Link'd Up (Dead Presidents MC Book 1)

by Harley Stone

  “The bitches hangin’ around, like Shari and the redhead in there suckin’ off Eagle. They’re a nice distraction from reality… a way to blow your wad if you get tired of using your hand.”

  His eyes widened in surprise. “They just let anyone fuck them?”

  “Not just anyone, no, but any of the Dead Presidents, yes.”

  The surprise on his features turned to disgust and horror, no doubt assuming all sorts of messed up shit about me and my club.

  “They’re not held here against their will, and we don’t make them do anything they don’t want to do. Look, we’re no saints, but nobody in this club would force a woman against her will. If they ever did, we wouldn’t need to call in the law, because we’d take care of it. Don’t be a dumbass, kid. What did you see? Did Eagle force his dick down Lacy’s throat?

  “I’m not a kid,” he growled.

  I smiled. “Good to see you have some balls, but answer the goddamn question.”

  He shrugged again, and so help me, I wanted to knock him on his ass.

  “No. Trust me, that one knows what she’s doin’. And Wasp sure as hell didn’t have to convince Shari to get him off. That thirsty bitch isn’t happy unless she’s got a dick in her, so you can wipe that fuckin’ condescension right off your face.”

  He glared at me for a beat before dropping his gaze.

  “Every man in this club served his country just like you did. The women that hang around, they appreciate our service and our cocks. They’re here because they like sex. I know you’re in culture shock, so I’m gonna let your attitude slide for now, but it’s getting old, fast.”

  “I’m sorry, Link,” he said.

  At least he knew how to apologize. That was something. Time to show him I knew how to forgive.

  I clasped his shoulder. “Forgotten. But now’s a good time to go over the rules. No illegal drugs. You get caught with anything stronger than pot, it’s an immediate ass kickin’ and an eviction, and I don’t give a fuck about what sort of sob story you got. We’ve worked too hard to sacrifice the club’s image and well-being like that. You hear me?”

  “Yessir, and I… I appreciate you letting me join.”

  “Letting you join?” I chuckled, shaking my head. “You think we just give away membership? No. It’s a privilege to be a Dead President, one you have to earn. Nobody can give it to you. My dad served under your grandfather, and that convinced me to sponsor you, so your ass has the opportunity to show us that you can be the type of respectful, loyal brother who’ll add value to this club.”

  Some of the dullness went out of Deryk’s eyes. Pulling himself a little straighter, he said, “Understood, sir.”

  “Good. Back to the rules. Don’t steal from your brothers. If you’re caught stealing, the brother you stole from gets to lay out your punishment and none of us will stand in his way. Don’t mess with anyone’s old lady. We don’t need the fuckin’ drama.”

  “Old lady?”

  “Steady girl, wife, whatever. You’ll know them because they wear property patches. Respect them. In fact, everyone here is worthy of your respect. Since you’re a recruit, every patched member will be able to send you on tasks. You do what you’re told. If it’s wrong, whoever told you to do it will have to answer to me. But I’m not worried about that, because these men are solid. We’re on a different battlefield now, and I’m glad they’re at my back. Prove you’re worthy of them and shit… I swear you won’t find a better group of men.”

  He gave me a tight smile—it was a start—and I led him to my office to get him a cut with a prospect patch. “Wear this whenever you’re on a bike. Or whenever you’re on club business. Most of us only take them off to sleep.”

  He nodded and put it on.

  The kid looked good in a cut, almost like it belonged on him. Maybe before too long, it would. He just needed time to heal, and maybe a little therapy. I’d introduce him to Sage, the club counselor, later. Men fresh out of the service generally had an easier time talking to our best listener first.

  “One last rule. Be nice to my dog,” I said.

  Putting my fingers to my lips, I whistled. A few seconds later, a shepherd lab mix, wearing a Harley Davidson bandanna, came trotting through the door straight into my arms. I gave him a good rubdown before introducing him to Deryk.

  “This here’s Boots. Most valuable member of the club, since he’s the only one who listens and doesn’t give me any shit.” Giving Boots one more scratch behind the ears, I stood. “He’s a service dog. He can tell when anyone gets elevated, and he helps calm them down. A lot of our brothers have seen some pretty messed up shit.”

  “Did you?” he asked.

  Rubbing the back of my neck, I nodded. “Less than some, more than others. We all have our own cross to bear. No shame in that. We do the best we can, and we don’t dwell on the past.”

  I showed Deryk to his room, introducing him to a few more brothers along the way. Then he left my side to hit the pool table with a biker named Rabbit. I waved off Rabbit’s invitation to join and caught Deryk already smiling at Lacy. Good. The boy could use that kind of therapy too.

  Feeling better about him, I returned to my office to focus on my latest obsession.

  Emily Stafford’s file called to me like a goddamn homing beacon. I’d spent the last few days collecting data on her, trying to figure out how to approach her and what to say to get her to take Havoc’s case. I’d given it to her straight, and was confident she’d at least go see him and hear his side of the story. What happened next was between the two of them.

  So why the hell was I clicking her folder open again?

  The photo from her website popped up first. Damn she was fine. Even in the photo, her eyes held a challenge my dick automatically rose to. She’d been wearing some sort of perfume… something crisp and clean, with just a touch of softness. I could breathe it in all day.

  I entered Emily’s name into a few databases. She’d donated to more causes than I knew existed, including the toy drive the Dead Presidents had run in December. I sat back and pulled her picture up again, stroking myself as I imagined her hand doing the deed. Those beautiful plump lips wrapped around me as her blue eyes locked on mine. I’d just started to get into it when my cell phone rang with an unknown number.

  “Link here,” I answered.

  “Hello Mr. Link. I’m Jayson, Emily Stafford’s assistant. Ms. Stafford asked me to call and book an appointment with you to go over the case. Are you available Wednesday around eleven a.m.?”

  “She’s taking the case?” I asked, unable to mask my relief.

  “Yes. Well, as long as you show up and sign the contract.”

  I’d be one step closer to getting Havoc out and get a chance to see Emily? Hell yeah, I’d be there. “Wednesday at eleven sounds great.”

  “Perfect. I’ve got you down. Do you need the address?”

  Glancing at my monitor and my borderline stalker file, I shook my head. “Nope. I know right where her office is.”

  Emily

  AFTER STRAIGHTENING THE papers on my desk for the fifth time, I forced my hands to release them and, instead, smoothed down my skirt. This was a client meeting. I’d held thousands of them over the years. Why was I so nervous?

  Before the question had even formed in my mind, I knew the answer.

  It was tall and muscular, with deep blue eyes, perfect lips, and a beard that’d make every Seattle hipster weep.

  “You all ready for the sexy biker?” Jayson asked, peeking his head into my office.

  “He’s just another client,” I reminded us both.

  “Right. Totally what I meant.” Jayson rolled his eyes and headed back to his desk. “But I bet you’re wearing the sexy underwear today.”

  I was. I was also regretting taking Jayson to Victoria’s Secret with me. I hated to shop, though, and he and his shenanigans made the experience tolerable if not entertaining. Especially when he’d wadded up a nightgown and shoved it down the front of a mann
equin’s panties, giving her a formidable penis and almost getting us kicked out of the store.

  After taking a few moments to straighten the paperwork once again, I shouted back, “Nope, granny panties! The biggest pair I could find.”

  Someone cleared their throat. I looked up in time to see Link standing in my doorway. Heat flooded my cheeks as I stood.

  “Your eleven o’clock’s here,” Jayson said in a sing-songy voice as he swept into the room behind Link.

  The mirth in Link’s eyes somehow managed to be both endearing and humiliating. With no hope of redeeming this second impression, I gestured at the chairs in front of my desk. “Please, have a seat.”

  “Coffee?” Jayson asked, taking over so I could compose myself as I sat.

  “Please.”

  “Sugar? Cream?”

  “Black’s fine.”

  The scandalous look Jayson gave me spoke volumes. Yes, I was aware that Link was hot, but my assistant needed to get over it.

  “Black coffee. Anything for you, Ms. Stafford?” he asked.

  Yes, my pride. But since I didn’t think he could help me with that, I asked for a coffee as well. Jayson scurried off, leaving me alone with a very handsome, irritatingly happy Link. Today he wore the same outfit: jeans, a T-shirt, a black leather vest with patches on it. Maybe it was all he ever wore? Didn’t matter, because it looked sexy as hell on him.

  Needing to focus on the matter at hand, and not the way the short sleeves of Link’s T-shirt rode his enormous biceps, I scooted the paperwork across the desk. “I started to fill this out, but realized I don’t know your name. Link won’t get me far if I need to come after you for breach of contract.”

  Damn, I sounded like a bitch, but I couldn’t help it. Something about Link made me want to attack him, either with my body or my words. Since I’d sworn off men for the foreseeable future, words were safer.

  “Dead Presidents don’t breach contracts,” he said, his gaze capturing mine. “Our word means something to us, Ms. Stafford. When we give it, we mean it.”

  I’d clearly struck a nerve, but I was too busy wondering what a man who kept his word would taste like to be sorry. “Well, that’s good to know, but I’m still going to need you to sign this agreement.”

  I slid the forms to him. Link read everything over and signed where he needed to sign before passing them back.

  I glanced at his name. “Nice to have you as a client, Tyler Lincoln.”

  We shook hands and I filed the papers away. Business concluded, we both stood, but neither of us stepped toward the door. I had another client in fifteen minutes, hours’ worth of work from yesterday to make up for, and I could not seem to force myself to usher the sexy biker out of my office. He also seemed reluctant to leave.

  “It would probably be a good idea for you to come by the station,” he said, finally.

  “The station?”

  “The Club’s base of operations. Where we all hang out. Havoc serves as my Sergeant at Arms, and the entire club respects him. You can interview whoever you need to and see if you can’t dig up some halfway credible character witnesses for him.”

  Character witnesses. Yes, I’d need those. And if I had to go to a clubhouse full of sexy bikers to do it, well… I’d be willing to make that sacrifice for the job. I’d been to worse places after all. Plus, I’d get to see Mr. Tyler Lincoln in his natural habitat. The experience would be educational at the very least.

  Before I could respond, my phone vibrated. I glanced down in time to catch a notification: twelve new emails. As much as I enjoyed Link’s company, it was time to get back to work. Besides, I’d see the sexy biker again soon.

  “Let’s go set up a time for the interviews with Jayson.”

  As if summoned, Jayson buzzed me. Expecting news that my next meeting had arrived, I excused myself and answered.

  “He who shall not be named has affixed himself to one of the chairs in my lobby and refuses to leave,” Jayson complained, his voice dripping with the animosity he felt towards my asshole ex.

  I did not have the time nor the patience for Lance today. Rubbing my temple, I replied, “Be right there.”

  “Everything okay?” Link asked as I hung up the phone.

  Not about to air my dirty laundry with a client, but in desperate need of advice, I asked, “Do you ever get any unwanted visitors at your club?”

  Shaking his head no, he chuckled.

  That’s what I figured. If I couldn’t find a better way to rid myself of the douchebag, maybe I’d become a biker. Why not? I’d tried most everything else.

  Link thanked me for my time and we both walked to the door. He grabbed the handle and froze unexpectedly. I had to stop short to avoid a collision, coming within inches of his body. Releasing the doorknob, he turned so his lips were practically against my forehead. Even in heels, the guy had at least six inches on me. He took a deep breath through his nose, closing his eyes as his expression relaxed.

  He was sniffing me.

  I don’t know why, but it was erotic as hell, sending sparks of interest throughout my entire body. Curious, I breathed him in as well. He smelled of leather, metal, and dark, edible promises. Heat rushed to my nipples and my hoo-hah as I stared up at him, wondering if he was about to kiss me. No. Clients didn’t kiss me. I’d kick his ass if he so much as tried. But my god, those lips…

  “If you ever have an unwanted visitor you need to get rid of, all you have to do is ask,” he whispered. “In fact, now that you’re on this case, I’m putting a man on you.”

  It took a lust-hazy moment for his words to register, but once they did, they put out my body’s fire like ice water. Certain I must be misunderstanding, I said, “Excuse me?”

  “One of my recruits will be following you and making sure you’re safe. He’ll keep his distance. You’ll hardly know he’s there.”

  Yep, I’d heard him right. The gesture was kind of sweet, and a little weird, but I didn’t need some sexy alpha male to fight my battles for me. The idea that he thought I did rankled.

  “Thanks, but I’m quite capable of taking care of myself.”

  A patronizing smile tugged at his lips. “I’m sure you are.”

  He put a hand on my left shoulder.

  Heat accompanied it, but not the kind I’d expect. His eyes held a challenge. As a criminal defense attorney, I’d seen my fair share of challenges. Clients were always testing my boundaries and trying to see what I was made of. Sometimes they stepped over the line, and I would need to enforce my boundaries and prove I could handle myself or I’d lose their respect. One look at the gleam in Link’s eyes, and I knew if I didn’t do something drastic enough to earn his respect, this entire case would be a shitshow.

  “Don’t touch me,” I growled.

  He kept his hand on my shoulder, his smile widening.

  I leaned back like I was trying to get away from him, far enough to get a little momentum, and then brought my elbow up in a wide arc, nailing him square in the chest as hard as I could. He was in my personal space, I’d asked him politely not to be, so I didn’t hold back at all. Eyes widening in surprise, he withdrew his hand and stepped away, rubbing at what I’m sure would develop into a deep bruise. It had to hurt, but Link had asked for it, and now he handled it like a boss.

  “Next time you touch me without my permission, I’ll nail you in the throat,” I said.

  Respect shone in his eyes, and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t make my lady bits tingle. He bowed and opened the door, gesturing me through. Sliding past him, I emerged into the waiting room to cast an irritated glare at Lance the cheating asshole. Then I fixed my face and gave Link my best professional smile.

  “Thank you so much for your time. I look forward to our next meeting.” Turning to Jayson, I added, “Please add Link to my next available slot. I’ll need a few hours. Probably half a day to be safe.”

  Glancing at my watch, I turned back to Lance and held up five fingers before storming into my office. He grap
pled himself out of the chair and hurried after me.

  “Who is that?” Lance asked, closing the door behind him and walking over to sit across from my desk.

  Wondering what on earth made him believe he had the right to even ask, I folded my arms and stayed beside the door. “None of your damn business.” We’d been doing this dance for over a month now, and I was bone tired of the steps.

  “Don’t be like that, Em.”

  And he still didn’t get it. Barely resisting the urge to beat my head against the door, I took a deep breath.

  “Did you like the bracelet and the flowers I sent?” he asked.

  “Grandma will enjoy the flowers, and I’m sure the charity Jayson donated the bracelet to is grateful. You can get a receipt for your taxes from him on your way out.” I grabbed the doorknob.

  “Wait. You donated the bracelet? Why? It was perfect for you. I understand why you’re upset with me, but don’t you think this has gone on long enough? Shouldn’t we be to the kiss and makeup part by now?”

  He made me want to drink, and we’re talking copious amounts of hard liquor here. “Listen closely, Lance, because I’m only going to explain this one more time. You. Cheated. On. Me. I’m never going to get over it. Never going to forgive you. We are never ever getting back together. There will never be any kissing or making up with you. Anything that was once between us, is now over.”

  “I can’t believe you’re going to throw away everything we have over a one-time thing.”

  Not only was the bastard shifting blame onto me for throwing our relationship away, but he wasn’t even man enough to call his infidelity a mistake. It was just a “thing,” because the perfect Lance Anderson never made a mistake in his life. Well, I’d made plenty, and the most recent was staring me in the face.

  “Get out,” I said, opening the door.

  “It hasn’t been five minutes,” he objected.

  I took another deep breath, trying to remember why it would be wrong to grab the scissors from my desk and stab him in the throat. “I don’t care. Get out.”

  He sat on his ass, staring at me.

  Done. I was so done with him, his gifts, his guilt, that stupid little crease in his chin that I used to find sexy. Everything about him repulsed me. “Get. The. Fuck. Out. Now.”