The Dirty Dozen: MC Edition Read online

  Sophie

  “Where is he?” I bite out through gritted teeth. It's taking everything in me not to scream at the top of my lungs and throw the shit fit to end all shit fits right now, so burly biker dude might want to hurry up and answer me before I let go of the loose hold I have on my temper.

  “Relax, Soph,” Sly unwisely suggests while I envision kicking him in the balls just to see how loud I can make him scream.

  I'd like to take this opportunity to point out that I'm not usually a violent person. It's only in rare and extenuating circumstances, such as the one I find myself in now that I unleash my inner badass on the unsuspecting population.

  With the most unladylike snort I can muster, I reply, “Here's a suggestion; how about you go relax while I go track down the annoying son of a bitch that is hell-bent on ruining my life.”

  “Ah, I take it you heard then,” Sly surmises correctly.

  Oh, I heard all right, and I'm the furthest thing from happy about it. “Sure did. Now, are you going to tell me where I can find him, or am I going to have to go searching by myself? Because you do know that I plan on making not just him, but you pay if you don't help me out, right?” I advise Sly on a careless shrug. Truth be told, I’m anything but nonplused by this recent turn of events, but it wouldn’t do to show all of my cards right now, would it?

  Sly, Vengeance MC's communications officer isn't as scary as some of the men who belong to the club, but he's certainly not a pushover and I'm pretty sure based on the glare he's giving me that he's not particularly impressed with my ultimatum, either.

  “Fuck, you're a pain in the ass,” he grunts. “And not for nothing, but you're lucky I think your sass is cute, Soph or I'd put you over my knee.”

  Ew, gross. Sly has a good fifteen years on me and while he's hot, I'm not into sleeping with geriatrics so that'll be a hard pass thank you very much.

  “Tick-tock,” I say, tapping my foot while studiously ignoring his comment about spanking my ass.

  “Sassy,” Sly grins at me.

  “Annoying.”

  “Fine,” he finally says on a sigh. “He's in his room, but I’d hazard a guess you don't want to go in there, babe.”

  Already heading in that direction, I throw over my shoulder, “I realize his room is a biohazard zone, but I've got hand sanitizer in my purse so I think I'll survive.”

  When I hit the hall that leads to the club member’s private rooms, I inwardly shudder at what goes on behind those closed doors.

  I'm not naive and I definitely haven't been sheltered – not with a mother like mine – but I must admit, some of the sexual acts the brothers partake in have been known to turn my stomach. Not because the acts themselves are bad necessarily, they’re just not what I consider to be normal by any stretch of the imagination. That said, I think most people would agree that pulling a train on a woman, regardless of the fact that she's begging for it is not remotely a run of the mill sex act on a boring Tuesday afternoon.

  The sixth door down on the left is Dex’s or Pyro’s room - depending on whose addressing him - which affords I'm a modicum of privacy since it's also the last door on that side of the hall. I've always wondered how he got lucky enough to snag one of the most sought after rooms, but I quickly came to the conclusion that it had to have something to do with the fact his dad is the VP and he is a legacy member.

  Tanner Scott, better known as Fury is one of my favorite people in the world, and his wife isn't far behind him. Avery and Fury took me in and accepted me as if I was one of their own. They have never made me feel as if I'm inferior because I come from the wrong side of the tracks so to speak, and they have never judge why I put up with the things I do from my less than stellar mother.

  I can't even begin to count the number of times Fury has stepped up for me and my younger sister, Lila. He’s spent years checking in on us, making sure we have what we need to make it through the week when my pay checks didn’t quite cover our expenses, and he took us home with him when my mom was in one of her legendary moods. For interest’s sake, mom’s “moods” refers to her being either drunk off her ass or high as a kite, both of which have a tendency to make her volatile at the very least, or downright violent if her latest bender was particularly bad. Needless to say, neither is good but one is far worse than the other.

  “I really hope you have pants on,” I yell, flinging open the door. “Because I'm going to-” my voice trails off as I stop dead and take in the sight in front of me.

  On the bed, naked as the day she was born is Clarissa, the one woman I would gladly beat the crap out of in a dark alley or anywhere really, with Dex just as naked on top of her pounding away like she's a pork chop needing to be tenderized. It's relatively obvious that neither of them heard my dramatic entry because they don't stop what they're doing. Not for one humiliating, soul-shattering second.

  It's in this very moment that my pulse skyrockets and my heart breaks into a million pieces as I watch with abject horror the way Dex cradles Clarissa’s face and kisses her as if his life depends on it. I can't begin to explain how wrong it is for me to be standing here still, but it's like a car crash that you just can't look away from.

  Strong hands clamp down on my shoulders and I'm pulled back into a large, hard body. Soft words are whispered in my ear as I'm guided away from the doorway, yet I can't make them out.

  Anger, sadness, and loss swamp me all at once as pain like I've never felt before lances through me, eviscerating any feelings of love or compassion I ever had for Dexter 'Pyro' Scott.

  “Take a breath, sweetheart. You're scaring the shit out of me,” Sly murmurs quietly as he seats me next to him on the sectional in the main room of the clubhouse.

  Seconds, minutes, or hours later I don't know which, I vaguely hear, “What's wrong with her? What'd you do, brother?” Before I'm picked up and engulfed by arms I would know anywhere.

  “Fury, man, I didn't do shit to her,” Sly curses soundly. “The same can't be said for your idiot kid, though.”

  “Oh, fuck me,” Fury seethes. “What'd that little shit do this time?” He says as if his son isn't a grown-ass twenty-seven-year-old man.

  Sly doesn't hesitate to share, only adding to my growing humiliation, “She walked in on him nailing Clarissa.”

  “The fuck you say? I thought he got rid of her ass last month. Pregnant or not, that bitch shouldn’t be here.”

  And just when I thought things couldn’t get worse, they do as my heart splits in two and my head spins at this new and devastating discovery.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Sophie

  Of all the women on the planet for Dex to get involved with there are only two that I’ve ever deemed off-limits. A fact I’ve made no secret of during the years Dex and I have been friends. Public enemy number one is, Clarissa the slut who has done nothing but make my life miserable since middle school, and the second is my best friend, Violet. Thankfully, though, I’ve never had to worry about Violet seeing as she has and always will belong to Dex's best friend, Talon. Not to mention, aside from the fact Dex views Violet as a little sister, he wouldn't go there if he was paid a million dollars for fear of Talon’s retribution if he did.

  Clarissa, the skank of the hour or decade depending on how you look at it is another matter altogether.

  “I take it out girl wasn’t privy to that information,” Fury accurately surmises as he gazes over my head at his brother.

  “Obviously not,” Sly answers wary of my reaction. Well, he needn't worry because as soon as I'm sure I can stand up without passing out or throwing up everywhere, I'm fucking out of here.

  “Sophie-Bell,” Fury cajoles when I’ve remained quiet too long for his liking. “Wanna take a ride with me?”

  I shake my head no because I most assuredly don’t want to go anywhere but straight home after this, and continue staring off into space as the noise in the room around me quiets to a dull roar.

  If I’m honest wi
th myself, I know my reaction is uncalled for seeing as I have no claim over him, what he does or whom. Dex and I aren't and never have been together, but that doesn't mean my heart hasn’t always believed he was mine. From the moment I met Dex, my body, mind and soul recognized he was our person. My lobster, the man I was intended to be with. I’ve always firmly believed we all have that special someone out there, and as far as I was concerned, Dex was mine.

  But after this, after what I just witnessed, I’m not so sure. Now, I’m sitting here asking myself how I could have been so very wrong about so many things when it comes to Dex.

  “What the fuck is going on, and why are you holding my girl?” Dex's rough gravelly voice booms, breaking through my reverie.

  Sly doesn’t hesitate in replying, and what he says isn’t nice. “You and me are going to have a fucking chat later, brother, but I'm gonna take a beat here to get something straightened out. You lost the right to call Sophie-Bell your girl the second you stuck your dick in trash.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me right now?” Dex growls, sounding closer than he was a moment ago. “Soph, come here, babe,” he orders. Ignoring the demand in his voice and the confusion lacing his tone, I close my eyes tightly and shake my head in the negative. “Jesus, Soph. What's going on?” He asks, when I make no moves to go to him.

  In all honesty, I can't tell you whether it's the absolute lack of understanding as to why I could possibly be upset with him, or the fury I feel bubbling just under the surface as I struggle to contain my anger, but whatever it is, I snap.

  “Fuck. You!” I shout, wrenching myself out of Fury's arms and stomping my way over toward him. “After I say my piece, I’m gone and I don't want to hear from you ever again.”

  The look of shock followed by the devastation that’s written all over his face almost makes me question my decision. Almost. And as pathetic as it is, I know myself well enough to realize that if it weren't for the images of him and Clarissa together freshly seared into my brain, there may have been a chance I’d have given into the puppy of look he's giving me. But they are, and I can’t see myself being able to overlook them any time in the foreseeable future if at all so Dex is shit out of luck.

  I steel my spine and I mentally prepare for what is coming next as I square my shoulders and say, “In all the years we've known each other, I've only asked you for two things. Two! One was that you never lie to me, and the other was to stay as far away from Clarissa the skank as humanly possible.”

  “Hey,” I hear Clarissa screech indignantly.

  God, even her nasally voice is obnoxious. How Dex could stand to be in the same room as her, let alone take her to bed is beyond the pale.

  “Shut it whore,” I spit viciously. “You are even higher up on my shit list than he is, so I recommend that if you don't want to be breathing out of a tube within the next sixty seconds you fuck right off back to whatever home you crawled out of,” I declare shooting her a scathing glare.

  It's no surprise she doesn't heed my warning, but honestly, I thought maybe, just maybe with all the members standing around avidly watching the drama unfolding that she might think twice and temper her response. I was wrong.

  “You're just jealous Pyro wants me and not you. And who can blame him? You've always been trailer trash and you always will be,” she sneers, fake tits, bad dye job, slutty outfit and all.

  She’s one to talk about trashy, I muse as Sly’s deep growl demands, “Get her the fuck out of here before I break my promise to never lay hands on a woman.”

  Ignoring his command entirely, my eyes narrow into slits and I take three large steps toward her, hissing, “I have never, not a day in my life been jealous of you. Do you know why?” I ask rhetorically. “Because girls like you are good for one thing, Clarissa and that's being a cum dumpster for whatever man you can manipulate into sharing your bed for a night. So congratulations, I had my doubts for a while there that you'd never live up to your full potential, but you proved me wrong.”

  Fury, along with everyone else in the room lets out a loud bark of laughter. Humorous or not, I can’t find it in me to take pleasure in her horrified gasp, and especially not when I take in the expression on Dex’s handsome face. He is staring at me as if I've grown a second head, which I suppose is warranted considering it isn’t often that I’m brutally honest or vicious with my words.

  “And you,” I snap, spinning to face Dex. “Not only did you lie to me when I asked you if you were involved with the human equivalent of a Petrie dish, but from what I hear, you not only broke the promise you made me but you did it spectacularly.”

  “Soph, please. I know your pissed and you have every right to be, but if you’ll just give me five minutes, I’ll explain everything,” Dex all but begs. “Just come with me and we'll go somewhere and talk.”

  “No fucking way,” I return. “The time for talking was before you took the Whore of Babylon to bed and I caught you balls deep inside of her. As far as I'm concerned, you and I have nothing left to discuss. Lose my number and my address, and stay the hell away from me,” I implore as I turn on my heel and make a run for the exit.

  Dex chases me, bellowing my name as I take off out of the compound but he doesn't catch me before I make it to my car and speed out of the compound. I don’t look back, only forward because, truth be told, I simply can’t risk it. I refuse to let Dex ensnare me again, especially when I know exactly how much it hurts to be caught up in his web of lies and deceit.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Pyro

  “Well, you royally fucked that up, didn’t you Son?” Dad snarls at my back.

  Never in my life have I considered myself a coward, at least, I hadn’t until right this second. Now, with a certainty born of my colossal fuck up, I know exactly what cowardice looks and feels like.

  My avoidance of what I knew was only a matter of time before Sophie found out isn’t my only mistake, but it was my biggest. I can’t even begin to tell you my thought process when I blithely ignored the promise I made her and took the bitch Sophie hated above all others, except maybe her mom to bed and, in turn, ruined the best thing that’s ever happened to me.

  That scene was bad for more than the obvious reason. First and foremost, I never intended for Sophie to find out that Clarissa had shared my bed, let alone catch us in the act. It might make me sound like an asshole, but I had an itch and she was there so I let her scratch it. That was all there was to it. I didn’t dissect what it would mean or how it would impact Sophie, I gave into a moment of weakness and let my dick overrule my common sense. The worst part is, this isn’t the first time I’ve done it.

  Twice now, I’ve fucked Clarrisa and both times I’ve been left questioning why I bothered after we were done. It’s not as if she was even particularly good, which makes the deed even more heinous in my eyes. But what’s done is done, and no matter how much I’d love to take it back, to erase the last hour of Sophie and my life, I can’t.

  Adding insult to injury, having to see the woman I love running from me with tears cascading down her cheeks was a reality check and a half. What little doubt I had about whether Sophie had feelings for me or not was obliterated when I saw the hurt in her eyes reflected back at me. Her pain humbled me, almost bringing me to my knees in the forecourt of the clubhouse.

  My father’s murderous expression as the girl he’s loved and cared for since she was a kid heart broke right before his very eyes comes in a close second in the worst moments of my life highlights reel. The look of disgust and overwhelming disappointment is almost more than I can bear. And that’s saying something because I’ve seen, done, and played a part in some seriously fucked up shit.

  My heart pounds in my chest as the awareness that if I don’t go after her now I’ll probably lose my shot altogether dawns. I have to explain this clusterfuck whether Sophie wants to hear it or not. She deserves to know that I’m sorry, that it won’t happen again, and that I’m willing to do whatever it takes
to earn her forgiveness and make things right between us again.

  One foot in front of the other, I move toward the door but before I can make it to the exit, I’m stopped by a heavy hand on my shoulder. “You’ll want to give her some time,” my old man warns. “A girl like Sophie isn’t prone to bouts of hysteria, not that this was that, but regardless, that’s how she’ll view it. Sophie doesn’t do conflict on a good day, and when she does it definitely isn’t in front of an audience, so it’d be wise to give her some time to cool off. Can’t fault the girl for doing what she did, the whore who was riding your dick had it coming, but I’d say, right about now, Sophie’s embarrassed as fuck and she’s probably kicking her own ass for reacting the way she did. Space, son. You’ll give it to her and once you have, you’ll respect her decision on whether to talk to you or not.”

  My jaw ticks in aggravation and my hands clench at my sides, craving to touch, hold, console my girl, regardless of how much sense my old man makes. It just feels so fucking wrong not to chase her down and make her listen to me. But then again, I know Sophie and presently she’s more than likely planning out all the ways to unman me with a blunt spoon so she probably wouldn’t hear me anyway.

  “Karma’s a bitch, boy, and it looks like she just handed you your ass,” Gage, the club’s enforcer mutters less than helpfully. “If I were you, I’d be dealing with what was standing right in front of me before attempting to scale the walls Soph is no doubt busy building to keep you out.”

  “He’s not wrong,” my president and the man who’s been like a second father to me agrees. “That girl’s made of metal, Pyro. Sophie’s got a heart of gold, a backbone of steel, and iron-clad insecurities that you all but reinforced when you let your cock make fucked up decisions for you.”

  “Hey,” Clarissa squeaks from somewhere beside me.

  A very small, miniscule really part of me feels like I should defend the parasitic leech – aka the alleged mother of my unborn child – but the truth is, I just don’t have it in me to give a fuck. Baby or no baby, Clarrisa is exactly what they say she is; trash. She’s more trouble than the five minutes of relief was worth, something she didn’t hesitate to prove only minutes ago when facing off with Soph.