His Road Dog (Patches: Tarkio MC Book 1), page 1
His Road Dog
Patches: Tarkio MC series, Book 1
By
Debra Kayn
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
His Road Dog
Patches: Tarkio MC series, Book 1
1st release: Copyright©2020DebraKayn
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the purchaser ONLY. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without prior written permission from Debra Kayn. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Chapter 1 | Priest | 1990
Chapter 2 | Nicole
Chapter 3 | Priest
Chapter 4 | Nicole
Chapter 5 | Priest
Chapter 6 | Priest
Chapter 7 | Nicole
Chapter 8 | Priest
Chapter 9 | Nicole
Chapter 10 | Priest
Chapter 11 | Nicole
Chapter 12 | Priest
Chapter 13 | Nicole
Chapter 14 | Priest
Chapter 15 | Nicole
Chapter 16 | Priest
Chapter 17 | Nicole
Chapter 18 | Priest
Chapter 19 | Nicole
Chapter 20 | Priest
Chapter 21 | Nicole
Chapter 22 | Priest
Chapter 23 | Nicole
Chapter 24 | Priest
Chapter 25 | Nicole
Chapter 26 | Priest
Chapter 27 | Nicole
Chapter 28 | Priest
Chapter 29 | Nicole
Chapter 30 | Priest
Chapter 31 | Nicole
Chapter 32 | Nicole
Chapter 33 | Priest
Chapter 34 | Priest
Chapter 35 | Nicole
Chapter 36 | Priest
Chapter 37 | Nicole
Chapter 38 | Nicole
Chapter 39 | Nicole
Epilogue | ~ Three months later ~ | Priest
Author Bio
Debra Kayn's Backlist
Enjoy the 1st chapter of Chasing His Fox, book 1 in the completed Choices: Tarkio MC series that is available at all retailers!
Chasing His Fox by Debra Kayn | Part One | Chapter 1 | Scarlett | May 1982
Dedication
Piper – As always, thank you.
Ann – If this was a sprint, you'd win.
Zoey – Never ask. Just work your magic.
Rachel – Put the book down. Just put it down.
Wheels – You were right.
Just that once.
Chapter 1
Priest
1990
THE ROWDY CROWD INSIDE Tarkio Motorcycle Club clubhouse spread into the hallway. Priest shut the meeting room door, making sure it locked behind him. His business call had taken longer than he'd planned.
Catching sight of Curley, he motioned for a drink. Half his Friday night was over. He had a lot of catching up to do.
His vice president reached his side, passing him a full whiskey bottle. Priest took a long draw and looked over the mob in the room.
"Let the prospects know we've reached the limit on guests. We don't want the cops paying us a visit." His attention drawn to the women on the other side of the room, he slapped Curley in the chest. "Let me know if any trouble starts."
"I've got Rick, Paco, and Frank watching the entrance. Despite the shit happening here, we're keeping it contained." Curley raised his brows and tilted his head. "For now."
A lone woman twirled in a circle, her arms outstretched. Dark curls floated behind her. A group of Tarkio members leaned against the wall, all eyes on the woman. Priest took another drink and licked his top lip. She stood out from the other women.
She wore a silky-looking sundress that flowed around her legs past her knees. One of the thin straps hung off her shoulder. Her perky breasts bounced freely under the material. Even in the dim light coming from over the pool table, he could make out her nipples, tenting the white material.
Without taking his gaze off the woman, he said, "Who brought in the chick who's dancing?"
"She came in alone." Curley widened his stance. "Roddy's keeping an eye on her."
He scanned the room, finding Roddy straddling a chair backward in the corner, a beer bottle hanging from his left hand. Priest snagged a woman passing him by her wrist and brought her to the front of him.
Staring at her face, he recognized her as someone who'd seen the inside of the bedrooms at the clubhouse before. He squeezed her breast through her tube top and took another swig.
He couldn't remember the woman's name, but he wasn't looking to make friends. "Stick by my side."
The woman glanced behind her. If she came with one of the other bikers, she'd need to wait. He had a use for her at the moment.
Tied up in club business, he hadn't touched a woman for twenty-four hours, and he needed to work off some steam.
"Go enjoy yourself, Curley." Priest moved the woman to his side, looped his arm across her shoulders, and hung his hand on her chest to cup her tit.
His gaze went back to the dancing woman. She kept swaying and moving as if she floated in her own time, her own beat, even though Metallica blared over the stereo speakers in the corners of the room.
The woman at his side turned and slid her hand inside his vest. He grabbed her wrist and snapped his gaze to her. "I never asked you to touch me."
She pouted. "I can make you feel good."
"All you need to do is stand there and look pretty." He pulled her back to his side, already losing interest in the hardened nipple pinched between his thumb and index finger. "Go find someone else."
The woman pouted and left his side.
Across the room, the lone woman stopped dancing and weaved through the crowd. Priest set the bottle of whiskey on a nearby table and parted the crowd, following her.
Roddy caught him at the door. "What's up, Prez?"
"You're done watching the new woman." He hitched his chin toward his shoulder. "That girl...damn, I still can't remember her name. The one with the fluorescent pink tube top. She's looking for company."
Roddy slapped Priest on the back. "Been there. Done that. I'll send a prospect toward her."
Going out the door, he scanned the newly asphalted parking lot and found the woman at the corner of the building. There was no one else around. Everyone was inside, enjoying themselves.
For the last several months, he made sure nobody hung around in front of the clubhouse because the cops had taken to patrolling the area heavier than normal.
It wouldn't do to have one of the officers grow curious about the activities that went on within Tarkio. As president, he had too much at stake to let down his guard.
He strolled in the shadow of the building. The scent of skunk hung lightly in the air, but it wafted out from inside the building and not from the woman. She swayed side to side, holding the sides of her dress out, still dancing from the beat of the music wafting outside.
Women who hung around the club when there was an open party never came alone. That made her different.
And a threat to Tarkio Motorcycle Club.
Her body turned, and her eyes smiled, beckoning him. "Dance with me."
He leaned against the building, at least ten feet from her. "I don't dance."
She twirled, hiding her face. But the seductive power of her dark, brown eyes stayed with him.
While every other woman in the clubhouse decked themselves out in black, the woman in front of him wore white. Yet, everything else about her was dark. Her eyes. Her long curly hair.
She was mysterious and sexy. Most of all, independent—unafraid to be outside by herself, entertaining herself. He liked that.
Women who threw themselves at him were only good for an hours' worth of time. They were all the same, only had different bodies. Each one of them seeking a biker to pay them the slightest attention to feel better about themselves.
"What's your name?" He pulled the pack of cigarettes from his pocket.
The music inside stopped. Turning around to face him, she shoved her fingers into her hair and lifted the mass of curls off her back.
"What's yours?" She walked closer, stopping just out of reach.
He took a drag off his smoke. "Priest."
She hummed and tilted her head. "Bless me, Father, for I have sinned."
"What have you done, girl, with no name?"
"Hm." Her sultry gaze warmed in amusement. "I'm afraid even you couldn't wash my body clean."
His gaze traveled lower to the hips that swayed, even when her feet had stopped moving. He'd like to try to wash her body clean of her sins. It'd been a long time since a woman interested him beyond having a pussy to sink his dick in to get a little relief.
"President, huh?" She laughed softly, gazing at his vest. "I learned what a priest was from watching television, but I don't think I know what the president of a motorcycle club does."
He lifted her chin and looked at her. Not many people walked through the doors of the clubhouse without knowing who he was.
"You know my name." He lifted his cigarette to his mouth, inhaled deeply, and blew the smoke out. "You know who I am, and yet, I still don't know your name."
"You can call me anything you want." She caught her lower lip between her teeth. "What names do you like?"
"Whatever your name is would be the one that interests me tonight."
She laughed softly. "It almost sounds like you're flirting with me."
"I don't have time to chase what I want." He tossed the cigarette and slid his hand into his front pocket. His fingers curled around the silver dollar he'd carried on him since he was sixteen years old.
"You must be unhappy." Her breasts rose. "Always settling for what's easy and unimportant."
She looked behind her. Her comeback hit a little close to the truth. He took any woman in the clubhouse who he knew would please him. To chase or fight for what he could readily take distracted him from the business at hand.
He'd given up long ago on his dreams; he couldn't even fucking remember them.
The front door of the clubhouse opened. He looked in the other direction, catching Rick going inside.
"Why did you come here tonight?" He looked back at the woman. "To dance? The clubhouse isn't exactly a place known for their music or their dancing. Most of what's here comes from a boombox and a couple of hundred drunken men."
The woman gazed at the line of motorcycles parked to the right of the door. "I've learned if you follow bikers, you'll find a party. I had nothing to do tonight, and I wanted to be around others. There's no harm in that, is there?"
She continually refused to give him a straight answer. Instead, in her own way, she questioned him. He recognized the tactic because it was one he used on other people. It was the only way he could find out what the members of Tarkio were thinking and let them have pride over the decisions they came to as a club. He could manipulate which way he wanted them to vote by letting them believe they'd decided on their own.
"I suppose not," he murmured.
He'd already spent more time talking to her than he usually took to get a woman underneath him. Studying her, he looked for any sign that she would be a willing sex partner. That she was open to doing whatever he wanted, and beg for more.
He enjoyed an adventurous woman who was game to entertain him.
Her eyes widened and then seductively narrowed before she stepped in front of him. Close enough, he could touch her. But he hesitated when he'd usually act.
He was curious to find out what she'd do next.
She placed her hands on his stomach and looked into his eyes. Lifting her brow, she dared him to stop her.
Hell, he wasn't going to do a damn thing.
She moved up to his chest, rubbing the front of him. "There's a lot of you underneath your clothes."
His cock twitched to life. He refused to move a muscle. Either she was ridiculously stupid for putting her hands on the president of Tarkio and ultimately taking a risk on losing her life, or the bravest woman he'd come face to face with in a long fucking time.
"Hm." She trailed her fingers along his shoulders underneath his leather vest. "I wonder why a big man always makes me feel safe?"
She reached his beard and looked at him. "May I?"
He grunted. At the moment, she could do whatever she wanted to him.
She gathered his whiskers together and tilted her head, then separated the beard, spreading it out again. Her tongue wet her bottom lip.
His ball sac constricted. He held still, surprised his body took notice when all she was doing was touching him. He found it hard to breathe through the tightening of his chest. His reaction fascinated him as much as her exploration. It usually took much more than a woman standing in front of him, playing with his beard, to get him hard.
She inhaled deeply and sighed, leaning forward and nuzzling his beard. The top of her head barely reached his chin. She was tall for a woman, considering he was six feet four inches.
Her hands lowered, and she palmed his stomach, leaning back to look at him. "Thank you."
"Don't stop," he mumbled.
She straightened, putting space between their bodies, and stepped back. Until then, he hadn't noticed the car, idling by the curb.
The woman smiled, held the side of her sundress up to her hip, and ran toward the vehicle. He stared after her.
She opened the car door, slid into the seat and tossed her hair, looking straight at him. The black Cadillac roared down the street, leaving him wondering if she had even stopped at the clubhouse tonight.
If she'd touched him.
If she'd controlled the whole damn night.
The front door opened. Curley and Rick walked out. Priest ran his hand over his beard, distracted from the last fifteen minutes.
"We're going to ride around the block and do a check-in." Curley looked out at the street, then back at Priest. "Problem?"
"All's good." He pushed away from the wall of the building. "It's been a hell of a night."
He walked inside the clubhouse. Grabbing Theresa, one of the women who were always willing to spend time with him, he led her to one of the vacant bedrooms and told her to strip.
Unbuckling his belt, he undid his jeans and took out his cock. "On your knees."
Theresa slipped out of her shorts and stepped over to him naked. He wound his hand in her hair the moment she kneeled and brought her head forward. Everything about her was wrong. She had blonde hair and not dark curls. She was too short, and even with no clothes on, her breasts lacked the carefree, wild appearance he sought.
Wet warmth surrounded the head of his cock. He closed his eyes, trying to recapture the way the woman outside had made him feel.
It wasn't the same.
The connection was missing.
The temptation was gone.
He pulled Theresa off his dick. "Get out.
"But—"
"Out." He tucked himself back in his jeans. "Now."
Theresa grabbed her clothes, not even taking time to get dressed, and slipped out of the room naked. Alone, he buckled his belt. He needed to pull in everyone and find out who the woman was that had come to the clubhouse, danced, and ran away into the night.
He wasn't going to let her walk away, believing she controlled the way he'd reacted to her. He'd have her on her knees in front of him, sucking his dick, within twenty-four hours.
Chapter 2
Nicole
CAROL STOOD FROM THE chair, using her hands to brush off the front of her shirt. Nicole swept the pile of hair on the floor into the dustpan.
"I also need some of that mousse you used on my hair." Carol lifted the edge of her new above-the-shoulder haircut. "I can never get the volume you give me once I get home."
"I have just what you need." Nicole set the broom against the wall and walked Carol out to the counter.
Picking up a bottle, she set the mousse in front of her client. Ringing the total up on the cash register, she took the cash, the tip, and put the mousse in a sack. "There you go."
"Thank you." Carol's smile grew. "I can't wait to get home and show my boyfriend my new look."
"Trust me. He'll love it." She waved until Carol stepped out of the small boutique.
Not having worked a full day in a week, Nicole inhaled deeply, then walked into the back of the small boutique to clean her work station. She couldn't wait to get back to the motel room and off her feet.
The bell on the front door jingled, and Kristi, the owner of Sally's Style Barn, walked in carrying a sack. "Oh, good. You're still here. I thought I was running late."
She glanced at the clock. "Right on time. I just finished my last appointment for the day."
"Girl, I don't know how you got Carol in and out so fast. The last time I gave her a perm, it took over an hour, just to roll her hair."
"I chopped it off." She laughed. "Ten inches...gone."
Kristi gawked. "She liked it?"
"Loved it." She straightened the chair. "I'm going to take off. I rearranged my schedule when I had breaks today. I'll be coming in at nine o'clock and leaving at six o'clock next week. One of my clients wants her tips frosted and can't come in until she gets off work."
