Authors: Jacqui Leigh Jones
Jacqui Leigh Jones
Copyright © 2016 by Jacqui Leigh Jones
All rights reserved.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without the express written consent from the author, except in the case of a reviewer, who may quote brief passages embodied in critical articles or in a review.
Cover Design by Tabby Coots
Interior Formatting/Design by Daryl Banner
Edited by Daryl Banner
Mick sat in the bail bondsman’s office tapping his fingers on the desk and watching the minutes tick by on the clock. A fuckin’ half hour. What was taking Tom so long? All he had to do was finish up a few minor details, he’d said. Mick was impatient to get back on the road and head home. The Vestal Police Department confirmed from the fingerprints that the fugitive he brought in two weeks ago was definitely “Slippery Frankie”. The paperwork was finalized and filed and he was waiting for his percentage check of ten grand.
Not bad for a few weeks’ work of tracking Frankie down,
he thought to himself. Frankie’s scheme of swindling elderly people out of their money was over.
Mick was a bail enforcement agent. He always got a kick out of that reference; bounty hunter was the name he preferred. He loved the thrill of the hunt, feeling the rush of adrenaline shooting through his body in the final moments of capture. Tracking down bail jumpers was a very profitable business and he was damn good at it. Plus, he needed all the money he could get. Mick wanted his own home someday with enough land so he could open up a motorcycle repair business. For now, he lived in the motel that his sister Jaz and her friend Lori owned.
Jaz wasn’t really his sister by blood, but they were as close as natural-born siblings could be, and that is how they thought of each other. It was Mick who tracked Jaz down when she took off on her own after being kicked out of college. And he watched over her when she was in deadly danger until JD and the Satan’s Prophets MC stepped in and handled the situation. Jaz was now JD’s old lady and Mick was glad to see her happily settled down.
His stomach growled, a reminder he hadn’t eaten since the few burgers he’d had for lunch yesterday. Damn! He wanted to get back on the road to Fulton, but he needed food and definitely a few drinks.
He spun around in his chair. “Any decent place around here to grab some grub?”
Tom looked up from writing out Mick’s check. “If you want good food, there’s a bar down the road a ways. The owner’s wife cooks up a mean steak. Head out of town for about half a mile and turn left at the intersection. Bar’s on the right, can’t miss it. The place looks like a small red barn. Don’t let the interior scare you,” he added with a chuckle. “It’s kind of outdated, but the food’s good.” Tom held up the rectangular piece of paper in the air. “All done.”
Mick grabbed his check. “Sounds great, I’m outta here.”
Mick made a quick stop to deposit his check at the local bank where he had a savings account, then hopped back on his Harley and headed down the road. The bar was easy enough to find. He parked his bike and walked inside. The interior was dimly lit and smelled of cigarette smoke mixed in with a hint of a musty odor. The bar’s surface looked grimy with cigarette burns and gouges marring its wood finish. The gray-haired woman tending bar squinted at him through bloodshot eyes and said her name was Miss Helen. “What’s your pleasure?” she asked with a wink.
Mick grimaced. “Gimme a draft of whatever beer you got on tap.” He watched as Miss Helen picked up a beer mug and used her finger to wipe a smudge off the inside of it before filling it up. Mick growled out, “Make it a bottle of Bud instead.”
There wasn’t much of a crowd this time of day, which suited him just fine. He walked over to a table near the corner of the room where the glow from the lights barely reached and sat down. Last thing he wanted was to draw anyone’s attention; he just wanted to eat, relax with a drink or two, and unwind. When the waitress came over, he figured he’d give the steak a try. He ordered a shot of liquor and another beer to wash it down with. It didn’t take too long before his meal came.
Tom was right: it was melt-in-your-mouth delicious.
Mick eased his long legs out, crossed his ankles, and sat back to finish his beer and think on how good life was. He had a great profession, plenty of money saved up, and he loved being in the brotherhood of the club. His life was carefree and wild, just the way he liked it.
A commotion near the bar caught his attention. He leaned forward to see what was going on. Looked like a bitch fight was starting. Two girls were yelling curses at a blonde, who slowly backed away from them. He thought she was trying to escape, so he was surprised when she picked up a beer bottle and smashed it on the bar. Waving the jagged bottle around, she dared the other girls to come and get her. The girls pounced. Mick didn’t like the odds, but didn’t want to get involved. Last thing he needed was to get his ass hauled off to jail.
It was when he noticed another girl with a small club in her hand coming up behind the bottle-wielding chick that he jumped up. He loved watching a good bitch fight, but didn’t like the odds of this one. When the chick with the beer bottle turned to defend herself from the club attack, the other two girls grabbed her arms and held them behind her. Mick got there just in time as the club wielder began to swing. He grabbed her wrist and squeezed until the club fell to the floor. He shoved her away and she dropped to her hands and knees. The blonde got free when her assailants, stunned by Mick’s interference, loosened their hold.
The blonde ran out the door with Mick following close behind. He watched as she jumped on a Sportster motorcycle and took off. Mick hopped on his bike, popped the clutch, and roared out after her.
That’s one tough chick,
he thought to himself, intrigued.
As he caught up alongside of her, she looked over at him and smiled. He nodded back. She kept on riding until she felt she was far enough away to stop. Mick pulled up next to her and cut his engine.
She got off her bike and ran her fingers through her long blonde hair. “You didn’t need to help me back there. I was holding my own.”
Mick snorted, still sitting on his Harley. “Yeah, well, didn’t look that way to me. Where ya headed?”
“Nowhere in particular. Just ridin’. Cruising around the countryside, looking for new adventures.”
She took a few seconds to study Mick and liked what she saw. He looked hot with his dark brown hair held off his face and a bandana wrapped around his head. He had a neatly trimmed beard and muscular build. Tattoos were peeking out from the sleeves of his black t-shirt.
“Like what you see?”
“Hell yeah,” she threw back at him, not ashamed.
“If you’re not heading anywhere in particular, how about cruisin’ along with me?” he asked with a devilish smile.
“Where ya from? And by the way, I’m Nikki.”
“Name’s Mick, darlin’, and I’m headin’ over to Fulton. In fact, I need to get back. My sister’s having a party later today and if I don’t show, she’ll have my ass. Come with me. We’ll get her party outta the way and then we’ll make our own party.”
Nikki gave him the once-over again, then waved her arm to the road. “Okay, Mick. I’m game. Lead the way.”
Mick liked this chick. She was hot-looking with her big tits and long blonde hair. The way her ass hugged that seat, he pictured it hugging his dick. That really excited him, and all he could think about was getting her in the sack.
* * *
They were the last guests to arrive at the party. Upon greeting him with a peck on his cheek, Jaz gave him a who-the-hell-is-that-bimbo look when she saw Nikki.
He just winked at Jaz and pulled Nikki along with him to join his bros. He noticed Renee was there also. He kinda liked that chick. She was Jaz’s friend who he hooked up with once. She’d made it very clear that she wasn’t into his MC lifestyle, so they ended their brief involvement before it got more serious.
After a few beers, Nikki loosened up and began rubbing her tits up against him, nibbling at his lips. Mick ran his hand over her tits and felt his dick harden. He couldn’t wait to get this party over with and take her back to the motel where he lived and screw her senseless.
Jaz asked Mick if he would get some refills of wine for the girls. It was when he walked down the steps towards the patio with a tray of wine-filled glasses that he’d heard the shocking words.
It seemed one of the girls was joking about Renee looking pregnant. He looked over at Renee’s pale, stricken face, then down to the noticeable bulge under her blouse, and stopped mid-stride.
SMASH! The tray fell out of his hands.
Fuck! She’s pregnant!
And in that moment, he knew who the father was: him. And so did everyone else who saw him stumble down on those last two steps.
It was some months ago when he was riding his bike near the outskirts of town that he spotted a blue patch of color in a dried-out field. It was Renee, and she was bent over on the ground. Thinking she was hurt, Mick stopped to help her. It turned out, she was just picking up blueberries that had spilled from her overturned straw basket. A torrential downpour soon began, so they sought shelter in an old abandoned shack. One thing led to another, and the next thing he knew, he was banging the crap out of her.
Mick walked over to Renee, grabbed her hand, and led her into the house for privacy. “You’re pregnant?”
When Renee started crying and shaking her head yes, Mick felt a heaviness settle in his chest. He squeezed his eyes shut and hoped against hope that it wasn’t his. “Is … Is it mine, Renee?”
“Yes,” she whispered softly.
Nikki walked into the room and caught the end of the conversation. She walked over to Mick, shook her head slowly, and sighed. “Nice meeting you Mick, but three is too much of a crowd for me. Congrats,” she offered to Renee. She put her fingers to her forehead in a salute. “Adios!”
Mick watched Nikki walk out the door. A few seconds later, he heard her bike start up and roar out of there.
Mick didn’t know what to do or say to Renee, but it turned out he didn’t have to worry about that. When he turned back to her, she was gone.
Mick walked out the door, hopped on his bike, then headed to the nearest bar he could find. He decided now was a good time to get shit-faced drunk.