

  “Reason for it.”

  “Right. I get it, baby,” she whispered. She glanced toward the rest of the women. “But it’s Di’s thirtieth birthday and we are going to celebrate it, whether you like it or not.”

  “That so?”

  “Yep, that’s so,” Sophie repeated with a nod.

  Di rolled her lips under in an attempt not to beam at Sophie’s control over her husband. As club president and badass biker, he wasn’t normally willing to bend for a woman, but Sophie had him wrapped around her little finger. And right now she was wiggling that powerful pinky.

  The rest of the women were pretending not to notice Sophie’s control over her old man. Di eyeballed Kelsea, hoping the younger woman kept her trap shut and didn’t blow it for them.

  Kelsea’s eyes slid to hers and she bugged them out in a silent message. Di gave her a slight nod.

  Zak finally sighed. “Gonna get Hawk to close down The Iron Horse an’ get Dawg to book you some male strippers. Ain’t gonna let any of the brothers over there to bother you. Drink, dance, eyeball some strange dick, have fun. Still safe. Got me?”

  “Got you,” Sophie whispered, her eyes sparkling.

  “Invite Dawg’s girls.”

  “No,” she said firmly with a shake of her head.

  His eyebrows furrowed. “The sweet butts.”

  “No.”

  “The Knights’ ol’ ladies,” he muttered finally.

  “Fine.”

  “Gonna set the prospects out front to guard the door. Keep an eye out for trouble.”

  “Fine. As long as they don’t come in.”

  His nostrils flared. “Whatever,” he muttered, pressed a kiss to her forehead and moved back in the direction he had come from. No one said a word until the door to the back kitchen swung shut. Then they even waited a few more seconds until they knew he was out of hearing range.

  Then they all looked at each other and beamed. Di rushed up to Sophie and gave her a high five. “Good job.”

  “Now, I just hope I don’t pop until after the party. I want to see the results of my negotiations.”

  “Strange dick?” Ivy asked, quoting Z.

  “Hell yes!” Kelsea crowed.

  Ivy snorted. “Dawg should have connections to find a hot traveling troupe of male strippers on short notice.”

  “Up to him, he may find the ugliest ones.”

  “I’ll call him and make sure he doesn’t,” Jewel assured Kelsea. “And I’ll make sure there’s a lot of them. One for each of us.”

  “Oh, brother. You know Z was only the first obstacle. Some of us will have one of our very own,” Kiki said.

  “Like Hawk?” Jewel asked.

  “Mmm. And remember that big, serious, overly protective brother of his?” Kiki asked her with an arched brow.

  “How can I forget?” Diesel’s ol’ lady answered with a frown.

  “Right.”

  “Bah,” Jewel answered, waving a dismissing hand. “They’ll all get over it.”

  Di was suddenly glad she didn’t have to worry about a possessive man like most of them did. She was free to enjoy her birthday and hot, naked men as much as she wanted.

  And she was going to make sure she took full advantage of her birthday celebration. Maybe she’d even be able to talk one of the strippers into a private dance. At her place. With both of them totally naked. And horizontal.

  No batteries required.

  Yeah, that sounded like a great idea.

  She couldn’t wait.

  Chapter Two

  Slade groaned, pressed the heel of his palm into his eye socket and ground it hard. His head was splitting open and he hadn’t even opened his eyes yet. He held his breath for a moment and listened carefully.

  Breathing.

  That wasn’t his.

  He cracked one eye open and stared at a stained dropped ceiling that was not the one in his room at church.

  Fuck.

  He opened the other eye and slid his gaze over to the side without turning his head. Because that might be too painful.

  He did a mental body scan. He was naked. Something alive was ne
xt to him. And he was laying on something somewhat soft.

  Possibly a bed.

  He sucked in a breath to steel himself and finally forced his head to turn.

  Fuck.

  That was a lot of long, dark hair covering the woman’s face. But hair was the only thing covering her. Otherwise, she was as naked as he was.

  For a moment, his heart stopped thinking that somehow he hooked up with Diamond and ended up in her bed.

  Because that would be a fucking mistake. A huge one.

  Sticking his dick in her would be like sticking your finger in one of those Chinese finger traps. The harder you pulled away the tighter the trap got.

  He carefully pushed some of that hair out of the woman’s face and studied her.

  Fuck. What was her name?

  Sarah. Sally. Sierra.

  No. It was more stripperish. Sa-something.

  Her eyelids lifted, and blue eyes stared at him. His heart stopped again.

  Dark hair. Blue eyes...

  Just like Diamond. Fuuuuuck.

  She yawned and pushed herself over, curling into his side.

  Oh, fuck.

  “Morning, soldier,” she greeted with a smile, reaching out to run her red-painted fingernail over his dog tags.

  Was it morning?

  “Not a soldier,” he grumbled, his voice rusty.

  “You’re wearin’ tags.”

  “Yeah,” was all he grunted. He needed to get the fuck out of there. He glanced down at his dick.

  “We fucked, right?” he asked her.

  Her eyes got wide and Slade realized her blue eyes didn’t have the same intensity as Diamond’s. Fuck no they didn’t. This one’s eyes were a bit dull.

  “You don’t remember?”

  “Will you be mad if I say no?”

  When her eyes narrowed, he took that as a yes.

  “How ‘bout if I don’t remember your name?”

  She pushed away from him and sat up. “You don’t know my name?”

  He groaned quietly. “Know it. Just drawin’ a blank right now. Starts with an S.”

  She bit her bottom lip, studied him and when she finally released it, said, “Savannah. Not surprised you don’t remember. You kept calling me Di or Diamond or something like that.”

  Ah, shit. “So we fucked?”

  She nodded.

  “Wore a wrap, right?”

  She nodded again.

  Thank fuck!

  “Wait. How many times did we fuck?”

  She held up three fingers.

  Jesus fuckin’ Christ.

  “Wore a wrap all three times, yeah?”

  She nodded again.

  Oh, thank Christ!

  “This your place?”

  “Yeah.”

  He looked around the small room. She was not a neat person. Clothes, whether they were dirty or clean, were in piles everywhere. The top of her dresser was so full of shit, he couldn’t even see an inch of the wood top. A trashcan overflowed nearby. Dust covered the little bit of space that was visible on her nightstand. This woman was not squared away at all.

  He was afraid to inspect the sheets they were laying on to see if they were clean or dirty.

  He shuddered, pushed to a seat, and dropped his legs over the side of the bed. “Gotta go.”

  “Don’t want to have breakfast? Kids will be up soon; I can make us some pancakes or something.”

  Kids.

  Fuuuuuuck.

  He glanced over his shoulder at her. Now that he was upright he realized how much she looked like Diamond. But in a more “ridden hard and put away wet” type of way.

  “How many kids you got?”

  She smiled as if he was asking because he was interested. He wasn’t really. He didn’t want to be a daddy to anyone else’s offspring.

  “Four.”

  Holy fuck. He needed to get out of there. He didn’t want to be daddy to number five, either. He hoped she was telling the truth about him wearing protection each time they fucked. Because the woman was apparently very fertile.

  “Got four kids an’ you’re strippin’?”

  She shrugged. “Pays the bills.”

  He pushed to his feet and searched for his clothes. He was relieved when he found them neatly folded up on top of what he hoped was a pile of clean clothes. His boots were nearby, and he spotted his cut hanging from the knob of her bedroom door. At least that hadn’t ended up on the dirty floor.

  He pulled on his clothes quickly.

  “So... breakfast?”

  “Gotta go.”

  “Gonna be at the club again tonight?”

  Ah, fuck. “No, gotta work.”

  “Thought you said you worked last night.”

  He froze as he pulled his long sleeved thermal shirt over his head. “Yeah.”

  “You stopped by after work.”

  That he did. “Yeah. Gotta close tonight. Gonna hit the rack after that.”

  “Another time, then.”

  He tugged his shirt down his torso and grabbed his cut. “Yeah, ‘nother time.”

  Shoving his feet into his boots, he didn’t bother to even lace them before yanking the door open.

  “It was fun,” she called out.

  If it was, he couldn’t remember. “Yeah,” he grunted, not looking back. He needed to get to church and take a damn shower to wash stripper off him. All these months he’d avoided actually fucking any of them. He’d done a couple sweet butts just to relieve the load in his nuts, but that was it. He tried not to stick his dick in anything that hung around the club on a regular basis. He didn’t need that hassle.

  And since Dawg tended to bring some of his girls to the club parties, he wasn’t in the mood to have one of them trying to lay their claim on him.

  At least most of the sweet butts knew the deal. They were available to any of the brothers simply for the opportunity to hang around the club. Why any woman in their right mind would want that, he didn’t know. But when he was sick of yanking on his own dick, he’d take them up on being available.

  Though, sometimes he thought he’d better double wrap it. Even though some of his club brothers were going down left and right, getting trapped with ol’ ladies, enough single brothers remained to keep them busy. Worse, some of the sweet butts had this notion that they might become an ol’ lady.

  Not his. No fucking way. He was not hooking up permanently with a sweet butt. Hell, he wasn’t hooking up permanently with anyone.

  And that included Diamond Jamison.

  * * *

  Slade slipped in through the back door of church and groaned. He looked right into blue eyes framed by long dark hair.

  Diamond was heading in his direction like a woman on a mission. He braced as she approached but she ignored him and was about to blow right by him when she suddenly slammed on the brakes. He went solid since she was only inches from him, but facing the opposite direction. He turned his head, so did she, and her narrowed eyes met his wide, he-was-sure-as-shit bloodshot ones.

  Her nose wrinkled as she leaned in and sniffed him. “Smell like pussy.” He froze as she shifted even closer, her nose now barely inches from his neck. “And cheap perfume. Must like them easy.”

  “Nobody wants a ballbuster, princess,” he muttered.

  “Don’t call me that.”

  “Which one? Ballbuster or princess?”

  “Either. I’m not a ballbuster.”

  Slade snorted. “Right. What’re you doin’ here?”

  She arched a brow at him. “Getting shit together for my party.”

  “What party?”

  “My birthday party. The Iron Horse will be closed down for the night so us ladies can party.”

  “When’s that?” he asked, surprised at this news.

  “Thursday night. We won’t need your services.”

  “Wasn’t offerin’ ‘em.”

  “All the brothers will have to stay out. No men allowed but the strippers.”

  He cocked a brow. “
What strippers?”

  “The male exotic dancers we’re getting for my birthday.”

  “What the fuck,” he muttered. So not only was Hawk allowing the women to shut down The Iron Horse for a night, the brothers were allowing male strippers to come in to entertain the club women? She had to be bullshitting him. They’d never allow that.

  No fucking way.

  “Going to bang one, too,” she announced with confidence.

  Slade put two fingers to his ear and rubbed it hard. He could’ve sworn she said she was going to bang a male stripper. “What the fuck you talkin’ ‘bout?”

  “I’m going to fuck one of the dancers.”

  Every muscle in his body went solid. Even if Hawk and the rest were allowing male strippers to come in... “They won’t fuck you.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because they don’t do that kinda shit.”

  She planted her hands on her hips, her attitude seeping out enough that he swore he could almost see it. “Didn’t one of them just bang you?”

  He opened his mouth, then snapped it shut.

  She made a little noise. “Thought so.”

  “Whatever,” he muttered. “Hawk know you’re bringin’ male strippers into his bar?”

  “Yep.”

  What the fuck? “Know they’re all gay, right? Ain’t gonna fuck you.”

  Her eyes snapped. “Why do you care if they do?”

  “They?”

  “Yeah, it’s my birthday, maybe I’ll have more than one.” She smiled. A big fucking one, too.

  Slade’s jaw tightened, and he sucked in a breath. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

  “You should talk.”

  He sucked at his teeth, feeling his temper rise. He was tempted to teach her one of those “lessons” Diesel taught his ol’ lady all the time. But Slade still had the remnants of another woman’s snatch on his dick, so that wouldn’t do.

  That reminded him, he needed to clean up. “Gotta shower.”

  “Yeah, you do.”

  He shook his head and headed toward the stairs. “Don’t be fuckin’ strippers, princess,” he tossed over his shoulder.

  “Maybe you should take your own advice.”

  Yeah, maybe he should.

  Chapter Three

  The thump, thump, thump coming from The Iron Horse shook the wall behind the bar at church.