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His Road Dog
Author: Debra Kayn

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."

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