Read Online Books/Novels:
Jagger (The Black Hornets MC)
Author/Writer of Book/Novel:
Mari is fire.
|Books in Series:|
|Books by Author:|
“The guys are gathering for the vote today. You got time to be there?” he asked.
“I’m a prospect. Don’t need to be there,” I said.
“We’re doing more than the damn vote, Jagger. Buck up. We also still need someone watching that shed. The girls are gonna be with us so they aren’t without protection. It would be nice to have someone outside keeping watch.”
“Why the hell didn’t you just lead with that?”
“Because I figured you weren’t a child anymore and that you could read between the damn lines.”
“Why don’t I just wash all your bikes while I’m at it?” I asked.
“Not a bad idea. I did that shit when I was a prospect. I’ll have all the guys line up their bikes out front,” he said.
“You’re joking, right?”
“Consider it a workout for your fucking attitude. Yes, you’re only twenty-four. Don’t make your recruiters regret taking on someone so young.”
“Thor was young when he rushed,” I said.
“This isn’t a damn fraternity, Jagger. You don’t rush anything. And Thor was young, yes. But he grew up. You seem to refuse to do that. You can think about that while you’re washing our bikes,” he said.
“Yeah, yeah. Duly noted,” I murmured.
“Noon. The lodge.”
“I’ll be there or be square.”
I hung up the phone and shoved it into my pocket. Fucking hell. It was a mistake to rush this damn club. All I did was wash their bikes, clean up the damn lodge, and suck their dicks. Not literally, of course. But it felt like it. When Duke approached me about all this shit, he made it seem like family. Not just a job, but a place to be. Which was something I needed after the bullshit upbringing I had. Fucking psychopathic father. But really, ever since I’d been handed off a prospect leather cut—which was just a blank fucking leather jacket—all I’d done was their dirty work. Cleaning up. Doing the damn dishes. Fixing their fucking bikes.
And, of course, helping them out in all their bullshit when they needed it.
I slipped my clothes on and slid my sunglasses onto my face. I made my way to the lodge, letting the wind roll through my hair. I bit down onto the gritty dust that filled my mouth. Most people hated it. But me? I loved it. I enjoyed the grit. The sour taste. The dry tongue. It reminded me of home. Of the place I used to escape to whenever my father became angry. Brutal. Or whenever he killed one of my pets.
I stopped having pets after the fourth one went missing.
I pulled up to the lodge and parked my bike. And just like Colt had promised, they were all lined up in a pretty little row. I rolled my eyes as I kicked my stand down. I peered through the window, watching as the women sat at the table. Leti was just far enough along for her to be showing off that pooch of hers. She was proud of it, too. Jace as well. I didn’t get it. I’d never be proud of filling some woman with a child. I had blood in my veins that needed to die with me.
Genes that needed to die when I did.
I watched Willow sit down at the table before Thor kissed her on the head. Fucking hell. Even that big lug succumbed to his dick. It was insane how these women just popped up out of nowhere. Like the cartel was single-handedly giving us the women these guys wanted to fuck around with. I shook my head and got to work. I walked over to the side of the lodge and filled a bucket up with soap and water. I dragged the hose and the bucket over to the bikes and began soaping them up.
I’d never try the idea of family again.
Duke convinced me of it with these guys, but they hadn’t sold me on it. Not by a fucking longshot. They treated me like some dumbass, spoiled little child. Which pissed me off since they knew who my family was. Who my father was. They knew I was the furthest thing from spoiled. The furthest thing from dumb. I’d tracked down more people they needed than anyone else in that fucking circle. And what did I get for it?
“Washing fucking bikes,” I murmured to myself.
I scrubbed at the tires and shined the chrome. I treated the leather seats and washed off the soap. I detailed a couple of the bikes that had scratches and dents in them. Colt’s bike, of course. It was like he didn’t give a shit to keep the damn thing up. He needed a new bike anyway. It was old as hell and ready to give out at any second.
I heard a van coming down the road and I looked up. We never got much traffic out this way, so cars and vans coming to us meant one of two things. Delivery or danger. I narrowed my eyes as I watched the brown van pull up. A guy sat in front, driving it down the dusty road to our lodge. I watched him get out of the van. I clocked his brown clothes. The brown boots. The shorts that were a bit too short for that man’s hairy ass legs.