MC Chronicles: The Diary of Bink Cummings Vols 1-5 Complete Series Set Read online

  Big: I’m not fuckin’ tellin’ you again. I’ll kill this dog just to spite your mouthy good for nothin’ ass.

  Big: Bye-bye, Fido. Dumpin’ his dead ass in the river now. You did this shit to yourself.

  Tears… Big hot tears well in my eyes, coating the world in watery bleariness.

  Big: I’ve got his collar if you want it. If not, I’ll burn it.

  The tears fall, streaming rapidly down my cheeks. He killed my dog! He killed Pretzel, and it’s all my fault!

  Manny slides a tissue box in front of me, and I solemnly grin my appreciation.

  “It’s on the house.” Another fill to my shot glass, I down it, and he refills. Then another goes down the hatchet.

  Me: I don’t want his collar. I don’t want to see you. I’m not comin’ round the club no more. I’m out. Peace.

  I sit, staring into the empty shot glass, running my finger slowly around the rim, drowning in my own sorrows, crying like the bitch I am.

  Big: Where you at?

  Why does it matter? I turn off my phone, and I lay my head on the bar. The cool varnished wood helps numb the pain that has curled itself into my soul and locked itself there. My. Life. Sucks!

  2

  Tuesday, September 3, 2013

  “Morning, sleepyhead.” A warm hand nudges my arm that’s tucked under a pillow above my head. “Morning.”

  Grumbling, I roll onto my back while my head pounds like a million vehement drums.

  Fu-uh-uh-ckkk!

  “Bink.”

  Whose voice is that? Where the fuck am I? Oh shit… I passed out at the bar… Which means? Shit…Shit… Double Shit… Where am I?

  “Bink.”

  I recognize that voice.

  “Bink.” My arm is nudged once more.

  “Uh?” My caveman-like response isn’t lost on me, but I feel like crap. This man’s lucky to get any damn sound from me. I’d much rather slip back into a deep, sleepy coma than have to live through this throbbing pain that’s eating my brain for breakfast.

  A pleasant, masculine laugh fills the air, and my brain seizes, hating me, noise, light, and everything about being alive. I hate hangovers!

  I clasp my hands over my ears for relief and weakly groan, turning my face over into some sort of overly soft feather pillow.

  “It’s me, Doctor Jagger. You need to take some medicine for that nasty hangover you’ve got.”

  “I don’t wanna move,” I whine into the pillow, face down, with nothing but the pain and misery of reliving yesterday to keep me company.

  He chuckles. It’s one of those deep chuckles that instantly warms your insides and even with my hands over my ears, I can feel it thaw a sliver of my ice-cold sadness.

  “You’re not going in to work today. I called in, too. Now turn over and take these.”

  I comply, keeping my eyes closed in fear of any light cracking this splitting headache into fourths.

  “Open.”

  I listen and part my lips. Two pills are dropped inside, followed by the rigid tip of a straw. I suck some ice water into my cottony mouth and swallow the contents down.

  “How did you find me?” I ask in barely above a whisper, curling my fingers into the blanket and holding it secure at my neckline.

  “My phone number is in your purse. The barkeep Manny called.”

  “I’m not a drunk,” I strangely blurt, spewing word vomit.

  “I never said you were.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “You having to pick up your employee of two weeks and bring her back to wherever this is and take care of me.”

  Another one of those warming chuckles pleasantly fills the air. “I’ll let you in on a little secret,” he whispers as I feel his body leaning closer to mine. I inhale sharply and instantly smell the delicious scent of his spicy, almost woodsy, cologne.

  “You smell good,” I mutter under my breath, knowing that he’s close, too close to me. It feels awkward.

  Hot, spearmint-scented breath from his even hotter mouth sensuously brushes across the skin on my cheek. “Thank you, Bink.” He breathes huskily, “And I became a doctor to care for people. It’s one of the many flaws that I have.”

  A flaw that he likes to care for people? How ridiculous is that?

  “Caring is not a flaw.”

  The bed moves abruptly as I feel him scoot away. “It is when you have nothing in life but your job. No wife, no kids, parents dead, and the only people you have are your two best friends.”

  That doesn’t sound so bad.

  “Listen… I’ve got family, too much of it…but no one else either…really.”

  “I wanted to tell you I turned on your phone this morning when I brought you back to my house. I didn’t read anything, but you have a lot of messages,” he says, blatantly ignoring my comment. Two can play at that game.

  “If I don’t have to go to work, can I sleep?”

  First, I don’t give two shits about my messages, and second, I’m surely not talking about them or the fact that my father’s a part of a motorcycle club and his president just killed my dog. Crazy, that sounds straight-up, looney bin, white padded walls, nutso.

  “Sure.” His quick unhappy response floods me with dread. I’m probably going to lose my job after this. Not that I blame him. I would fire me, too. See, another reason why my life is a continual rotation of bad choices and fucked up circumstances. I’m not a victim in any sense of the word, but I really would love to catch a break, just once in a while.

  The door to the room comes to a close as I hear the doctor exit.

  Do you want the 4-1-1 to my life from a hungover emotional mess? Who’s sleeping in her boss’s bed, that’s soft, smells like laundry detergent, and man? I’ll give it to ya dirty. No holds barred. It’s not like I’ve got shit to do today, except lie here, attempting to nip this hellacious hangover in the butt before I get the urge to puke my guts out. I’m about a quarter of the way there.

  So here goes…

  Four boyfriends, four stinkin’ boyfriends that I dated semi-seriously in my 20’s all cheated. I don’t do cheaters, and that is why I’ve never argued with my father’s rule of no brothers. Brothers of the club are notorious for stickin’ their dicks in anything as long as it’s warm, female, and of age. And the latter I’m not even sure matters to some of the sleazier men. Out of those four quasi-relationships, the longest lasted nearly a year. He was two years older than me, a wannabe biker bad boy with a drinking problem and shit stamina in the bedroom. But his tongue fucked like a champ, though. That boy could eat some pussy. All night, if I wanted him to. Probably the only redeeming quality he had. Shoulda known he was a chump when I took him shootin’ with me for the first time.

  Jason…that was his name. But I called him Jay.

  Nearly a year ago, Jay and I were headed to the gun range on the outskirts of town. I had just gotten off work at the law firm I was working for part-time when he picked me up on his Honda. That should have been a clear indication he was a tool. Honda? Seriously? Anyhow, I rode bitch with him to the range, a place I try to hit up once a month if I’m able to keep my skills sharp.

  We had parked in the gravel lot and went inside where I shot the shit with Blimp, one of the brothers from the club. He owns the place. I introduced Jay, which by the look on Blimp’s face he wasn’t impressed. Not that any of the brothers would’ve been with anyone I’ve ever dated. To say they are overprotective of me is putting it lightly, feather lightly.

  “Here.” I handed Blimp my standard issue 9mm with a custom pink handle that has my name engraved on it. It had been a birthday present from Gunz and Big Dick when I turned eighteen. I keep it in my purse, loaded at all times.

  “That’s yours?” Jay asked, wide-eyed, looking paler than usual. We’d been dating a while, and the fact that he had no clue I carried a gun was pretty stupid on his part.

  “Yeah.” I almost rolled my eyes at the question, considering my name was on th
e damn handle. However, I refrained out of courtesy, so he could save face in front of Blimp. I knew as soon as we went outside to shoot, Blimp would be calling my daddy and Big with an update. Never ceases to amaze me how much they all know about my life. But when you’re the daughter of the VP, and a friendly face of the club, you are always protected, always kept after, always loved, and if that doesn’t make you feel special, I don’t know what will. I had to learn to accept it long ago that the majority of my business is the club’s business. Took me many years to let that little fact sink in. Many years of arguments and fights about shit I never even told Big Dick or Daddy about that was thrown in my face for not following some invisible rules set by them for me to adhere to. But that’s a story for another time.

  Blimp cleaned my 9 for me and loaned a standard issued one to Jay. I hadn’t ever discussed with Jay his experience with a gun. Every man in my life carries one daily and knows how to wield it like an expert marksman. Never considered the alternative. It just doesn’t fit into my world. Some things are a given. The ability to fight, shoot a gun, ride a motorcycle, drink like a fish…those are just a few qualities a Sacred Sinners brother needs to possess.

  Walking out the back of the brick single-story building, our targets were pinned to stacks of hay bales in the distance. I always use the outside range versus the inside, just seems more natural. The bright blue sky was shining down on us, on that perfect sixty-degree day.

  Standing in the grass next to Jay, I checked my clip, held my stance, raising my arm like my daddy, Gunz, and Big taught me to, and I unloaded the first shot. It hit the target a little low and to the left. So I readjusted my aim, based on the wind, temperature, and all that happy horseshit. Another bullet discharged from my 9 and landed just how I knew it would, straight in the heart of my paper man target. I heard Jay gasp, as a cocky smile curled up from my lips and like always, I was burning hot and ready to fuck. Firing a gun will do that to you. After I had emptied my clip, I turned to Jay, who stared in open-mouthed awe at my target. Two bullets I released were the only ones that didn’t hit my desired destination.

  Next was Jay’s turn, and when he lined up, aimed, and fired, I had to hold back everything within me not to laugh. One bullet, one singular bullet, hit his target out of the entire clip. The rest missed by a mile. Even with my coaching, he couldn’t shoot. It was embarrassing for him and even more for me. To think I still dated that fool for another month, and only dumped him once Big and Gunz had photographic evidence of that dumbass tonguing some local floozy in one of the downtown dive bars. I didn’t have to break up with him myself. Thankfully, Gunz did it for me, bashing his face in is one of his specialties. Serves him right for thinkin’ he’d get away with it. Not in this town. This town, my town, it’s a biker town. Almost all the small businesses are somehow linked to S.S.M.C and those who aren’t, know better than to fuck with us. Even the local PD are chill. The brothers know all, see all, and formulate their own level of justice and have since the S.S.M.C opened its doors in 1942.

  Well, there’s a small Bink history lesson for ya. Now I think it’s time for me to catch a bit of shut-eye.

  A hefty knock at the bedroom door cuts through my dreamless sleep. I roll onto my back and finally open my eyes, feeling a hundred times better than I did before I crashed again. The knock sounds once more.

  Resting my hands behind my head, I grin as the white bedroom door creaks open. Doctor Jagger’s face is morose and apologetic as he pushes the door wide, the handle bumping against the wall.

  A deep, sexually charged growl, the same growl that I’ve heard millions of times in my life, slices through the air like a knife, breaking the pregnant silence.

  “What are you doing here?” I calmly ask, watching Big Dick standing next to my boss, who looks like a tiny ant compared to Big’s size.

  “You, tiny little bitch, weren’t answering my calls,” he snaps at me, taking a step forward and filling the entire door frame with his size, his head having to crouch slightly to avoid hitting the top.

  Doctor Jagger purposely clears his throat, and Big leers at him over his shoulder, squinting in disgust. The age lines around his eyes accentuate his maddening glare.

  “Listen, pretty doctor boy, this ain’t got nothin’ to do with you.”

  “I beg your pardon, Big…” Doctor Jagger speaks, trailing off with an obvious catch in his throat. I can’t see him because he’s hidden behind my large, overprotective asshole of a… Well… I dunno what he is…

  “Dick. My name’s Big Dick. Come on, Doc, you can say it.”

  What a sarcastic bastard! Why in the hell is he here and more importantly, how did the asshole find me?

  “Don’t call him that, Doctor. Ignore the crazy gorilla,” I explain.

  Another fucking growl erupts from Big, and his jaw locks as he gives me the death glare, his hands balled into tight white-knuckled fists at his sides. I’m pushing his buttons. Good!

  “Bink, don’t do this. Prez has been havin’ himself a beat-down-a-thon since last night. Don’t provoke him.” The familiar voice of Gunz interrupts from the other room. That’s gotta be how the asshole found me. Gunz is a tech whizz. Stupid me, I shoulda known.

  “Hi, Gunz.” I lean up on my elbows, the blanket falling away from my neck, and exposing me in my black lace bra.

  One second, Big’s trying his failing intimidation tact of his eyes boring into mine, and the next, he turns on his heels and lunges like a protective bear straight at my boss.

  “No!” I scream, frantically jumping out of bed, knowing damn well he will kill him without a second thought. “No!”

  Rounding the corner outside of the bedroom in nothing but my matching black bra and panties, Big has my boss pinned against the wall, the barrel of his black handgun pressed under Doctor Jagger’s chin. My poor boss’s hands are trapped at his sides as his body shakes. But he doesn’t say a word, as his lungs pump air rapidly in and out of his nose in short bursts. I can feel the anxiety and fear pouring off him, clouding the air and mixing with the fury that Big is emanating. It creates a toxic imbalance that I could almost choke on.

  “You think I don’t know why you hired, Bink? You don’t think I don’t know your play? I know everything, motherfucker!” Big Dick booms as Gunz casually leans his shoulder against the hallway wall, ankles crossed, picking his nails like he’s got all day.

  “You’re not going to do anything?” I frown at Gunz, urgently pointing my finger toward Big.

  “Naw.” Gunz lazily shakes his head and resumes picking his nails, unclipping the knife from his hip and using its tip to dislodge the grit and grease from under his nail beds.

  Fucker!

  Watching the biggest man I know towering murderously over my boss, I take in a deep breath and try to approach the scary man in the softest way possible. Although on the inside, I am itching to lay into him, and grab him by those giant balls of his and twist until he falls to his knees in agony and apologizes profusely for being such a jerk. One could only hope.

  “Big.” I take a short step.

  “Big.” I take another step, inching closer. Doctor Jagger is watching me from the corner of his eye. Big Dick is twitchy as his rock solid body stands firm, but the dark, deep, feral noises he’s emitting are coming out louder, stronger. His breathing shoots out in rapid surges, fueling that rage I know he’s battling with inside. You can’t grow up with a man like him your entire life and not know the telltale signs.

  “Big,” I sweetly mutter, reaching out and faintly touching his side with the tips of my fingers.

  A sharp inhale is his only response, as the chest bellowing noises of the animal deep within tries to break free, transfixed on eliminating its target. This is why he’s the president of the club and has been since before I was born. It’s his devotion and intensity to his club, his members, or in this case the daughter of his VP, that makes him perfect for the job. Even if his tactics are a bit over the top, to say the least.

  “Big.”
I place my other hand on his thick side, smoothing it over his leather cut to his stomach. My tiny hand takes up little space on his abs, but I hold it there, feeling his rapid pulse pounding against my palm, the taut muscles of his faint eight-pack contract with each breath, as the heat of his flesh radiates through his t-shirt, soaking into me. One more step and I’m flush against him. My breasts brush his side, and I lean in, nuzzling my nose into his leather cut. Just like I’ve done since I was a child.

  “Big, put the gun down and let’s go. Don’t shoot him. It’s not worth it,” I whisper and feel his entire body respond this time, loosening up, and the feral noises dissipating. Somehow bringing the tension in the air from a rolling boil, down to a simmer.

  Lowering the gun to his other side, he turns his head and gazes down upon me, my body still wrapped against his. I smile up at him.

  “Hello there, big man.” I wink, and he flashes me that sexy dimpled half smile, half grin.

  “Close your eyes, Doc. If you look at her tits, I’ll shoot ya.” He speaks with little weight behind his threatening words, never taking his eyes off me.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see Doc comply by shutting his eyes tight, and Big shifts so I’m standing flush in front of him.

  “I’ll be outside,” Gunz states, walking down the hall, the heels of his shit-kickers scuffing my boss’s pristine floors.

  “Did he touch you?” Big tucks his gun into the back of his faded jeans and runs one of his knuckles gently down my cheek, ending at my chin, where he cups it and tilts my head up, so I am forced to look him directly into those penetrating ice-blue eyes of his.

  “Did he?”

  I carefully shake my head. “No, I passed out at the bar and woke up here.”

  “So your pussy’s been left…you know…fully intact?”

  I nearly laugh at how uncomfortable I can tell this is for him. My guess is my daddy told him he was to watch over me since he’s gone on this run. And I know for certain if anything happened to me, there would be one helluva fight between the two of them.