Sly: MC Biker Romance (Great Wolves Motorcycle Club Book 2) Read online

  “There is a problem though,” Sawyer said. He turned and pointed to the warehouse rafters. Benny had two cameras mounted on either side of the shop. “Benny’s security cameras are out of commission. They aren’t getting any power and the battery lights are dim. We need to ask him if that’s a recent development.”

  My heart sank a little. The whole thing was too much of a coincidence to be one. “Well, shit,” I said. As much as I’d prayed my little accident last night was just that, none of this added up. I didn’t think Benny himself had anything to do with it, but his shop was a problem.

  “Let’s not say anything to him just yet,” I said. Benny would be a wreck if he thought some failing of his might have caused my near catastrophe. Better to keep my suspicions quiet until I had a better handle on who might be to blame.

  The three of us walked back into the showroom. Benny leaned against the counter on the far end. He had a huge grin on his face as his female customer squatted near a custom Street Glide painted in fire red. The angle presented Benny, and now me, with a glorious view of her round, perfect ass barely covered in cut-off jean shorts. Then she straightened, revealing a pair of the longest legs I’d ever seen.

  Colt cleared his throat next to me and Benny’s luscious customer turned around. God. From the corner of my eye, I saw Sawyer’s jaw drop before he quickly recovered his composure. She was a stunner. High cheekbones, round tits so perfect I’d wager they were fake. Tan, toned arms and a long, slender neck. She had a thick mane of chocolate brown hair that hung almost to her waist. She tucked a strand behind her ear and directed her wide brown eyes straight at me. My cock clenched as she smiled.

  “You three look like you might be able to add your opinion to Mr. Hurley’s here about a good ride for the money.” Her voice had a sultry, smoky quality to it that set my heart racing.

  Colt choked on something and Sawyer thumped him on the back. The girl smiled wider. She knew exactly the effect she was having on the men in the room.

  “Something tells me you probably know how to take care of yourself in that department,” I said, leaning against the counter. Sawyer shuffled his feet and hit Colt on the arm. They both knew the tone in my voice. Being club president came with a hell of a lot of responsibility but a few choice perks as well. First dibs in this situation being one of them. They took their cues to back the hell off. Colt cleared his throat and the two of them headed out into the parking lot.

  “You looking for yourself?” I said. Benny shot me a wink over the girl’s shoulder and headed to the other end of the show room, leaving me and Miss Legs to talk amongst ourselves.

  She cocked her head and narrowed her eyes, glowering at me through thick lashes. “That you pissing a circle?” she laughed, looking in the direction the others took in their less-than-subtle exodus.

  “That’s me asking a question. Are you a virgin?”

  She had the sexiest deep laugh and I knew right then and there I wanted to hear it again and often. “I assume you mean a motorcycle virgin. My brother had a Harley. He used to take me around on it when we were kids. But, no, I’ve never had one of my own but I do know how to ride.”

  “Well,” I said. “For a start you’ll hear a lot of people advise you to go with something Japanese.”

  “Not you though?”

  I shook my head. “I wouldn’t touch ’em. You can’t go wrong with a SuperLow. Benny can set you up. Don’t bother haggling. He’ll give you a fair price. I guarantee it.”

  She was bold. She took a few steps forward and put her hands on her hips. She stood straight, with her shoulders back, her red t-shirt pulled over her ample tits revealing the hint of a taut stomach. She wasn’t even trying to be coy and I liked that. This was a woman in front of me, not some giggly twenty-something. I pushed myself off the counter and stood in front of her, rising to my full six foot two. She stood nearly flat footed in a pair of flip flops and bright red-painted toenails. Even so, she was only four inches shorter than me at most. In a pair of stripper heels, she’d have met me eye to eye. She reached out and ran a hand down the front of my leather cut, letting her fingers trail over the president patch over my left pec. I inhaled her scent, an intoxicating mix of sweet perfume and suntan oil. I clenched my fists at my side to keep from pulling her to me. I wanted to kiss her senseless.

  “And how do I know I can trust you?” she said.

  “Ask around,” I said. “That is, if you’re planning on staying in Green Bluff for a while. Or are you just passing through?”

  She smiled again. “Haven’t decided yet.”

  “You sure you know how to ride?”

  “You offering to teach me?” She dropped her hand to her side and took a step back. She licked her lips in blatant invitation. It was all I could do not to bend her over the counter then and there and drag down those denim shorts. With the twinkle in her eye and the blush that crept into her cheeks, I knew she was thinking about it too. Oh yeah, she was all woman. Someone whose secrets I wouldn’t mind knowing beyond just a quick, mindless fuck. Although I’d take the mindless fuck too if that’s all she ended up offering.

  But I couldn’t forget why I was here. And the guys were just outside. I reached into the pocket of my leather vest and pulled out a Wolf Den matchbook. I tossed it to her. She caught it deftly between two fingers and put it into her own back pocket without even looking at it.

  “So you know where to find me,” I said.

  She smiled and looked skyward before fixing her beautiful eyes back on mine. “Oh, I don’t think that would have been too difficult anyway.”

  I arched a brow at her and gave her a wide smile. I have a deep dimple in my left cheek and I didn’t miss it when her eyes flicked to it. It’s a gift. Girls always went for it. “What if I want to find you? What’s your name?”

  She turned and ran her hand over the leather seat of the Cruiser behind her. Then she turned back to me. “Maybe I’ll see you around, Mr. President,” she said instead of answering. As she walked by me, she reached out and trailed her fingers over my president patch again. I let her make her exit. God, she was working it for sure. Her ass swayed and she held her head high. She stopped in the shop room doorway, a breeze rifling through her long hair just like in a damn shampoo commercial as she looked back at me. She flashed me a killer smile then gave me a salute before she turned and walked out.

  I heard Colt and Sawyer clear their throats and one of them gurgled something unintelligible as Miss Long Legs sashayed by them too. I went to the window. She had her car parked at an angle in the middle of the lot. A red Mustang convertible, this year’s model. She slid into the driver’s seat and didn’t look back as she peeled out.

  My fingers twitched at my side. I wanted to follow her. Whoever she was, whatever her angle, I wanted to see a hell of a lot more of her before she left Green Bluff.

  Chapter Three

  Scarlett

  My fingers shook as I gripped the steering wheel and pulled out of Benny Hurley’s bike shop. I suppressed the urge to look back just before I made the turn out of the driveway. There was no need. I knew Sly Cullinan had watched every step I took as I walked away. My phone vibrated on the passenger seat and I hit the Bluetooth button on the dash, regretting it the second I did it. I didn’t even have a chance to answer before the caller spoke.

  “Your ass better be down here in five minutes if you don’t want to be out of a job.”

  I shook my head and looked skyward as I made the turn toward the freeway.

  “Hello is what you’re looking for,” I said. “You could even politely ask me if you caught me in the middle of something, Lewis.”

  “Fuck you, Scarlett,” he said. “You know damn well how bad it looks when I have to make excuses for you.”

  “Your level of delusion is starting to concern me and piss me off. I’m just leaving Hurley’s shop. It’s a twenty-minute drive. Unless you’ve built me a teleporter, you can tell the client to expect me in about nineteen minutes and thirty seco
nds. Don’t forget it’s your ass that I’m saving here. What’s the drill, Lewis? Do I usually meet with the clients or do you?”

  Dead silence. Heavy breathing.

  “That’s what I thought you said,” I said. “I’m what you call the talent, my friend. And I said I’m on my way. And I’ll be glad to tell the client when I get there how your little fuck-up has probably ruined his chances of getting a good result with this one.”

  Silence. Good. Let the little fucker stew for a minute on whether I’d really do just what I said. Lewis Fitz had been a thorn in my side for going on five years. I’d made a bit of a career cleaning up his messes, which sucked. Except for that fact that it had also been a singularly lucrative career. This job though ... maybe it wasn’t the Big One ... but it had real potential to be the Last One. Then I could finally retire.

  After a string of epithets and panicked apologies, Lewis clicked off and my satellite radio came back on. Lewis. I had to keep reminding myself why I put up with him. It had started out as sentimentality. He’d been my brother’s partner and one of the last connections I had to Mickey. And there was an advantage to having Lewis act as go-between with the clients. It kept my life much cleaner that way. But his greed and paranoia were becoming a real problem. With any luck, I’d soon be in a position to never have to deal with him or the clients again.

  I pressed the pedal, hitting close to ninety. But there was no one around. Just open road and a mountain vista in front of me. I told them twenty minutes, but at this rate, I’d be there in ten. I knew I should slow down, but I didn’t want to. Not for anything. I had the top down and the wind whipped against my face so hard it stung. My hair flew in a tangled mess behind me. I turned up the stereo, blaring Radiohead loud enough my ears stung too.

  What the hell am I doing here? I don’t belong here. It suited my mood.

  In that moment I was free. Freer than I’d felt in months. Maybe years. It was just a small taste of what might lie ahead of me if I could just get through this next job. It would be easy. It should be easy. Except they were never easy. And I couldn’t get the image of Sly Cullinan’s devilish dimple out of my head and how solid his chest felt when I touched the soft leather of his cut. So maybe this job wouldn’t be so easy. But it didn’t mean I couldn’t have a little fun before I had to do it.

  He might come in a pretty package, but I wouldn’t—couldn’t—forget who Sly really was. An outlaw M.C. was an outlaw M.C. It didn’t matter if their patch read Great Wolves or Devil’s Hawks, or Red Brigands. They were one and the same and what I had to do would be a service to society. I knew all too well the carnage they left in their wake. Once upon a time, I had been part of that carnage. When I finished this job, it wouldn’t change the world, but at least for a little while, the people of Green Bluff, California could sleep a little easier.

  ***

  Lewis waited for me at the end of the winding gravel driveway before a looming yellow farmhouse. It seemed an odd choice for this type of meeting, but I’ve definitely been to odder places. A couple of dozen dairy cows grazed in the field to the west and Lewis wrinkled his nose when the wind shifted. He looked out of place in his ill-fitting three-piece suit.

  “Nice touch,” I said as I got out of the car. My eyes went to his ridiculous snakeskin cowboy boots. Splattered mud covered the steel tips of them and the hem of his suit pants. I gathered my unruly mass of hair in one hand. There was nothing to do for it but wind it into a top knot until I could get my hands on some conditioner and a hair brush.

  “You look like a fucking hillbilly,” he said, eyeing my cutoff shorts and flip flops. I flipped him off.

  “We meeting inside?” I asked, walking straight past him and up the steps to the wrap-around porch. The thing was complete with a suspended swing and cane rocking chairs. It looked more like a Cracker Barrel than an outlaw biker’s hideout and I supposed that was the point.

  Before Lewis could answer me, the screen door swung open and one of the said outlaw bikers came halfway out. He didn’t bother to disguise the lustful look he gave me. His thin mouth curled into a smirk and his eyes settled straight on my tits. This. This had been what I expected when I ran into Sly Cullinan and his crew. Well, I’d give them credit for better manners, but not by much.

  “Boss is getting impatient,” he said, directing it to Lewis behind me. Great. It meant Lewis had been giving them his version of what happens next. It was going to make it that much harder for them to understand how I work.

  I didn’t wait for Lewis, I went through the screen door. The creep at the door puffed his chest out, making sure I’d have to rub against him a little before I could pass. One more move like that and I’d drop him on his ass. Yeah, these guys definitely needed an education in how I worked starting right the hell now.

  I turned as Lewis started to walk in behind me. “You,” I said, crooking my finger at him. “The less you talk from now on, the better. Don’t forget why you need me here, understand? If not, the next step I take is going to be back out that door.”

  Lewis’s eyes flicked from me to the creep. He had a different kind of smirk on his face and it made me glad. This guy might be a lot of things I hated, but maybe stupid wasn’t one of them. I turned to the creep and held out my hand.

  “Forget everything this asshole has told you,” I said. “You’re dealing with me now. My name is Scarlett Shaw. You can address me as Ms. Shaw from now on if you plan on staring at my chest. Scarlett if you remember your manners. What do you want me to call you?”

  The creep’s face lit up. He was shorter than me by a couple of inches, wide through the shoulders with a pot belly that hung between the leather lapels of his vest. He had wispy blond hair that hung past his shoulders and I realized I’d maybe been a little hard on him when I judged him for the smirk. It was permanent. The guy had a badly mended cleft palate that gave his whole face a certain lopsided charm.

  “Jinx,” he said. “You can call me Jinx.”

  I laughed. “Well, Jinx. Let’s work on you not living up to your name.”

  “Boss is in the back,” he said, practically shutting the door on Lewis. Good. Jinx learned quickly. Let’s hope his boss did too.

  “You know I’m going to have to pat you down, Ms. Shaw,” Jinx said.

  I crossed my hands in front of me and thrust my right hip toward him where my small leather purse hung. “I have a Glock 26 in my purse. If handing it over is a requirement for entry, I’ll save you the trouble and leave right now.”

  “Is it loaded?” he asked. I lowered my chin, thinking I maybe needed to lower my opinion of his intellect again.

  Jinx smiled. “Fair enough. You might wanna refrain from any sudden movements though. Boys back there tend to get a little twitchy.”

  “Sounds like we have a few things in common then.”

  Then Jinx put his hands on me. I took a steeling breath as he ran his sausage fingers over my rib cage and past my hips. He patted my back pockets, satisfying himself I wasn’t carrying a knife. I opened my purse to show him my gun.

  “You make any move toward that it’ll be the last thing you do,” he said, lifting his vest flap to show me his holstered piece.

  “Right,” I said, confident in my ability to outdraw this asshat if it came to it. “We going this way?” I pointed toward the hallway.

  Jinx nodded and nudged me ahead of him. Lewis brought up the rear. I didn’t like the long hallway we headed down. We passed four closed doors. But the doors stayed shut and Jinx took us through the kitchen and out the back door. A cookout was in full swing. I scanned the yard quickly. Two men stood at the grill with nothing more lethal than beers in their right hands. Each had a bulge against their sides under their cuts but their focus was on the rack of ribs on the grill and each other.

  Four other men sat around a long picnic table. They straightened when Jinx brought me out. I got leers from two of them, but I knew instantly to pay closest attention to the guy at the end of the table. He was big and broad-c
hested like a gorilla. From a distance, he would have looked like a much older man. He wasn’t though. Late fifties, probably. But he had a head of striking white hair that he’d clubbed in back. He sported a white handlebar mustache and fixed his clear blue eyes at me. The others looked to him. He smiled when he saw me; his eyes darted to Lewis but then settled on me and stayed there.

  Shrewd, I thought. And careful. The rest of these guys would take their cue from him. If shit went wrong today, it would start with some small gesture from him. I’d have to watch him close.

  “This is Scarlett Shaw,” Jinx said. Lewis sputtered behind us, trying to catch up. Lewis was a pain in my ass, but he wasn’t stupid either. He knew he’d already lost control of the meeting. Actually, he’d never had control of it and the fact that he didn’t get that is what made him dangerous.

  “Mr. Kagan,” I said. I took a step forward but didn’t extend my hand to his. I regretted my wardrobe at the moment. It had been necessary though, for the first phase of this job. Still, even at my height, it’s hard to look imposing in flip flops and red toenail polish.

  Kagan gave a look to the other three men sitting at the table and they practically tripped over themselves to get up and leave. They didn’t go far though. They went to other corners of the yard. Between them and the guys at the grill, I was pretty much surrounded. I came around and took a seat on the other side but not directly across from Kagan. Lewis sighed and came to sit next to me.

  “Sorry about the long drive,” Kagan said. “Meetings take place on my turf or not at all.”

  I nodded and answered while Lewis sputtered. “Of course. It’s better for me anyway.”

  “So you wanna tell me how you plan to fix your partner’s fuck-up?”

  My turn to shoot a wry smirk in Lewis’s direction. Here was the crux of the matter. How to spin Lewis’s mistakes, keep the job, and keep from getting my head blown off. And I would love to get to a point in my life where I wouldn’t care if Lewis’s got blown off.