Betting on Stocks (Dead Presidents MC Book 7) Read online

  Contents

  COVER PAGE

  COPYRIGHT

  DEDICATION

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  EPILOGUE

  THANK YOU!

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Published by Harley Stone

  Copyright ©2019 – Harley Stone

  All rights reserved.

  Published in the United States

  This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the authors, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

  eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.

  Dedicated to:

  My sisters, Christal & Apryl, two of the strongest, funniest, smartest women I know.

  Thank you for being the inspiration for Monica.

  Stocks

  MONICA JOHNSON WAS a force of nature.

  I met her at a housewarming party for my motorcycle club’s secretary, Eagle, and his ol’ lady, Naomi. Yep. A fucking housewarming party; talk about a far sight from the parties we used to have when I first became a prospect. Over the past several months, the club has been changing. Granted, we hadn’t gone completely soft and still knew how to tear it up, but lately we’d been frequenting a lot more domestic shit like housewarming parties and baby showers.

  Apparently that’s what happens when a club’s members start getting married and having babies and stuff. Still, it’s surreal as hell to witness.

  Tonight, big, burly, tattooed veterans have clustered around the two newest club additions, making deals and promising favors for a chance to hold Jameson and Maya. Jake—the club’s founder and grandfather of both infants—had barricaded himself in a corner with his ol’ lady, Margo, and the duo were swatting away the advances of anyone who thought they were badass enough to cuddle the newborns. The babies appeared to be sleeping through the whole ordeal, clueless as to the chaos their existence was creating.

  I’d seen a lot of weird shit in my time, but I’d never seen anything like that before.

  Not far from the baby-crazed bikers, Tap’s toddler daughter, Hailey, and Wasp’s six-year-old son, Trent, flew plastic dragons and dolls between the oil-stained, jean clad legs of the mechanic crew. Beer in hand, Buddha leaned forward to talk shop with Wasp. Buddha was a big dude who weighed about 300 pounds and had a scar running down the left side of his face before disappearing behind a barcode tattoo on his neck. His bushy beard hung past his chest, and tats covered every visible inch of his arms and hands. He was a decent guy, but I’d seen people take one look at him then cross the road to avoid his path. The kids must not have gotten the memo to fear him, though. As he talked, Hailey climbed up into his lap and hid a half-naked Barbie in his beard so only her blonde head could be seen. Buddha patted Hailey on the back and kept rattling on about some car.

  A practically albino looking brother named Zombie picked Trent up and flew him around the room, Superman style, with his plastic dragon held out in front of him. Grown ass men cowered in fear and faked their deaths as Trent roared and pretended to spew fire at them.

  A grizzled old biker named Tank held court at the back of the living room, spinning stories and reminiscing about the good ole’ days, occasionally calling on Jake to agree or fill in a blank. Sage, Flint, and Frog kept bringing him beers and encouraging him to keep sharing.

  Eyes bloodshot from sleep deprivation I hear comes with a newborn, Link, our club president, had a beer in his hand and a sway in his gait as he toasted Naomi’s new car. Yes, her new car. He’d already toasted to the house, the baby, her marriage to Eagle, and the giant walk-in closet in her bedroom. This was probably the tenth toast our club president had made to his sister and her husband tonight, and he was running out of shit to drink to. Despite the exhaustion, fatherhood looked good on Link. He seemed happy. He tucked his wife, Emily, under his arm and planted a kiss on her lips. The longing looks they gave each other afterward made the entire room erupt with calls for them to “get a room.”

  As I said, surreal. But the Dead Presidents weren’t just a club, they were a family, and I was honored to be wearing their colors.

  The doorbell rang. Naomi answered, and the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen strutted in.

  Whoever she was, her body was a work of art, complete with a nice rack, a round ass, and long toned legs. She had the face of a supermodel with flawless brown skin and thick curly hair. Her tight shorts outfit and strappy high heeled sandals looked expensive and far too high-class for the likes of a motorcycle club gathering, even if it was a housewarming.

  Banging body, beautiful face, she held her head high as she stepped into the room of bikers like she owned the place. Any police officer in the city would have taken one look at our group and reached for their gun, but she wasn’t the least bit intimidated by us. She caught me staring, and her gaze drifted up and down my body before settling on my face. Dark eyebrows rose in a silent challenge as her plump, glossy lips spread into an appreciative smile.

  I didn’t know what the hell she was challenging me to, but I was intrigued.

  Every single brother in the place clocked her as she cut in line to hold Naomi’s daughter, Maya. They closed in, like locusts that had just spotted the last blade of living grass on an otherwise dead planet. Even Buddha stood, tugged the half-naked Barbie free from his beard and ambled over toward the babies’ corner as if pulled by some sort of magnetic field.

  Regardless of the attraction I felt toward the stunner, I was a newly patched member who wanted no part of that trouble. But as she spoke to the men surrounding her, she watched me. The broad wasn’t even shy about it; she flat out stared me down like I was the doughnut she was finishing her workout for. When she finally gave Maya back to Jake, she kept one eye on me as she followed Naomi around the room, meeting everyone. Back to the wall, I watched her, wondering if I should wait for her to make it over to me or bolt.

  Since coming home, I’d avoided women. Not that I couldn’t use a good fuck, but the last time I tried didn’t go so well. Once we undressed and the broad saw my prosthetic leg, she flipped out and said I should have warned her that I only had one leg. Like it was a fucking STD that I could have passed on to her or something. I bailed on her ass.

  The next time a broad showed interest in me, I made sure to tell her right away. Her eyes filled with pity and she wanted to spend the night talking about what had happened to me. That reaction killed my erection almost as fast as the time my grandpa caught me watching porn and didn’t want me to turn it off. Pity is no aphrodisiac.

  After th
ose two stellar experiences, I’ve been finding comfort in my hand rather than the opposite sex. The old me would have jumped at the invitation in this woman’s eyes, but now…

  “Monie, this is Stocks. Stocks, Monica Johnson,” Naomi said, giving her friend a coded smile as she took a step back to give us the illusion of privacy in a crowded house.

  “Stocks, huh?” Monica’s gaze drifted over my body as heat ignited in her dark eyes. “Interesting road name. You into bondage or something?”

  Not expecting that at all, I choked on my beer. Once my throat was finally clear, I answered, “I worked in financial planning. And Havoc recruited me while I was in jail.” Probably should have left out that bit about the slammer, but honesty was important to me. Besides, Monica was obviously trouble, and I didn’t know what the hell to do with her attention.

  I don’t know how I expected her to react to my record, but she surprised me by nodding and sticking her hand out. “Interesting. But you still didn’t answer my question.”

  She legitimately wanted to know if I was into bondage. “Um. Blue,” I replied, throwing out a random answer. No way in hell was I talking about bondage with the club princess’ best friend. Especially not here in front of everyone.

  “As in balls? Tragic.” Eyeing me like I was a puzzle, she chuckled. Her cleavage game was strong, and I had to force my gaze from dropping down to check out her bouncing tits as I shook her hand. The woman had curves for days, and I wanted to inspect each and every one of them, but my parents had taught me better than to gawk rudely. Thankfully, she had a face that could easily keep my attention. Lush lips, high cheekbones, mischief dancing in her big, dark eyes, she was the kind of woman who could make a man do stupid shit like rob a bank, steal priceless jewels, or tie cement blocks to her ex’s ankles and toss him in The Sound to sleep with the fishes. Since one brief stint in jail was more than enough to scare me straight, I needed to stay away from that sort of influence. Still, my manners kicked in and kept me glued to the floor when I should have run my ass away from her. “Pleasure to meet you.”

  Soft skin, firm handshake, she closed the small distance between us until our bodies touched like we were about to slow dance or fuck. She smelled spicy and exotic, edible. Meeting my gaze, she replied, “Play your cards right, and it could be.”

  Goddamn. If her words and curves weren’t inviting enough, the gleam in her eyes sure as hell was. My body responded instantly, and all the blood rushed from my brain to my cock. It had been a while, but a beautiful woman could still light me up like a Christmas tree. Desperate to put a little space between us so I could get myself under control I asked, “Can I get you a beer?”

  “Aren’t you sweet?” Her predatory smile only widened as she looked me up and down again. “Now that you mention it, I am feeling a bit thirsty.”

  Naomi, who had stepped aside and was speaking to Wasp’s ol’ lady, Carly, covered her laugh with a cough and looked away.

  Taken aback by Monica’s forward nature, I promised to return and hustled to the kitchen to grab us each a bottle. Opening both, I downed half of mine to settle my nerves before heading back out. By the time I returned to the girls, Naomi was gone, and Rabbit had Monica engaged in conversation. He said something and she threw her head back laughing.

  Wondering what the two were carrying on about, I hurried over in time to hear her thanking him for the best laugh she’d had in a while.

  “I’m here all week,” Rabbit said, taking a bow. “In fact, I’d be happy to take you around town tomorrow,” he said. “Show you a good time, if you catch my drift.”

  As if she could miss it. As if anyone with two brain cells to rub together wouldn’t know what the horndog meant.

  Monica’s gaze cut to me. “Actually, I fly out first thing in the morning.”

  Rabbit’s expression fell, but he wasn’t ready to give up yet. “Well, where are you staying? You know, we’ve got guest rooms at the fire station.” The fire station was our club headquarters. About a dozen members lived there, but we always kept spare rooms for prospects or veterans who needed a place to land until they could get on their feet. I’d been living in the fire station since I got out of jail, and having my own space—away from my family—was probably the only thing keeping me from doing hard time or putting a gun to my temple.

  “Thanks, but I’ve already booked a hotel room and Stocks has graciously offered to give me a ride back there after I’m done here.” Her gaze cut to me, almost daring me to go against her lie as she reached past him to take one of the beers from my hand. Still watching me, she put the bottle to her perfect lips and sipped.

  Rabbit frowned as he looked from her to me, but his eyes held a measure of respect. He was a good guy. Although he outranked me in the club, he wouldn’t give me too much grief about picking up a chick he was interested in. Especially not now that I was patched in as a member and no longer a prospect. Muttering something about his beer being empty, he looked Monica over one more time, and then clapped me on the shoulder and walked away.

  “Thank you,” she said, sidling up to me as she took another drink. “He’s a nice enough guy, but there’s only one face here I’m interested in sitting on tonight.”

  Once again, she’d caught me mid-drink. This time, I about spit my beer across the room. Coughing, I cleared my airway while checking her out to gauge her level of sincerity. That predatory gleam was back in her eyes as she watched me, looking pretty damn serious about getting me in the sack. Also, she seemed to enjoy throwing me off.

  She reached up and swiped a finger across my lips, wiping away a lingering drop of beer. “What? Are you not into oral, Stocks?”

  Hell yes, I was, but it sure as hell wasn’t something I discussed in public, and definitely not to a stranger. “I… Uh...”

  “You’re gonna be fun.” Her hand landed on my chest and the spicy, exotic scent of her wrapped around me as we stared at each other. She took another drink, draining her beer as she watched me. Then she shook the empty bottle from side to side and said, “I’m ready to go. Think you can take me for a spin, white boy?”

  The way her lips formed around the ‘O’ in boy had me imagining how they’d look wrapped around my cock, which was no doubt her intention. Shaking myself free of the fantasy and forcing myself to focus on the insult, I eyeballed her hand and arched an eyebrow. “Boy?” Nobody had called me boy since boot camp.

  Her dark bedroom eyes continued to drink me in as she shrugged. “Prove me wrong.” As her hand slid down to my abs I held perfectly still, wondering if she was about to grope me there in front of everyone. Wondering if I’d stop her or just let her at it. My entire body thrummed with sexual energy and for the first time in a long ass time I felt hopeful about an encounter with a woman. Her fingers stilled at the top of my jeans. “That is… if you’re up to it.”

  She stepped closer until her body pressed against mine and my cock dug into her stomach. From where I stood, I could see straight down the front of her shirt. I was trying to be a gentleman, but she was testing the hell out of my resolve. Our lips were less than an inch apart. She studied mine for a moment before her gaze lazily roamed back up to my eyes. Then she pulled away and walked past me toward the door.

  Shocked and unable to move or think, I stared after her.

  Grabbing the doorknob, she turned to look back at me. “You comin’?”

  Around the room, my brothers erupted in catcalls.

  “Go get her, Stocks,” Wasp said, slapping me on the back.

  I preferred to be more discreet with my conquests, but if I didn’t follow her ass out of that house, my man card would be revoked and shredded. Besides, she had me hella intrigued. I might have been a little gun shy, but I was still packing. Tugging my keys out of my pocket, I waved a hasty goodbye to the room and marched out after her.

  “You don’t fuck around, do you?” I asked, closing the door behind me.

  Monica laughed. “I fuck whoever I want.” Her chin jutted out, daring me to
argue. When I didn’t, she cracked a smile. “Life’s too short for bullshit games. You’re interested, I’m interested, we’re both consenting adults with needs. I’ve got one night here, and I intend to make it good. Are you in? Or do you need one of those shy, sweet lady types?”

  “You sayin’ you’re not a lady?” I asked, amused.

  “God, no.” She snorted. “Who has time for that drama? I’m a queen, baby, far too busy workin’ and fightin’ for my crown to be a lady. You down for a night with royalty, or what?”

  Whatever she was, her confidence was a breath of fresh air. I briefly considered telling her about my leg but wasn’t ready to see her reaction quite yet. I’d had plenty of disappointment, and I wanted her to be different. Besides, she’d be gone tomorrow. Worst case scenario, I’d go limp, march out of her hotel room, and go back to the fire station alone. No big deal, right? “I’m definitely down.” Mostly.

  “Good.” She eyed the line of bikes in the driveway. “Now, which one of these giant vibrators is yours?”

  Shaking my head with laughter, I pointed to the custom orange and black 2011 Harley Roadster I’d blown most of my savings on. It was a gorgeous ride and watching the way Monica’s eyes lit up as she sauntered over and ran her fingers across the body made it worth every penny.

  Leaning against the bike, she beckoned me over. Since she’d thrown off the confines of ladylike behavior, I no longer felt compelled to act like a gentleman. Finally letting my gaze take in her entire body, I let out a low whistle as I approached.

  Heat flooded her eyes. “There you are. I was wondering when you’d show up.” She grabbed my hands and pulled me against her. Our bodies collided and our lips met. She tasted of beer and feminine power, and I explored every millimeter of her uninhibited mouth with my tongue.

  When we finally broke apart, I tugged the spare helmet from the saddlebag and offered it to her. “Where we goin’?”

  Monica accepted the helmet and popped it over her head. “Downtown Holiday Inn.” Her eyes sparkled with humor as she patted my bike. “Ready for a little foreplay, baby?”