The Last Check (Hell's Phoenix MC Series Book 2)
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The Last Check
Hell’s Phoenix MC Series Book 2
A short novel
by Kristine Dugger
Damaged Series
Damaged
Broken
MedRom Series
Flatline
Pulse
Hell’s Phoenix MC Series
All I Wanna Do
The Last Check
Once Upon of Love Anthology
It Was Always You
Copyright © 2018 Kristine Dugger
All rights reserved.
ISBN-13:
Dedication
This book is dedicated to my friend Phoenix Soy. You are the one who said, “Girl, you need to write a story with Joe on the cover.” Well, I did. And I appreciate you encouraging me to get in front the lens and do a couples shot with Joe. I value our friendship. Thanks for being there.
~Love, Kris
CONTENTS
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
chapter 4
chapter 5
chapter 6
chapter 7
chapter 8
chapter 9
chapter 10
chapter 11
chapter 12
chapter 13
chapter 14
chapter 15
chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
CHapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
CHAPTER 23
Epilogue
From the author
Acknowledgements
About the author
Playlist
1: Wicked Ones - Dorothy
2: I Want You (She’s Heavy) – Halestorm
3: Good Time Rock-n-Roll – Bob Segar
4: Gone Away – Five Finger Death Punch
5: The Promise - In this Moment
6: St. Marie – Stone Sour
7: You Spin Me Round (Like a Record) – Dope
8: End Game – Taylor Swift
9: The World Can’t Tear Us Apart – Trivium
Chapter 1
Presley
Are we fucking doing this tonight?” asks Becklyn. Again, she goes, “Where are you all at with your list?”
I look down at my little teal chevron journal. The list of my many conquests. The very list I have been keeping since I lost my virginity to my high school sweetheart. Well, I thought he was the love of my life but later was fooled when he took my virginity and was done with me. The boys at our school had a wish list. His wish was to take my virginity. I was mortified when he broke it off from me. My big brother Logan found out through the grapevine what happened. And just to stay, it wasn’t pretty. Since then, I have looked at guys another way. What is the point of giving your heart to someone who can clearly take it away and stomp on it?
I was not the only one on someone’s list. Both of my best friends Becklyn and Rosy were checkmarks. Becklyn was considered a gothic freak. Todd claimed her as his fuck a freak. Then there is Rosy. Bryan’s fuck a big girl. So many girls made these lists and their reputations were hurt because of it. All three of us decided, after high school, we would create our own “stereotype” list.
The purpose of the “fuckit list” is to have it completed by the time we are thirty. I am not as ambiguous as the other girls. However, I have pretty well scratched off every stereotype male you can think of. From cowboy to jock, jock to metal head, metal head to stoner, stoner to preppy, mega-rich to hot nerd. Some would say it sounds slutty, but I own it and so do my friends. There is nothing wrong with a woman exploring her options before she decides she wants to get serious with life. I still struggle with the thought of getting serious with someone.
Becks is definitely the adventurous one of the group. Becklyn did grow out of the gothic phase but she still sports the dark look - dark brown hair, smoky eyes and plum lipstick. She is not afraid to take a risk or push the limits. She likes to explore the deeper and darker side of sex.
Then, there is Rosy. She is not afraid of pushing the extreme. Basically, she is not afraid to get down and dirty in front of a group. Her motto is, “You only live once.” Rosy dropped several pounds after high school. She is sweet as pie and everyone must have a taste. This includes both sexes. I love her confidence in herself. She takes pride in her curves and crazy, flowing brown hair. She says that is what makes her unique to men.
Then, there is me. Presley Anne Cooper, daughter of the owner of the Omaha Bullets, the minor league baseball in town. I grew up around baseball. Being the daughter of a well-respected man in Omaha has its perks, and many downfalls. I help out with marketing at the stadium but pretty much come and go as I please. One would say I am spoiled rotten. Daddy’s girl per se. But that all comes with a price. My parents want my brother and I to live life at a certain status. If they knew what I was doing with the “fuckit list” they would lock me up. If my mother had it her way, she would arrange a marriage with the perfect suitor for me. I hate it. But I go along with the status requirements, as long as they let me do my thing outside of the Cooper establishment. The biggest reason I go with the flow of my parents is because of Logan. My rebel brother. Navy Seal explosive expert with a son he is raising on his own with part-time help from my parents when need be. Logan went against everything they wanted him to do.
Back to the good old list. Becklyn had an amazing idea of going to the biker bar on the north side of the town. This bar had a reputation for many fights and illegal actions. None of us have been with a biker, and Becks feels it is time to pop that cherry. I was unsure if I wanted to explore that option. For the most part, the guys I have been with were safe. Ones I would consider taking to meet my family if I had any interest in a relationship with them. I know going to Dirty Jay’s would push the limits on how dangerous our fuckit list will go. I fidget. Becks notices my anxious ways. She comments, “Don’t tell me you are scared?”
I answer smarmily, “I’m not scared but we are going to outlaw central.”
Rosy starts to laugh, “Not every biker is an outlaw. Get off your hoity toity high horse.”
Rolling my eyes at Rosy, I respond, “Whatever. You girls are crazy. I’m just saying, look at us. Becks might fit in. Rosy, you and I, not so much. But I’m game if you all are game.”
Rosy shakes her head at me. “So what if we don’t look like the typical women who would go there. We are going to shake things up a bit.”
Becks comments, “Presley, do we want to complete the list or not?”
“Yes. You know that. I’m just saying we need to be aware of what we are doing.”
Rosy’s turn, “What the hell is wrong with you? When did you start acting like some goody two shoes?”
My friends were right. Why was I hesitant? I have never acted like this. I sigh, “Fine. Let’s fucking do this.”
Both girls smile in satisfaction. One more check for us all. Biker. Dirty Jay’s, here we come.
***
We walk into Dirty Jay’s acting like we own the place. Confidence exudes from us. We are dressed to the nines. All three of us wearing tight blue jeans that emphasizes every inch of our womanly curves. This is the first time we have ever been to a biker bar. It is exactly how I would imagine it. Beautiful, shiny bikes side by side in front. Neon beer and Harley signs hang from the walls. A band playing rock and roll music with so called biker babes dancing while their men watch from the sidelines.
As we walk to an open high top table, looks come our way from several of the patrons. We do stand out. Besides Becks, who is we
aring a tight, black tank top; Rosy and I are both wearing tank top blouses. Hers with a floral design and mine bright pink. I look around some more and notice I might be the only female wearing heels. I come to the realization that I will also be someone’s conquest. One of these men is going to see me and want to take advantage of me. Which is irony in so many ways.
Becks looks at me and says, “I’m going to get a beer. You want one?”
I nod my head yes.
Becks walks her sassy ass up to the bar. I look at Rosy and grin. She and I start swaying back and forth to the music. It was old school rock and roll. I believe the band was covering a Bob Segar song. I laugh to myself because it fits the stereotype.
Becks comes back with our drinks and a round of shots. Good lord, here we go. She is definitely on a mission. She hollers, “Drink up, bitches. We need to get some attention our way. It is time to dance.”
Rosy and I look at each other once more and smirk.
Here goes nothing.
***
Several beers and shots later, I am dancing the night away to Old Time Rock and Roll with my girls. I decide to walk up to the bar, exhausted and needing something to drink that was not beer. This place was kind of a clean dirty. I know that is probably not a thing, but if it was, it would be this bar. Ick. Since we are at the biker bar in Omaha, what else should I expect. Upscale and country club-ish, afraid to set my glass beer bottle on the bar table. Yeah, this place was not that. It was clean but rustic, smelled of old beer that dates several years back. I kind of like it and can see myself coming back if tonight is a bust.
Impatiently waiting at the bar and big boobs McGee was in no hurry to serve me, I roll my eyes in annoyance. I sigh, “How can I get big tits to wait on me?”
“Dallas, princess over here is getting impatient.” A husky voice mocks me.
I cock my head to the left, pissed I was called princess. I zing, “Excuse me. Princess?”
At that moment, I did not care where I was at. No one calls me fucking princess. But when I saw who did, I was left breathless. Oh my fucking God. Jackpot! Sitting beside me at the bar was all man and all biker. His Goldilocks hair was pulled back in a man-bun. A god forsaken man-bun. His intense hazel eyes shot daggers at me. Then there was the beard. Woah. Trimmed, kind of pretty, matches his head. I wonder where else his hair matches. His white shirt gripping for life around his perfectly sculpted, strong arms. Yowza. I bet he is built like a god, and I need to worship this god.
He smirks, “Well, aren’t you?”
I need to get witty. “Does it look like I am wearing a tiara?
“No. But those diamond earrings tell me so.”
“Oh, right, the earrings. I just can’t believe I left my crown at home.”
“You don’t belong in here.”
“Says who?” I look at his cut. “Hell’s Phoenix. Whatever the hell that means?”
He grins, “Actually, yes. And it means−”
“I really don’t care what it means.”
“You’re a feisty princess.”
My attention goes to the bar to see the bartender staring at us. I ask, “Can I get a drink of water, please?”
This Dallas character rolls her eyes at me and gets me a glass of water. She hands it to me. I take a sip and feel the cold water flow down my very dry throat. I could sense someone watching me. I set the glass of water down and ask, “Enjoying the scenery?”
He fiddles with his beard.
I wonder if that beard tickles.
“Whatever.” And I walk away from the bar and the sexy ass biker. I could sense his eyes examining me from behind. I think I found my next checkmark. This is going to be too easy.
Avery
This sexy little pistol shook her assets as she walked away. She is new to this bar. A girl like her does not belong in a place like this. My family’s bar. Well, it is the Hell’s Phoenix MC’s bar too. My father, the business man, owns this bar and many other places around Omaha. Not once have I seen a girl of that beauty walk into this bar. Most of the women who come to Dirty Jay’s are bikers’ old ladies or wannabe club skanks. She is definitely neither one of those. Something is different about this spunk. When I say beauty, she is a natural beauty. Dark brown hair with caramel highlights, curves that are grabbable, and dark blue eyes one could easily get lost in.
She is different and out of her element but yet, she wasn’t afraid to make herself known. I continue to watch her as she walks to her table of friends. All smiles, she sits down with two other women. Both looking similar to her, low-cut tops that emphasize their tits, dolled up for whatever they are looking for. They stand out in more ways than one. Nothing rough about them, more fragile.
Princess glances up at me. She knows I’m watching her. She smirks and says something to her friends. They both look in my direction and show their pearly whites. Princess is up to something. And there is no doubt it is me. Yeah, it sounds overly confident, but I’ve never had a chick turn me down. She might be a little feisty and a little hard to get just by her actions, but I guarantee she will be riding me tonight.
Dallas diverts my attention. “Ajax, she is so out of your league.”
I take a sip of my beer and say with confidence, “No, she isn’t.”
“That poor girl has no idea what is coming her way.”
“Yep!”
Dallas happens to be my older sister. When I said Hell’s Phoenix MC owns this bar, my father and a silent partner do. That silent partner is one of the founding members of our club. Nowadays, he sits back and just lets us younger members run the show. I hate the fact that he agreed to let my older sister bartend at night. This place can get rough with multiple clubs choosing this as their hangout.
We don’t care that they hang out at our bar as long as they do not bring their business in here. That is one of the many rules if you belong to a club other than the Hell’s Phoenix MC. We own this side of the city. There is no doubt about that. If you want to feel protected, you come to our side. We don’t put up with any disturbances. We are known as the peace keepers of the biker community. Too many other clubs do enough of the behind drug and gun scene. Not us. We keep the order. But that isn’t our only mission; we protect our service men’s and women’s family from crazy protestors at funerals. We ride in honor of fallen soldiers. One of the main stipulations to joining the club is that you must be a veteran. To protect this community, you must have protected our country.
My best friend James pulls up a barstool next to me. We both served in the Army. I was with special operations and he worked with dead people. One would say James is my best friend. He is more like a brother except when he is grinning at my sister. I groan, “Bro, really? I’m right here.”
My sister smiles and walks away.
James responds, “You have nothing to worry about.”
“Bull shit. Not at the house tonight. I’m going straight home.”
Not really. I just don’t want him fucking my sister at the house.
“Wow. You’re okay with your sis and me.”
“I’m never okay with it. But there is nothing I can do about it.” I pause, “Can we not talk about this?”
James grins before he sips his drink. “Sure, man.”
I know what James is going to do tonight. I get it. I hate that it is with my sister, but it is what it is. The fucker needs to let out some steam because of the whole baby momma thing.
***
Sipping another beer, watching the big screen television, I felt a nudge in my side. I turn my head to see who in their right mind would nudge me. And guess who it is? Little miss princess. She batts her eyes at me and says, “Hi!”
I squint my eyes at her and respond, “Hey.”
“Do you always look so frumpy?”
Confused at her question. “What?”
“You look like someone just spilled your beer.”
“I’m not following you.”
She smiles at me. “You should follow me.”
“Never mind. You’re not making this easy.” She turns her head toward Dallas. “Hey, can I get him a beer of his choice and me an Ultra.”
Is she seriously buying me a drink?
Dallas looks at me and then back at her. I know she is as stumped as I am but is going with it.
My sister sets another beer in front of me and hands princess her beer. Princess hands Dallas a twenty and says, “Keep it.”
This woman just gave my sister a huge tip. Who the hell throws money around like that?
Princess looks at me as if she is waiting for a response from me.
She comments, “You know you can say thank you. Or is that something bikers don’t do?”
I sip my beer. “What do you know about bikers?”
“Well, the one I am talking to hasn’t even introduced himself or said thank you to the girl who bought him a beer.”
I laugh, “Well, Princess, thank you.”
“Ugh. There you go with the princess thing again. I’m not a princess.”
I chuckle, “You sure about that?”
“What if I was a biker’s old lady?”
“You’re not.”
“Well… true, but I’m not a princess either.”
This whole princess thing is driving her crazy. It is fun to watch her get all riled up.
I ask, “If you say you’re not a princess, then are you looking to be a club skank.”
“What the fuck is your problem? Hello, hot girl practically hitting on you and you call her a wannabe club skank? Fuck this shit.”
She turns around to walk away but I grab her wrist, bringing her back to me. With a cocky smile, “You don’t come after me. I come after you.”
Her deep blue eyes look me up and down. She leans in, rests her hand on my leg and whispers, “I’m going to hold you to that.”
“But you said you’re not a club skank.”
“I’m better than a club skank. Instead of me coming back for you, you will be coming back for me.” She then winks. “My name is Presley.”