Dirty Girl (2 page)

He turned and
left,
and she stood there watching out the front window as he straddled his bike and put his skull cap helmet on. And then there was that roar of life from his bike that she could hear over the pounding bass of the music overhead.

“You got a thing for him or something?”

She turned and glared at
Ziggy
, who wore this goofy ass smile on his face. “Fuck you. I have a boyfriend.”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t look.”
Ziggy
winked and headed toward the front door to lock up.

No, it didn’t mean she couldn’t look, but the thoughts she had were totally inappropriate, so she told herself from that moment on she was going to put any and all thoughts concerning that big ass biker out of her head.

****

Booshie
took the winding back roads of Steel Corner, and although he should be focusing on the road all he could think about was
Naggie
looking fine as hell back at the shop. He wasn’t ashamed to say just looking at her in that tank top that showed off her arms that were covered in ink, tattoos that were of flowers, skulls, and even birds thrown in the mix, gave him a hard-on that rivaled all others. She was small, in stature and age compared to him, but she was hot as fuck. The problem was he knew she had a guy, had even asked
Cadeon
about her. But
Booshie
didn’t mess with taken women, because even if he could take on any guy if he really wanted something—and he really wanted
Naggie
—he wasn’t about to go there. She wasn’t even what he normally went for, not with her pixie cut blonde hair, thin frame, tattoos, and even the eyebrow piercing, but there was something about her that got his engine going. The bad thing was he had even jerked off to her, and worse, thought about her when he fucked the club pussy chicks. It was wrong and dirty on every damn level. He had been seeing more of her due to
Cadeon
being with Stella and working more out of his shop, and
Booshie
had gotten this fixation on
Naggie
. Hell, he had even wanted her to give him some ink just so he could look at her more and talk to her. But he wasn’t a bastard, despite his club name, and would never overstep his bounds.
Naggie
seemed like a wild child with a fierce temper, but she also was honest and decent.

Booshie
pulled into the driveway of The Vicious Bastards clubhouse. There were a few members hanging around right outside the front door. Little had one of the club pussy girls hanging off his arm, and Ranger, one of the original Vicious Bastards, was leaning against the brick wall smoking on a cigar.
Scars, the President of their MC, was
on his cell a few feet away, and just by the way he paced
Booshie
knew he was pissed.

He cut the engine, climbed off his bike, and removed his helmet. Titling his chin in greeting toward Tank, the Sergeant at Arms and whose reputation matched his nickname,
Booshie
moved toward the rest of the guys. He kept his eyes on Scars, trying to gauge his President’s emotions. Shit was obviously going down, especially when he heard Scars raise his voice, and throw out some choice words.

Little whistled out low when
Booshie
stopped in front of them.
They were all now watching Scars, and when the president got off the phone and headed their way there was a draft that followed in his wake.

“Hey, what’s up?”
Booshie
asked while getting a cigarette out of his cut. He really needed to quit smoking, but it was hard when everyone did it around him, and when the nicotine helped to calm him when he was feeling especially homicidal. Not literally of course, but close enough when shit went down, or if he was sitting around bullshitting with the guys.

“That motherfucker over at
O’Henry’s
is trying to get out of paying his weekly due. John said that he doesn’t need our protection any longer, and that some other pricks are taking over that area.”

Booshie
lit the end of the cigarette and inhaled deeply. “John doesn’t have anyone else, and there aren’t any other dumb assholes that would dare come onto our territory and try and collect on shit that isn’t theirs.”

“Yeah, John just knows those punk ass bitches that started shit with him, and the ones we have been keeping in check have moved on, and therefore aren’t a threat to his douche bar,” Tank said, but the hard tone in the biker’s voice was filed with menace.

Booshie
thought about what Scars said, and then looked at
Little
and Tank. “You want us to go over there and give him a little heart-to-heart?”
Booshie
grinned around his smoke, and
Little
and Tank grunted in amusement beside him.

Scars sighed and turned to the side. It was still early enough in the day that the sun hadn’t set yet, and when that light slashed across the side of
Scars’s
face his scar became even more prominent. It might have been twenty plus years since he had gotten that scar, but the reasoning on how it had happened, and what he had lost, was still as fresh and painful as if it had happened yesterday. Scars might have been the one to bear the mark, but they were one big family, and when one member hurt they all fucking did. Scars didn’t say anything for a few minutes, and neither did the rest of the guys. Their President got a joint out of the inside of his cut, lit the end, and stared at the mountains that were in the distance.

“That motherfucker has been coming up with excuses on why he doesn’t need our muscle anymore, and why he wants to stop having to pay the fees,” Little said right before he spanked the club pussy on the ass and sent her on her way. “But when Tank starts cracking his knuckles and rolling his head around on his neck that little prick John nearly pisses his pants.” Little started laughing and elbowed Tank in the chest, and The Sergeant at Arms grinned and nodded.

“Yeah, good fucking times, but John is either high as fuck, or has something else set up if he thinks he isn’t going to pay us.”

John
O’Henry
was a second generation Irish bar owner in Steel Corner. His old man came over from Ireland back in the day, started
O’Henry’s
, and the bar had been passed down to John and his younger brother Stevie. But a year back there had been a pansy ass gang of college age kids that had broken into John’s bar, trashed the place, and stolen a bunch of shit. The Vicious Bastards had set those fuckers straight that had vandalized the bar, and helped John get his bar up and running, but in return he would pay them a weekly fee to not only make sure no one messed with him again, but to also add some cash to The Bastards’ pockets. It had been going good for the last year, but now it looked like John was trying to get out of the deal just because the original threat was now gone.

“We did a lot for that asshole,” Tank said again. “Those pussy ass punks may have left
Reckless
months ago, but we put a lot of money and muscle into helping John rebuild that place and making it known that he wasn’t to be touched.”

Scars sighed and inhaled from his joint. “It’s a damn shame.” Scars turned and looked at them, but he took two more hits before speaking again. “I liked John and his family, but we had an agreement that he’d keep the cash flowing. It isn’t like he’s hurting for money since he gets a shitload of people coming in from River Run and Steel Corner that want the rare and imported beer and liquor he supplies.” Scars took one more hit and then flicked the roach into the trashcan by the front door. He looked at the ground, and
Booshie
knew he was thinking of what to do. If it was up to him
Booshie
would have gone over there right now and beaten the shit out of John for thinking they could screw them over. It wasn’t so much about the couple hundred dollars John gave them a week, but about keeping face and their reputation, and letting others know that when they did business with The Vicious Bastards you didn’t just back out.

“
Booshie
and Tank, head over to
O’Henry’s
after six. That is when John will be in.” A hard looked covered
Scars’s
face. “Remind him that if he welches on a deal then the MC won’t back him in anything again, and also remind him that if he wants out of our agreement he’ll have to fork over a year’s worth of fees.” What Scars didn’t say, but what they all knew, was that John would also get a fucking beating for fucking over The Bastards.

It wasn’t like the club went around kicking people’s asses. They put themselves and their club on the line when they helped someone out, especially concerning a gang that dealt in violence of their own. When they’d agreed to handle John’s problem, they should have just kicked out the adolescent vandals, but a good ass kicking and a “talk” on what happen if they pulled that kind of shit in their town again went a long way. Besides, they didn’t kill people, least of all some punk ass kids that thought breaking other people’s shit was a good time. But, they needed to uphold their image or they wouldn’t be feared and respected, and any mediocre gang or club could move in on their territory. Not fucking going to happen, so that meant they would be busting balls at
O’Henry’s
.

Chapter Two

Naggie
pulled her SUV onto the driveway and cut the engine. When she had gotten the Honda Pilot, she had gotten so much shit from
Cadeon
and
Ziggy
. Them saying she looked like a little kid in the front seat of such a big vehicle only made her flip them off, fling a string of profanities their way, and have her enjoy her ride that much more. They were jealous that she looked so good in this massive vehicle, and sure, she was small in stature and might look slightly funny trying to climb into it, but fuck them all. But she loved those two guys like they were her family. In fact, they were her only family, and the only ones that gave two shits about her.

 
She saw Rob’s truck in the driveway and grabbed her phone from her bag. She was almost two hours early getting off from the shop, but after doing that tattoo for the Marine, and not having another client, she had called it a night. Rob wasn’t supposed to be home until after eight—another three hours away—but she grinned, thinking maybe he had something special planned since their anniversary was tomorrow. Hey, a year of being with the same person might not have been such a big deal, but that was the longest relationship she had been involved in.

 
She grabbed her shit and made her way out of the car and toward the front door. A dog started barking, and she stopped and glanced over her shoulder. The house was Rob’s and it was in a rundown and older part of the town. It was on a cul-de-sac, but it was nice living with someone and not having to feel like she was alone all the time. Since it was the middle of the summer and just after five, the sun was still high in the sky. It was warm and slightly humid, and overall nasty ass weather. She had never been one that enjoyed the heat, so a cold shower to wash the sweat off, which had formed in the small amount of time
it
took her to walk to and from her car, was in her very near future.

The house was relatively quiet except for the small ticking of the wall clock. Setting her keys on the small table next to the door and her bag on the floor, she stood straight again and listened. Something felt off, but she couldn’t quite place why the hairs on the back of her neck and on her arms stood on end.

“Rob?”
Naggie
called out, realizing how weird it was that Rob was home but nowhere to be seen. Normally he was on the couch watching TV or playing video games. But then, right before she yelled out his name once more, she heard some noise in the back bedroom. The house was small, but for some reason it seemed like it took
Naggie
forever to get down the hallway. There was another banging sound right on the other side of her closed bedroom door, but before she opened it she already knew what the fuck was going on. The sight before her at first had her mouth hanging open on its own, and then this blood-curdling rage filled her.

Rob was on his knees, holding onto this very skinny waist, and had his head thrown back as he grunted with each thrust.
Naggie
couldn’t speak, couldn’t move as she was in a kind of trace watching her boyfriend fucking not just a woman, but that skanky ass bitch, Tally. It took Rob and Tally a whole minute of continued fucking before they realized they had an audience. Tally looked over, still on her hands and knees, and smiled. Rob gave one more thrust before turning and looking at her. He was sweaty, and beads of perspiration dripped down his chest. The “Oh shit” look that crossed his face was priceless, but
Naggie
was seeing red and was about to beat someone’s ass.

“I didn’t expect you home this soon.”

“That’s obvious.” Venom dripped from
Naggie’s
voice, and she was barely holding onto her control. But then again she didn’t know why she hadn’t kicked both of their asses right now.

“
Naggie
, baby.”

She held up her hand, then realized it was shaking uncontrollably due to how fucking pissed she was.
Naggie
curled her hand into a fist. “You don’t get to fucking call me that every again, you worthless piece of shit.”
Naggie
couldn’t remember being this mad. What made this whole situation even worse was that Rob was fucking the same woman—the town slut. Tally was the same woman who had tried to pick up Rob at the bar over six months ago, and the same one
Naggie
should have royally fucked up back then. “What the fuck.”
 
She had said it more to herself than directed at either of them, but then when Rob pulled out of Tally, and that slut’s grin grew, something inside of
Naggie
just snapped.