Chapter One: Xander
Chapter One
Xander
Everything seemed so goddamn mediocre. I was supposed to be enthralled by all aspects of the MC life, but really, who could blame me for being bored? I'd been the head of this club for fifteen years and every day it was the same thing. Being President, I dealt with the business and recruiting. It was boring work and I missed being a muscle. Don't get me wrong, I loved being the Prez. I loved leading my guys into better times than my dad ever did. Above all, I was a natural protector. I stood by my brothers through thick and thin, but more importantly to me, I protected the biker girls and old ladies. All life experience shaped and influenced people. Mine told me that the women in the club took a lot of fucking shit, and they needed someone looking out for them. All clubs' rules differed and the San Jose Black Stallions were no different. The way we were unique was that I had my Scared Law. What was Sacred Law? No one and I mean no one was allowed to ever hurt my girls. That was the easiest way to get on my worst side. My mom had been club property and I would never desire the atrocities I saw happen to her on anyone, not my worst goddamn enemy. I sure as hell didn't want any of the bitches that took care of me and my guys to be hurt the way my mom had been.
It used to be that those discolored walls, abused, peeling linoleum floors, and busted up tables would bring me excitement and pump me up for whatever was coming next, but I just couldn't bring myself there. I hated to admit it, but the slump started when Annie dumped my ass for her side piece, a year ago.
"Annie" or Keyanna Sinclair and I had a nice thing for a bit. Sex was great. She was sweet, funny, charismatic, and very understanding. What was there not to like? Annie wasn't a Black Stallions girl, just a normal woman I met in a bar that liked me. She didn't know anything about me, my chapter, or my lifestyle which made things simple. She knew I was a biker, but didn't know if I was a weekend warrior or what. Then, one day I was pumped from some club shit that went down and spilled to her. She had done her research by this time and knew exactly who I was, what I did, but we didn't talk about it. She didn't seem upset or bothered by the things I told her other than it involved people she knew. Her best friend, indirectly.
We didn't mention it again until the day she broke up with me. She said she couldn't handle the crimes on my hands, worrying it would come back on her. I wasn't fooled. It had nothing to do with me. Annie had never been scared of me before, but she was then. She was sweating and her pupils dilated with intense terror. She was breaking things off with me because her high school sweetheart had come back to town for her best friend's wedding, and she acted like I was going to kill her. Sure, that was generally how things in our circumstance would've gone down, but I wasn't stupid. I wasn't going to do that in front of other people. She would be "dealt with" and then the cleaners would come in. It would be like she skipped town and no one would bat an eye at it.
That wasn't how things ended up though. Annie made sure of that after I shot her honey. She said she had recorded everything I ever told her, which wasn't a hell of a lot. In the event of her or her dude's death, it would be sent to the police, so I was stuck, sitting on my fucking hands.
A lot of my crew broke off after that. They thought I had lost my nerve, that I was going soft, but I wasn't going to risk our club over some scorned lover bullshit. Keyanna Sinclair and Zane Taylor could have their happily ever after but if she talked, they would both be disposed of.
Annie was thirty when we dated. Since her, I made a rule for myself not to get involved with a woman younger than forty.
I tried convincing my little brother, Austin, to join up so day-to-day would be a bit more entertaining, but he refused. He was too busy with a band as head of security. I couldn't really blame him. He made a great living and Bruce Mayes was a great guy. Hook was his club name, but he pretty much just partied with us. His wife, Sally, was amazing. Don't get me started on their adorable kids, Jesse and Jessa. Sure, they were just babies, but they had their father's talent for commanding a room with a toothy smile and adorable laugh.
Now, I was stranded with my gang and every day blended together. Not all of it was bad. I got my choice of the Black Stallions girls to take to bed every night, but there was only so much time they could preoccupy. After doing the same shit for so long, things became boring and mundane.
My club, sex, drugs, none of it interested me.
As I took a swig from my beer bottle and I slammed the bottle onto the table, a wooden shard broke off the side of the table-top like almost every time I did that. I needed to stop or I would need to actually buy a new one. I hadn't done that in ten years. I heard the distinct sound of the creaky, rusted out hinges of the door. I turned and saw my old friend, Hook, walk in. Usually, I had to go to check up on him. He rarely came to the clubhouse. Even more surprising was the smoking hot babe that strolled in behind.
She had long, dark chocolate hair that bounced around her shoulders, like dark water roiling against sand. Sun kissed skin of a biker looked so natural with her olive undertones. Light freckling spilled across her face and trickled down her cleavage. Those bright blue eyes reminded me of the crystal clear ocean hitting the surf. She couldn't have been older than twenty-five. Tits were nearly bursting out of her tight tank top and her plump ass was form-fit to that tight leather skirt. Her toned legs were on full display between the short hem of her skirt and the top of her black high heel boots. She wore a weathered denim jacket that was big on her, a man's jacket. Fuck, she was a damn vision, that vision like a young Megan Fox.
Fuck, she was hot with an "I don't give a Fuck" attitude. It was drawing me in. Too bad I had sworn off girls that young. I was forty-five. I need a woman with experience in the bedroom and in life. It didn't mean I wasn't enjoying the show.
She jumped a bit as Domino strolled in behind her, the door creaking angrily, the melody of loud engines outside rolled like thunder through the air. She was squinting from the thick smoke in the air and the dimmed, weak lights. Her phone dropped out of her hand and clattered with the dusty linoleum. She spun around, giving me a full view of the back of her jacket. Her ass was magnificent, but it was the patch that caught my attention.
Black Stallions
Sydney, AS
Est. 1981
She was a fuckin ol' lady? Unlikely. I had been studying her from the moment she sauntered through the door, and she didn't carry herself like a kept woman. She strutted like a model without the whole conceitedness. She knew she was drop dead gorgeous, but didn't overly flaunt it. She probably didn't pick that outfit to make every man in the room stare, but that was inevitable. Even if she was wearing a potato sack, I doubt any fewer eyes would be watching her.
All eyes were on her once everyone caught a glimpse. Hell, it took some huge-titted, naked bitch trying her damnedest to get my dick up and usually, it took more than one. My dick was a rock, and she hadn't so much as batted a thick lash my way yet. I was intrigued, salivating, and eager to find out who she was, what she was doing in my clubhouse.
She righted herself and her eyes moved to Hook quizzically before he said something to her.
"Hey, Hook!" I called at him. He turned, a big grin on his face. A gritty hand on the small of her leather skirt, he guided her through the crowd toward me.
I was a bit curious about this "woman." Sure, I had the agreement with myself to stop being with girls instead of women. She was too young. My cut off age was forty and yet, I couldn't help wondering why the hell she showed up at my public clubhouse.
There was only one reason anyone brought a female into the clubhouse. It was one of the simple needs of the male species. To bang. Women drifted to us bikers, to pledge themselves to the Black Stallions as our whores to do whatever we wanted to. I doubted that was why Hook led this girl through our rickety door. I couldn't deny a man could Fuck other women behind his wife's back, but Hook wasn't like that. He had been all about Sally since he met her, and he was not looking at this girl with anything other than protection and concern. Women always threw themselves at him even with it being widely known that he was hitched. Hook had more pussy at his feet than Johnny Wade ever did.
But, what made me even more curious, the female didn't look at him with any type of interest, more like he was a means to an end. Someone doing her a favor.
Who are you, sexy bitch?
"Hey, Brother." I gave Bruce a hug and noticed the girl perched on a bar stool by him, back straight with confidence. She didn't seem worried about where she was. Strange.
This girl did not look scared at all. You would think she was sitting in a restaurant instead of a clubhouse. She had the commanding presence of a Dominatrix and the allure of a siren to sailors. She was something special. That was for sure.
"Hey, who's the broad?" I probed, and he glanced at her over his shoulder. We walked a few feet away as she sat there, taking in her surroundings. Her body relaxed the more she looked around at my rough crowd and took in the stank emitted in the air. It was a mixture of booze, smoke, and sweat. I had gotten used to it a long time ago. Maybe she hadn't been around it before, but she didn't seem bothered by it.
"She's one of my band mate's cousins. You know Liam. She moved in with him a few days ago from Australia." I slowly nodded. Sounded simple enough but it left me with more questions than he answered.
"What is she doing here? You know the rule about girls who enter the clubhouse, man." I cocked an eyebrow at him, and he chuckled. My rules were pretty simple. Don't bring a bitch to the clubhouse unless she was Black Stallion's property. Only club property, den mothers, and house mouses were allowed past the threshold. End of story.
"She's a Bred In, Gunner." That was surprising. Why had I never seen her before? I was sure I wouldn't forget a beauty like her. Bred In was the term for the daughter of a member. It was a title to state that they were untouchable. How could she be a Bred In if she moved here recently? Was her Pops from the area? Did she come here from living with her mother or college or whatever she was doing? The original Black Stallions had their chapter in Australia. Was that where she was a Bred In? Well, it explained how comfortable she was in the clubhouse.
"A Bred In? From whom?" I asked immediately.
"She's a big girl. She can handle herself with bikers. She may look sweet, but that girl can be scary. Her name is Jenny Saunders. Her dad was the founding father." Holy Fuck! I didn't know whether to be frightened or impressed.
"Trapper is her dad?" Bruce slowly nodded. Trapper was a fucking legend in the biker community. If you didn't know who he was, you learned fast. I met him once years ago. We had a meeting when my chapter split off from his. It was amicable but that man even scared me. Trapper was psychotic. I wasn't under the disillusion that bikers like me and Trapper weren't insane to an extent but Trapper took it to a new level. He told me a drunken story about chopping off the dick of any asshole he heard about screwing his daughter. Fuck, was this the same daughter he was talking about?
"Was. He was killed three weeks ago, and she ran here to Liam. He named her his heiress and some of his officers were not happy at being run by a woman." Wow. Trapper was dead? How did I not hear about this until now? It was usually big news when one of the top five in a chapter died. That kind of news spread like wildfire even this far away.
Naming a female as the next president of a chapter was one of the best ways to insight a war between chapters. The most vicious clubs could be broken down by putting a female in a place of power. That was the deal in an outlaw club. Women were at the very bottom of the chain as far as bikers were concerned. Even if she had been patched which was doubtful. It did happen but it was rare and the woman had to be a hard ass like the men. She had to be able to roll with the punches and take it like a man.
"Holy shit, man. Trapper is gone?" Hook frowned intensely.
"Her uncle stole her position and tried to force her into being property. She ran. End of story." Well, Fuck. That was one line my men didn't fucking cross. Whores were whores by choice. If its by force, it's rape and that did not fly. I held my men to higher standards. Some presidents didn't care and tried to start wars with me over it, but I didn't budge. Jenny was sexy, but that didn't mean I would let any of my guys Fuck her against her will. Sure, I didn't mind my guys having a good time with the girls, but rape was a no go. The girls knew this was their life. Rarely did any of the girls put up a fight. If they did, my men knew to take a step back and I would come in and set her straight. The bitches knew what was expected of them, and they did their duty, or they would be shipped off to someone who wouldn't be nearly as nice as me and my guys were.
"Again, why is she here?" He turned nervous.
"I need a favor." That was what it always came down to with everyone. They needed help. His expression morphed sheepishly as he kicked his shoe against the dust on the floor.
"What kind?" My head snapped at the sound of a glass breaking against the counter. The bartender gave me an indifferent look as he cleaned up the broken glass. Damn amateur.
"I know you're still looking for a bartender for the other bar your guys frequent. She's a bartender and fucking amazing at her job, brother. She made some drinks for the band last night that were top-notch." I had a hard time believing that his experience had anything to do with my guy's needs. We didn't do those top-notch bomb drinks with swirly straws. We were rather simple, beers and straight liqueur. Plus, the girl would need to be cool with the drugs that my guys brought to the table.
"You want me to give a job to a chick I don't know?" I was about to laugh in his face from that. I only gave jobs to people I knew wouldn't Fuck up. Just because Trapper was her Pops didn't mean squat to me. I didn't know this girl and I had never had a drink she prepped so the answer was definite no unless she could impress me in one way or another.
Then, I saw something incredible. Drill, one of my newer patched members, strolled right over to her with confidence and sex dripping from his eyes. He blocked her against the bar and her sky blue eyes lifted to him. I didn't hear what he said, but she roughly grabbed his head and forced it hard against her knee. I could hear the crack of either his bones or his teeth from a few feet away. My jaw dropped as I watched him shield his face. That sexy bitch hit like a fucking man. Next, she stood up, gripped his shoulder and lodged her knees into his stomach. Last, she kicked him straight in the balls and poor Drill crumbled to the floor, cupping his nuts. The room went stone-cold silent. Some of my guys looked at her with fear. Some were gawking with amusement. Me? I was staring at her in fucking lust.
"Don't ever call me 'doll'," she threatened, in a voice sweet as honey. She had an accent, a thick, delicious accent that made my dick throb.
If I were to name two things in this world that were my biggest turn-ons, it would be a woman who could kick some serious ass and a woman with an accent. In my book, she couldn't possibly be more attractive than she was at that moment, standing over Drill.
Shit. My dick was in trouble. I could feel the blood stopped at my pole, making it impossible to think of anything else. Screw my promise to myself. I hadn't been this excited about a woman in a long time. That was unsettling. The last time I got anywhere near this excited was Annie, and we know how that turned out. It was apparent that she was nothing like Annie though. Jenny was a tough babe.
This girl was hot enough to be a Sports Illustrated model and what was I? A forty-five-year-old chapter president that looked like a fucking muscle. I wasn't ugly, but I was no Hook either. Women flocked to me because of my position and tattoos, girls mainly into mature men and bikes or they heard that my dick was pierced and was curious about it.
I doubt I had much of a chance. I was old enough to be her dad. Who knows? Maybe she was into the whole Daddy thing. Doubted it though.
"I'm going for a smoke, Bruce." She glanced over at my good friend who nodded. Her eyes drifted to me. A flirtatious smirk rose across my lips, and she stared at me as she slipped off her jacket. I waited to see her reaction, but she didn't show one. She turned and made a runway walk out of the clubhouse, thrusting her middle finger in the air. A bunch of cheering from the bitches sounded through the room. I chuckled proudly as the rusty door squeaked to a halt, slamming against the steel frame. It was a closed curtain to the scene she just presented to the entire club.
"Okay, she's hired." Hook raised a brow at me, surprised. Yup, Jenny had even affected me and I think Hook knew it.
"Really?" I slowly nodded, smirking in the direction she disappeared in.
"Any girl who can flatten one of my guys is gold in my book." Damn straight.