Sawyer (Great Wolves Motorcycle Club, #5) (20 page)

“What’s he done?” I let out a sigh. I’d heard this shit a thousand times. Messed up with dealers probably. If she’d said it was her sister, I could have predicted the problem there too. Caught up with some douche who liked to use her as a punching bag maybe? Yeah. Not my scene. Not back in the day. Not now. I didn’t get involved in other people’s shit. Club business kept me busy enough. Good as it was to see her, this conversation was about to be over quick.

“It’s a long story,” she said. Yep. They always were. Except they always ended the same way. “Doug’s in trouble. The bad kind. He’s a good guy who’s made a lot of mistakes. Look, Brax. I swear to you. I wouldn’t have come here if I had anywhere else to go.”

“Scraping the bottom of the barrel are you?” It was a dick thing to say. I know that. I was about to tell her to go to the cops and leave me out of whatever the hell little Doogie got himself into. But, the way she glared at me and got her back straight. In that instant, I could see what this cost her. She expected me to say something like that and she was ready for it.

“I can pay you.” She fumbled in her purse, pulled out a thick wad of hundreds and set it on the desk. It was a bit of an insult.

I shook my head. “Nicole, look around. That’s not the racket I run anymore. I don’t need your money or the headache of what your brother has probably gotten himself into. It’s been my experience if it’s the bad kind of trouble like you say, he’ll only end up right back there in less than a year.”

She crumbled a little, her lip quivered. But, her eyes flashed steel and she took a breath and straightened her back again, ready to fire at me with both barrels. I wasn’t dealing with a sweet little cheerleader anymore looking for a walk on the wild side. This right here was a grown woman filled with fire and fury. And she wasn’t done with me.

“You were right. I
do
remember what you told me all those years ago. And I
do
need something. I wish to God I didn’t. I’ve heard a lot of things about you over the years, Brax. But, no one’s ever said you weren’t a man of your word. I need something from you. I need help. And I’m not stupid. I know you don’t give anything away for free. If you don’t want money, maybe there’s something else you
do
want.”

She licked her lips. That little blush spread across her chest and deepened to red. Her breasts heaved as her breath hitched. Nicole Ridley might be a lot of things, but like she said, stupid wasn’t one of them. She uncrossed her legs and recrossed them. It wasn’t a blatant invitation. No. But, with the subtle shift in her posture and the glint in her eyes, her meaning was clear. Whatever my price, she was willing to pay it.  Slowly, with steady fingers, she opened another button on her blouse. I got a flash of silk, lace and the snow white slope of flesh and tan lines.

“Baby, you sure you want to be in a position to owe me that much?”

She kept her eyes locked with mine and didn’t move. I’d issued a challenge and she wasn’t afraid to rise to it. Fuck, if I didn’t feel my own need rising against my jeans. I can’t help it.

Was I still the kind of guy who could take it from her like that? Again, my mind flashed to that single night. Nicole had been wild, reckless and I still remembered the sound of my name on her lips as she cried out and begged me not to stop.

Yeah. I could be that guy. Remember, I
always
collect.

To Be Continued in

Brax

(Book 6 of the Great Wolves M.C. Series)

By Jayne Blue

Read on to find out more!

So about Lincoln McCall?

T
he Cadillac Motor Court was a one-story, 1950s-era motel. Though it looked old, it was still in decent repair. Someone took good care of it.

Make that one room. She’d booked us one room. I offered to sleep in the truck, but she was pretty pragmatic about it. It was official. This dame was trying to kill me, one way or another.

“I need to save money. And don’t worry, I won’t ruin your reputation and tell anyone. You’ve seen me naked. I think you can see me in my jammies.” I stiffened at the thought of her “jammies.” What hell was this going to bring? She changed in the bathroom and came out sporting a huge white t-shirt that came practically to her knees. It had a black “Dunder Mifflin” logo on it. I was expecting some gorgeous Marilyn temptation, and instead, it was a giant t-shirt from The Office.

She caught what must have been my perplexed expression, “I loved that show! This is my favorite night shirt from it. What?”

I had decided not to tempt fate and took off my shirt but kept on the jeans. I needed a barrier on the small bed, even if she seemed oblivious to the torture that being this close to her in this situation was going to be for me, for any man. She was supposed to be recovering, not romping around.

I decided to lie on top of the covers, too.

“Do you want to watch t.v.?” she asked.

“Up to you. I don’t really watch t.v.”

“I love it. How about some Nick at Night?” She plopped herself on the end of the bed and found her channel. Some old t.v. show was playing, and she said it was perfect.

I closed my eyes and blocked her out, blocked out the damn show, and tried to get a little shut-eye. I fell asleep to the sounds of a laugh track and to little bed bounces she produced as she giggled along with the old sitcom.

I dreamed of her, how her legs would feel wrapped around me, how I would give her the tenderness I’d seen no one display toward her since we’d met. And then it turned from sweet to hot. I dreamt of her magnificent breast in my mouth, of sinking into her. It was beautiful.

And then it wasn’t a dream. I awoke and looked down. The television was still on quietly, and it provided a soft illumination in the room. Marilyn was no longer watching. She’d dozed off, and draped herself over me. She had curled one leg into mine. Her shirt had ridden up around her waist, revealing that round ass in the most modest of white cotton underwear. Sexier than any of the thongs I’d seen.

She had found a spot and rested her head perfectly in the juncture of my neck and shoulder. Her breasts pressed softly through the t-shirt onto my chest. She was peacefully asleep and fit with me like no one I’d ever been with.

I pulled her closer, one hand resting just inside those cotton panties, just barely. I wouldn’t go further. She moaned in her sleep and snuggled closer in. She nuzzled her lips on my chest and goddamn it then she kissed me. Though she was asleep, she was maybe having the same dream.

“Hmmm. Lincoln.” She murmured my name in her sleep. If the sitcom actor could see through the decades to right now, through the television screen, he would have seen a contented smile on my face as I too returned to dreamland, wrapped up in her.

Check out
 Lincoln McCall
’s wild romance!

I
want to give a free book! Sign up for the
Jayne Blue Newsletter
on my website and as a thank you I’ll give a free book! It’s also the first place to find out about new releases.

If you enjoyed this book, please consider leaving a review on Amazon. Reader reviews are the best way to spread the word about my books and bring new readers into our community.

Now here’s some fun, did you ever wonder what the characters look like? Follow my
Pinterest Boards
. I’m constantly casting!

Want to be
Facebook Friends
? Visit me I’m on it all the time!

Goodreads
is my book talk hangout.

And
Twitter
is where I’m just kind of random! Hit me up. I love to connect and am pretty much a social media addict.

Thank you so much for reading and connecting with me.

I’ve included some samples of some of the books connected to Sawyer. Sawyer is a standalone but a lot of the people in his story have love stories of their own. Take a look!

Love you,

Jayne Blue

Visit me at
JayneBlue.com

Did you like Cassidy in Sawyer? Read Cassidy and Craddock’s love story...

C
assidy

What do you wear to work when you’re a receptionist at an MMA gym? At the restaurant it was easy, when she bussed tables it was black pants and a t-shirt, and then they gave her a polyester dress to wear after she got promoted to waitress. But now? It’s not like there were many choices. The studio had a small closet and her entire “wardrobe” hung inside along with her coat.

She did a quick inventory: A couple of pairs of jeans, turtlenecks, a sweater, a dress, and so few pairs of shoes. She could pack her entire closet into one suitcase. The few nice things she had were hand-me-downs. Again she owed Bess. Bess was taller by several inches, but she’d cleaned out her “work” closet and handed the extra clothes to Cassidy. That’s why she even owned a skirt. There was also one dress that Bess insisted on, it was the “little black” dress she wore when she graduated high school and only Bess attended.

She decided jeans it was if Whitey wanted her to dress nicer he’d tell her. Maybe it was time for a trip to Goodwill for some stuff? Wearing different clothes was an expense she didn’t want to deal with and hadn’t realized she’d face until this very moment.

It would be a cold walk, but the gym was hot so she went with belted jeans, a blouse, her boots and the duster under her coat. Whitey didn’t seem to be one to worry about that sort of thing so she hoped it was okay.

Wardrobe handled she rifled through her kitchen, which was really a sink, a mini-stove, and a small fridge. Saving money also meant skipping meals. She’d lost weight in the two weeks since the restaurant closed since she could usually get some free food at that job. Today she had a packet of cup-a-soup and an apple. Free food was definitely something she’d taken for granted after it was gone. She filled a water bottle and figured she was set for the day.

The GWG was a ten-minute walk. In the daytime, this was no big deal. At night, well, she wouldn’t tell Bess that one.

Whitey greeted her when she arrived.

“Good morning girlie,” he said with his gravelly voice as he assessed her desk area.

“Is eight too late?” She worried since it looked like things were well underway in the gym. Fighters dotted several areas already.

“I always get in at 5 to open. You can help me by getting in at 8 and staying later than I do to close. I could get home in time to make Mrs. Whitey happy for a change.”

“Okay.”

“So here’s the job, most days I’m too busy to tell you what to do. Today I will. After this, you figure it out most of the time.”

“Got it.”

“You set these computers up and then these files,” Whitey indicated a file cabinet that was as tall as she was, “They need to be uh, dig ah, digee? What’s the word?”

“Digitized?”

“Yep, that paperless thing the GWG bosses want. You’re going to make sure the members’ cards get swiped. That’s new, the cards, and you’ll make sure they’re paid up, handle their forms, answer phones, help get the word out on events and just deal with GWG corporate. My grandson was doing a bunch of this stuff, but he’s got to focus on training. That’s him over there.” Whitey pointed to a short, stocky fighter rapidly hitting a punching bag.

“Jessie, wave to Cassidy!” Whitey bellowed. The fighter lifted a gloved hand towards her in salute.

“Now back to work.” Whitey barked at his grandson.

“We got a lot of siblings, father-son, and such in here, fighting runs in families.”

“I see.”

“I’m going to get over to the ring, if you have a question, ask. And here’s the number to the guy to talk to from GWG management, Sawyer. It’s California so they won’t be up for what? Is it three hours? Who the hell knows?”

“I’ll get going.”

“Good. There’s a hook over there for your coat. And we got a fridge and microwave in the back. Though it don’t look like you eat at all, girlie.”

“I do fine.” Whitey narrowed his eyes at her and turned to the two in the ring. It was clear he didn’t miss much.

“You two. Is that the intensity I can expect today? You look like you’re under water. Step it up.” Whitey walked to the ring and it was then that Cassidy noticed who was in it — Craddock and another guy that looked nearly as dangerous. Most of the men in this placed looked like they could remove your limbs with their bare hands.

Cassidy watched as the slow sparring Whitey complained about got fast and violent. She was transfixed as Craddock Flynn jabbed and charged while his opponent tried to fend him off. He backed his sparring partner up against the ropes and paused. Craddock looked her right in the eyes and finished it. A punch to the jaw had his sparring partner with his hands up and in what was a purely defensive stance.

“Okay, okay, no need to kill him. Jonesy, you step over to the bags. Craddock, get some water, then partner up with Jessie after he’s warmed up and work on your holds a little. I want to see if you’re finishing that choke or not.”

Whitey was barely done giving the orders when Craddock Flynn jumped out of the ring and strode across the gym to where Cassidy was trying to pretend they hadn’t locked eyes.

“Good morning, Cassidy. You look gorgeous today.”

“Good morning, and don’t you think gorgeous is a little bit of an overkill in the compliment department?”

Gorgeous?  She blushed pretty much everywhere. This man’s lines worked on her, she realized. Even if she was working hard not to show it. 

“You are. I like your hair like that in a bun, like mine. Though I liked it down yesterday, too.” She touched a tendril that had escaped.

“You going into hairdressing if this fighting thing doesn’t work out?” She was trying to keep a tough exterior around him. Though he looked like the toughest thing in the city, she had her own brand of tough. She figured she better use it or be another notch on this guy’s fight belt.

“No. I’m just into your hair. A lot of it there for such a little package underneath.” She was embarrassed. He probably fawned over the big-boobed, booty-shaking types. She was more in the Anna Kendrick size department.