Filthy Daddy (Satan's Saints MC #2) Read online

  “Whatever. I hate the name Roman, that’s all.”

  “Fuck you too, asshole. You know my last name is Roman too.”

  “Shit. Oh yeah. Wait, are you related to the Mongols’ president or what?” He’s done this shit before. Every fucking time Dean Roman’s name comes up, we get to this stupid crap.

  “I’ll fucking cut you, dickhead.”

  “Admit it. He’s probably your dirty old uncle, motherfucker,” Axe mumbles just to get a rise out of me.

  I dart out from behind the counter and am rough when I grab Axe by the throat. “Do you like your fucking life right now? I’ll end you, brother. Cut the crap.”

  Even as I choke the man, Axe answers with, “I hit a nerve, didn’t I?”

  Cole drags me off and Silas pounds his hand on the counter to get everyone’s attention.

  “The fuck? I’m in the middle of announcing something important to our members. Calm the fuck down. Both of you.”

  “Fuck, all right.” I shake off Cole and straighten my cut, still angry as fuck as I return to my spot at the bar.

  “Go ahead, Cole,” Silas says to his VP, making it clear that they had a one-to-one before Silas gathered everyone around. But that’s how they operate. Cole is just as much a sounding board and close friend to Silas as he is our VP.

  Cole turns his bar stool to face Silas. “I’m on board for whichever direction we take. On another note, I was going to ask if you heard anything about that little contingent of Russians that showed up out of nowhere lately. They’re set up about ten minutes outside of Mesquite.”

  Silas shrugs and knocks back the second drink I poured him. “No idea. They haven’t messed with us. We have to assume they’re friendlies until they do something that tells us otherwise. Bain mentioned he knows one of them. We can do some intel through him down the road, but it’s not a priority. For now, let’s prep for this sit down with the Los Diablos.”

  “Fine with me,” Cole answers.

  “As for Roman…” Silas turns to Axe and folds his arms. “And to be clear, Dean Roman is not to be confused with Brutus, and is not Tate’s relative in any way, shape or form.”

  “Got it, Pres,” Axe says, coughing out a laugh.

  “Roman will want to get in on truce talks once we get somewhere with Los Diablos. Depending on how shit pans out, when he comes around, we’ll be ready. Getting back to the topic of Los Diablos, Vasquez and I will be in touch soon. Now, most of you understand that these decisions are up to the executive. The reason I’m announcing this to everyone is this. Until that meeting goes down, no one from Satan’s Saints is to mess with any Los Diablos. And vice versa, of course. Vasquez will control his people…and it’s my job to make sure everybody on this side stays in check.”

  Whispers grow to loud chatter around the vast space. Most everyone has an objection an understandably so. That’s because we all still have a taste for blood after they went below the belt and tried to blow up our fucking clubhouse then tried to take out Cindy. The only mouths not moving are Silas, Cole, and Axe. And Molly. She’s got enough on her mind.

  “You know how I feel about the motherfucker,” I tell Silas through the clamor. “But if this is what you want, I’ll toe the line. I just won’t like it.”

  “You’d better.” Silas drags over the whiskey bottle and takes a mouthful.

  It dawns on me that I should come clean about the slash and dash I did to the Los Diablos motorcycles at that bar up the road earlier. But giving Silas the straight good in front of all the members is sure to stir up more trouble. It’ll send the wrong message to the majority of them. I don’t want to be the guy who undermines my own President, especially when he and Cole are sure to hand me my ass on a plate.

  Because deferring my update on the error of my ways can make things worse. I wait for Silas to wrap up his announcement.

  “So, uh, Pres,” I start when the time comes. “I think we need a quick chat.” I run a hand across my stubble jaw. “Nothing big, but you should probably know, considering the timing.”

  Silas cocks an eyebrow and leans back with both hands on the bar. “What the fuck did you do?”

  “Let’s go talk.”

  My president’s face is stone cold as he nods over to Axe, Dean, and Cole. The five of us head over to the meeting room. Sure, I’ll admit what I did, but I’m not in the least bit sorry.

  I remember Molly’s still in the crowd and look back to where she was sitting. I catch sight of her with Jenny, heading through the place toward the stairs with her duffel bag.

  Yep. Molly’s safe here. Within these walls, she won’t need to worry or be constantly in fear. And she won’t need me for a damn thing.

  Chapter 8

  Molly

  I put the last pair of sweatpants away in the drawer of a vacant guest room on the second floor. Shoving it closed with my hip, I unwind the gauze Tate put on my wrist at my house. That thing is overkill for this little bruise. Stuffing it into a side pocket of my bag, I leave the room and pull the door closed behind me. What I need is a stiff drink at the bar. As my foot lands on the first step down the flight of stairs, Tate’s voice cuts through the noise and floats up to me through the side railings. I don’t see him, so I take a guess that he’s standing in the hallway directly below.

  “Come on, man. Don’t give me that—”

  I freeze in the spot to listen, interested to hear if he’s talking about me. I’d love to know what he really thinks of this Jett situation.

  One of the guys with him says, “Don’t deny it, brother. Something’s going on between you two. It’s clear as day.” I don’t recognize the voice, so it can’t be Silas or Axe. My guess is it’s Cole.

  “Okay whatever, man,” Tate answers.

  “And now, with both of you in spitting distance of knocking boots every second, you’re trying to tell me you and Molly aren’t a thing?”

  Leave it to Cole to spare the sugar coating on the situation. I hold my breath, unsure whether I want to hear Tate’s answer. Part of me wants to charge down there and give them both crap for talking shit behind my back. But now that my curiosity is piqued, I have to know, and don’t care if anyone sees me eavesdropping in this not so discrete spot at the top of the stairs.

  “Women have a way of growing on you,” I hear Silas say with a laugh. “You’d better watch out. I didn’t plan on Sabrina either.”

  I bite my lip, wondering where Sabrina and Jenny are right now. Sabrina would probably be the first to shut them down. I wait for Tate to speak up. I want to hear his take on things, dammit.

  “Give me a fucking break,” Tate replies, adding a disgusted scoff. “Molly’s cool and shit, but this isn’t some fairytale like you and your old lady. She knows what we have. We’re both damn good at scratching each other’s itch. Nothing more, nothing less. There aren’t hearts or diamonds in our future.”

  “Bullshit,” Silas says.

  “I don’t know what the hell you’re seeing, man. Trust me, we’re both lucky if she doesn’t get sick of being around me in the next three days, let alone start a thing. It is what it is, and we’re both cool with that.”

  There’s an odd wave of silence. My jaw tightens. I exhale, close my eyes, and inhale again, calming myself down so I won’t charge down the steps and punch Tate in the junk for saying that. He’s not wrong, but there’s a big difference between casually sleeping together and being damn rude about it. He’s talking as though we’re not friends, which I thought we were.

  “Don’t get me wrong,” he says to them. “Fucking Molly is a treat. But that’s all it is.”

  The fucking douchebag. To him, I’m nothing more than a good lay. He’s put me in the same league as the revolving door of sack demons. It isn’t like I’m expecting a ring, and I know that men suck at being real when they’re around other guys, but he owes me a little more respect. The way he downplays our friendship hurts the most.

  Rejection burns hot in my veins. I want to shake it off, but no amount of e
ffort will erase his little sound bite from my brain. Forcing my rubbery legs into action, I take the stairs one deliberate step at a time, hands on my hips, and as I turn down the hall, I see the five of them. They’re gathered around, beer bottles and whiskey glasses in their hand as they gossip like old ladies.

  Silas is the first one to see me approaching. The way I see it, there’s only one way to handle this situation—and it doesn’t involve kid gloves.

  I zero in on Axe.

  He’s swigging beer from a bottle as his booming laugh fill the hallway. Yes, he’ll do perfectly for the job. I’m not shy as I break through the circle of men and sling my arm around Axe’s waist, giving him a tight squeeze.

  “Mind if I borrow that?” When Axe looks down at me in confusion, I snag his half-empty bottle and take a sip. “It was a long ride over here. I could go for an above average dose of refreshment.”

  “That sounds like me,” Axe answers. His brow furrows, and his strong, lean arm locks around my waist. All the men look on at my less than convincing flirtatious demonstration. I’m a little rusty. The last time I came on to anyone I was three sheets to the wind and the guy was a notorious womanizer. My current target is a little more subtle, and I’m way less drunk.

  “You should get me a drink at the bar. I could use the company before I leave to start my shift tonight.” I wink at him, licking my lips seductively. At least I hope it comes across that way.

  Axe leans down and places his lips against the lobe of my ear. “You might want to have that drink with Tate,” he whispers, although I can tell he’s caught on to my little game and is happy to play along with any ruse that sets off Tate. The two of them are forever butting heads.

  I rise up on my tiptoes and whisper back, “Isn’t it obvious?”

  A grinning Axe tightens his hold around my waist, and leans down, pressing his mouth to the side of my neck. He lingers an extra-long time, nuzzling a small spot. “You’re one hell of a cock tease,” he says loud enough for everyone to hear, including Tate who’s standing less than six feet away from us. “Sure, I’ll buy you a drink. Keep it up, and I’ll get you anything you need.”

  “It’s good to know someone around here will take care of my needs.” I trace the side of Axe’s face with my fingers, flashing him a megawatt come-hither smile that could probably knock any guy on his ass.

  Axe plays his part perfectly. He grabs a handful of my thick dark hair. I let out a squeal as I tell him he’s a naughty boy.

  “How long should I wait for Tate to step up and show me who’s boss?” he whispers, taking back his bottle of beer.

  “Hell if I know. I thought the prick would do something the second you touched me.”

  “I’ll up the ante. Tate’s always been fucking slow to make his move.” Axe snatches my hand that’s busy tracing the ridges of his six-pack abs through his shirt. “I’d love to see you without these clothes on,” he says for the guys to hear. “Maybe a fucking striptease is in order…and I do mean fucking.”

  “Sounds hot!”

  He looks up toward Tate. “Not that I need to ask, but I hope you’re cool with the idea of me and… your client.”

  Heat rises up my cheeks. I don’t dare look at Tate. I gauge his reactions by the expressions of the other three guys standing around, and judging by the curiosity on these bikers’ faces, Axe and I are doing a damn good job. Axe places his hand on my lower back, overdoes his wink at the men, and steers me toward the bar. He pours me a drink, smiling as though it’s the most fun he’s had all day.

  “Well, how’d I do?” I fake bat my lashes at him and reach to feel up his bicep, just to keep up the ruse.

  “Smart move. He’s still staring over here. I’m sure he’ll lose his shit anytime now.”

  Axe wolfishly grins and slides a hand along my upper thigh as he brings his face in close. “Hey, this routine can probably work on chicks too. You should be my wingwoman next time I’m out on the prowl.”

  “Sure thing, stud.” I quickly grow tired of the game and frown a little. “It’s fucked up that I have to go to these lengths for him to acknowledge our…friendship.”

  “Men are fucking cowards. Not just Tate.”

  “And others turn out to be fucking psychos,” I sigh, thinking about my stalker ex.

  “I take it you heard part of our conversation from the stairs.”

  I fight the urge to look back across the room. “All of it, I think. I guess I should be grateful. At least I know where I stand.”

  Axe takes a long swig from his beer. “Bullshit. He’s involved with you. Give him some time to man up.”

  “Yea, whatever.”

  “He’ll figure it out…or not,” Axe says, tapping his skull. “That kid’s a stubborn, twisted son of a bitch. It’ll take a hell of a woman to want him with all his fucking baggage, let alone pin him down. I always figured that’d be you.”

  “Okay, I’ve had enough of this henhouse crap. He’s on his own.”

  “True.”

  “If Tate doesn’t lose it soon, I’ll throat punch him for you.”

  “You’re sweet. No need, though. I have to get to my shift. Besides. It’s not like I was looking for anything serious—”

  “I get it, but it’s about respect. Anyway, drink up, little lady. He’s seething.” Axe raises his eyebrows. “Won’t be long now. How far are you willing to take this little game?”

  “What are you concocting over there?”

  “You’ll see,” he whispers. He leans in close enough to kiss me. I debate whether to go for it when a familiar inked arm appears between us.

  “The fuck do you think you’re doing?” Tate shouts at Axe. He shoots me an angry gaze, then returns his death stare to Axe. “This ain’t happening, bro. She’s not getting with you.”

  “I’m not?” I ask.

  His face turns eight shades of red. He’s almost purple with rage. “Fucking right, you’re not.”

  I hop off the bar stool and glare up at him, tempted to knee him in the groin to help make my point. “That’s a strange answer for someone who thinks I’m just a good lay. Nothing more, nothing less.” I say. “It’s a free country. We’re just scratching an itch, right?”

  I don’t wait for an answer. My shift will start soon. I can use a long shower. Leaving him at Axe’s side, I walk away toward the stairs, although the satisfied feeling of putting Tate in his place is short-lived.

  I care about him. And we’re more than fuck buddies. More than friends.

  But none of that matters if he doesn’t feel the same way.

  Chapter 9

  Molly

  I shove one leg after the other into a clean pair of black yoga pants after a long shower. Checking the drawer, I settle on a stretchy V-neck tank top to go over my sports bra. It’s easier to clean if I get any blood, sweat, or other fluids on me while patching up the boxers where I work. Eyeing my medical bag of first aid supplies on the bed, I remind myself to take an extra t-shirt for afterward. As I lift the tank top over my head and push an arm through the straps, the spot below my wrist is quickly covered by a familiar hand, and a large, warm body presses up behind me, pinning me to the side of the bed.

  I barely get a second to react. Tate finds my other arm, now holding both my lower forearms above my head, his grip firm and rough as he grinds his hips against my ass and covers my breasts with his other hand. There’s no denying what he’s about to do to me. But I’m pissed. Right now, I’m tempted to push him away, but just as ready to let him take me. We both know exactly how to press each other’s buttons in and out of the bedroom. Which is the problem.

  “Get this straight, Moll,” he grinds out against my ear. “In this clubhouse, you’re mine. Mine. Axe doesn’t get to touch you again, got it? And you know what I’m capable of when my pet refuses to please me. Two words and I’ll fuck your pussy the way you know you like.”

  “And what way is that?”

  “So hard you won’t be able to walk right after. That’s a pro
mise, baby. Tell me what I want to hear.”

  Yeah, right. He can lie to himself all he wants, but if he keeps acting like I’m nothing to him, I have no problem cutting him loose. That’s what I’m thinking, but my body says something else. I swallow hard. I can hear the pounding of my pulse as my heart races. Which is normal. My pulse jumps up a few notches every time his skin touches mine. I feel the heat of his harsh grip locked around my wrists.

  I need to teach him a lesson but he makes me weak.

  I want him so fucking bad.

  A soft moan leaves my throat, and I press my ass against the heat of his groin, giving him permission without words.

  “Say it, Molly. Tell me you’re mine,” he demands at my ear. His free hand moves up from my breasts and covers my throat with a feather-light squeeze that promises more if I don’t obey. “Who’s my wild little slut?” he asks, tightening his hold on my neck.

  I can’t draw a full breath. My mind can’t think past his voice crooning in my ear, promising all kinds of sexual wickedness if I follow his orders. I keep my mouth shut. I can’t un-hear what he said downstairs. His double standard is pissing me off. Why the hell should I agree to say I’m his when he just dissed me like that? I push my ass backward, rolling my hips on the bulge of his rigid cock. There will be hell to pay for my silence.

  I’ll enjoy it either way.

  “Oh, so that’s how it’s going to be, is it?” Tate’s displeasure pours through his tone. I’m hot from head to toe and goosebumps are prickling across my flesh. “You just had to go and make it hard for yourself. Fine. Have it your way, little hellcat. I’ll teach you exactly who owns you.”

  His voice is deep and dangerous, low in his throat as he runs his fingers down the front of my body, all the way down until he stops at my mound. Heat and need spread through my system, and I part my legs a little when his fingertips start to circle my clit through my yoga pants. Then he lets go of me and exits the room. I turn and sit on the bed, asking myself whether he plans to come back at all, or if his leaving is part of his punishment. I want to know how far he’ll take this, given that I have to be at work soon.