Call Me...Vengeance: Book 1 in the Vengeance MC Series (11 page)

Reversing into a park ten minutes later, rear tire to the curb, the three of us walk the half block south, swinging the door to Wicked Skin open at five-thirty. The sun is only just starting to set behind the buildings across the street, its last rays warming the air. Shop owners are closing up, heading home to their families, soon the streets would be deserted just like any other weeknight.

It’s times like this, I can’t imagine living anywhere else. I might have traveled the country, put more miles on my bike than most, and met a lot of great people doing it, but without fail, all roads have led me home. Furnace is, and always will be home as far as I’m concerned.

Populated by eighteen thousand residents, give or take, Furnace is safely tucked in the foothills of the Colorado Rocky Mountains. Most of our citizens are working class people, uninterested in the faster paced, larger cities like Boulder and Denver. Construction workers, truck drivers, loggers, and laborers making up the majority of the workforce.

Jay’s deep, booming yell breaking me out of admiring all the beauty that is, Furnace has me fighting back a grin.

“Where the fuck have you been, Boss? I haven’t seen you for weeks.”

Jay’s a fucking mountain of a man, and that’s no exaggeration. Six-foot-seven and two hundred and eighty pounds of solid muscle, the man is a force to be reckoned with. But there’s more to him than that, and out of anyone, I know Jay best.

The ex-navy SEAL might come across as a hard ass because he’s had to be. With three sisters, all of whose boyfriends needed regular ass kicking’s, and a deadbeat stepdad who showed up drunk only to knock his Mom around then pass out cold, Jay embraces his ability to intimidate people with a single look. His façade aside, Jay’s one of the best men I’ve ever known.

Leaning in, giving him a one-armed hug and fist bump, Diesel does the same followed by, Dirty who skips the embrace.

“You know how it is, brother. It’s been fucking crazy around here. Has been for months, but more so the last few. Haven’t been around much, but I’m looking to change that.”

Looking me over – probably to see if I’m lying to him – Jay gives me a chin lift. He knows there’s no point in asking for details. As close as we are, and as much as Diesel and I consider him our brother, the majority of my absence has been due to club business. Something I can’t and won’t discuss with him. Jay respects that, never stepping over the line that segregates us.

“I heard,” he confirms quietly. “It isn’t a secret the club’s got a lot going down, Boss. People talk, not about Vengeance, but that said, talk hasn’t been good. I won’t say I didn’t get a read on this and see it coming, though.” Shaking his head, Jay adds, “Anyway, fuck that. That shit’s depressing. Sooner or later you’ll be out of that world and into mine. You know, the official business owners club?”

Chuckling, Diesel points out,

“He’s already a fucking business owner, asshole. If he starts anymore, he’ll have to incorporate for Christ’s sake.”

“Probably should get on that then, brother. You never know when the mood will strike you to start wearing suits and trade in the hog for a beamer,” Jay quips. Changing direction quickly, he adds, “Let’s get Dirty inked up. We can get a beer later and decide whether the big man here will look better in Armani or Versace.” Shouting over his shoulder, Jay yells toward into one of the back rooms. The one that’s door is ajar. “Beth, get your ass out here. Your guy has just showed.”

Cocking a brow at Diesel, we both look beyond Jay seeing nothing, but hearing everything. Her voice assailed me from the first syllable. The hit I took felt like it was straight to the solar plexus. A husky, throaty, sexy laugh that was somehow as melodic as it was alluring floated down the hall slamming into me with force.

“Be there in a second, handsome. I’m just finishing setting up.”

The hint of a southern drawl lilting her accent had my dick hard, and my blood running hot faster than any blow job ever had. Until the recognition of what she’d said hit me. Handsome, that’s what she’d called Jay, wasn’t it? Did that mean his friend was fucking his new employee? Not to mention, Jay’s new employee was a woman to begin with, which is a miracle in and of itself seeing as the only women he seemed to be able to keep around were ones that were obligated by blood to stay.

Shaking my head at the former, I remind myself that Jay isn’t like that. He never fucks where he eats, works, or lives if he can help it. Hasn’t for years. The man likes less connection with women than a one-plug wall outlet. To my knowledge, Jay hasn’t ever even been out on a date. The man is the king of one-night stands.

All joking aside, appearing beside Jay less than a minute later is the hottest fucking woman I’ve ever seen. And trust me, I’ve laid eyes on a hell of a lot of women. It takes every ounce of self-restraint I have to fight against the single-minded focus my cock has to get hard. Which begs the question; when
was
the last time I’d gotten hard just looking at a woman? In this case, I was fighting a losing the battle, though. My erection is ready, willing, eager, fighting for freedom, half-mast, and throbbing steadily.

Skin-tight, worn jeans with a tear on one knee, looked like they’d been painted on the longest set of legs I’ve had the pleasure of admiring. I could easily envisage those legs wrapping around my back twice, as I traced the smooth, creamy skin of her inner thighs. Letting that thought trail off, because it won’t do me any good to fantasize about a woman whose name I haven’t gotten yet, I turn my attention back to appraising the rest of the sinfully delicious package.

The tight, light gray, frayed at the hem Harley T-shirt she’s wearing is slipping off her shoulder showing a smattering of freckles, and showcasing a gorgeous set of what look to be real D-cup tits. It’s no secret that I’ve got a severe affliction when it comes to tits and ass. If this woman looks like this from the front, I can only imagine what she’ll look like from behind, which unfortunately has my cock hardening to painful proportions.

Pair all that with long, wavy, auburn hair that’s hanging free, cascading down her back, an enormous set of emerald green eyes framed by long slightly curled lashes, cute button nose, and luscious, full, pouting lips, and you have every man’s wet dream. Fuck, I exhale of a quiet hiss.

Diesel’s mouth is hanging open at the sight of her, the bastard actually looks like he’s drooling. Dirty isn’t much better, his eyes haven’t moved from those full, heavy tits once since she walked into the room.

Just thinking about the fact that Dirty’s going to be lucky enough to have her hands on him makes me rethink letting him get inked today. If he can’t control his reaction now, I doubt he’ll be able to when he’s sitting in her chair and her hands touching his skin? One thing I do know is that if Dirty fucking touches her, I’ll kill him.

My reaction to her was visceral, carnal, possessive, no doubt. What’s worse is, that I don’t know where it was coming from. She isn’t mine; I don’t even fucking
know
her, so there’s no reason for the jealousy I’m feeling all of a sudden. However, as her eyes met mine and I watch her blink up at me rapidly, I’ll be damned if my traitorous heart doesn’t speed up.

There’s only one other woman that's had such an immediate impact on me, but she was long gone and it wasn’t like this. Not even close. My feelings for
her
didn’t hold a candle to this. Not even a match.

Wiping my hands on my leathers, I elbow Dirty. Hard.

“Hey, Sweetheart. I’m Boss and this is Diesel,” I say, motioning toward my VP. “And this here’s, Dirty.”

Not missing a beat, she stretches out her small, warm hand, wrapping it around mine, shaking it firmly.

“Hi, I’m Beth. Which one of you is mine?” Fuck, but she has an adorable grin to go with that sexy mouth and beautiful body.

“I wouldn’t go asking guys like this a question like that, babe,” Jay grins. “You’ll have them fighting over you like horny kids in not time if you do.”

Before I can answer her, Diesel calls out,

“Mine,” far too enthusiastically for my liking. “I’m calling first shot on this one.”

He may be only joking, but that doesn’t stop me spinning on my VP and narrowing eyes.

“Are you fucking insane? Jesus! Set aside the fact she’s a woman for a second, not a goddamn carnival ride and ask yourself, what would Cami have to say about that shit, asshole? Or did you forget about her already?”

If looks could kill Diesel would have just annihilated my ass. Bringing up Cami had been a knee-jerk reaction, another thing I’m having trouble keeping in check since laying eyes on Beth, and something that has Diesel seeing red. Practically spitting fire. Fucking hothead.

“As sweet as that was, being put on layaway for a later, I have things to do and places to be, so which one of you is here for an appointment?” Swinging towards Jay, Beth adds, “I’ve got the stencil printed and everything’s set. Can you write me up my shifts for next week, please? I’ve got to find time to finish the rest of that unpacking we started soon or I’ll end up eating take out permanently.” Swinging back to look at us, she repeats, “Just come on through when you’re ready.”

With a wave, she saunters back down the hall, her hips swinging, unbeknownst to her drawing the gaze of all four men in the room.

“Now you’ve met, Beth. You guys want to get your shit together and pick your jaw up off the floor now,” Jay questions. “Warning, brothers,” his voice states inflexibly. “She’s special. Beth isn’t like the women you’ve got hanging around the club.”

“Is she yours, Jay? Haven’t seen her around before, but I remember you saying you had a woman you were close to up in, Cali. This her?” Dirty asks the question we all want the answer to. Me especially. Call it curiosity. Call it whatever the fuck you want. I need to know.

“Not mine, no, but she’s a friend. A good one. I met her a few years back at one of those trade shows I used to go to. She was sweet, funny, asked a fuckton of questions wanting to know everything about how I do what I do, and I took an immediate liking to her. It’s hard not to when you’re faced with all that beauty, but she’s smart too. Clever. A quick learner. She was already set up in a shop, and I had Adelyn, but we kept in touch. When Ade said she wasn’t coming back, I made the call, put the offer to her, and got Beth’s ass here before she could give it enough thought she might change her mind.”

“Is this a temporary thing, or is she looking to relocate permanently,” Diesel interrupts.

Observing him wearily, Jay shoots back,

“Are you asking because you want to know if we need to change the population on the welcome sign coming into town, or do you want to know because you’re interested for another reason?”

“Pure curiosity, my man,” he banters back.

Quirking an eyebrow at him, Jay cuts through the tension with a shark-like grin.

“Good to know. She packed up her life and moved out here because I asked. Beth dropped everything without giving it a second thought when I told her I needed her. So, what do you think?”

“She’s staying,” I state abruptly.

And fuck me if I don’t want that to be true more than I should…   

Leaning against the wall just inside the door, I let my head fall back against the wall, causing a soft thud to echo through the small room. Oh, Christ on a crutch, I sigh. I’ve never seen so many good-looking men in the same room, at the same time in all my life.

Sure, I’ve known Jonas for years, and during that time I’ve thought more than a few times, that the man is a magnificent specimen of all things male. But after seeing the men currently taking up all the free space out the front of the shop, I realized just how wrong I’d been. Those men were more than hot. They were powerful, everything about them screamed danger, but there was also an element of calm about them. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but I’d immediately felt safe in their presence.

One, in particular, caused an alarming reaction inside me. Boss, did he say his name was? I was making a mental note as we speak to find out his real name along with his phone number. I didn’t make notes about things like that, and therein lay the problem. He was making me want to do things that weren’t part of my long-term plan. A plan I had meticulously outlined in my head. A plan I had every intention of sticking to.

When Bec found out I had my own version of the twelve step program, she had laughed. Long and loud. I would have been offended if I didn’t see the humor in it. Sure, it was strange, odd even, but necessary. At least to me it was.

I had come up with the idea after my shrink had told me that I need to start making steps to move on with my life instead of living in the past. I hadn’t believed that was what I was doing, but according to her, I was stalling. I had put my life on hold waiting for something to pull me out of the rut I’d firmly wedged myself in. And I suppose, if you were only to look at certain aspects of my life I could see where she was coming from.

In her mind, the fact that I had lived with, Bec since moving to L.A. was a big road block. I didn’t think so but whatever. Apparently, women of my age made homes for themselves, alone or with partners, not with their thirty-four-year-old best friends. My take on it; I liked living with Bec, it worked for us. Neither of us enjoyed being alone, and for as long as it worked I had no intention of changing it.

That wasn’t the only think my shrink had a problem with mind you. My lack of interest in dating was another thing she harped on about relentlessly. Perfectly reasonable, all things considered. My therapist didn’t, however. After coaxing me to come out of my shell and, at least, think about the world of dating again, I had what she considered a breakthrough. I met Derek.

Just when I was beginning to think she was right, that there was something wrong with my disinterest in the opposite sex, I ran into Derek one day at the coffee shop both Bec and I worked at. He asked me out, I went, and we continued seeing each other for months before I was ready to take the next step with him. During that time, Derek was patient, sweet, and considerate. All things I needed to feel safe and comfortable enough to take things further.

Derek and I might not have lasted forever, but he did teach me something important about myself. He taught me that there was absolutely nothing wrong with me, or my libido, and in doing so, he healed something inside me. Something that had been broken since Oliver carelessly shattered it. My faith that one day I would truly be okay.

Derek was the complete opposite of Oliver. Something I couldn’t have been more grateful for. But in saying that, he wasn’t what I envisioned myself falling for either. Nothing like the man who elicits feelings I can’t explain whose name I only just learned.

Where Oliver was polished, buffed, shined to perfection, and so totally up his own ass; Derek was artistic, lean but still powerful, and took the time to find out everything he could about me.

It was like everything else, though. Great while it lasted, but everyone knows college romances don’t last forever, and this one didn’t. They especially don’t last when you find the man you had come to trust almost as much as your best friend mapping out another woman’s body, repeatedly, in your bed. But even though that’s how Derek and I ended, I couldn’t find it in myself to be heartbroken. I dug deep, rooted around and came up with nothing. The only thing I could attribute it to was that I hadn’t been in love with him. The reason his betrayal didn’t affect me the way people believed it should have because I simply hadn’t had that depth of feeling for him.

However, I digress. Back to my plan…

Basically, the idea behind it was to take me outside of my comfort zone, but at the same time improving the quality of my life. No more hiding. No more shying away from immersing myself in whatever I was doing wherever I was. A bad habit of mine. First on the list was to put down roots somewhere I would be happy to stay for more than five years. I’m not presuming that Furnace is that place, but why not? If it fits I’ll stay, I haven’t seen enough to be able to know for sure, but I’ve got time to figure it out.

Second was to meet people. Maybe find someone I could spend time with that wasn’t an ax murderer or criminal. I know, not lofty goals, but goals nevertheless. I’d definitely hit the nail on the head with meeting people, I considered sagely. Boss and his band of merry brothers could attest to that. And while it might not have been in a social setting as I’d initially hoped when I wrote out my plan, this still counted as far as I was concerned.

Buying a house, making it a home, finding friends, and going on dates were all aspects of a longer-term strategy. I wanted to travel too. Go somewhere exotic. Explore. Learn. Grow as a person. I wasn’t naïve enough to think I’d be able to put all of this into play at once, I knew I couldn’t. That didn’t stop me from wanting to make progress on it before Bec arrived in a few weeks, though.

I wanted to prove I could go it alone if I had to. Not that I wanted or needed to, but there may eventually come a time when I had to, and I needed to know I had the inner strength to do it. One day, Bec would want to put down roots of her own, meet a man and have a family, and I wouldn’t factor in that. I shouldn’t. Hence, the inception of the plan. Bethany Leanne Miller wasn’t going to be anyone’s victim anymore. I am a strong, independent woman who can depend on herself if the need arises. I figured if I said it enough times I might just believe it too.

That brings me to now, thirty-four years old, standing in a small four room tattoo studio called, Wicked Skin in the tiny town of Furnace. My first step on the road to self-imposed freedom, and what am I doing. I’m hyperventilating over a man I’ve seen for all of five minutes, who is clearly dangerous if the leather, chains, tattoo’s, piercings, and perma-scowl is anything to go by. Well done, Beth, I congratulate myself quietly.

Tall, but not quite as tall as Jay, his biceps are so large that you can see them straining the seams of the white T-shirt he’s wearing under his leather vest. I highly doubted I could get my two hands to meet if I wrapped them around him.

I had been around tattooists, tattoo enthusiasts, and plenty of bars in West Hollywood, I knew a biker when I saw one. Not to mention, Jonas has told me about these guys, and what to expect. But if I hadn’t been sure before, I was now. These men were serious, hardcore, lived the lifestyle bikers. They weren’t weekend warriors or enthusiasts. They were part of a club that owned the road and in doing so lived by their own set of rules. They exuded power and demanded respect. The motorcycle boots, leather pants and vest were a dead giveaway if I’d missed everything else, which I hadn’t.

The taller of the three men, Boss, was far more intimidating than the only other MC President I’d met. Dray carried himself well, commanded a room when he was in it, but he didn’t have the same dangerous undercurrent that Boss had. Dray was sweeter, more transparent.

Sitting on my short stool, pulling to close to the height adjustable tattoo chair that took up the majority of space in my small room, I meticulously double-check everything I need to get my job done quickly. The last thing I wanted was to be stuck here later tonight than I had to be. I was serious when I said I still had a ton of unpacking to do. After packing my half of Bec and my unit, driving, unloading and still putting a full work week, starting the day after I got to Furnace there was nothing I wanted more than to crawl into my bed after a nice, long, hot shower. Oh, and eighteen hours of unconsciousness wouldn’t hurt either.

Hearing a throat clear behind me, I jump a little and turn to face the origin of the sound.

“Am I good to come in?” Dirty asked, peering around the door jam. Following closely behind him was another figure, making the doorway appear to be the smallest one known to mankind.

Cursing myself internally, I struggle to get myself under control. Like I said, I shouldn’t be reacting to this man like this. I don’t’ know what it is about him, but whatever it is, it’s potent.

“Hey Sweetheart, do you mind if I sit in on this?” Shoving past Dirty, not waiting for an answer, he takes the one and only spare seat in the corner as it groans loudly in protest of his bulk.

Breathe, you can do this Beth, I repeat in my head. They’re just extraordinarily hot, tattooed, muscled bikers, nothing to get your panties in a twist over. Counting to one hundred, forward then backward, I smile at both of them hoping I don’t look as nervous as I feel.

“Sure thing,” I say breezily. “Take a seat and show me where you want it. Is there anything specific you need me to make sure to include?”

Looking over the stencil I’m holding out for him to check, Dirty shakes his head in the negative.

“No, I think that covers it. As long as Vengeance is done in red, we’re all good.”

Slipping off his vest, he throws it over the back of the chair. Reaching behind his head, he pulls his black T-shirt off adding that to the growing pile. Dirty points to his right pec with his index finger saying,

“Right here, Gorgeous. Do your worst,” indicating to where he wants the stencil to go.

Jonas had explained the significance of the Vengeance brothers having the right side of their chest tattooed. Apparently, Boss had begun that particular tradition at the start of his Presidency. Hog, the club’s previous President, hadn’t cared where the men got their ink as long as they did it, but Boss thought differently.

The left side of a man’s chest was closer to his heart. A place Boss believed was reserved for old ladies and wives, according to Jonas. I thought it was as sweet as it was symbolic, but looking at the man now, I’m not sure that appraisal of him was correct. There’s nothing sweet about this man. But that didn’t change what Jonas had told me about him.

In essence, Boss’s mentality was that a woman who belonged to a brother had to realize that the club was his other half. His woman may hold his heart, but in part so did his brothers and his MC.

Applying the stencil to Dirty’s extremely well-defined, hairless chest, I peel back the transfer paper, tilting my head to check it’s positioned correctly. Picking up my tattoo gun, I look at him grinning.

“You ready, honey?” At his nod, I add, “Lay back and make sure you’re comfortable because this is going to take a while.”

The rhythmic buzz of the machine started as I depressed my foot on the pedal, but that did nothing to distract me from the sinful man sitting across from me. I didn’t know what it was about him that kept drawing my gaze, but every time I paused to wipe the excess ink from Dirty’s skin my eyes would meet Boss’s and I’d be lost for another moment.

Focus. Focus is what I needed to get through this.