Naked Dirty Love (7 page)

Trey walked toward me, cleaning dirt and grime from under his fingernails with a clean rag. After he finished, he stuffed the rag into his back pocket and stared at me with deep, penetrating eyes.

He looked hot and sexy as hell as always. His bright hazel-green eyes, the same color as his mother’s, lightly tanned skin, and masculine beautiful face was enough to make my heart beat faster. I could admit how attractive he was, but it’d come in the form of heart palpitations and my fair skin infused with color as opposed to moisture pooling in intimate places. Fortunately, I stopped suffering from that panty-wetting habit in my mid-twenties.

“Fancy seeing you again so soon. What do you want from me, Kyra? Does this have anything to do with Jonesy?”

I shook my head, unable to speak as my mouth filled with cotton balls, and my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. I suddenly felt like that silly, awkward teenager with long, stringy carrot-red hair and braces. Yeah, Trey had a way of making most women feel like putty in his hands, me included.

“It’s something personal. Is there somewhere private we can speak freely?”

Trey laughed coldly as he shook his head. “We’re safe here. Surely you’re not suggesting I hide anything from my brothers?”

Kink laughed as he continued to work on a Harley.

“It’s not like that,” I replied icily. “I’m not trying to get you into bed. You do realize I’m an attorney? That means if I say it’s personal, I mean I could be disbarred for not adhering to client-attorney privilege. Is it sinking in now?”

Cillian stopped working on a custom design and strode over to us. “Trey, why don’t you take Ms. Hughes inside and use your room to talk to her. If it’s as important as she says, go ahead and take a break. Hell, take all the time you need.”

His blue eyes stared at me intently before he walked away.

Trey glared my way before turning on his heel and walking toward the clubhouse. I caught up with him quickly until we were side-by-side. He didn’t say anything as he directed me up a set of stairs and down the hall. The place had been recently remodeled and it looked clean, sterile, and roomy enough to withstand a long-term lockdown should it happen.

Finally, he stopped at a door, pulled out a set of keys and opened it. Looking back at me, he walked inside but held it open so I could follow him in before he shut the door behind us.

Trey’s private quarters were clean and orderly to the point of obsession. His bed was made with classic military precision and there weren’t any clothes or shoes thrown about the room. He simply had a king-sized bed, fancy desk with a comfortable leather office chair, and a fifteen-inch MacBook Pro. I turned around and also viewed an oak drawer set with a thirty-six inch flat screen television, Blu-ray player, and speakers to amp the sound.

“Why don’t you sit on the bed and tell me what this is about?” he demanded loudly, snapping me out of my thoughts.

I’d judged this man all wrong. From the way he worked on motorcycles to his brilliance as a computer hacker, I assumed he’d be like most men I’d known my whole life. Grown up boys who were dirty, bathed when they remembered to, and weren’t great with housekeeping. This guy was the complete opposite - it made him an utter enigma.

I cleared my throat as I sat down on his perfect bed. I felt bad about rumpling the down comforter but he didn’t seem to mind as he sat next to me, completely calm and quiet. He crossed his arms against firm pecs that were clearly visible through his tight, white t-shirt. His stance, obviously defensive, almost hostile, bothered me more than I cared to admit.

Why was he being so dismissive toward me? Had I done something wrong? I’d always assumed we were friendly, and although he was part of the Saints MC, I didn’t resent him for leaving the Bastards. I assumed it was something personal and never asked my father about it; not that he would have told me anyway. He’d have merely grunted, “Club business—nothing for you to worry your pretty little head about.”

As if I wasn’t an attorney who served both clubs—just like my partner—and like we were civvies, completely unaware with what the clubs were doing. Hell, we’d use the law firm as a money-laundering front, setting up accounts everywhere from Switzerland to the Cayman Islands for the clubs, the Mafia, and the cartel. They certainly weren’t sending clean money to any of those places when large-scale transfers were involved.

I felt like we were still looked upon as children or old ladies—nothing was our business until someone got into legal trouble and
then
it was our business to get them
out
of it. The contradictory sons of bitches were all alike. Women weren’t good for anything but screwing and having babies until they really needed us; then we were supposed to go above and beyond the call of duty to make them happy.

Fucking bikers.

Fuck the motherfucking MC, and all their stupid fucking codes and rules, and club motherfucking business.

“I know Killer told us to take all the time we needed but seriously, I gotta get back to work and if we take too much time, everyone’ll assume we’re fuckin’ so can we move this show along?” Trey questioned, his voice softening.

I glared at him with cold eyes. “And
why
would it be so bad for everyone to assume we were fuckin’? Am I not good enough for you, Trey Lennon?”

He smirked, shaking his head. “That don’t have nothin’ to do with it, Kyra. You’re Jonesy’s daughter and you
know
the rules. You were forbidden when I was in the Demon’s Bastards MC. Now that I’m a part of the Lucifer’s Saints MC, you think your father is gonna be hunky-dory with his daughter and me bein’ somethin’ other than acquaintances?”

“Well, he didn’t say much when Cricket and I
had
a thing goin’ on—”

“Jonesy didn’t say nothin’ ’cause he knew it wouldn’t last. That’s not the same as you and me. We always had something between us but neither of us ever wanted to pursue it and, baby, if I did pursue something with you, it’d be for keeps. I’m not gonna romance ya or fuck ya and lie about how you don’t mean nothin’ to me because you would.

“You’ve always been someone special but I realized it too late and…after Keri, I don’t want nothin’ like that. No more unnecessary heartbreak. I’m not takin’ any more chances. Love is too motherfuckin’ risky. In the end, it ain’t worth it.”

I breathed deeply, my heart thundering in my chest. I’d never had a man tell me anything like that before. Yeah, I knew he’d liked me like I liked him but it had always been unspoken, unsaid, and unwritten. Now he’d said it and couldn’t take it back - where did that leave us, and would he ever try to pursue anything with me?

My right hand clutched the pearls around my neck as I sighed. “Yeah, I guess I’m not worth taking that kind of risk. I gotcha. I never have been, sweetie, have I?”

“That’s not what I said but if that’s how you wanna play it, that’s fine with me, Kyra. What did you wanna tell me?” he asked again, more forceful this time.

“I had a visitor come to my office today. Eve Kerrigan. Do you know her?” I finally asked, trying to stop the tears that wanted to fall.

“Never heard of her,” Trey said and sighed in exasperation.

“Well…maybe that’s because she’s…an alias…your
mother
has in Witsec.”

His hazel-green eyes stared into mine and I could see him holding back his own tears as he blinked rapidly. “My
mother
?”

“Yes, your mother, Trey. It was her—she’s changed and not easily recognizable, but I don’t forget a face. She wants to see you and I’m supposed to set up the meet. It’s probably going to be somewhere far from here, Vegas most likely, if not L.A. Is there any reason you can think of to get away?” I continued in a whisper.

“I need to know where the meet is first and then, yeah, I can get away. I don’t do many runs, mainly ’cause I’m always needed for jobs here, but I can go on one if I have to,” he replied, in voice so deep and inadvertently sexual it had my nipples standing at attention.

“I don’t have a way of contacting her but she said she would call me tomorrow,” I replied in a quick, hushed tone. “Chances are she’s already left town, and if the rest of your supposedly dead family is with her, they’re using smart technology to keep them off the grid. It would be almost impossible to trace her. I am
begging
you not to tell Dizzy about this. He was about to put a hit out on your parents before their ‘accident’ happened. The Koslakov Mafia
would
complete the job this time—I shit you not.”

“Nah…this is for my ears only. I have a feeling Trista and Linx already know. They never said nothin’ but…it was the way my sister acted when I was threatened in Northern Ireland. It’s like she knew our parents and brother were alive but they’d never be a part of her life again. She couldn’t lose me too. She’s brilliant but I could smell her desperation from Belfast,” he explained solemnly. “If she does know then I can’t put her life in further danger. She’s compromised being so close to you now and…with what Linx went through to make sure you returned home safe, she’s too deeply involved.”

Trey stood and began to pace after he shook a cigarette out of his pack and lit it. “I can’t fuckin’ believe she contacted you. Does she have a motherfuckin’ death wish? Why now? I’m with the Saints and the situation is worse than it was before I left. I don’t know what Dizzy would do. Yeah, he loved her once but he’d probably still send her to ground just to piss my dad off and leave him heartbroken—”

“That’s why it’s imperative this stays between us. If the club asks, you needed to talk to me about the arrangements made for Keri. I assured you the body was sent back to Nel Decker and the White Knights, okay?” I stood and moved closer to him.

He stopped pacing and dragged from his cigarette. “Is that gonna fly?”

“I don’t see why not. Keri’s body was flown back after what happened in Northern Ireland and Nel Decker buried her—albeit privately. There were only a few people at the funeral, mainly Nel, Jake and Keri’s cousin, Marian. The only reason I know is because I drew up Keri’s Will. Her estate was small but she did have some money, which she left to Marian.” I turned away from Trey and walked toward the front door.

He grabbed my wrist suddenly. “Thanks. You might not realize how much you’re puttin’ your life on the line, but I do. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”

“I’ll let you know what happens. I will text you tomorrow but it will be generic, cryptic. Please come by my office. It would be better for us to discuss it there. My office is swept for bugs often—”

“What? And you’d actually think someone could get a bug by me here? Don’t worry about anything you’ve told me today. No one will ever know about this outside of you and me, all right?” His warm hand let go.

I nodded briefly, left his room, and didn’t bother to look back. I felt bad enough for the absence of his touch but to ask anymore would have been downright criminal. It wasn’t everyday someone found out their mother—who they thought were dead—was alive, well, and wanted to see their kin again.

If I had my own personal demons, Trey had all of that and more.

In spades.

Chapter Three

Trey

H
e couldn’t fucking believe it.

His mother wasn’t dead after all. In fact, she was alive and fine, and she wanted to see him.

The implications were too much to bear, therefore, Trey didn’t bother thinking about them at all. He could only concentrate on the softness of Kyra’s flesh when he’d grabbed her wrist.

A man could wax poetic about how beautiful certain women were but Kyra wasn’t like that. She was gorgeous, no doubt about it, but he’d grown up with her unique beauty.

He remembered her bright orange-red hair as a teenager, which had been tamed to a deep, alluring auburn before her eighteenth birthday. Long and silky strands of fire with golden highlights replaced the auburn now, and she still managed to keep her striking good looks. Those bluer than blue eyes all the Hughes children had set her apart from her siblings due to their depth and ability to demonstrate humility and empathy. They definitely contributed to her being a damn good attorney.

Kyra’s skin was fair, bordering on healthy peaches and cream but the luxuriousness of her paleness couldn’t be underestimated. Upon the pale canvas of her flesh, freckles decorated her nose, arms, and back. They were her own homage to the red hair she’d always be known for, no matter how much she experimented with the color. Trey realized he could wax poetic about her lithe body and height, too. She wasn’t petite; in fact she was the height of an average runway model at only a few inches shy of six feet. Her body was fleshy but not voluptuous per se with long lean arms and dancer’s legs, but just enough tummy to not ever be considered washboard fit, a heart-shaped ass with enough cushion to even out her body, and a set of breasts that were both generous yet still perky enough to defy gravity.

All this from a woman who was thirty years old; three years his senior – not that he gave a damn about that. Age was nothing but a number and he’d always been attracted to the unconventional and quirky.

Most of his brothers made fun of him when he was a Bastard because he chose to pursue a porn star. It didn’t matter her specialty was girl-on-girl; all they could think about was how anyone could purchase her videos and see his woman in all her splendid glory.

Trey didn’t give a fuck. Sure, they could look but they wouldn’t have been able to touch. Keri loved him deeply, more than any woman he’d ever had the pleasure of having on the back of his bike. Wasn’t that what mattered? Not what a woman did as a profession—as long as she wasn’t hurting anyone—but how she felt about her man?

No woman would ever be able to replace her but Trey couldn’t deny having feelings for Kyra, and it went well beyond the length of his relationship with Keri. He’d lusted after her since he joined the Bastards and lust quickly transformed to a slow-burn attraction when they became friends. He enjoyed chatting with her and would have loved to pursue more but Jonesy quickly put a kibosh in that plan.

“Son, I know you think the world and all of my daughter, Kyra, but she’s not for you. I don’t even know if I want this life for her but if she
does
choose to be a part of it, I hope to God she manages to meet a good guy…just not you. You live like you love—hard. I know you’d never take her for granted but I can’t have my first-born girl with a man who might not live to see thirty. It’s not fair to her or to you—got me?”

Jonesy never raised his voice and he’d treated Trey with the utmost respect. He’d laid it on the line and knowing the man, feeling the way he did, he couldn’t possibly defy his Prez. Instead, he buried his feelings for her and moved on.

Now this situation came up, his mother wanted to see him, but she purposely used Kyra as the gateway and he didn’t understand why. Seeing her again stirred all those old emotions and no matter how many times he told himself he wasn’t ready for a relationship, one look into those gorgeous sky blue eyes of Kyra and his resolve was shaken to the core.

It wasn’t even about her looks as much as her strength as a woman. She definitely had a wild streak but she never stopped being her own person. She wasn’t ever looking for a man to save her or fulfill her; though it was obvious she wanted love. Who didn’t? It wasn’t realistic to think anyone wanted to walk through life, wounded, damaged, and alone.

No one ever said it would be all flowers but everyone needed a little strength in their backbone. Someone who’d be able to compliment the fire they had inside with something calming, soothing, and pure. Love wasn’t a cure-all but it was one hell of a vaccine, protecting one from the most horrific aspects of life and the human psyche.

Love didn’t change or transform people but it could become a foundation that held two people together during the good times and the bad. Love wasn’t a feeling that only swelled the heart—it worked its way into the body and bloodstream, becoming a catalyst that fueled the mind, body, and soul. It was intangible, all-consuming once it was there, a part of a human being. It could thrive if given oxygen and goodness, yet wither away and die a cruel death if starved the breath of life and fed nothing but evil and bad intentions.

Trey grappled with whether he deserved love at all. He
wasn’t
a good person. He’d murdered people and caused suffering. His long history of adrenaline-fueled runs was legendary. Yes, he was one of the best hackers in the MC world but he had many more faults than good qualities. The one line of thought running through his muddled mind centered on his worth as a human being. Perhaps Keri should’ve been his first and
only
chance at love.

It was his club who’d ultimately murdered her. She died because of what he’d done and fled from like a little bitch. He’d acted impulsively and childishly yet he was alive and she was dead. It didn’t seem fair and, as much as he loved Kyra’s spunk, he couldn’t risk putting another person in danger because of his bad choices.

Trey finished his cigarette and put it out in an ornate glass ashtray before opening the door and closing it, locking it behind himself. He walked down to the garage bay and got back to work on the Harley he’d been restoring. It was easier to get lost doing mundane work like this than to think too much.

Hacking involved intense concentration and whenever he allowed himself to do that, his thoughts always wandered back to the last day he had Keri. There was nothing positive about thinking about her and the pain he caused himself became too much. He couldn’t wallow in his own misery anymore. It was time to move on.

Cillian strode over and knelt near him. He sat up and looked at his brother without acknowledging anything, wrong or not.

“Everything taken care of?” he asked, genuinely concerned. “Whatever Kyra needed to talk to you about seemed serious. You don’t have to share everything with us; as long as it doesn’t affect the club it’s your business, brother.”

“Yeah, it’s good. I overreacted… sorry about that.” Trey paused and looked away. “I didn’t know what she wanted. If it had anything to do with Jonesy and the Bastards, I couldn’t deal with it, not today—not right now.”

“That’s obvious, brother. Doesn’t look like you can concentrate on much of anything at the moment—not that anyone blames you. Was she able to shed any light on…the body?”

Trey winced at Cillian’s careful words. Yeah, the body. Unfortunately, Keri was nothing but a rotting corpse interred at Black Oak Cemetery.

He nodded, purposely choosing to be non-committal. “I know where she is. Her dad had her shipped back here and buried in the Decker family plot. I want to go see her but I don’t know—I’m not sure I’m ready for that yet.”

His brother patted him firmly on the back. “You’re one of the strongest people I know. You lost your parents and your brother… then you lost Keri. I suggest you go see her one last time, even if only to yell in frustration. You need to go through the process, Trey. No one expects you to be Mr. Perfect, least of all me.”

Trey sighed and raked a hand through his hair. “You’re right, as always. I guess I should take off early, shower, and go see her before the weather gets any worse.”

Cillian smirked. “We’re expecting a snow storm tonight, brother. I’d suggest you leave as soon as possible.” He walked back into the garage bay while Trey turned around and headed back into the clubhouse.

In record timing, he’d showered, shaved, and slid on a pair of slightly baggy jeans, a long black and red flannel shirt before sliding his cut over the ensemble. It was dangerous to ride out to Black Oak looking the way he did, but he simply didn’t have a single fuck to give at this point.

He
needed
to say goodbye to Keri, once and for all.

Trey drove the Escalade to the impoverished town and directly to the cemetery. It was miraculously well kept compared to the rundown section of the Tri-Towns area. He could only guess the reason there weren’t incidents of grave robbery was because most of the meth-addicts were too afraid to cross the White Knights.

The Decker Family Plot took up a nice size of real estate in the cemetery. It wasn’t a secret the Knights had lost more than their fair share of members over the years though Nel, his brother, Brad, and a couple cousins who were part of the WK Originals were still in good health and free from harm.

Hell, Brooklyn should’ve been in one of the plots but he was safe and sound, though keeping a relatively low profile.

Trey stepped out of his SUV, locked the door behind him, and stuffed a nine-millimeter Beretta in the band of his jeans, pulling down the flannel shirt and his cut to hide it. If trouble
did
find him, he was prepared, a full clip in his back pocket just in case.

His pulse raced like he’d just finished ten miles on the treadmill, his stomach a mess of aches and somersaults as he finally located Keri’s grave. Her plot was clean, free of debris with a massive headstone. There was a photo of her in between her full name—Kerri Anne Nielsen Decker—and the dates of both her birth and death.

She smiled at him beguilingly, her blue eyes shining bright while her small features and natural blonde hair complimented a light summer tan. The photo was beautiful and he’d remembered the year it’d been taken.

The whole situation was all too much and the tumult of emotions that began to take over his body overwhelmed him. He knew he’d be affected but the out-of-body experience he felt went beyond the need to howl and scream. He needed to cry, to sob, and actually
absorb
her grisly death. She’d meant so much to him and she deserved to know, even now when she couldn’t possibly respond to his actions.

Trey sank to his knees, the impact lessened only by dying grass. He didn’t feel discomfort, only his emotions betraying him as tears fell from his eyes. He sobbed quietly, his hands covering his face. “I’m sorry, baby,” he whispered in a hoarse voice, wiping falling tears from his cheeks. “It’s my fault you’re gone. I should’ve left you here but I didn’t want to be away from you. I hope wherever you are, you’re makin’ angels smile and someone laugh. I never deserved you, babe.”

“You got that right,” a male voice responded.

He stood on shaky legs and turned around to face Jake Decker. He wasn’t alone. There was a young blonde woman with him he vaguely recognized as Marian. She was Chantal’s friend from the University of Lake Tahoe and Jake’s cousin. They’d spoken a handful of times about business dealings with the cartel but he considered neither of them acquaintances, let alone friends.