HARD RIDE (The Slayers MC Book 2) Read online

  THE SLAYERS MC

  Book 2

  HARD RIDE

  By Tara Oakes

  “Since when are bikers the good guys?

  …they’re FILTHY as sin.”

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  First edition. February 1, 2016

  Copyright c. 2016

  Twelve Oakes Publishing, Inc.

  Cover designed by CBB Productions

  Edited by Dana Hoffman

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

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  Also from this author:

  The Kingsmen MC series

  Book 1: A Lil' Less Broken

  Book 2: A Lil' Less Lost

  Book 3: A Lil' Less Hopeless

  Book 4: Bitter Sweet Deception

  Book 5: Bitter Sweet Beginnings

  Book 6: Bitter Sweet Cravings

  The Chianti Kisses Series

  Book 1: Baby V

  Book 2: Boss

  Book 3: Betrayed

  My Soul To Wake Series

  Book 1: Stain

  The Badge Boys Series

  Book 1: Pretty Boy

  Book 2: Dark Web

  The “A” List Series

  Book 1: All The Pretty Lights

  Book 2: The Harder They Fall

  CHAPTER ONE

  DAWSON

  “Get me a fucking beer, prospect!” My harsh tone earns me more than one pair of eyes from the crowded room. Whatever. These guys are all used to it by now, enough to know to stay the hell outta my way.

  Chairs scrape against the hardwood floor as people move quickly to let me pass. It’s either that or they get knocked over. Their choice. I’m fine with either at this point.

  The place has been cleaned up pretty good from all the shit that went down a little while back. The cops came in and roughed up the club pretty good, but you wouldn’t know it by looking around, aside from the broken chair or two over in the corner.

  “And get rid of those fucking chairs!” I bark behind me in passing as I head back to my office- the only place I’m guaranteed some peace and quiet right now. “I told you guys to throw them away days ago!”

  My brothers are all well behind me by now as I’m walking damn fast but I hear more than a couple of them jump up at my order and move around. I have no doubt that the old, broken, wooden seats will be gone by the time I come out of my office later. God help them all if they’re not.

  I’m revved up, on edge, just waiting for something to set me off. There’s a brand-new healthy hole in the sheetrock wall of my basement back at home that helped a little, but didn’t quite do the trick. I need to hit something, anything, at this point. I’m not particular… Hell, the first person that crosses my path and looks at me sideways is good enough for me. They’re going down.

  I throw my shoulder up against the solid stained wooden door of my office, forcing it to move. The cops had knocked it clear off the hinges during their raid, and the thing just won’t sit right inside the frame anymore.

  A low guttural growl vibrates deep in my throat as I pull the piece of shit door, ripping it a second time from the frame where it belongs. The action feels cathartic, releases some of the frustration and anger that’s built inside me since last night. Who knows? Maybe taking this all out on the inanimate door will spare someone out there from getting a black eye today.

  The long piece of wood feels weightless in my hands, even though I feel my muscles bulging and veins throbbing. Swinging it forward at first, I use that momentum to toss it blindly behind me out into the hallway, hearing the wood collide and splinter as it makes impact with something.

  “And get me a new door!” I add to the list of my demands.

  These guys can’t do anything right these days.

  My office seems to be neat enough. Well, neat enough considering it’s my office, that is. It never seems to bother me, though. I’m always able to find what I need… eventually… no matter how hidden in these tall stacks of papers it is.

  I run an outlaw motorcycle club, I’m not a motherfucking secretary! Who the hell cares if shit is a little… untidy? That don’t bother me much. Well, it usually doesn’t, but this morning it’s finding a way to get under my skin.

  I had hoped Angel would be able to help organize some of this shit, but as of last night, it doesn’t look like that’s gonna happen anytime soon.

  The Budweiser clock on the wall tells me it’s just before noon. My body’s numb to it, not having slept a wink last night. For all I know, it could be suppertime and I wouldn’t know the difference.

  I’m beyond exhausted, but a constant flow of adrenaline keeps flowing, not satisfied with the crumbs I’m feeding it. My basement wall wouldn’t do, the door lying in pieces outside my office couldn’t do it either.

  I know myself. When I get like this, the only thing that will sate the demon in me is to shoot someone, hit someone, or fuck someone.

  My eyes close and I take a deep breath. Plastic clicking begins to sound, waking me from my attempt at meditation.

  “Uh oh….” Candy strolls in, wobbling on her sky-high stripper shoes, stepping over the broken shards of wood that litter the floor. “I’ve seen this before, Dawson.”

  I laugh to myself. Yeah, she has.

  Candy’s my best stripper, worked for us a long time. She’s seen this crap more times than I can count. She’s also been a good outlet to get it all worked outta me, too.

  Her short, barely-there skirt skims her thighs, hinting at the juicy center between those milky white--

  Shit!

  I shake my head. Hard. Some habits are hard to break, I guess.

  “Problems on the home front, darlin’? You getting tired of playing house yet?” she teases.

  Sitting up tall, I clear my throat. “Well, look who finally came back to work.”

  She’s been on a fully financed sabbatical for the last couple of weeks, convincing me to bankroll her vacation by rambling some shit about post traumatic stress or some crap like that, from the night she and Angel had to hide in here while some hired henchmen from the Conquistadors drug cartel planted a shit load of coke to jam us up.

  That’s what started the downward spiral of events that led to the police raid, the broken chairs outside in the bar and now the broken door lying helpless on the ground outside my office.

  “What can I say?” She wiggles her way up to sit on the corner of my desk, leaning over so her tits practically spill out of the tight tank top she’s got on. “I missed you. Couldn’t stay away too long.”

  The only thing faker than her words right now are the tits jiggling in front of my face. I’m not saying she doesn’t miss my cock. I know she misses that, having thrown herself at me every which way she can think of since I cut out all the side shit as soon as Angel entered the picture.

  “The only thing you missed around here were the green bills stuffing your panties every night, Candy.” I sit back and distance myself from the breasts that are doing their very best to entice me into rethinking this whole one-pussy-only policy I’ve been practicing.

  She purses her lips, pouting. “Maybe. But that doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy the perks that come along with our
working relationship, now does it? By the looks of it, Little Miss Molly doesn’t seem to be able to keep you…” she looks over her shoulder at the splintered mess on the ground not far away while strategically leaning her trashy bra exposed chest closer to me, “content.”

  She has no idea what happened last night, what Angel told me, the little “surprise” she had for me. The one she thought would make me happy, but which led to the sleepless night and foul mood I’m dealing with today.

  It would be easy, so easy, to just slip back into old habits, to slip back into Candy. I won’t lie, it would probably make me feel better, take my mind off the crazy shit Angel threw at me last night. But I know it’ll only fuck things up even more than they already are between my Ol’ lady, my Angel, and me.

  Candy’s like a drug. One you take a hit of every once in a while, but… when it wears off, you’re still dealing with the same shit you were before you sank yourself deep inside her.

  “You can take the stage tonight, get back on your old schedule. But why don’t you work on a new routine… Something different. The regulars have seen your shit too many times. Give ‘em something new.” I throw some cold water on the situation to cool this shit off before I no longer have the control to stop myself from sampling the treats she’s offering.

  She’s a tough chick, used to things around here, and knows when not to press. She shimmies her thighs closer to the edge of my desk, leaving her skirt to bunch up under her so that when she finally slides off to her feet, I catch a bit of her bare ass playing peek-a-boo before the skirt drops down.

  I gulp.

  No panties.

  Fuck me and this one-pussy-only policy.

  “Whatever you say, boss man. I’ll go work on some new material. You know, make sure I’ve got some new tricks to keep things… interesting for you.”

  I watch her hips sway, her ass jiggling a bit as she leaves. I need a drink, a strong one. Thankfully, I keep a stash right here in my bottom desk drawer. I can practically feel the strong whiskey on my tongue as I reach for the drawer handle, only for it to put up a fight.

  The inch of skin between my nose and my lip twitches. Fuck this shit! I pull hard, yanking the wooden facing off the drawer and hurling it clear across the room to add to the pile of wood scraps waiting to be cleared away.

  “And get me a new fucking desk!” I lengthen the list of my demands.

  “Whoa!” Uno, one of the oldest brothers protectively shields his face playfully as he enters, walking over the debris. “Incoming.”

  My eyes roll as he attempts to joke about the situation. “You got my beer?”

  He holds up an amber colored bottle as if it were a prize, or maybe a bribe to calm me the fuck down. “Wouldn’t come empty handed.”

  The bottle is extended and I take it, swiping it, bringing it to my lips and gulping it long and hard, until I taste only the foam at the end. Coming up for air, I savor the scented aroma that fills my lungs.

  I’d been too busy devouring the bottle to notice Uno taking the lone seat on the opposite side of my desk, eyeing me with his one good eye. I’ve only known him since after the accident that cost him the eye that’s now covered by the old black leather patch. I remember when I first joined the Slayers, as a prospect for the club. There were rumors, stories about how he’d lost the eye, each one more fantastic than the last.

  I’ll admit, when I finally found out what caused it, a bike wreck with glass shrapnel that chewed up his cornea, I was a little disappointed. My personal favorite was of him being attacked with a shank while serving one of his stints in prison.

  He’s learned to adapt, though, being able to read you just as good with the one eye, as most people do with two.

  “You wanna talk about it?” he asks.

  I nearly choke. “No. I don’t wanna fucking talk about it. You lose your dick somewhere? Grow a pussy we don’t know about?”

  The old man is getting soft. Slayers don’t talk about shit, we find things to take our shit out on.

  “Suit yourself. Let it fester. That’s so much better.” He pacifies me and then nurses his beer bottle.

  I have nothing left in my own bottle as I stare at the empty hollow expanse down the long neck of the glass.

  What the fuck would he know about this, even if I told him? Him and Trixie, his Ol’ lady, they’ve been together for a long time. I’m sure they’ve gone through some tough times especially when he was jammed up and locked away, but they seem solid. I’m sure me bitching about what happened with Angel wouldn’t be something he’d even understand. Hell, I don’t even understand it myself.

  It’s not like we fought or anything. We never really fight. I know it’s the beginning and all, and shit like that usually happens as time goes on, but we get along really well. Too well, in fact.

  No, what happened last night… was something else entirely.

  Uno takes another sip of his imported beer and settles into the chair, showing no intention of leaving. What the fuck? I’ve got shit to do here. Work. Some of us actually work around this place.

  “You got someplace to be?” I hint.

  He lifts the corner of his lip. “Nope.”

  My teeth clench.

  Uno’s got a couple of decades on me. Sure, I respect him because he’s nearly old enough to be my pop and he’s worn his patches a helluva lot longer than I have, but I’m still the Prez around here. I don’t need no fucking counseling session from him or anyone else!

  “Well why don’t you go find someplace to be?” I’m less vague this time around, hoping he’ll catch my drift.

  “You know, Angel’s a good girl. I wasn’t too sure about her at first, but she’s grown on me. Grown on all the guys out there, too,” he lifts his chin to signal over his shoulder. “It’d be a shame to see someone like that take off, someone that actually makes you tolerable to the rest of us.”

  He’s getting on my last nerve. I feel the itch to hit something starting to return. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

  My tone doesn’t faze him. He was expecting it, I’m sure. “There are different kinds of Ol’ ladies. Some put up with shit. Some don’t. Some pretend to and then find a way to give it back to you. Angel doesn’t strike me as the type to look blindly at you partaking in extracurricular activities, you get me?”

  I know what he’s getting at. He must have seen Candy stroll out of here. I guess it’s a hazard that people will know your shit when you ain’t got no door.

  “How does Trix handle it?” I bite back, knowing Uno’s parked his dick in snatches other than his woman’s a time or two. I’ve never been a faithful guy before, but goddamn it, here I am, actually doing it and I’m getting blamed for crap I’m not even doing.

  “Eh, as long as she’s part of it, she don’t care much. She considers it more of a group activity. Says I shouldn’t be the only one having fun.” He volunteers a bit too easily.

  I almost gag. “Way too much information, brother.”

  “You asked,” he defends himself and his disgusting answer. Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for a good ménage, but that don’t mean I want to picture Uno and his Ol’ lady with some chick.

  “Well, I’m sorry I asked then. Don’t get your panties all in a bunch. I’m not fucking Candy. Not anymore, at least.” I answer his silent question.

  He looks confused. “Then what the fuck has you all riled up if it isn’t a case of the blue balls?”

  He just won’t let up, will he?

  “Angel had a surprise for me. She told me last night.” I blurt out unintentionally. Where the fuck did that come from? I had no intention of telling anyone.

  Uno lights up, sitting tall in his chair, his one good eye settling on me. “Oh, yeah? It what I think it is? Time to get a little itsy bitsy vest made up? Put a car seat in the back of that abomination you call a truck? Make room back here for a playpen?”

  I stare at him, hard.

  I don’t blame him for thinking what he’s thinking. I
t’s what I thought myself when Angel first hinted that she had a secret she needed to tell me. Said it was one she couldn’t give me or show me, but was one she could only tell me.

  I never thought I’d have kids- never thought I’d live long enough, honestly, considering what I do for a living. All the cracked out whores and strippers that come in and out of these parts aren’t exactly mother material either.

  That all changed when I met Molly. When I met Sasha… That kid’s not even her own daughter and Molly treats her as if she were. Most people don’t even know the truth, that Sasha’s Molly’s niece and not her kid, left with her after her crack head of a sister took off.

  Having the two of them in my life, living in my place, really made me feel something I never did before. I had a family growing up, if you want to call it that. Pop would drink all the time, Ma would work all the time. That left Matt and I to pretty much raise ourselves. It kind of accounts for how we ended up where we did, too. He’s in a pine box six feet underground and I’m here, running an outlaw motorcycle club.

  That’s not exactly the kind of legacy one wants to pass on to another generation. At least, that’s what I thought.

  Then Angel comes charging into my life and shows me that there can be another way. I let my guard down and think that maybe, just maybe, I could have what most people have, what most people want.

  When she told me she had a secret surprise, I let just a little bit off those hidden feelings creep out, just enough to give me hope that it was actually happening. We haven’t been together that long, haven’t really talked about kids before, but I could tell by the way she loves Sasha that it’s something that would come really naturally to her.

  So there I was, sitting in bed behind her, massaging her back, ready to hear the biggest news of my life when…