Down & Dirty: Dex
Dirty Angels MC, Book 8
By USA Today Bestselling
Author Jeanne St. James
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Goodreads:
Blurb:
Welcome to Shadow Valley
where the Dirty Angels MC rules. Get ready to get Down & Dirty because this
is Dex’s story…
A stranger with a diary
that contains a thirty-year-old secret. One that could rip a brotherhood
apart...
DAMC born and bred, Dex was never like the rest of
his club brothers. Even though being a biker was his destiny, something was
always missing. He could never figure out what it was or why until one day a
woman walks into Shadow Valley Pawn. A sexy, badass woman who challenges him at
every turn.
When Brooke discovers the truth about her mother
after her death, she comes to Shadow Valley. However, a simple trip to find
answers twists into something she never expects. Not only that, but the
successful businesswoman crosses paths with a biker who tests the control she
loves so much both inside and outside of the bedroom.
Unexpectedly,
Brooke not only flips a switch inside Dex and shows him his true self, she
learns it’s okay to give up some of the independence she holds onto so tightly.
But
that’s not the only discoveries the two make. One secret shakes the club to their
core by exposing a member who’s been destroying them from the inside out.
Note: This book can be read
as a standalone. It includes lots of steamy scenes, biker slang, cursing, some
violence and, of course, an HEA. If you like alpha males who like to take
charge, this book is for you.
Excerpt:
Chapter One
Dex had a fucking half-chub. He
grimaced because he needed to adjust it, but if his sister caught him doing so,
she would give him shit. He glanced over his shoulder through the large picture
window into the pawn shop’s office where Ivy sat working in front of a computer.
Fucking
hell.
Then his neck twisted once again to
stare at the woman who was wandering around Shadow Valley Pawn pretending to
check out the items for sale.
She was faking it and he wanted to
know why.
It was possible she was just trying
to pass the time. Maybe she’d been sent here from that asshole rival MC, the Shadow
Warriors, to case the joint so they could wreak future havoc.
They hadn’t heard from those outlaw
nomads in a while, so it was about time for them to show their bastard faces.
But no matter why the woman was
here, Dex couldn’t ignore the fact that the woman was fucking dick-hardening sexy.
Smoking hot.
Tall. Leggy. And tits that made his
mouth water.
Fuck.
Now his half chub was a full-blown
hard-on.
Fuck
it. He reached down and yanked it to a more comfortable position.
Fuck Ivy. She could bitch all she
wanted.
If he was lucky, she hadn’t noticed.
Now that he wasn’t so uncomfortable,
he leaned back against the counter behind the glass display case and crossed
his arms over his chest as he continued to check the “customer” out.
Her hair was like a strawberry
blonde. He was pretty sure that’s what chicks called it. Not as red as his
sister Ivy’s and not as light blonde as Emma’s, Dawg’s ol’ lady. An in-between.
He could imagine the woman on her
knees in front of him, his dick in her mouth, his fingers wrapped tightly in
her hair and her head bobbing up and down.
Fuck
yeah.
His dick twitched, and his balls
pulled tight as he wondered if the carpet matched the drapes.
For fuck’s sake, he never wanted to
lick a carpet as badly than he did at that moment.
He needed to see the color of her
eyes. He wanted to imagine what they would look like when she tipped them up
toward him as he blew his load into her mouth.
He groaned. Then groaned again when
she ran her fingers over a marble sculpture that reminded him of some ancient
dildo.
Yeah,
that’s it.
When she circled the base of the
sculpture with her fingers, a soft whimper escaped him before he could stop it.
Fuck.
He was going commando today and his dick was making a mess in his jeans. He
shifted, then shifted again as the denim scraped the sensitive head.
He might have to go back into the
storage area, lock himself in a closet and relieve the load in his balls.
He checked over his shoulder once
more to make sure Ivy was doing whatever she did. Her head was down and she was
busy typing away on the keyboard.
His gaze shot back to the sex-on-a-stick who was now running her
thumb over the crown of the...
It was a fucking sculpture!
Why the fuck did Ace accept that
pawn? No one in their right mind would pay a grand for a marble thing that
looked too much like a dick.
Maybe this chick would since she
seemed fascinated by it.
He pushed off the counter, adjusted
himself one more time, and strode over to where she stood fondling the...
“Hey.” He winced as his voice
cracked. He cleared his throat and dropped his voice an octave. “Hey, you need any
help?”
Glancing up from running her finger
up and down the smooth veiny marble, she pinned him in place with...
He couldn’t tell what color her
eyes were. They were blue, but not a typical blue. Like a greyish blue, sky
blue, slate blue, whatever. He had no fucking clue since they seemed to keep
changing the longer he stared at her. Maybe it was because of the lack of blood
to his brain.
“What are they?” he asked as if in
a trance.
“What?” she asked softly.
“Your eyes. What color are they?”
She raised her brows and tilted her
head to study his face. “Do you ask all of your customers that?”
Just
the ones that make my dick hard. “Yeah, it’s a requirement.”
“Like a credit check?”
“Somethin’ like that.”
Her lips twitched, and she shrugged.
“They’re blue.”
Simple enough. Those blue eyes met his and he pictured
himself pumping his cum down her throat.
She jerked her head toward his now
throbbing dick. “Do you always sport wood when you talk to your customers,
too?”
Dex smiled, but kept his hand from
creeping down to touch what she was looking at. “Depends on who the customer
is.”
“You know that’s sexual harassment,
right?”
He frowned. “What is?”
“Undressing me with your eyes the
moment I walked through the door, staring at my tits, standing this close to me
with a hard-on.”
“Well, maybe you shouldn’t jerk off
a marble dick.”
Her gaze bounced to the sculpture,
and she removed her hand. “Is that what it is?”
“Dunno. Don’t care. Just know I’d
like to be in its place.”
She clicked her tongue. “I guess
you didn’t hear what I just said.”
“Nope.” He grinned. “Haven’t
touched you yet. When I do, you can warn me again about my bad behavior.”
“Or misbehavior.”
Dex shrugged. “Just wanna let you
know, I like what I see.”
“So, the marble sculpture turns you
on?” Her eyes crinkled at the corners.
“You touchin’ it did.”
“No filter, huh?”
“Whataya mean?”
“You just say,” she waved a hand
around, “whatever’s in your head.”
“Yep. Pretty much.”
She laughed and shook her head.
Damn, that laugh didn’t help the
little problem in his jeans. Fuck that,
his big problem.
“I guess you work here?”
“Yeah,” he grunted.
She jerked her chin at his cut. “Is
that a uniform all the employees wear?”
“Some of us.” At least Ace and Dex
wore the Dirty Angels MC colors. Ivy didn’t wear her ol’ man’s cut. And Ace had
a couple of part-timers who worked in the pawn shop, but they weren’t a part of
their club. “Ain’t a uniform. It’s a cut.”
“I know what it is,” she answered.
Dex pursed his lips and ran his
gaze over her from top to toe. Sexual harassment be damned. Did the Warriors
send her in?
Would those fuckwads even know a
woman who looked like her?
She wore jeans that hugged her
thighs and hips, brown high-heeled boots that went up to her knees, and a tight
long sleeved-top that... yeah,
emphasized her rack. A brown leather coat was tossed over her arm.
“Don’t look like a biker chick,” he
murmured.
“What does a biker chick look
like?”
Good fucking question.
The buzzer went off, indicating the
front door to the shop had opened, and Ace stepped inside. His uncle’s eyes immediately
landed on them and Ace shook his head.
As he passed, he gave Dex a pointed
look. Ace didn’t like Dex flirting with the customers. He’d warned him time and
time again not to turn into Pierce, the former DAMC president, who was a total
dick and liked to take advantage of women by...
Sexually harassing them.
Fuck.
He shuffled his feet, hoping Ace
didn’t spot his hard-on, and cleared his throat again. He was supposed to be
helping customers and making sales, not chasing them away.
“So... you wanna buy that...
thing?” He cocked an eyebrow toward the sculpture.
“For a thousand bucks? I could buy
a Rabbit cheaper.”
“What?”
“I said no.”
That wasn’t what she said. He had
no idea what a rabbit was, besides the kind that hopped. But maybe he should
find out.
Later. When he was alone.
“So if you don’t want it, what are
you here for? What are you lookin’ for?”
“My father.”
The guy was handsome... sort of. In
a bit of a rough biker way. But he wasn’t bad. He didn’t have a beer gut. Yet.
And he didn’t have a long beard. Yet. Unlike the older man that had just
entered and walked through the pawn shop in worn jeans, heavy biker boots and
wearing a similar cut as this one’s.
Brooke’s gaze went over to where
the man stood behind the counter. Could he be him? Her father?
“Who’s your father?”
Her attention was drawn back to the
man before her. Colorful tattoos spilled over his forearms, from where his
long-sleeved thermal shirt was pushed up past his elbows, down to his wrists.
He sported a small gold hoop in one ear and a couple fingers were encircled by
clunky brass-colored rings. A wide band of leather wrapped around his left wrist.
So typical of a biker. “Trying to figure that out.”
He had good teeth, though, and he
looked clean. Well, except for his leather vest. The patches were dirty. But
then it wasn’t like he could throw his cut into the washing machine. A white
rectangular patch over his right chest said “Secretary.”
“Why would you come here, though?
Gotta have a reason.”
Brooke moved behind the biker to
read the back of his cut. She reached out and brushed her fingers over the top
rocker of his colors. “Because of that.”
He twisted his head. “What?”
“What your patches say.”
He spun around to face her.
“Fuckin’ speak English.”
She shrugged. “Okay. Like I said,
I’m looking for my father.”
His dark brows furrowed. “And what
does that have to do with the DAMC?”
“I’m pretty sure he’s a member. Or
was. At least when I was conceived. Not sure if he still is.”
Brooke watched a look cross his
face. It held a mixture of disbelief and surprise. Her gaze dropped to his name
patch. Dex.
She wondered what that name meant.
Surely all bikers had a nickname. “Dex.”
“Yeah,” he grunted, then turned to
yell across the shop to the older biker behind the counter. “Ace, you got another
kid you don’t know about?”
The older biker’s eyes widened,
then narrowed as they landed on Brooke.
“What the fuck you talkin’ ‘bout?”
this “Ace” grumbled as he rounded the long glass display counter and headed in
their direction.
“A kid. As in, you knocked up a
bitch an’ didn’t know?”
Brooke sighed. She should take
offense at this Dex calling her mother a bitch. Hell, she should take offense
at the way he fucked her with his eyes.
Ace was pulling on his long salt
and pepper beard as he approached and eyeballed her up and down. Almost as if
he was trying to see if she looked familiar. She did look like her mother, at
least before the cancer turned her into nothing but a shell.
Ace’s voice was gruff and worn like
his cut. “How old are you?”
Some women would also take offense to
that question. But she was here for a specific reason, so it would be smart for
her to answer. “Thirty.”
Ace snorted and ran a hand over his
brow as if he was wiping off sweat. “Ain’t mine. Janice had me neutered after
Diesel came outta her like a wreckin’ ball.”
Brooke should feel relieved that
this biker wasn’t her father. But she wasn’t. Disappointment crept in before
she could knock it away. Because that meant she had to keep looking.
“Also, haven’t fucked anyone other
than Janice since Hawk was conceived on the back of my sled. Knew right then it
was true love.” He shot her a wide grin and then leaned closer like he was
about to tell her a secret. “Yeah. Tight pussy over a Harley. Nothin’ better
than that.”
Dex whacked Ace on the arm. “True,
brother. Maybe good head’s a close second.” His eyes landed on her lips.
Brooke tipped her head down to hide
the roll of her eyes. She needed to keep them on the topic at hand. “I’m sorry.
I just know he’s a biker and might own a business in Shadow Valley. I asked
around town, and there seems to be a few businesses owned by bikers, so I’m
stopping at them all. This just happened to be the first one on my list.”
“Well, the only bikers workin’ in
this shop are me an’ Dex here. An’ this boy might be a horny fucker but doubt
he knocked anyone up when he was two.”
Brooke fought the twitch of her
lips. “Are you two related?”
“Uncle. An’ club brothers,” Ace stated,
then tilted his head. “Sure your pop was an Angel?”
“Pretty sure.”
“How come you’re only lookin’ for
‘im now?”
“My mom passed away a couple months
ago, and when I was going through her things, I found out my father wasn’t
really my father. Or at least he wasn’t my biological father.”
Ace regarded her for a long moment.
“Got a name?”
Brooke shook her head. “Nope. Just
found some things hidden away in the attic. Some of it mentioned your MC and it
was dated about the time I was born.”
“You think she hung ‘round the club
thirty years ago?” Ace asked her.
Brooke shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m
not sure how involved she was with this biker. Might have been just a one-night
stand since she was married when she
got pregnant with me. Whatever happened, she never talked about it, never told
me the truth. I always just assumed my father was... my father. His name was
even on my birth certificate.”
Dex shifted next to her. “So why do
you think he ain’t your father?”
She regarded him for a moment. “Besides
the stuff that I uncovered? I found it curious that I never looked like him. I
never looked like my brother or sister, either. I just didn’t fit in.” Though,
she looked like her mother, she looked nothing like her father, while her
younger siblings did. Brooke had always wondered about that, but never got a
good answer. So she let it go. Until she began to wonder again as she cleaned
her mother’s house out, and came across a few things that made her question who
her real father was.
“D’ya ask your pop?” Ace asked her,
hands on his hips.
She shook her head. “No, he died from
a heart attack when I was a teenager.”
“Damn. Lost both your mom an’ pop.
Sorry to hear that,” Ace mumbled. “But still don’t get why you’d think your
biological father was an Angel. Just a few mementos, or whatever, don’t
indicate shit. Been a member of this club forever. Hell, I was born into it. My
pop was a foundin’ member. So I know everyone who’s come an’ gone an’ has worn
our colors. Had to be a brother who was ‘round my age or older. Unless...”
“Unless?”
Ace shrugged his broad shoulders. “Unless
it was a hang-around or prospect who didn’t pan out. Ain’t too many members left
from back then. Rocky an’ Doc’s in prison. As for the rest, quite a few of ‘em
got taken out when shit began to get hot an’ heavy with the Shadow Warriors.”
“Grizz,” Dex mentioned.
“Who’s Grizz?” Brooke asked.
“One of the oldest members,” Dex
answered. “At least not in prison,” he added quickly. He glanced at Ace. “Could
it be Grizz?”
“Fuck. Don’t even say that out
loud. Momma Bear would have his balls on a spit an’ be servin’ ‘em up at The
Iron Horse lickity split.”
“Is The Iron Horse one of the
club’s businesses?” Brooke asked. She didn’t remember if that one was on her
list. If it wasn’t, she needed to add it.
“Yeah,” Dex answered.
“Who runs that?”
Ace snorted. “My son, Hawk. He
definitely ain’t your father, either.”
“If it ain’t Grizz, then who?” Dex
asked. “One of the members the Warriors killed?”
Ace pulled at his beard slowly and
frowned. “Could be.”
“How ‘bout Rocky?”
“Dunno, boy. He’s old enough to be.”
Ace regarded Brooke. “Question is, if you find ‘im, then what?”
That was a damn good question. She
hadn’t thought that far ahead. She figured she needed to find out who he was
and if he was still breathing, then...
Then depending who it was...
“If it ain’t you, an’ it ain’t
Grizz. Might be Rocky.”
“Could be anyone, Dex. An’ she
don’t even got any solid proof. Not even a fuckin’ name.”
“Maybe she could talk to D. Maybe
his crew can help ‘er out.”
Ace scowled at Dex. “For what?”
“To help her figure out who ‘er pop
is. What the fuck, Ace?”
“Why do you fuckin’ care, boy? Why
do you wanna bring more drama into this damn club? Ain’t we got enough? You
just wanna stick your dick in ‘er, an’ think she’ll give you a little grateful
pussy if you help ‘er. Keep your nose outta it. For all we know her pop could
be the same as yours since that deadbeat took off, leaving your fuckin’ mother
with three little ones.”
“Ace.”
“No.” Ace threw up his hands.
“Don’t be stickin’ your dick in ‘er ‘til you know she ain’t your sister. For
fuck’s sake! That’s all we fuckin’ need.” He stalked away grumbling.
“Um,” Brooke began, heat crawling
up her neck.
“Yeah,” Dex muttered. He raked his
fingers through his dark hair which was a little on the longer side. Not quite
shaggy but not trimmed tight, either. His dark brown eyes landed on her. “Sorry
‘bout that. Kinda killed my fuckin’ boner, too.”
Brooke’s gaze automatically dropped
to where his hand landed, then she closed her eyes and cursed herself for doing
just that. But Ace was right, they could be siblings. She shuddered as she
thought back on how Dex was staring at her earlier.
A knuckle grazed her cheek and she
opened her eyes. “Ace is wrong. Ain’t my sister. My pop was no longer an Angel
when your mom got knocked up. He got on his sled, took off an’ never came
back.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, babe. ‘Cause that woulda
sucked.”
“Why?”
“’Cause I’m gonna buy you a fuckin’
beer.”
She wasn’t sure if that was
supposed to be a pick-up line. Because it if was, it sucked. But she had to
admit, the man had a lot of confidence. “I don’t drink beer.”
“Whiskey, then.”
“We could still have a whiskey
together even if we were related.”
“Yeah, but couldn’t do the rest of
the stuff I have planned.”
Her eyebrows shot up her forehead. Maybe
what she thought as confidence was actually cockiness. “Oh?”
“Oh, fuck yeah,” he whispered, then
licked his lips.
Well, now his confidence was
bordering on creepy. She needed to get the hell out of there.
“Dex!” Ace yelled across the shop.
“Leave ‘er alone an’ get the fuck back to work. She needs to get gone.”
That was one thing she could agree
on.
Dex’s lips twisted in a frown.
“Guessin’ you ain’t from ‘round here.”
Brooke shook her head.
“Where you stayin’?”
“I...” Why the hell was she even going
to answer his question? “Nowhere, yet.”
“Need a place to crash?”
“Are you offering?” she asked in
disbelief.
“Gotta room above church. Bed’s too
small. Was hopin’ you had a motel room or somethin’.”
Or
somethin’.
“Church,” she repeated. She knew
that didn’t mean what it should. She had done some research on MCs before hopping
in her car and heading to Shadow Valley. But she couldn’t remember what church meant
in biker speak.
“Yeah. Was gonna move into the
apartment upstairs, but D’s a stubborn fuck an’ thinks he’ll be raisin’ his kid
up there. Jewelee’s havin’ a shit fit about it.”
She shook her head, lost on who he
was talking about.
“Don’t matter. You end up bein’ a
part of the DAMC, you’ll meet ‘em all eventually. This club’s like a big
dysfunctional family.”
Her plan wasn’t to join the MC. Her
plan was to find her father. Ask some questions. Take care of business and go
the hell home. She wasn’t here to settle in with a bunch of bikers like they
were long-lost family.
“How about if I just meet you
somewhere?” She quickly added, “For that whiskey.” She certainly wasn’t meeting
him for anything else. But she wouldn’t mind getting together with him and
asking more questions since he seemed willing to help. Maybe get a chance to
meet more of the club members. Try to find out who her father really was.
Or is.
And why she should even care, she
hadn’t figured that part out yet, either.
She had loved the father who raised
her, whether he was blood or not. But when she dug through that shoebox and
found info in it to make her wonder who she really was, something had pulled at
her.
Curiosity.
And maybe he would understand the
meaning behind some of the things her mother had written down in the diary that
had been buried under some old newspaper clippings. Maybe he could clarify some
of the cryptic scribblings.
But no matter what, it wasn’t like
she needed an actual relationship with her biological father. She just wanted
to know who he was. At thirty, she didn’t need any type of “daddy.”
Especially not the type that stood
in front of her.
Wanting to buy her a whiskey.
About the Author:
JEANNE ST. JAMES is a USA Today bestselling erotic romance author
who loves an alpha male (or two). She was only thirteen when she started
writing. Her first paid published piece was an erotic story in Playgirl
magazine. Her first erotic romance novel, Banged Up, was published in 2009. She
is happily owned by farting French bulldogs. She writes M/F, M/M, and M/M/F
ménages. Want to read a sample of her work? Download a sampler book here: BookHip.com/MTQQKK
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