Down & Dirty_Slade

by Jeanne St. James

  Dawg let out a long, loud, very impatient sigh. “Puke on my couch an’ you’re buyin’ a new one.”

  So it was a couch. Slade swatted a hand half-assed in what he thought was Dawg’s direction.

  “Ain’t doin’ this again. Cut off here. No more.”

  Slade attempted to swat his hand again, but it just flopped back onto his chest.

  “What-fuckin’-ever,” Dawg muttered and finally there was true silence. Then the lights went out.

  With a deep groan, Slade sat up confused. He blinked and then shook his head to clear it.

  What the fuck?

  He must have fallen asleep on the couch at Heaven’s Angels. Fallen asleep. Right. The way his head felt and with how dry his mouth was, he passed out, he didn’t fall asleep.

  Either way, he was surprised Dawg didn’t have Moose haul his ass out of the club. He pushed to his feet and tested his balance. He was good.

  Good enough to hop on his sled and ride out of Shadow Valley, that was for sure.

  He moved behind the bar and dug a bottle of water out of the cooler. Cracking the lid, he guzzled the whole thing, tossed the empty bottle in a nearby trash bin and then snagged another, downing most of that one, too. He wiped the back of his hand over his mouth and then headed toward the men’s room since he had to piss like a racehorse. As he moved along the dark and empty stage, he was overcome with sudden disappointment and disgust. In himself. For ending up here again last night. For getting so trashed he passed out. Again.

  He tried to tell himself that Diamond fucking Rig shouldn’t bother him. That she was right, they weren’t serious. They were just hooking up and having fun, so she could do whatever she wanted. Or whoever she wanted. But his brain wouldn’t let him believe that lie. What bothered him more was her doing it, then not stopping him before he did her. Hell no, she didn’t.

  He also didn’t understand the Rig thing. Not once had he witnessed Rig and her flirting or, hell, even talking to each other all that much. At the parties, at church, at the shop. He had no indication that there had been any sort of attraction between them. Though, they did work together, so she saw him a lot more than the rest of the brothers.

  Maybe something had developed between the two of them during the last few months she’d been working at the shop.

  Or maybe she was lying and using Rig as an excuse to kick him out of her bed and her life. Maybe there was something else going on that she was trying to hide.

  Lying or not, Diamond didn’t want him, and he didn’t want to sleep next to a snake or a whore.

  Maybe he just needed a break from the club, to roll out and get his head back on straight, finish what he set out to do and then think about his next move.

  He finished his water, crushed the bottle in his fist and hit the bathroom. Not even five minutes later, he was pushing out into the morning light and squinting from the pain that shot through his head.

  Whenever he came to the strip club, he always parked around back in the employee parking lot. The only vehicles out there this early in the morning were his sled, Dawg’s sled and the brother’s truck. He turned his head and glanced up at the large apartment over the club. The windows were dark, and he was sure Dawg was crashed out cold.

  Digging into his pocket, he pulled his bike key out and went over to his baby, the one and only thing that was a constant in his life. His Harley. He ran a hand over the custom painted gas tank and the seat that his ass had been planted in for thousands of miles. No matter what happened to him, his bike was always there for him at the end of the day.

  He loved his sled, that he fucking did. And he took care of her, too. She was a beauty.

  He closed his eyes and sucked in the early morning air.

  As was Diamond. She sure looked good on the back of his sled last summer during the couple of runs he invited her on. She was hard-assed and stubborn enough that she didn’t bother to wear a brain bucket like some of the other DAMC women. She’d simply slip on a pair of sunglasses and tie a bandana over her long dark hair to keep it from becoming one big knot.

  Damn. Yes, she had looked like the ultimate biker chick wearing a snug DAMC tank top that showed off her generous cleavage, skin-tight jeans to hug those curvy hips and thighs of hers and sexy-as-fuck boots. And she’d have a black leather belt with the club’s belt buckle cinched around her narrow waist.

  She had felt good clinging to his back as they road in the pack along the winding roads of southwestern Pennsylvania. A Harley was one of the biggest vibrators known to women and he swore that on a couple of the rides, at least one orgasm had hit her. Though, he couldn’t hear her with the wind in his ears, he could feel her reaction against his back and her arms squeezing him tighter. And if that didn’t make his dick hard...

  But after the runs, he’d walk away from her, leave her alone. He wasn’t ready to get caught and sticking his dick in her when she wasn’t a sweet butt or one of Dawg’s girls could be dangerous. But the night of her thirtieth birthday party was his downfall. He couldn’t deny how much he wanted her, whether she was a bitch or not. And he didn’t mind a challenge, he didn’t. His whole life had been one, so what was one more? And, anyway, he didn’t like boring. She certainly wasn’t that.

  As he mounted his sled, he realized getting involved with her had been a big mistake. Huge. Because now he couldn’t stop thinking about her... Whether it was regret at taking that step weeks ago, anger at her for fucking him over, or disappointment at being on his own once more.

  He never had anyone of his own. And night after night when he climbed into her bed, he started to believe that maybe he finally would. That someone in his life would finally stick.

  But now that wouldn’t be possible. And he doubted he’d open himself up to that kind of hurt again.

  Yeah, it fucking hurt.

  He kicked the starter and his sled roared to life. The deep rumble of his straight pipes filled the early morning air and the familiar vibration of the engine sank into his bones, bringing about the feeling of home.

  Because that’s where home was. On the back of his bike.

  He now was sure of that one hundred percent.

  He pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and dug through it until he found what he was looking for. A small, worn photograph taken over thirty years ago. He studied the man in the photo who sat on a motorcycle. Unfortunately, it was taken from a distance and he couldn’t make out the face clearly. He brushed his thumb over the old picture then flipped it over to read the name that had been written in blue ink on the back. Though it was almost worn away, he could still make it out...

  Buzz.

  The photo was the only piece of his father that he had.

  He carefully tucked it back away, heeled the kickstand up and rolled out of the lot onto a side street. He had no idea where he was headed. None at all.

  He wasn’t going back to church. He wasn’t heading to Diamond’s. He just needed to get gone. Even if for only a little while.

  He headed his bike north and twisted the throttle.

  Slade crab-walked his sled backward into the line of bikes in front of the bar. The lit sign on the roof was barely readable. One of the spotlights had burned out and the painted lettering on the wood sign was old and worn. He doubted the owners of the bar would be upgrading the sign anytime soon. It was a biker bar, not popular drinking hole. Most biker hangouts didn’t want to draw just any type of customer. No, there wouldn’t be a “No Colors” sign next to the entrance. Bikers wearing their colors would be welcomed as long as they didn’t cause trouble.

  He shut his sled down and as soon as he dismounted he removed his cut, folded it up neatly and stuffed it into one of his leather saddlebags. Then he reached to the sky with both hands and stretched out the tight muscles in his back and circled his hips once to loosen them up.

  Harrisburg wasn’t a long ride from Shadow Valley, but he hadn’t come here directly. After leaving Heaven’s Angels, he had headed north, first to the town he
had been raised in. Then he headed toward Manning Grove to visit with one of the guys he had grown up with. After a couple nights of restless sleep, he headed southeast to where he was now.

  Wheels of Steel Bar and Grille.

  He was hungry, thirsty and tired. He hoped this so-called “grille” had some decent grub. But, honestly, he considered anything other than MRE’s good food. As he stepped through the front door, a cloud of thick smoke hit him, and he breathed it in.

  He hadn’t had a cigarette in ages, not since being in the middle east to be exact. He found the tobacco over there much smoother and would hand roll his own. After buying a pack of American-made cigarettes that cost an arm and a leg in the US, he quickly quit. But as his nostrils flared to inhale that familiar smoke, he suddenly had a hankering for one, even though he knew he’d regret it later.

  He scanned the dimly lit bar and saw that a few different clubs were in attendance. Some were rowdier than others as they stayed in their own groups, played pool, threw darts or got shit-faced.

  He glanced toward the bar that ran along the back of the room and his eyes were drawn to a half dozen bikers who sat in a row on the stools. Since their backs were to him, he could clearly make out their colors.

  Shadow Warriors.

  A couple of them looked over their shoulders at him and he gave them a chin lift. They both returned it.

  He braced himself as he headed toward the bar to grab the lone empty stool and a strong drink...

  Because beer certainly wasn’t going to cut it tonight.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Heard from him?” Hawk asked.

  Diamond grabbed the bottle of Gentleman Jack from behind the bar, cracked the lid and filled half her glass with it, then topped it off with a little bit of pop. She stirred it with her finger and then sucked it clean before wiping it on a bar towel.

  “Nope,” she answered, then took a great big swallow of her Jack and Diet Coke. After the warmth of the smooth whiskey hit her gut, she continued, “Doubt I will, either.”

  Not after lying to him about Rig. And she didn’t blame Slade one fucking bit.

  “Good thing I got backup for The Iron Horse.”

  “Yeah, good thing,” Di muttered, not giving a flying fuck that Hawk was now one man down. Maybe Diesel could fill in since this was all his fault.

  Him and his damn paranoia.

  “Ain’t heard nothin’ from him, either,” Z mumbled as he settled onto a stool at the private bar in church. “Texted him a few times. No response.”

  “How’s the kid?” Hawk asked him.

  “Hoggin’ my woman’s tits, that’s how he is. Gotta learn to share.”

  Hawk snorted and shook his head.

  “Just wait, chicken hawk. Gotta rock on your ol’ lady’s finger, soon she’s gonna be poppin’ out kids.”

  “We’ll see,” Hawk chuckled.

  “Yeah, we will. Gotta say, if I was suckin’ down all that warm milk, I’d be sleepin’ all night. Not my kid, fuck no. That little hellion’s up all hours of the night.”

  Hawk cleared his throat. “All right, well... Who saw ‘im last?”

  “Him who?” Z asked.

  “Slade.”

  “Right,” Z said with a sharp nod. He looked her direction. “Diamond?”

  She shook her head. “Not since the night I kicked him out.”

  Z raked fingers through his shoulder-length hair and blew out a breath.

  “Hasn’t been up in his room,” Hawk announced. “Not in the bar.” He turned his head and shouted down the bar. “Grizz?”

  “What?” the old man shouted back.

  “Seen Slade?”

  Grizzly frowned. “Wanna see my blade? What the fuck for, boy?”

  Hawk snorted again and waved a dismissing hand toward the man. “Never mind,” he mumbled.

  Everyone’s attention jumped to the back door as Jewel swept through it with Diesel lumbering at a slower pace behind Di’s whirlwind of a sister.

  Jewel came behind the bar and gave her a hug, asking softly, “You good?”

  “What do you think?”

  Jewel’s lips flattened out in response.

  “Beer, woman,” Diesel grunted.

  Jewel bugged her eyes out at Di and both of them rolled their lips under at Diesel’s order. As she reached for a glass, Di slapped her hand away.

  “Ouch!”

  “Don’t you do it. You’re not his slave.” Diesel’s head spun toward her and Diamond met his gaze directly. “Yeah, you heard me. She’s not your slave. Get it yourself.”

  His head jerked back, and he opened his mouth, then shut it and came behind the bar, nudging them both out of the way so he could pour his own draft.

  “Why she don’t have a man, Jewelee,” he muttered.

  Di raised her brows at him. “Had one. You told me to get rid of him.”

  “Other dick out there.”

  She didn’t want other dick. But it would be a waste of her time telling that to the monster of a man who stood over her.

  She moved away and down the bar closer to Crow, who held his arms out and Diamond leaned into him, snuggling between his thighs as he curled his arm around her and held her tight against him. She leaned her head on his shoulder.

  “Told you he was a rollin’ stone,” he murmured in her ear.

  “Yeah, well, I kind of kicked the stone to get it moving.”

  “Know it. D got his reasons.”

  “Yeah, then he rubs it in my face that I don’t have a man.”

  “Like he said, plenty of dick out there.”

  “It’s not that easy.”

  “Got it. Ain’t lookin’ for a one nighter; lookin’ for the rest of your nights.”

  Di sighed, and Crow gave her a squeeze.

  “Gonna find it, baby doll. Don’t worry. Just like your name. Solid with sharp edges, but bright as fuck. Someone will appreciate what you offer.”

  She was so done talking about it. Luckily, their attention was pulled to what Dawg was saying.

  “... the other night. Tried to kick ‘is drunk ass out again, but he wasn’t havin’ it. Offered to get Moose to bring ‘im back, refused that, too. Last I saw ‘im, was crashed on one of the couches in the main stage area.”

  Diamond’s ears perked, and her heart thumped a little faster. The main stage area? Of Heaven’s Angels?

  “That new? Or been a regular thing for ‘im?” Hawk asked Dawg.

  Dawg’s eyes slid to Diamond. She arched a brow at him, encouraging him to answer. “Yeah.”

  Hawk frowned. “Yeah what?”

  “Been a regular thing ‘til a few weeks ago. Then it stopped. Was surprised to see ‘im again the other night.”

  “Think he went on a bender an’ landed with any of the girls?”

  “Dunno.”

  “He done any of ‘em before?”

  His eyes slid to Diamond again, but he quickly looked away before he answered Hawk. “Yeah.”

  “Anyone in particular?”

  “Savannah.”

  Diesel slammed his hand on the bar, making Diamond jerk in Crow’s arms. “Call ‘er right now. See if he’s holed up there.”

  Diamond eyeballed Dawg as he moved away from the bar and headed to a far corner of the large common room, pulling his cell out of his pocket. As he put the phone to his ear, his eyes landed on her again before he turned away, so she couldn’t watch his face as he talked to this “Savannah.”

  She must have been the one he slept with the morning they ran into each other at church. The morning he smelled like skanky snatch. She frowned.

  Savannah. Such a typical stripper name.

  “Diamond, get over it,” D growled.

  She shot him a glare.

  “Gettin’ Hunter on it. Havin’ ‘im do ‘is thing.”

  That was all well and good, unless... “If he was trashed and drove his bike, he could’ve ended up in a ditch somewhere, D.”

  “Wearin’ our colors? Woulda heard ‘bout
it by now.”

  “What if he hasn’t been found yet? He could be injured or dying somewhere.”

  “Could be,” was all Diesel grunted.

  She curled her fists but fought the urge to punch him in the gut. It probably would only amuse him but break her hand in the process. “Maybe we should get Axel to put out an APB or a missing person’s or whatever they call it on him.”

  Diesel’s lip curled. “Keep that pig outta it. Got me?”

  Jewel slid an arm around his waist and planted a hand on his stomach under his cut. “She’s just worried.”

  “Worryin’ ‘bout the enemy,” he growled, meeting his ol’ lady’s eyes.

  “We don’t know that,” Jewel said softly.

  “Right. Can’t question ‘im either when he goes ghost like that.”

  “Maybe he left because he was upset,” she suggested.

  “’Bout what?” he grunted.

  Jewel made an impatient face at her man. “Did you ever consider he might like Diamond? Maybe more than like her. Finding out the woman you’ve been... seeing cheated on you is enough to make anyone upset.”

  D’s eyes landed on Diamond and he studied her as if he’d never seen her before. Almost as if he didn’t recognize her.

  It was disturbing. Suddenly a look crossed his face, but it was quickly hidden, and he dropped his gaze back to Jewel.

  “Yeah, baby, got it,” he finally grumbled. “Might be more than snatch to ‘im.”

  Diamond sucked in a breath. Jewel rolled her eyes and pushed away from him, shaking her head.

  “Just a bit sharp at the edges, don’t take much to smooth ‘er out,” Crow volunteered.

  “Right,” D grunted. “Smooth when gettin’ dick, sharp when she ain’t.”

  Diamond pulled out of Crow’s arms and he let her go.

  “I need a cupcake,” Diamond announced.

  “I’ll join you,” Jewel said.

  She needed to get out of there before her bitch switch was flipped on and unable to be shut off. Maybe she should drive around a bit to check the area. Even if Slade was a wolf in sheep’s clothing, she didn’t want anything bad to happen to him. And she certainly didn’t want him suffering in some ditch somewhere. Shadow Warrior or not.