Earning the Cut (Riding the Line Series, Prequel) (8 page)

BOOK: Earning the Cut (Riding the Line Series, Prequel)
2.28Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

“Lenny tells me you rescued his piece of shit cat. That thing scratched the hell outta me last time I tried to peel him out of that dumpster.”

“Yeah. I guess I should have thought ahead. My clothes are kind of ruined.” Dax turned away, to smooth his spiky blond hair in Lenny’s mirror.

Schooled by years of unpredictability when it came to people and situations, Dax never turned his back on someone without keeping some kind of tabs on them. He made sure he could see Crow’s reflection clearly as he tamed his unruly mane.
The Phantoms’
president looked up casually from his busy work and as his eyes slid over Dax’s back, they narrowed suddenly. Then, he stood up Dax could tell he was taking a closer look, although he feigned nonchalance. Dax turned quickly to his backpack and fished a spare tee shirt from it, wanting to shield his scars from the other man. Crow had clearly seen the thin white lines and circular indentations that decorated Dax’s back, and he had recognized the marks for what they were.

Dax stiffened, unsure what to expect when he finally met Crow’s gaze. Most people either didn’t notice the wretched symbols of his past or they simply pretended they weren’t there. It was easier that way, for both Dax and whomever happened to get a glimpse of his back. He didn’t like being reminded of his abuse, and he certainly didn’t want anyone’s pity. For some reason, he didn’t want Crow to view him or his situation as pathetic, even though it was. He wasn’t a whipping boy any longer. No, he was a fuckin’
man,
now. To Dax’s surprise, the tattooed biker held a great deal of compassion in his eyes as their gazes met. A kind of mutual understanding flashed between them and suddenly Dax knew that whatever kind of hell he himself had been through, Crow had been there too. Dax looked back, his eyes steady, as Crow fired up the joint and passed it over to him.

“Got a proposition for you, kid.”

Dax took a long, slow drag, letting the sweet smoke enter his lungs and dull his brain. “I’m listening.”

***

Dax looked around himself with more than a hint of wonder. He stood in a small room with wood paneled walls. The space was tiny-just large enough to house a mattress and a night table. A dusty lamp sat on the table, its shade yellow with age. A rectangular, screen-less window large enough to climb out of opened onto a large, grassy yard. Dax could see beer cans littering the ground out there, clustered around a huge black and white flag that proclaimed,
“The Phantoms.”

The space was tiny, but it was his for the time being. His own place. Who would have thought that taking a chance on an animal in distress would lead to this?! Crow had spoken softly, his eyes taking on a faraway glint as he had offered Dax a place with the crew. Well, not as a member, but as a grunt with a place to call home until he had figured things out a bit.

I came up hard, too.
But, I don’t let the scars of my past hold me back.
You get what I’m saying kid?
A lot of us got stuck with a shitty set of cards.
That don’t mean you lay down and take it.
It means you stand up stronger.
Me, the club, we stand together.
We’re a family.
Everybody needs a family.
You look like you could use one right about now.

“Got any questions, kid?”

His eyes were uncharacteristically wet but Dax managed to avoid shedding a tear, even though Crow’s willingness to give him what he had never had nearly overcame him. The man was a veritable stranger. A fierce ball of loyalty began to churn in the pit of his stomach as he accepted the older man’s generosity.
I’ll never let him down!

“Why do they call you Crow?”

“Me and my army buddies were called the
Night Crows.
But, that’s a story for another time and a lot more grass.”

***

He had a little time to kill, what with no school and being newly accepted into the clubhouse. Crow said he would have more stuff to do later if he proved himself, but for now, Dax was basically considered a grunt—the lowest caste of wannabe crew members. He was the youngest one there and he had nothing but Crow’s word to vouch for his allegiance, but Dax knew that he would never bite the tattooed hands that had decided to feed him. Lenny liked him, especially so after he had jumped in a pile of stinking trash to rescue Curly, so he’d be helping out at the bar until something else came up. Dax could live with that. He smiled to himself, stretching out on the worn mattress.
A place of my own.
My very own place. With The Phantoms, no less!
It was more than he could have ever hoped for, even if he had no idea what he was getting himself into.

Dax took stock of his new digs immediately. The communal shower and toilet was located just down the hall. Some of the rooms were bigger and some had their own bathrooms. Dax figured those were for the original club members. Even though most of them had their own homes, each guy had his own space in the clubhouse, which from the outside looked like an old warehouse. It was a pretty cool set up, all in all. Dax closed his eyes. What a long, unusual, and utterly amazing day.

***

After a few days with the club, Dax fell into a nice routine. He slept in late, then spent his day doing busy work around the clubhouse until one of the guys shuttled him to the bar. Dax generally worked until the wee hours of the morning, cleaning, stocking ice, and looking after that damned cat.
Funny name for a bald fuckin’cat!
Once the creature was clean, Dax was shocked to find out that Curly was completely hairless. The cat had no hair on him whatsoever. His skin was mostly pink and he had large ears that made him look like a wombat or something. Dax had no idea where Lenny had come across such a freaky-looking animal. Lenny said he was some special, expensive breed but that he was worth more to him than money. Even though Curly drove Dax nuts, he developed a fondness for the miscreant. Curly didn’t seem to mind Dax either, and had taken to meowing a loud greeting upon his arrival each night.

Crow seemed to take him under his metaphorical wing. At first, Dax wasn’t sure if he should trust the man, but Crow seemed pretty down to earth, and blunt too. He was a guy you took at face value. Hawk didn’t take shit from anyone either. Dax soon discovered that the vice president was known as kind of a loose cannon. While Crow wore the
President
patch, it was easy to see that Hawk handled the details and kept the guys in line.

It was Friday night. The crew was in a celebrating mood, but Dax wasn’t sure why.
Probably something to do with Loony and his guns.
From his short time with the crew, he had garnered that they were into some no-so-legal activities. The fact didn’t bother him.
Fuck the rules.
Of all the guys, however, Loony was the only one who made Dax’s internal alarm bells ring. There was something about the guy he just didn’t trust, and he had picked up on it the very first night he had seen the man. Crow seemed to like the guy though, making Dax feel guilty for his unfavorable thoughts. The inner circle poured in from whatever deal they had obviously just brokered, filling the air with a tangible excitement.

“Well, boys, we’re in the big leagues now!”

Dax noted that a few of the older guys looked uncomfortable at Crow’s proclamation, but everyone raised their glasses of bootleg brandy nonetheless. Then, Crow, Hawk, and Loony disappeared into a private room next to the bar. The night wore on, loud and fast. At one point, two chicks got into it, and Lenny intervened. Dax and couple of the other guys watched with interest as the bartender separated the two hair-pulling, screeching broads.

“Fighting over cock. Never thought I’d see the day,” Crow said, materializing behind Dax with a beer in his hand.

Dax quirked his brow. “Seriously?”

Crow chuckled. “Fucking
Phantom
stalkers will do anything to get under an original.” He took a long swig of his beer.

Some of them didn’t mind getting under a grunt, either, as Dax soon found out. Or on top of him. After a few months, he had quite a reputation with the ladies. The ease with which the panties came off around Dax became a running joke around the bar, and although he was a grunt, his sexual prowess earned him the grudging respect of most of the crew.

***

Six Months Later

Dax had never felt so…useful. It was amazing how a bunch of rough-looking bikers could be so supportive. He was learning a lot, but it wasn’t like being in school. Gray showed him how to use a wrench and soon he was helping with repairs rather than just washing the bikes. Working with his hands made Dax feel productive in a way he had never felt before. He aligned the tailpipe perfectly, looking up as a large black van roared into the dirt lot in front of the warehouse. A bunch of the crew piled out, and began removing heavy crates from the back. Hawk strolled over to him, and watched as Dax tightened the last bolt on his new, custom exhaust.

“Nice job, kid. Thanks.” Hawk pulled on a pair of black leather gloves and held a second pair out to Dax as he stood up and stuck the wrench in his back pocket. “Ever shot a rifle?”

Dax felt his eyes widen and the grin spread over his face. He had seen plenty of weapons but he had never handled one. Like most young guys filled with testosterone, he jumped at the chance to shoot a real, live gun. It turned out he was pretty good at shooting stuff. Dax had natural aim and excellent hand-eye coordination. He spent the afternoon testing all kinds of different pieces with a few of the other grunts. He was accurate and steady, not wavering from his shot even when the others purposely tried to disrupt his concentration. Of all of the weapons, the
Glock 45
felt the most comfortable in his hand, almost like it was made for him.

Crow was quickly becoming a kind of father figure to Dax. The man had lost his little boy to a heart condition, and Dax wondered if that was what had compelled the older man to help him out in the first place. Crow made sure Dax was comfortable, happy, that sort of thing. At first, Dax didn’t realize that Crow had singled him out, but it soon became apparent that the president didn’t invite any of the other grunts to his table to look at war memorabilia or trade stories.

Some of the other grunts didn’t like that they were friends, probably because his relationship with the president of the crew inadvertently lent Dax some status that a rookie grunt just hadn’t earned. Lately, more often than not, another grunt was charged with hauling ice and trash so Dax could join Crow’s table and crack jokes or roll their joints. He was particularly good at that—he rolled ‘em up tighter than anyone in the club.

Dax’s vantage point from the president’s table was quite different than his previous perspective. As he listened to the heated conversations between Crow, Hawk, and some others, he was privy to some information that no one outside the inner circle knew. Dax recognized that this was no oversight on the crew’s part. Dax wasn’t sure why Crow trusted him, but he swore that he would never break that trust. Hawk, Crow’s second-in-command, seemed to accept him too. He admired these two, almost exalted their presence. They were tough, outlaw bikers who didn’t answer to anyone. They followed their own path, fueled by their motto, “Strength in Solidarity.” Dax felt lucky to be a part of the family.

***

“Oh, poor baby. Did it hurt?”

Yeah, she was just another stalker, but Jade was fuckin’ hot. The sultry brunette leaned in close, her arms falling to his hips, as she inspected the new ink that decorated his bicep.

“Nice,” she commented. “When will it be healed?”

“Dunno. It’s my first one. Couple weeks, I guess.” Dax grinned as Jade’s hands tightened on his waist as she took a step closer still, pressing her big, fake tits into his chest.

Jade had accosted him just as he arrived for his shift at Lenny’s, which lately consisted of getting Crow’s table cleaned off and waiting for the inner circle to arrive. So, he didn’t have much to do other than roll joints and run drinks while soaking in as much of his new family culture as possible. There was no shortage of women. Jade had been trying to get his attention for weeks now, pushing out her tits whenever he looked her way, pursing her lips in a sexy pout…it was so obvious that even Gray noticed.

“Put the broad out of her misery, Dax. For Christ’s sake, she’s practically spreading it for you right here in the bar!”

Dax had only shrugged. Jade was hot, but pussy was easy to come by for him. Prime pussy, too. He tended to get with the hotter, younger girls, but the older ones conveyed interest too. He’d fucked almost every type of skirt before he realized that he was unfulfilled. He got a mighty nice sexual release when he got laid, sure. But there had been something deeper that he had experienced before, something that he had erroneously assumed was connected to the physical act of fucking. Something that he hadn’t been aware he was missing. The feelings of emptiness cheapened the act for Dax. While he still had a high sex drive, and a seemingly endless supply of females wanting to get it on, he found himself becoming pickier about who he would stick his cock into.

Still, he had time to kill before the crew showed up, and Dax was bored. “What do you want from me, Jade?” He sounded as aloof and disinterested as he currently felt, but it didn’t seem to matter. His dismissive tone only seemed to fuel Jade’s need to get under him more.

“God, baby. You’re just soo…I don’t know what it is but I just want you so badly. Please, Dax. I’ll do anything you want.
Anything.”
Jade scratched her nails down his chest, shoving her pelvis into the hard bulge in his jeans.

Dax gazed back at her, allowing the barest hint of a smile to cross his face. Jade’s look of excitement and joy was almost frightening.

“Anything, baby. I just need you, Dax.”

Jade offered her mouth to him, practically begging for a kiss. Well, he was only a man. Dax felt a familiar surge of aggressive sexual dominance as he kneaded her ass firmly with his large hand. He spun her against the brick wall forcefully, and shoved his hand into her dress, finding one hard, braless nipple and tugging it hard.

BOOK: Earning the Cut (Riding the Line Series, Prequel)
2.28Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

The Darkness of Bones by Sam Millar
Mrs. Jeffries Rocks the Boat by Emily Brightwell
Secrets to Keep by Lynda Page
Uncovered by Linda Winfree
Enticing the Earl by Christie Kelley
Bite Me by Celia Kyle
Flesh and Spirit by Carol Berg
Conflicts of the Heart by Gettys, Julie Michele