Raw and Dirty (Bad Boys MC Trilogy #1) (18 page)

“Then how about something uplifting?”

“I'm listening,” I say, glancing at Dober in his cut, a hammer hanging at his side and a slight smile working its way onto his lips. This is not a man who smiles often, believe me.

“Glacier dug up some shit on that Brent guy and found out he's on paid leave with the FBI, pending some sort of internal investigation.”

My mouth twitches.

“Now that
is
bloody good news,” I say, glancing over my shoulder as the cracked front door swings open and the dogs pad out, their nails loud on the wood of the porch. My heart did a little jump there when I thought it might be Lyric. Fuck me sideways. “What else do we know?”

“We know that this guy, Brent, is good friends with an old buddy of ours.”

“That so?” I ask, perking up at the news. Whatever this shit is with Lyric, I can't figure it out right now. But club business? I'm damn good at club business. “And who might that be?”

“You remember Clayton Moore?”

My stomach tightens at the mention of the president of the Mile Wide Motorcycle Club. If that bitch was listed in the dictionary, he'd be there under
greedy motherfucker.
I've never known a man to go so far or fight so hard for so little.

“So Brent's in bed with Mile Wide, huh? Didn't see that one coming.”

“Glacier's got more he says, but he wants us to come in and hear it straight.” Dober raises his bushy brows at me.

“Why the fuck didn't he call me directly and tell me any of this shit?” I ask on an exhale as I watch the dogs play bow at one another, tails wagging so fast they're nothing but blurs.

“He
did,
” Dober says, getting out a cig of his own and lighting up. “But some girl answered in a sleepy voice and asked if he wanted her to wake you up. He figured you must be pretty busy if you'd let some chick touch your cell.”

My mouth curves up in a smile before I can stop it. Dober notices and gives me another look. Like I need that shit from him. I know better than anyone that Lyric's off the menu, that she should've never
been
on the menu in the first place. The last thing the club needs right now is some overprotective father waging a political war against the Wolves. We've got an FBI man in bed with a rival MC and internal problems that almost make me miss my days of running drugs for the previous pres.

But shit, she had the bollocks to pick up my cell phone and talk to Glacier? Not many girls around who'd be brave enough to even touch the damn thing.

“Time to get dressed and haul ass to the clubhouse then,” I say, my voice tinged with regret. Dober, noble bastard that he is, at least has the good grace to pretend not to notice. Lucky him. If he'd said one word, one damn word, things might've gotten ugly.

I snub my cig in the ashtray and whistle for the dogs, holding open the door as they rush inside.

“Meet you there in twenty?” I ask and Dober nods, dropping his cig to the cement.

I leave him out there and close the front door behind me, moving down the hallway in my bare feet and pausing at my bedroom door. Lyric's still asleep, dark hair tousled and sexy, her breathing deep and even. I want nothing more than to wake her up and fuck her until she screams, coming in my arms like she did last night. Over and over and over again. Think even I might've broken one of my own records last night for most orgasms in a single evening.

“Shit.”

And this is the first and last time I'll ever have her in my bed.

The thought pisses me off and I know for my own sanity I have to get the hell out of there.

I toss on my riding clothes, write a quick note and leave the keys to my truck on the counter.

Next time I see Lyric, it'll all be business and no pleasure.

Royal's gone by the time I wake up, eyelids fluttering open as I stretch my arms above my head and yawn. My entire body is sore, but in the best possible ways, each movement a memory, a feeling, a sensation that travels straight down from my head to my toes.

I'm smiling, too, like a cat who got the cream, happy and
extremely
satisfied. It makes me wonder for a moment why I was so hesitant to agree to this. It's probably one of the best decisions I've ever made.
And one of the most temporary.

A frown creases my lips as I sit up.

Business.

That's what I need to focus on now. Last night was what I gave myself, and now it's over. I glance over at Royal's bedside table and have to blink three times to register what it says on the clock.

Twelve thirty?!

Holy crap. I haven't slept in past ten since I was a teenager. Even on the weekends I get up early and try to be productive.
I missed our meeting!
I fling my feet out of bed and pad down the hallway.

“Royal!” I call, getting an enthusiastic greeting from Lake and Alloy when I come into the living room. But their master, looks like he's long gone. “And he didn't even bother to wake me up,” I grumble as I look around and spot the note on the dining table.

Thanks for last night, Pint-Size. You were beyond brilliant. Truck's in the garage. Take it and I'll pick it up later.

Royal.

P.S. I like your tits. Cheers.

I shouldn't smile at the note, but I do anyway, leaving it and the keys on the table while I go in search of my clothes. My usual self would be freaking out about missing an appointment—even one with a guy I just spent all night fucking—but I'm having a really hard time letting my anxiety get the better of me today.

“I'll just head over to the compound, get Royal to sign the papers and then head home to change.” The dogs follow me around as I gather my panties from the back deck (embarrassing!), my shirt, jacket and bra from the living room and the rest of my clothes from Royal's bedroom. Their ears are perked up, eyes focused on my face while I talk to myself. “If I come into the office with the agreement signed, Mr. Rentz won't even think about the fact that I've been missing all morning.”

I change as quickly as I can and head into Royal's garage, giving each of the dogs a kiss on the nose before I close the door to the house behind me, get in the truck and head over to talk shop with a man I can never have.

“What do you mean he's busy?” I ask Janae in my calmest, most professional voice. It's not her fault that Royal left me alone at his house to sleep in, probably purposely avoiding our scheduled meeting time. Her pale brown eyes take in my clothes with a raised black brow and her thin lips curve into a small smile, like she knows something that I don't.

“Club business,” she says with a shrug, her red lipstick and sugary sweet voice making her smile that much more frustrating to look at. “I don't often ask. Sometimes it's better not to know, even if they
would
tell you about it.” Janae shrugs as I steal a quick glance at her wedding ring. I can only guess she's married to someone in the club. I wonder what that's like?

No. No. No, I don't.

“Can I wait here for him to
not
be busy then?” I ask and Janae shrugs her tiny shoulders. I think she's even shorter and smaller than I am. It's not often I run into someone like that.

“Sure. I can put a note on his schedule if you want, maybe try his cell again?”

“That'd be great,” I say, putting my hands on my hips, not nearly as comfortable in my leather outfit in the bright light of day as I was last night. “Is it okay if I walk around? Maybe I'll run into him?”

“Of course,” Janae says. “I'll call you over the loud speaker if I hear back from him. All of the public areas are marked. There's even a small park around the corner from the auto shop for customers waiting on their vehicle. There's plenty of signage outside to help you find it if you want to take a look.” I nod and leave the office with a murmured thanks.
Stupid Royal, and his stupid club with their perfect books and their paid taxes and their
park.

I should be surprised that a bunch of burly dudes in leather with motorcycle fetishes have their own park, but I'm not, not really. I'm sure they use all of this as a facade for whatever illegal activity that it is they're involved in. I mean, come on. They have an auto body and service shop, a motorcycle repair business, and a showroom full of gleaming bikes, all located on the same piece of property as their clubhouse. They fix minivans for soccer mom and sports cars for trophy wives, and then turn around and sell their husbands ridiculously expensive motorcycles that they barely know how to drive. It's all legit and perfect and clean and welcoming.

I don't buy it for a second.

I wander around both service centers and then take Janae's advice and head towards the park. It's small, tucked behind the brick buildings and set against the backdrop of the coast, the only thing separating it from the sea a few hundred feet and a wooden fence with mesh inserts and warning signs. Further back from the cliff's edge, there's a playground surrounded by a red metal fence and decorated with wooden cutouts of fish and sharks and whales, all painted fantastical colors.

There are a few kids here, sliding down the yellow slide and dangling from the green monkey bars, their mothers chatting over a cup of coffee from the small café inside.

But there's no Royal.

I head back around the building, towards the clubhouse and Royal's red truck that I parked right out front. I don't know what the rules are for going inside, but I guess I'll find out. I mean, they let me in the other day, right?

I pause at the bottom of the steps, staring at the velvet rope that's strung across the top.
Private—Do Not Enter.
Hmm. I ignore it and head up anyway, ducking underneath the rope and moving inside the already open front door.

“Hello?” I call, glancing around for someone in a leather jacket that I can talk to about Royal. When I don't find anyone, I head down the main hall towards the common room where I had drinks just a few nights before.

Luckily, I manage to actually find someone in there.

“Lyric, right?” Fauna asks as I move up to the counter and lay my fingers against the marble top. Her blonde hair is streaked with blue today, but her outfit is fairly conservative—just a pair of blue denim jeans, a black tank and some silver bracelets on her right wrist. “Feel free to take a seat, and I'll pour you some more Johnnie Walker.” She winks at me and I feel a slight flush color my cheeks.
Right. That just happened, didn't it? These past few days have felt like a lifetime.
“I'm just doing inventory, but if you want to chat, I'm here.”

“Have you seen Royal?” I ask, cutting straight to the chase. Fauna pauses, looking me over like she's just realized what I'm wearing. “We were supposed to have a meeting today?” I don't bother telling her that I slept right through it—in the president's bed no less.

“He's at church,” Fauna says and whatever she sees on my face makes her laugh. “Not that kind of church, sweetheart.” She jerks her chin in the direction of the back door. “It's a meeting hall for the guys. A real boy's club. Anybody with a vagina's pretty much banned from going inside.”

I feel both my brows go up.

“Not
allowed
inside?” I try not to sound judgmental, but … I think it comes out like that anyway. Fauna shrugs, like it's something she doesn't quite care for but that she's learned to live with.

“When he comes out, he'll more than likely come straight through here. If you want, you can keep me company and wait him out.”

With a sigh I climb onto the barstool and settle in for a long wait. My laptop, iPad, and all my work papers are in the truck. I swung by my place on the way here, but didn't bother to change, thinking that if I rushed out here that Royal would at least have the courtesy of giving me a few minutes of his time.

You look so fucking hot in my jacket, babe.

I groan and bury my face in my hands. Now that I'm sitting here, in a place with rules as foreign as any distant country, what happened last night is really starting to sink in.
I spent the night with an outlaw.
The thought gives me the chills, but not in the way it used to, when I would've been repulsed by the idea. Now, I'm just … turned on.