Jack (The Kings of Mayhem MC TENNESSEE series, book 1)

by Penny Dee

  “It is?” I turn to Jack. “You didn’t say anything.”

  “Happy birthday to me,” he says with no enthusiasm whatsoever.

  Before he can stop me, I throw my arms around him and kiss his rough cheek. And for a split second, he accepts it, and I feel his big arms come around me before he gently pushes me away.

  “Happy birthday,” I say.

  Jack looks uncomfortable. “Thanks.”

  “So, can you help?” Faith asks.

  “Sure, sign me up.”

  “Great, I’ll see you back here around five?”

  Jack gives her a sharp nod. “I’ll make sure she gets here safely.”

  She stubs out her cigarette and picks up her handbag. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to pay someone a visit.”

  I think about the phone call I overheard. “Shall I phone ahead and warn him to put on a jock strap?”

  “This isn’t the first time he and I have done business. If he doesn’t know by now that he should already be wearing one, then he deserves what’s coming.” She blows me a kiss. “Good to see you, baby doll. Catch you later.”

  Jack and I watch her walk away.

  “She’s still terrifying,” I say.

  “It’s a skill she’s been honing since she took her first breath.”

  I look at him. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me it’s your birthday.”

  “I’m forty. It’s not something I want to shout from the rooftop.”

  “Age is just a number.” I give him the old cliché. “Birthdays should be celebrated.”

  “I’m celebrating on the inside.” He deadpans and then changes the subject. “You get here, okay?”

  “The prospect was very sweet and rode over here like he had some kind of precious cargo sitting on the back of his bike. You know, I don’t think I really need a personal chauffeur.”

  “Let’s err on the side of caution. We don’t know what we’re dealing with.”

  “I haven’t heard anything from The Poet in a couple of days.”

  “That’s good. Like Wyatt said, it could be a prank, and the person behind it doesn’t have the skills or opportunity to follow you to Flintlock. But let’s not get complacent, okay? Come on, I’m going to show you some basic moves to protect yourself if ever you get into a situation you need to get out of.”

  The clubhouse has a gym. It’s a sweaty, smelly room with weight machines, dumbbells, and a carpet of mats covering the floor.

  For the next half an hour, Jack takes me through different self-defense scenarios. What to do if someone grabs you from behind, or what to do if someone grabs you around the neck. Or if someone comes at you with a knife and how to disarm them. By the time we finished, I’m panting with a sheen of sweat clinging to my skin.

  “You having trouble keeping up, darlin’?” Jack teases.

  He doesn’t have a bead of sweat on him.

  “Not at all, old man.” I grin at him. “I’m not done. Give me what you’ve got.”

  A hint of a smile hit his lips. “Sure. Let’s go over what you’ll do if someone grabs you from behind one last time. Turn around.”

  “Is that because you want to perv at my ass?”

  It’s meant as a joke, but it sucks the easy-going vibe away quicker than the speed of sound.

  Jack’s brows tuck in. “Only because I want to see what you’ll do if someone grabs you from behind.” For some reason he looks pissed at me.

  “Relax, I was kidding.”

  I’m surprised by his sudden mood change.

  “Quit talking and turn around.”

  “All right, all right.”

  When I turn my back to him, he comes at me. I duck and swing around, hitting him in the ribs with the side of my hand. Unfortunately, I lose my balance at the same time and kick him in the shin with my stray foot, sending us both to the floor.

  Jack lands on top of me with a groan, his long hair spilling across my face.

  For a moment, neither of us moves, but then Jack pulls back to look at me. Our hips are pressed together, and when our eyes meet, all the oxygen vaporizes from the room. The weight of his body blankets mine as I watch his Adam’s apple bob in his throat, then see the lust move through his expression.

  Time has stopped, and the air is tight with something forbidden and tempting.

  My mouth parts with a soft gasp, and his hooded eyes lower to it, tracking my tongue as it slides across my lower lip. His breath spills from him in an unbridled groan as he watches. He swallows thickly before raising his gaze back to mine, his naked hunger rampant on his handsome face.

  Kiss me, my mind pleads. Dear God, please kiss me.

  But he doesn’t.

  Instead, he pushes up on his big arms and climbs to his feet.

  Offering me his hand, he helps me to mine.

  “I think that’s enough for one day,” he says, his voice rough. “I’ll speak to Ares and schedule a time for him to take you through another session.”

  JACK

  I pace back and forth across the carpet.

  After my session with Bronte in the gym and getting hard because she was lying beneath me and looking up at me like she wanted me to fucking kiss her, I growled at the prospect to take her home and wait with her while I hightailed out of the clubhouse and went for another ride full of discomfort and guilt.

  But that’s the thing about Murphy’s fucking law.

  It’s the invisible string that unravels your entire day.

  One thing goes wrong, and the rest of your day follows suit, making it one of those days you wish you never got out of bed.

  Yeah, I’m stuck in one of those.

  Because if almost devouring Bronte’s luscious mouth while getting hard as I lay on top of her in that fucking gym isn’t bad enough, when I get home, I take the situation from bad to disastrous.

  I’m talking, the Titanic of disasters.

  I don’t know she is in the bathroom, not until I walk in on her, completely buck naked. Drying herself off from the shower, that glorious body of hers gleams like an oasis in the late afternoon light.

  Rooted to the spot, I know I should move, avert my eyes, and get the fuck out of there.

  But there’s no damn way my feet are moving.

  I see those plump lips move but don’t hear the words that come out.

  I see the look of surprise cross over her beautiful face, but still don’t move to give her the privacy she deserves.

  No, I goddamn absorb every inch of her nakedness into my lust-filled brain until my senses came back with a sudden rush of conscience, and I finally decide to get the fuck out of there.

  “Fuck, Bronte, I’m so sorry,” I say, shielding my eyes as I finally make my escape.

  To my bedroom, where I pace.

  Don’t think about it.

  Dear God.

  Just. Don’t. Think. About. It.

  I feel like I need to pour acid over my brain to kill any memory of her luscious body and her perfect perky breasts with pert nipples. And the slope of her tiny waist. The curve of her hips. The thin strip of hair between her legs.

  I’m going to hell.

  For all the bad shit I’ve done, this is what’s sending me there.

  Lust and shame combust inside me.

  I’m too old for her.

  A weather-beaten biker with long hair and ink-covered arms has no business with an angel like Bronte.

  BRONTE

  So he saw me naked.

  So what?

  I didn’t exactly rush to cover myself when he walked in.

  Because you liked his eyes on you.

  “Okay, fine!” I say to my reflection in the mirror. “Yes, I did. I liked his eyes on me very much.

  But clearly Jack didn’t.

  Because I’ve never seen him move as quick as he did to get out of the house after walking in on me. I don’t know where he went. He made some weak excuse about having to deal with some club business before the party and disappeared out the
door like he was being chased by a serial killer.

  Right now, though, I don’t have time to dwell on the bathroom incident and the awkwardness growing between us because I have to get to the clubhouse to help Faith with the decorations.

  Five minutes after Jack disappeared out the door, Loki rocks up, and I can only assume it’s because he is the one on babysitting duty.

  “Okay, what did you do to upset Jack so bad?” he asks, walking into the house. His long hair is pulled back into a ponytail, and he’s wearing a vintage Led Zeppelin shirt under his cut. Tattoos crawl up both arms and silver rings gleam on his fingers as he drums them against the kitchen counter. He looks more like a rock god than a biker.

  “What do you mean?”

  “He yelled at me to get over here quick. Sounded pissed. Lucky I was only around the corner visiting a friend.”

  “A friend?” I question, hoping to change the subject. “That friend wouldn’t happen to be the Fenway cousins, would it?”

  I know they live just around the corner, and Loki likes women.

  He likes women a lot.

  Especially when they come in twos.

  And the Fenway cousins are notorious for coming in twos. So to speak.

  “No comment.” He grins, then asks, “Is there something happening between you and my father?”

  The question catches me off guard.

  “No!”

  However, I can tell by the look on his face he doesn’t believe me. “Are you sure because I’m picking up on some pretty strong vibes between the two of you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The way you guys act around each other. The way he watches you.”

  “He’s just being protective.”

  “The way you watch him.”

  “I don’t watch him!”

  “You might not think you do, but I’ve seen the look on your face. Like when the Fenway cousins hit him up at the poker night. You looked like you wanted to scratch their eyes out of their sockets.”

  “I did no such thing.”

  “You so did.” He smiles again. And it’s dimpled. Just like Jack’s. “You want to tell me something?”

  “There’s nothing to tell.” I nervously roll up the magazine I’d been reading in front of me. “And there’s no vibe either. Your daddy is simply looking out for me.”

  “Nah, I know my old man. There’s something else.”

  “That something is all in your head.” I pause. “Oh my God, does Bam think this, too?”

  “My brother is too busy with the harvest to notice anything but marijuana buds. But if he was around more, he’d be saying the same thing as me.”

  “Then he’d be barking up the same wrong tree as you.”

  “Fine!” He shrugs, deciding to let it go as he picks his keys up off the counter. “You ready to go to the clubhouse?”

  “Sure. Just let me get my overnight bag.” Before I move, I glance at him. “Out of curiosity, say there was something… how would you feel about it?”

  Loki takes a moment, and his eyes sparkle with mischief as he studies my face. Slowly, he grins. “That I’ve got the hottest stepmom in town.”

  I relax but bash him softly with the rolled-up magazine. “You’re so funny. You should do stand- up.”

  He grins. “I’m handsome, too.” He gives me a wink. “Come on, Mom, we’ve got a party to get to.”

  The clubhouse is a hive of activity when we arrive. Inside, preparations are underway for Jack’s birthday. Dolly and Shooter are behind the bar making sure everything is stocked up and ready, while some of the old ladies are hanging decorations despite Jack insisting he doesn’t want a fuss.

  Overseeing all of it, is Faith. She wants this birthday party to go off without a hitch, and she will move heaven and hell to make sure it does.

  “Reporting for duty,” I say when I see her directing Munster and Ghoul as they hang up a banner screaming, Happy Birthday, Prez.

  Jack’s going to hate it.

  And Faith knows it.

  Which is probably why she’s doing it.

  “Great, you’re on blow job duty,” she says.

  “Excuse me?”

  She points to a box of balloons.

  “You know they have gas cylinders that can do this,” I say.

  “Right, and there are heaps of those available in Flintlock,” she replies with an arched brow. “Besides, this is a motorcycle clubhouse full of woman who knows how to blow—”

  “Be nice!” I hold up my hand.

  She grins at me mischievously. “What? I was going to say blow-up balloons. Geez, baby doll, you need to get your mind out of the gutter.”

  “Says the woman who throws the word cunt around like its confetti.” I stick out my hand. “Give me the damn balloons.”

  She hands me the box. “When those Fenway cousins arrive, I’ll get them to help you. Their reputation for blowing cock has got to come in handy for something.”

  “And there it is.”

  She winks. “Would hate to disappoint you, baby doll.”

  When she walks away, I call after her, “Have you seen, Jack?”

  She shrugs. “No, but his ass better be here soon because I don’t want him being late for his own goddamn party!”

  Brandi and Candi Fenway arrive not long after, and true to her word, Faith sends them my way.

  Both of them look like they’ve stepped out of a Playboy shoot.

  Tiny skirts.

  Tight shirts.

  Amazing boobs.

  One is blonde, the other a redhead.

  “So, tell us the goss, are you and Jack an item?” Brandi, the redhead asks, popping a white balloon between her glossy lips and blowing.

  “Yes, is it true?” Candi, the blonde asks, doing the same with a black balloon.

  I feel ambushed. “Is what true?”

  “That you’re Jack’s latest girl,” Brandi says.

  I almost inhale the white balloon paused at my lips. “Excuse me?”

  “It’s what all the club girls are talking about… you and Jack being an item.”

  “You know, he’s never had a girlfriend, so we just want to know so we don’t overstep any lines,” Candi adds.

  Their concern for stepping on someone’s toes is genuine.

  I can’t help but like them.

  They’re sweet.

  “What makes you think there’s something between us?” I ask out of curiosity.

  Candi shrugs. “I dunno… I guess it’s a vibe.”

  I stick the balloon back between my teeth. There’s that damn vibe again.

  “I’ve never seen him with any of the club girls. And Lord knows, we’ve tried,” says Brandi. “But there’s something about the way he looks at you.”

  A surge of warmth rushes in, and then I think about this afternoon in the bathroom, and that warmth erupts into a damn wild fire.

  “I’ve known Jack my whole life, he’s helping me out with something. If you’re interested in him—”

  “Honey, all the girls are interested in him. He’s the president,” Brandi says as she leans forward.

  “And that body!” Candi fans herself with her hand.

  “But I have a feeling he’s not interested in any of us club girls,” Brandi adds with a sparkle of knowing in her eye. “If you’re interested in him, then you need to do something about it, honey.” She gives me a questioning look. “Are you interested in him?”

  “Like you said, all the girls are interested,” I say, giving her a self-deprecating smile.

  She nods. “Then you need to straighten your back, stick out your tits, and go get that man.”

  I’m still with Brandi and Candi when an instantly recognizable car pulls into the parking lot.

  It’s a hot pink smart car with a glittering daisy hanging from the rearview mirror.

  I stand, and a big grin hits my face when I see Sebastian and Riley climb out.

  I can’t believe it.

  My two best frie
nds are here.

  Excited, I run out of the clubhouse to greet them.

  “What are you guys doing here?” I laugh, hugging each of them. “And how the hell did you know where to find me?”

  “Your neighbor, Mrs. Fritz, said if you weren’t home, then you’d be at this address,” Sebastian explains, looking around at the parking lot. His gaze stops at the row of Harley Davidsons parked at the front steps. “What the hell is this place?”

  I slide my hands into the back pocket of my jeans as I look at my two friends. “I suppose I have some explaining to do.”

  Riley raises her eyebrows at me. “Oh, you think?”

  I loop my arm through hers. “Come on, I’ll buy you guys a drink and tell you everything.”

  After grabbing three beers from Dolly, I lead my friends over to a booth near one of the large television screens.

  “So, what are you guys doing here?” I ask as we take a seat.

  “Tracking down your sorry ass.” Sebastian puts his hand over mine. “Promise us you’ll call before you skip town again. We were worried about you, Brontosaurus.”

  Everybody has a damn nickname for me.

  “Hopefully, I won’t have to,” I reply, wondering how my friends managed to get past security. The clubhouse is surrounded by high fences and the front and rear gates have cameras. During an event, the gates are closed, and a prospect is posted at each exit. “How did you get past security to get in here?”

  “Oh, I totally showed the guy at the gate my boobs.” Riley grins, then changes the subject. “Have you told your grandma about The Poet?”

  At the mention of my stalker’s nickname, I glance around me nervously. Despite everyone being busy with party preparations, you can never be too careful. The clubhouse is notorious for having ears. There is only one sacred room in the place, and that’s the chapel where the Kings hold their church once a week. What is said in there is kept sealed, but out here, everything is public property.

  I shake my head. “She’s on vacation in Missouri for another few weeks.”

  “So, you’re staying here alone? Jesus, Bronte, is that a good idea?”

  Just as Sebastian asks it, Jack walks into the clubhouse, and the knot in my stomach tightens. I watch him walk over to the bar to talk to Dolly and Shooter, and tiny fires sparkle in my chest. The last time I saw him, his eyes had been roaming over my naked body. “No, I’m staying with Jack.”