Exquisite Karma (Iron Horse MC Book 4)
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Authors: Ann Mayburn
Exquisite Karma
An Iron Horse MC Novel
#4
By
Ann Mayburn
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Exquisite Karma
Copyrigh
t
2016 by Ann Mayburn
Published by Honey Mountain Publishing
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work, in whole or in part, in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other mens now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.
**DISCLAIMER: Please do not try any new sexual practice, BDSM or otherwise, without the guidance of an experienced practitioner. Ann Mayburn will not be responsible for any loss, harm, injury or death resulting from use of the information contained in this book.**
***You MUST read
Exquisite Redemption
before
Exquisite Karma
or you will be lost***
Dear Beloved Reader,
Due to the nature of the timeline of the first four books of the Iron Horse MC series, there is some overlap between Sarah and Swan’s stories. I tried to keep those scenes to a minimum, but there were some that had to be shown so you could understand what Sarah was thinking during the time, as opposed to how Swan sees the world around her. As I’m sure you’re well aware, we all look through the world through our own little personal lenses that distort what we see. So while there are a couple places where the dialog is identical, the thoughts and situations are not.
I hope you enjoy this next edition of the Iron Horse MC and as always, thank you for giving me the chance to entertain you.
Ann
PS- If you haven’t read Smoke and Swan’s story yet, Exquisite Trouble and Exquisite Danger STOP NOW and go back and read them first. If you skip their stories you’ll still be able to understand Exquisite Redemption and Exquisite Karma, but you’ll be missing a ton of the details and won’t get the full story.
―
Leonardo da Vinci
Sarah
On the Outskirts of Austin, Texas
Laughing women bustled around me in the giant communal kitchen of the Iron Horse MC clubhouse, and I let out a contented sigh. They moved around me with quick, efficient moves and managed to avoid each other, sometimes narrowly. I grinned as I thought about how close Sweet Taya, one of the old ladies I played poker with, had come to wearing a giant, buttercream frosting covered four tier cake. Only quick thinking by two nearby women managed to save the day, and the cake. We were getting the big Sunday picnic ready and we’d made enough food to feed three high school football teams going through a growth spurt. The air was heavy with the scents of cinnamon, sunblock, barbeque, fruit, and beer-an odd combination that worked none the less. If summer had a smell, this was it.
Every month, on the third Sunday afternoon, Beach had a huge bash for the brothers and their families during the day, then at night the kids and some of the old ladies left while the sweet butts rolled in, ready to party it up with the men of Iron Horse. But right now the vast yards surrounding the clubhouse were filled with hungry kids instead of hussies, and the air was rang with happy laughter as we cooked up a storm. There were towering platters of made-from-scratch golden fried chicken, heaping mounds of creamy potato salad, and more cakes, cookies, and mouthwatering pies than you’d find in most bakeries. That wasn’t even counting the hogs that were roasting out back, along with a couple huge slabs of brisket in the smoker and a ton of ribs. There were even three big pots of made from scratch barbeque sauce bubbling on the stove, each destined to slather a different kind of meat.
Mouse had made one batch, Birdie another, and a twelve-year-old girl. The last one, Jennifer-Sweet Taya’s daughter, had a knack for cooking that I found admirable. I’d been able to cook at her age as well, but it was out of necessity…which is probably why I order out now a lot. Anyways, Jennifer rocked in the kitchen because she was a cooking genius, and she had an adoring mother and grandmother that taught her everything they knew. So while Birdie and Mouse argued over whose concoction was better and why, my vote was on Jennifer having the best barbeque sauce at the end of the night. There was even an award for the best dish, and I bet Jennifer was working with her dad on making his ribs the winner. Yep, the men were so serious about their food they gave awards for it.
Basically the clubhouse was currently a carnivore’s paradise, and it never occurred to the guys that not everyone liked to eat meat. I’d brought a vegetarian pasta salad and eggplant casserole, knowing Leah, the wife of one of the Prospects, would have slim pickings if I didn’t bring something without meat in it. Because she was both naturally shy and scared of messing up her husband’s chances of getting into Iron Horse, she would have rather starved than create any kind of fuss.
Fortunately for her, part of my job as the president’s old lady was to make sure my girls were happy, so I paid attention and looked out for them. Taking care of others, making their lives better, fed my soul in a way I’d never experienced, and I couldn’t help but surrender to a warm glow of satisfaction as I looked around the room at the organized chaos. I knew most of these women, had begun to build a history with them, and for the first time in my life I had the pleasure of really feeling like I was putting down roots.
Even at my house in Las Vegas I’d felt like I was just visiting, which is why it’s been empty while my old assistant and one of my best friends, Marley her toddler Scottie, watched over my place from the guest house. The main house, where I used to live, wasn’t always vacant. We frequently lent it out to close friends a lot, but it was no longer my home. I’d had all the furniture and personal possessions that I wanted to keep either put into storage, shipped to Austin, or locked away in my master bedroom that I kept secured from the rest of the house. Beach and I liked to steal away to Las Vegas when we could for a day or two of fun, and I didn’t like the idea of anyone sleeping in my bed but me and my man.
A little thrill of happiness stole through me as I thought about the dangerous badass who had dragged me into this crazy, risky, amazing world. Carlos “Beach” Rodriguez, a golden-haired sexy as sin, man a good fifteen years older than me with a light Mexican accent to his English that drove me crazy. He’d dirty talk to me in Spanish every once in a while and it never failed to make my toes curl. And he was
amazing
in bed. Gifted even.
“Sarah,” a sweet voice said from behind me, startling me from my pervy thoughts.
I turned to find an attractive brunette woman in her early forties who I was familiar with, but couldn’t place at first. “Hi.”
Giggling, a light blush reddened her cheeks as she looked at me through her long lashes and said, “It’s me, Bonnie, Turtle’s old lady.”
Gaping at her, I shoved the bag of chips I’d been opening into the arms of a passing woman and squealed. “Shut the front door! You look fantastic! Woman, I had no idea you were such a fucking babe. I bet Turtle can’t keep his hands off your tight little ass. I didn’t even know you had a booty like that in those old jeans you used to wear. Damn, well done you!”
Everyone in the kitchen turned at my loud chatter and when they saw who it was, all the ladies started showering Bonnie with compliments at her new look. She’d gotten a really cute haircut that flattered her oval face, and had highlights that had been professionally and perfectly done. A little bit of sparkly pink eyeshadow brought out her deep blue eyes, and her lips were slightly shiny with a pale pink gloss.
Her old man, Turtle, had been in prison for six years, during which time Bonnie had given up on looking good. Right before he got out last week, I’d taken Bonnie on a shopping spree and hooked her up with clothes and cosmetics. I’d also given her the card to my stylist and it looked like she’d used him.
No wonder Turtle had such a big smile on his face all the time.
There was a glow about her that only came from good sex, and I gave her a quick hug and whispered in her ear, “You look so happy.”
“I
am
so happy,” she whispered back.
When I leaned back to comment on how cute her earrings were, a woman said in a snide voice, “Too bad she didn’t get some plastic surgery to fix those tiny tits. Turtle probably needs a magnifying glass to find ’em.”
I don’t think Bonnie heard it, she was too busy being admired by the other women, but I did, and my gaze zeroed in on an old lady I wasn’t familiar with.
Her long red hair was back in a braid and her low-cut teal tank top displayed so much cleavage I was tempted to throw pennies in it. Her coppery skin spoke of a good deal of time spent outdoors, and she had deep lines around her mouth and lips that indicated a lifetime of smoking. She’d lived a hard life and it showed. When she noticed me glaring at her, she raised one coppery brow and gave me a total “what the fuck are you gonna do about it, bitch?” look.
Oh, I knew exactly what I was gonna do about it.
See, this was the nice thing about living in an outlaw MC world, I didn’t have to abide by the social rules most people did. In polite society, I would have clutched my pearls and stammered out a “Well, I never”. In the world of the Iron Horse MC, I could beat the bitch out of her.
Strolling over, I gave the arrogant woman a hard look and motioned to her. “Follow me.”
“You got something to say to me, bitch, you can say it right here.”
The mood in the kitchen plummeted and I could feel my girls watching us with morbid fascination.
During my time as Beach’s official old lady, I’d developed a bit of a reputation among the women of the Iron Horse MC as someone you didn’t want to fuck with. It might have something to do with me beating the hell out of not only a couple bitches, but also a couple guys. Or it might have something to do with the fact that I didn’t put up with shit from anybody, and Beach liked it that way. He gave me free rein to dispense justice as I saw fit because he trusted me to do the right thing, and so far I hadn’t let him down. If I saw a problem, I took care of it. My take charge attitude pissed off some of the brothers, but I could give a flying fart that their delicate macho pride got hurt by me handling shit “like a man”.
If I had to bash some skulls to take care of a situation instead of waiting for them to rescue me and hoping they got there in time, I was going to bash some damn skulls.
Morons.
That didn’t mean I went around randomly beating people up. I always tried diplomacy first, but some people were just begging for an attitude adjustment and didn’t respect anything except violence. I didn’t know where this redhead came from, but she obviously thought she was top dog around here. The MC had an odd and ever-evolving social structure, and she was about to find out now that this was
my
territory, and I didn’t take anyone’s shit.
“I don’t know who you are or where you’re from,” I said in a low voice, “but around here, we build each other up, not tear each other down. We’re sisters, not strangers, and we treat each other with respect.”
For a moment she seemed puzzled, then the arrogance came back into her expression and she narrowed her eyes at me, the scent of alcohol coming off her breath as the woman standing next to her smirked at me. “Awww, isn’t that cute. You all sit around and eat each other’s pussies then tell each other how pretty you are?”
Instead of rising to the bait, I pointed at the double doors at the back of the kitchen that led to large yard of the clubhouse, where most of the men were. “You have thirty seconds to take your negativity out of my kitchen or we’re gonna have problems.”
“Fuck you,” the redhead sneered and touched her vest. “I’m Score’s old lady.”
I stared blankly at her. “And?”
“He’s the VP of the Billings Chapter of Iron Horse. You’re nothin’ but public pussy, a little house mouse here to clean up my shit. One word from me and you’re gone, so I suggest you shut your fuckin’ mouth before I do it for you.”
I burst out laughing as she took a step closer to me. “House mouse? Sweet butt? Seriously? Bitch, please tell me you’re joking.”
She raked her eyes over me, going from my super cute and trendy bob that brushed my shoulders, to my pink tank top with “Support Your Local Iron Horse MC” on it, down to my jeans and kick-ass pink-and-black Dior sandals then back up. “Don’t see no patch on your back.”
It only took me a second to realize she was right, I wasn’t wearing my property patch, and I inwardly groaned when I realized Beach was going to be pissed. One of his main rules, one that he was inflexible on, was that if I was at the clubhouse, I wore his property patch on my back. I’d had it on earlier, but had taken it off during the lunch prep because I didn’t want to get it dirty.
Before I could look around for it, Scarlet was at my side in her cute cherry print summer dress, my vest in her hands and her gaze hard as she stared down the redhead. “Take a walk, Lisa.”
“Fuck you, Scarlet.” One of the women standing with Lisa tried to tug on her arm, but the redhead shook her off. “This isn’t any of your business.”
“Actually,” Scarlet cocked her hip then held her free hand out in my direction, “it
is
my business when you fuck with my Prez’s woman. Meet Sarah Star, Beach’s old lady. You know, the person he’d kill anyone for insulting?”
As I slid the vest on, Lisa’s face began to pale, then red suffused her cheeks as she sucked in a harsh breath. “Shit.”
“Yeah,” I said in a sweet voice, “shit. I suggest you move your ass out of my kitchen,
now
.”
Oh, that pissed her off, and for a second I thought she might throw a punch at me, but she looked away and muttered, “Fine.”
I stared at her back as she walked away, memorizing her patch so I could keep an eye on her in the future.
Most of me was glad I didn’t have to kick her ass with kids around, but the bloodthirsty killer that lived deep inside me would have enjoyed a good fight.
“Sarah?” came Marley’s familiar voice from behind me, snapping me out of my dark thoughts. “When do you think we should start feeding the kids?”
I turned, giving my friend a bright smile as Scarlet returned to spooning out a huge pot of mashed potatoes into giant plastic bowls. “Ask Loretta, she’s in charge of the food for the rug rats. I think she’s out front at the grills with Hustler and Venom.”
