AllFreeNovel
Share Us
By the time they arrived back at the Macha clubhouse, Isa realized three things. One: she loved the feel of a motorcycle between her legs. Two: she liked matching wits with Doc. Three: she equally loved the feeling of being in Doc’s arms.
8
Doc
“How’s Isa settling in?”Reaper asked the next afternoon.
Doc sipped his favorite beer. He’d managed to get five hours of sleep last night, though only after taking a shower to get Isa’s smell off him. It lingered more than any woman’s perfume. The lack of sleep got to him earlier when he helped Brewer and Rubble clean up the bar. Evidently, the crowd from the night before had been rowdier than usual. He wouldn’t have minded the work except the club nymphs kept pawing at him. While he was in dire need of release, he didn’t want to hook up with one of the women who threw themselves at him.
“It’s taking a bit of time, but that’s normal.” He watched Klink hunker down by his motorcycle to check the oil. “The guys sure like her.”
Reaper chuckled and took a drag from his cigarette. “I’m not surprised. Hell, her mama was a beauty back in the day.” He coughed. “But nothing like Queenie.”
Doc rolled his eyes. He’d never accuse his uncle of being unfaithful. The man worshipped the ground Queenie walked on. It didn’t happen like that for every couple, but it was more common for Macha old ladies. Hell, the few patch members who had old ladies wouldn’t be caught dead with one of the club nymphs. Despite the few who had open relationships, a member didn’t give a woman his patch unless he meant to make their patron proud.
“They’re treating her right, though, aren’t they?” Reaper’s face was tanned from years of sun damage, and the wrinkles on his forehead deepened when he frowned. “Because I’ll shove my foot straight up their arses—”
“I’m taking care of it.” Doc finished off his beer, eyes fixed on the parking lot. It was nigh on opening time for the bar, and stragglers from Snowshoe were already filling the open spaces.
His mind turned to Isa. She was safe in the clubhouse, but he still felt the need to check on her. After sparring with her the other day, all he’d wanted to do was fuck her up against his bike. She was a virgin like he thought. She’d all but admitted it. Knowing that fact, he was even more determined to keep her safe. Keeping things professional with Isa was becoming increasingly difficult, though. He couldn’t stop wanting her.
“You like her.” It wasn’t a question. They both knew the answer.
He nodded slightly.
Reaper patted Doc’s back once. “Don’t get attached unless you’re willing to make her your old lady. Isadora isn’t a club nymph.”
“I know that,” he snapped, eyes flashing to his uncle.
“Good. Then you’ll also know she’s returning to Ireland once the tiff is over.” He dropped the cigarette and snuffed it with the toe of his boot. “Just like you’ll go back to hopping from nymph to nymph after this is done.”
Doc crushed the beer can and tossed it in the nearby recycling bin. “Maybe.”
“Maybe? Why the change of heart?”
“Didn’t say that, but it makes me wonder about the future.” The sun had completely set now, the overhead lights flickering on in the dusk. He shrugged and shoved off the porch. “Don’t get me wrong. I like the feeling of just me, the road, my bike and a couple guys I trust.”
Reaper gave him a wicked side-eye. “You’ve made friends, then?”
“Somewhat.” He laughed. “I think they all tolerate me.”
“Well, you earned a patch last winter saving their sorry arses, so I guarantee they more than tolerate you, Doc.” Reaper started toward the clubhouse. “Once you earn your place in Macha, the members respect you. We don’t hand it out like candy at Halloween, but once it’s earned, only death or treachery can relinquish it.”
His uncle was right, of course. Doc used to hang out at the clubhouse in his youth. He’d seen many members heckled. The comradery between the men was what he yearned for and what he had with a few. Sure, he’d had friends at the fire station in Iowa, but none he wanted to hang with off shift more than a few hours. The MC offered lifelong friends. At thirty-two years old, he needed something permanent in his life. He’d gained Rubble, Brewer, and Hawk, and couldn’t fault the brotherhood he felt with them.
Rubbing his left shoulder, he watched the patch members filter into the bar. With Isa safely in Queenie’s care, he was off shift for the night.A game of pool and a few beers will help.He set off toward the building, slipping inside the dark bar. Country music blared from the radio, the bartenders and waitresses outfitted in cowboy hats and fringe shirts. The interior was a mixture of western and motorcycle. Snowshoe was big into the western motif, so Macha took that and ran with it in their design. The bar was connected to the tattoo parlor by swinging saloon doors in the back.
Grabbing a shot of whiskey from Brewer, he downed it before the Jason Aldean song ended. A frosty mug of beer made it to his hand before he walked over to the pool table where Cueball, Boulder, and Rubble played.
“I’ve got next winner,” he said, tossing some cash into the growing pot.
Cueball leered. “Shove off, Doc. This game’s for established members only.”
“Aw, come on, Cue,” Brewer said, delivering a round of shots to the table. “The guy’s Reaper’s nephew. In a year, he’ll probably be president.”
Boulder and Cueball mumbled under their breaths and returned to the game.
“Don’t worry. They’ll warm up to you,” Brewer said before making his way back to the bar.
