Vengeance MC Box Set - Volume 2: Gage ~ Cash ~ Knight (Vengeance MC series Book 8)

by Natasha Thomas

  Wow. Just, um, wow. This biker hotty is packing some dangerous machinery if the substantial outline of his semi-erect cock is anything to go by.

  Again, don’t judge me. I may or may not – because I refuse to admit it either way – be going through a dry spell. And it’s not my fault my eyes are drawn to the guys goods. If it weren't making itself known by trying to hammer its way to freedom, I wouldn’t be looking now, would I?

  Boss clears his throat giving Cash a pointed look, while his wife, Beth’s eyes widen at the realization one of her husband's men is standing right next to her popping wood.

  “Off-limits,” biker hotties president growls. “Aislinn is here to take photos, not entertain your horny ass. Now, get back to work before I fire your ass again.”

  “Again?” I question, cocking an eyebrow at him.

  But before Boss can answer, Beth does it for him.

  “Jackson fires Cash, at least, three times a week. Maybe more depending on what he does to piss him off. It never sticks, though,” she assures me.

  “Good to know,” I grin. “I’ll endeavor not to piss you off too badly then, big guy.”

  “That’d be appreciated,” Boss rumbles, smiling down at his wife as he pulls her into his side. “The journalist the magazine sent to do this is in there,” he says, pointing to the glass doors twenty feet away. “And by-the-by, he’s a fucking jerk off.”

  Nodding my head sagely, I agree.

  “You, sir, are not wrong. Let me guess, Lance sent Philip, who likes his name pronounced Phil-eep, didn’t he?”

  Boss shakes his head with disgust, rolling his eyes.

  “Yeah. There a reason your editor thought that asshole would be a good fit to do a piece on a biker garage?”

  “Ah, first,” I state, throwing up one finger to correct him. “I do not, have not, and never will claim Lance as my anything. I’m a freelance photographer, happy to sell herself to the highest bidder.”

  Cash interjects by practically yelling,

  “Consider me bidding,” accompanied by a devilishly handsome smirk in my general direction.

  Winking at him, I continue.

  “Duly noted. And to answer your question. No, I don’t have the first clue why Lance sent Phil-of-himself to cover this article because the man-child is painfully inept at his job. My best guess is, Phil-all-his-holes likes to suck his way up the totem pole, if you catch my drift,” I end, blinking innocently.

  “Seriously, honey, can we keep her?” Beth repeats, tugging on Boss’ arm. Addressing me, she says, “I have to introduce you to my friends, Avery, Bella, and Blaine, they are going to freaking love you.”

  “Fuck no,” Boss growls. “Can you imagine the shit they’ll get into if you introduce this one to the mix,” he says to Cash but gesturing to me.

  “Just think, the entertainment value alone would be worth the risk,” Cash, my eye-molesting possible new stalker returns.

  Shaking my head ruefully, I admit,

  “While your faith in my ability to insight a riot is commendable, it’s also, unfortunately, correct. I’ve been placed on permanent banned lists by the last three establishments I kindly offered my patronage.” I throw my hand up when Beth goes to speak, her mouth dropping open in shock at my mention of being banned. “Now, in my defense, the last time wasn’t entirely my fault. Some bastard got handsy with my best friend, which I’ll have you know, she wouldn’t have minded if he wasn’t old enough to be her dad and had showered within the last month. But alas,” I sigh dramatically, “he didn’t heed the multiple warnings Meg gave him so I was forced to intervene on her behalf.”

  “What did you do?” Beth breathes excitedly.

  “What all good friends would do. I grabbed his hair, pulled him backward off his stool, and kicked him in the balls.”

  “Sounds reasonable, all things considered,” Boss concedes.

  “You’d think so, wouldn’t you? But when I tried to explain to the bar manager that the last eight times I kicked him were accidents, my foot had merely slipped on his dirty floor, for some reason he didn’t believe me,” I explain.

  Honestly, I don’t get what the big deal was. The guy was harassing my friend and wouldn’t take no for an answer. Hence, as far as I see it, my intervention was both warranted and required. How was I to know the dude would cry for his momma like a big old baby?

  Covering their junk protectively, both Boss and Cash wince.

  “You kicked him eight times?” Boss groans, looking weary of me.

  “Nine. Only the last eight were accidents, though,” I clarify helpfully.

  Cash gives me one last smirk before chuckling,

  “Violent little thing, I like it,” and striding off, I assume to get back to work.

  Deciding I’ve wasted enough time avoiding, Phil-ter-missing, not to mention, my shoulder is beginning to ache under the weight of my gear, I suggest,

  “How about you show me where you want me to dump my stuff and give me the grand tour? I’ll be sure to stay as unobtrusive as I can while I’m here, but there may be times I have to set up lighting to get my shots.”

  *****

  After an exhausting two hours being showed every nook and cranny of Pipes, including the staff bathrooms – something I could have lived without – my feet are killing me (stupid freaking cowboy boots), and my head is spinning with all the information Boss has imparted on me. Who knew there were so many different kinds of wrenches? Not me, and I didn’t need to,

  Flopping onto the couch in the reception area, I groan and prop my poor abused feet up on the armrest.

  “Is there a possibility one of your versatile mechanics could fetch me a crowbar, a bucket of ice, and a painkiller preferably in the form of beer? Two or three ought to do the job. American, and cold if you’re taking orders,” I moan pitifully.

  All of a sudden my boots are pulled off and dropped unceremoniously on the floor, along with my sock, and my feet are being massaged by a pair of incredibly talented, strong, male hands.

  At this point, I may have freaked the hell out if it didn’t feel so good, but it does, so I generously allow Cash to continue his ministrations. Unfortunately for my feet and mental stability, an unholy roar followed by Cash being thrown bodily across the room puts an end to that little dream.

  However, in light of the appearance of a furious man standing above me, glaring, my feet have become insignificant in the grand scheme of things.

  “You!” I shriek, jabbing a finger at him as I bolt upright off the couch. “I knew I wasn’t seeing things last night. What in the ever-loving fuck are you doing here, you jackass?”

  Okay, so you could say I’m not entirely over Dex deserting me when I was sixteen. Irrespective of how much time has passed – and yes, I’m aware it’s been sixteen years, so half my life – Dex abandoning me made a huge impact on my life in more ways than just the obvious.

  Not taking his eyes off me, Dex threatens,

  “I see your hands on her again, I’ll fucking gut you. Brother or not, touch her again and you’re dead.”

  Cash looks thoroughly confused by this recent development, which is only made worse by my next statement.

  Now, in hindsight – something I have a lot of experience with – I probably should have just kept my mouth shut, but honestly, I’m not particularly good at that. Case and point, the one hundred and sixteen beatings I endured from Nicholas during the eight and a half years we were together.

  Needless to say, post life ruining bastard, I made the decision not to allow another man to walk all over me ever again, starting with the one who did the most damage. Which conversely is why I accidentally may have signed Cash’s death warrant if Dex’s reaction is anything to go by.

  “Now, you listen to me, shit biscuit,” I snap angrily. What can I say? I love Deadpool, he’s my hero. I’d so marry him if he weren't a fictional character. “I suggest you close your eyes if you don’t want to see his hands on me because I can assure you, Dexter Peters, if Cash
’s hands are even remotely as talented as other parts of him there’s a good chance I will be sampling what else he has to offer.”

  As I said, not one of my finer moments. Something I recognize when, I hear, Boss groan,

  “Oh, shit.”

  Followed by,

  “Fucking hell,” come from Jump, who I was only introduced to twenty minutes ago.

  And finally,

  “You even consider letting him touch you, and I’m going to spank your gorgeous little ass, Aislinn. And you,” Dex snarls at Cash. “Keep your fucking hands and your dick to yourself or you’ll find them missing by morning.”

  The voice of reason that he is, Boss declares,

  “It’s obvious you two have some shit to sort out, so how about you use my office and see to that?”

  I don’t need time to consider Boss’ suggestion because that would be a hell no. There will never be a time I want to have a chit chat with soul destroying bastard numero uno.

  “Ah, how does not in your lifetime sound?” I hedge, giving Boss a hopeful grin to soften the blow.

  “I’m afraid I’m going to have to insist, Aislinn,” Boss replies in a no-nonsense tone.

  Thankfully or not, depending on how you look at it, I’m saved from my current dilemma by the arrival of my best friend. The unfortunate aspect of this development is that as soon as Meg clears the door, she spots, Dex.

  “Tell me my eyes deceive me, Linny,” she drawls with deceptive calm.

  Sighing heavily, I position myself in front of Dex in case Meg decides to launch an attack.

  “No can do.”

  “Then tell me I’ve entered an alternate universe only populated by hot boy bikers, and that cock-tasrophy is not here ruining the fantasy,” she demands, glaring at Dex.

  “Again, this would be a negatory. Except on the hot boy biker thing, they’re real alright,” I return softly.

  Meg flicks her eyes between Dex and I, and I instantly know what she’s doing. She’s sizing him up. At that thought, I almost laugh out loud. Meg’s not stupid, she knows there’s not a chance in hell she could take Dex down, but I have to give her props for considering it.

  Clearly affronted she’s met her match, Meg lets her hand drop away from the suitcase she dragged in behind her, crossing her arms over her chest.

  “So, I was at home doing nothing and bored out of my skull and got to thinking, wouldn’t it be awesome if I showed up to surprise my bestie? I jumped online and booked my flight and voila, here I am. On a side note, do you know how freaking expensive last minute flights to Denver are? I think I owe Visa my first and second born now. And you my dear friend, owe me an alcoholic beverage so strong it will erase all knowledge of his presence from my mind,” Meg says, sneering the word his.

  As I go to step away from Dex, his hands find my hips and his mouth my ear.

  “You and I are going to talk, Daisy. See to your friend, but I’ll be at your motel room at ten. And I’m warning you, sweetheart, you better be there because if I have to hunt you down, I’ll make good on my promise to spank your ass.”

  Well, okay then. Dex may think he has the upper-hand, but he only remembers the girl who would do whatever he said and follow him anywhere. He doesn’t know the new me, but he sure as shit is going to meet her sometime in the very near future.

  Ignoring Dex’s warning and the mortifying threats of what he wasn’t to do to my poor innocent ass, I gesture to Meg to turn around and go back the way she came from.

  “There’s a bar near the motel I’m staying in, and if you’re a very good girl and don’t get us banned from this one, I might be able to help you fulfill your desire to suffer permanent, specific memory loss as it pertains to a certain someone.”

  Gasping, Meg shouts,

  “You treacherous bitch. I didn’t get us banned from anywhere, that was all you. Or should I say, that was all you and your steel-toe shitkickers you just had to buy and wear out that night.”

  “Whatever helps you sleep at night,” I snort, earning a glare from Meg that would have a lesser woman peeing her panties. “But you seem to be forgetting the little issue of you climbing on the bar and taking your shirt off, which you still claim was a public service seeing as all those men were lonely and horny. Then if that wasn’t attention seeking enough, was it not you who proceeded to do a rain dance with six bottles of top shelf vodka, slipped and fell on her ass, taking out an entire rack of expensive margarita glasses?” I question snidely.

  We both know the truth here, Meg just doesn’t want to admit it.

  Meg flips me off, proudly sharing,

  “Be that as it may, since you were kind enough to share my night of humiliation we agreed was better left forgotten for the greater good of humanity, did you tell your new friends how you got us banned from the first two?”

  “You wouldn’t?” I hiss, knowing she absolutely one hundred and ten percent would.

  “Oh, dear, delusional, Linny, I’m sure they’d love to hear all about the time you…”

  I cut Meg off by saying,

  “Don’t you dare. If you say one more word, I’ll tell them all about that little misunderstanding you had in Cabo last year.”

  Using the universal sign for dismemberment, dragging her finger across her throat, Meg screeches,

  “You’re dead to me. D.E.A.D, dead. As in, I am no longer speaking to you for, at least, the next two hours until I’m too drunk to remember you’re a dirty, lying traitor.”

  Interjecting, Jumps inquires,

  “Do you two take this show on the road?”

  “You’re hysterical, He-man, but shouldn’t you be home brushing your hair or something? Better yet, get your mom to do it and put it in one of those pretty man-buns,” Meg volleys, clearly unamused by Jump’s sense of humor.

  “Oh, can we keep her too?” Beth claps out, appearing out of thin air.

  “Yes, you may,” Meg nods congenially. “If you didn’t hear already, I’m looking for a new best friend and you’ll do quite nicely. That is as long as you know where this bar the traitorous she-bitch was referring too.”

  Have I said yet that Meg is a tad on the dramatic side? Well, if you hadn’t picked up on it, she is. Ply her with a few shots, a couple of beers, introduce a table for her to dance on, and my perceived treachery will be quickly forgotten. Just like she wishes her memory of the Cabo misunderstanding was.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  ~ Gage ~

  “I hate when I bother to shave and then I don’t get laid. All that effort for nothing.”

  – Truth

  My fist itches to plant itself in Cash’s smug face, but with Boss, Jump, and Fury standing sentry I’ll have to wait until I get him alone to give him the ass kicking he rightly deserves.

  “What the fuck was that?” Boss barks, in a tone that tells me he doesn’t require an answer. “I take it you know Aislinn, and that you two have some kind of history there, but you might wanna tone it down a notch, brother.”

  His suggestion is noted and quickly dismissed when I catch the smirk on Cash’s face.

  “Fucking try it,” I goad, ignoring the way Fury’s eyes widen at my thinly veiled threat. Time to clear it up for them. “I’ve known Aislinn since I was four and loved her since I was six. Any one of you assholes even think about getting in between her and me, and we’re going to have problems. Problems I won’t think twice about using my Glock to solve.”

  Scratching his goatee, Fury surmises,

  “It’s her, yeah? The chick you told Jonas and I about.”

  “One and the same,” I confirm, wishing I wasn’t standing here explaining myself, having gone after Aislinn instead. “I’m not gonna go into detail, but like I said to that fuckwit,” I say, gesturing to Cash, “Aislinn’s off-limits.”

  Jump shakes his head grinning.

  “Good luck with that, brother. Her friend is a feisty one. Put the girls, her, and Aislinn together, and fuck knows what trouble they’ll find themselves in. I give them an hou
r, two tops.”

  “I’ll get in on that action. Put me down for forty-five minutes,” Fury smiles, handing over a hundred-dollar note.

  “I’m in for three. Aislinn sounds like she can handle her drink,” Boss grins unrepentantly.

  “You get your woman is with them, right? Which means, they find trouble she does too,” I grumble, reminding him of the obvious.

  “Yeah,” he sighs. “But that just means that when she fucks up and I have to fix it, she owes me. And trust me when I say, I’ve got all sorts of ideas how she can settle that particular debt.”

  Pausing for a few beats, Boss’ eyes roam to the front door, ordering,

  “Jump, lock those. The rest of you get your asses into my office. We’ve got some shit to go over before anyone takes off for the day.”

  It’s not unheard of for our Prez to hold impromptu MC business meetings at Pipes, but it isn’t usual. Most of Vengeance’s business is dealt with in church or at the clubhouse unless it’s sensitive subject matter, then Boss has been known to call a brother to his house to discuss it. That’s only happened twice that I know of, and once that I was involved.