My Forever Cocky Biker Encounter (Concrete Angels MC Book 1) Read online

  MY FOREVER COCKY BIKER ENCOUNTER

  Leather, Lies, and Larceny…Forensic Accounting was never so sexy!

  Oriana Hunter

  I don’t trust many people. Most especially, the bikers from the Concrete Angels Motorcycle Club. When I’m abducted by my “best friend” to come work for them as a forensic accountant, I pretty much have zero choice. They’re not the typical biker club. And some of their members make my hair stand on end. Hey, I got them to sign a contract, and it comes with dental. All I have to do is find out who’s embezzling from them and I can go home. It would go a lot faster if I didn’t have a sexy cocky biker hanging around. I have far too many personal demons, and then I start seeing angels. Literally. The question is which folks are more scary, those wearing the Concrete Angels’ cuts or the FBI jackets?

  Scott Free

  Oriana Hunter is the most beautiful and dangerous woman I’ve ever seen walk through the gates of the Concrete Angels’ compound. She’s badass, through and through. I don’t believe in mates-for-life, but Oriana makes me want to give it a try. But she doesn’t trust anyone, me especially, and I can recognize the signs of someone dealing with PTSD from my time in the Army. Turns out, she’s a former FBI agent and has major trust issues. Not that I blame her. With Loki at the helm and his habit of making people squirm, I wouldn’t trust us either. I know she’ll figure out our money leak, and quickly. Which means I’m popping the clutch and going in full throttle to prove I’m not what she thinks. And that she’s safer with me.

  Table of Contents

  MY FOREVER COCKY BIKER ENCOUNTER

  Copyright © 2019 Siobhan Muir

  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

  Epilogue

  Author’s Note

  Excerpt

  About Siobhan Muir

  Other Books by Siobhan Muir

  MY FOREVER COCKY BIKER ENCOUNTER

  Book 1 of Concrete Angels MC series

  Copyright © 2019 Siobhan Muir

  ISBN: 9780463357903

  Published by Three Lakes Books at Amazon.com

  Cover Design: Kristian Norris

  Cover Model: Simon Cooki

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

  All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author except for brief quotations embedded in critical articles or reviews. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your Amazon.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to any other book, or actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  First Electronic Print, January 2019

  DEDICATION

  Dedicated to all the authors and readers who tirelessly fought the attempted trademark on the words Cocky, Forever, Biker, Encounter, and Rebellion. No one should steal words from general use just to get a little attention.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Writing a book is never really a one-person job, and writing a series is especially difficult alone. Keeping track of details is so much easier when you have help. Not only does it take a great deal of hard work, editing, and research on the part of the author to get things correct, but without my compatriots, there’d be a lot more mistakes. Any mistakes are my own.

  Great thanks to Paige Prince for editing and making sure I knew what these handguns looks like and how they work. Thanks to Simon Cooki who embodied the face of Scott Free. You were totally perfect for this character! And great thanks to Kris Norris for designing the cover with such a tough image to balance. You rock.

  As always, great thanks to my readers for cheering me on. Y’all make my writing worth the detailed effort.

  Chapter One

  Oriana

  “We’re gonna stage a rebellion.”

  “A what?” I looked over at Melinda and wondered what she was going on about.

  “A rebellion. It’s gonna be epic.”

  I shook my head. Don’t get me wrong. I’d been known to be rebellious. I went out without a bra on because I’d read about these studies that showed boobs were perkier if you left the bra off, and my boobs needed some perky. I didn’t like Miracle Whip, Cool Whip, or Whipped Cream in a can. I refused to keep the tags on my mattresses and pillows, and I only changed my car’s oil every five thousand miles rather than every three thousand. But an epic rebellion?

  “Against what?”

  “Cocky bikers.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Sweet glory. Are you back with Roy again?” Her on-again-off-again relationship with her boyfriend made Jerry Springer’s show look positively tame.

  “No, I’m done with him and the Concrete Angels MC, which is why we’re gonna stage the rebellion.”

  I sighed and rubbed my forehead. She’d said something to that effect before. I didn’t take her seriously. I couldn’t. Melinda was the type of woman where everything that went wrong turned her into a spitting drama llama. I could barely keep up on the best days. But when she dove into full-on diva screamer, I usually ducked and covered.

  I shouldn’t ask. Just let it go, Oriana. “What did he do this time?”

  Melinda snarled, her eyes going wide and her nostrils flaring. “What did he do? He decided to go to his club’s rally in Cheyenne during our anniversary.”

  At this point, she’d broken up with him so many times, I couldn’t keep track of their anniversary, and I doubted Roy could either.

  “What the fuck is in Wyoming, anyway? It’s like prairie dogs and sage brush.” She shook her head, her lips pulled back from her teeth. “Oh, no. It’s not what he did. It’s what he didn’t do. He didn’t ask me if I wanted to come along. He didn’t ask me if it was okay to go without me. He didn’t ask me—”

  “How to wipe his ass and tie his shoes?” I raised an eyebrow. “Gee, I can’t imagine why that is.”

  She scowled at me. “Whose side are you on? You’re supposed to be my friend.”

  “I am your friend, which is why I’m giving you tough love and telling you to cool down. He’s a cocky biker, something you knew going into this…” I waved my hand in distraction. “Thing you have with him. And you’ve broken up with him more times than I can count, which is impressive because I’m a forensic accountant. Do you even remember the first time you started going out with him?”

  “Of course, I do! It was…” She screwed up her face and I swore smoke rose from her ears. “That’s not the point. The point is he should’ve asked me to go with him.”

  I took a deep breath and counted to ten before I gave her a patient smile. “Maybe he thought you wouldn�
�t want to go with him. Have you ever gone before?”

  “No.” Melinda shook her head. “But he never asked.”

  “How about you text him and ask if you could go with him? Or better yet, call him.”

  She gaped at me in horror. “I couldn’t do that.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because that would be butting into his business and I couldn’t do that.”

  I snorted and dropped my chin. “But you’re mad at him because he won’t do what you want? Honey, you gotta pick your poison here. Just call him and ask if you can go with him.”

  “I can’t. He turns off his phone when he gets ready to go on these trips.” Melinda shook her hands in distress.

  “So go to his clubhouse and talk to him. Or call one of his friends. Come on, don’t go all damsel on me.”

  “Oh my gawd, I can’t go over there by myself. I’m not wearing his patch. They’d eat me alive.” She blanched white.

  I remembered that the women in the motorcycle clubs often wore a vest with a patch or emblem on them showing to whom they belonged. In some ways it infuriated me. We were people, not belongings. But women everywhere did what they could to survive, and in MC clubs it was safer to be owned. I hated to think of what would happen to Melinda if she showed up without Roy’s patch.

  “You could come with me.”

  “What?” I damn near dropped my coffee mug, a crime punishable by death in my world. “Are you insane? I don’t know any of them, not even Roy. I don’t put myself in position of being around too many male strangers.”

  “Who’s being the damsel now?”

  “I’m being a pragmatist. They don’t know me and I don’t know them. To them I’d look like an offering with a pair of tits.” I shook my head. “If I walk in there, I’m fair game, and I’m nobody’s “old lady.” That goes against everything I am.”

  “Come on, Oriana. It’s not like it’s a cult and if you walk in, you won’t walk out.” She wrinkled her nose. “You’re only going to be there a few minutes while I talk to Roy, and then we’ll be out of there.”

  “Not necessarily. You might go with him. Then how will I get out of there?” I shook my head, the coffee sitting in my gut like toxic waste. “No, that’s nuts. It’s got Hotel California written all over it. I’m not putting myself in the position of danger or incarceration. Call his friends.”

  “Pweeeze?” She batted her eyes at me and pouted, and I seriously wondered why the hell she was my friend. “Can’t you just help me this one time? I gotta talk to him and this is the only way.”

  “Wait a minute. You said you were done with Roy and the Concrete Angels.” I rose and headed for the sink. If I was going to put up with this crap, I seriously needed another cup of coffee and a hair tie. No one should have hair in their face when dealing with this level of manipulation.

  “You were the one to change my mind.”

  “If you can change your mind, you can go by yourself. I’m sure he’d be delighted to see you.” Personally, I had my doubts, but I wasn’t about to put myself in the same position.

  “It’ll only be this once and I’ll never ask you for anything again.” Melinda batted her eyes and tried to look cute, but I stood my ground and she scowled. “Come on, you owe me. Remember when I took on those bullies at the grocery store, and helped get them fired for harassing you?”

  My shoulders dropped with my brows. “Yes.”

  “And remember when I drove you all the way down to Pueblo, Colorado, just to make sure you got to see that car race?”

  I scowled. “Yes.” She’d done more than that. She’d financed the whole trip.

  “I’m calling in my marker now. Please do this with me and I won’t ask for anything ever again.” She gave me a sweet, vacant smile and I gritted my teeth.

  I doubted she wouldn’t ask me for anything again, but I definitely owed her.

  “All right. Fine. I’ll go with you to the Concrete Angels’ place, but I have to be back at work on Monday. I can’t stay with them forever.” I pointed my finger at her and narrowed my eyes. “Promise me you’ll get me out of their compound before you ride into the sunset with Roy the roadie.”

  “Cross my heart and hope to die.” Melinda gave me brilliant smile. “But I would pack a bag just in case.”

  That didn’t bode well.

  ****

  Oriana

  The drive from Fort Collins to Skin Gulch, Colorado took roughly forty-five minutes. We drove westward into the Rocky Mountains and basically turned left at the fork onto Stove Prairie Road. The compound of the Concrete Angels sat a few hundred feet off the main road with a sliding steel gate and an actual guard shack beside it. The hard-eyed men who watched us arrive in Melinda’s sporty little Kia had beards to make ZZ Top jealous. I swallowed hard and hoped they looked meaner than they actually were.

  “Hey, Egyptian, can you let us in? I need to talk to Roy.” She tipped her chin and smiled coyly.

  The dark-haired man with a beaked nose and fathomless eyes stared past Melinda to me. I tried to keep my expression impassive, fear and unease locking my voice in my throat. Sweet glory, I’m in so much trouble.

  He narrowed his eyes and lifted his chin at me. “Who’s this?”

  “This is my best friend Oriana. She’s good with numbers.”

  Wait, what? My eyes widened as I transferred my gaze to the back of Melinda’s head. What does she mean I’m good with numbers? Was this a setup? My gut sank. Shit-oh-dear, had my “best friend” broken up with her boyfriend as a ruse to get me to come up to the Concrete Angels’ compound? Anger, betrayal, and fear did the do-si-do in my stomach.

  “Huh.” Egyptian looked me over like a tasty steak and a small smile curled his lips. “Okay. Go inside.” He waved his hand and the steel gate slid open revealing a surprisingly elegant compound.

  I expected old, crumbling double-wide, warehouse-like buildings. Instead, what I found was a well-maintained motel sort of setting. Several small cabins surrounded a central club house and a large aluminum barn. All of the buildings had clean lines and clean windows. A few even had stained glass artwork in their front windows. All the cabins sported flower window boxes with petunias and marigolds of various colors, and all the buildings were neatly painted.

  This doesn’t look like a biker gang hangout.

  Melinda pulled up in front of the clubhouse and shot me a look bereft of smile.

  “Now listen up. I brought you here because you’re a wiz with numbers and the Concrete Angels have some money troubles. I told them I have a friend who could help.”

  “Thanks for the heads-up. When were you gonna ask me if I wanted to help?”

  She raised her chin, not at all repentant. “They need your skills and I gave them my word. No one ever goes back on their word and lives to tell about it.”

  “Fan-fucking-tastic, Mel. But it wasn’t your word to give.” I scowled. “You didn’t ask, you kidnapped me and made me think I was helping you. You lied and manipulated me into coming up here. What if I say no?”

  She shot me a flat look. “You can’t say no to the Concrete Angels.”

  “Oh, yes I can. You didn’t ask if I wanted to help them, you just took me here. And I said I didn’t want to come.” I matched her stare for stare. “I also said they wouldn’t let me leave. But you did it anyway. This is your mess, so get me out of it.” I crossed my arms over my chest.

  Melinda scowled, but she looked away and swallowed hard. “Oriana, you have to listen to me. They need your abilities and they don’t take no for an answer.” She met my gaze and I read real fear in her eyes. “I didn’t have a choice in asking you to do this. I had to ask and I had to bring you. If I didn’t, there would’ve been consequences I couldn’t pay.”

  I shook my head. “Why are you involved with these people, Mel? Why would you stay with anyone who threatened your life like that?”

  She tilted her head with a sad half-smile. “They kinda, sorta saved me at the lowest point in my life. I
owe them.”

  I nodded slowly. “And now they own you.”

  She shrugged. “Come on, Oriana. It won’t be that bad. Just one job and you’ll be done.”

  I snorted. “You don’t really believe that, do you?”

  She laughed, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Nope.”

  “Right.”

  I bit my bottom lip and stared down at my lap. I’d gone all out today with a V-necked T-shirt with “E=MC2 Enthusiasm = More Coffee Squared” emblazoned across my boobs, and denim capris. At least I’d worn my glasses and close-toed shoes. Too bad I hadn’t brought my Sig Sauer. Guess I’d grown a little lax since I’d left the FBI.

  “Am I dressed okay before I meet the other cult members?”

  Melinda scowled. “It’s really not like that.”

  I raised an eyebrow and she grimaced.

  “It doesn’t matter. I packed you a bag.”

  “What the fuck, Mel?” I stared at her in horror. “Give me the keys.” I held out my hand.

  “What?” Her eyes widened.

  “Give me the fuckin’ keys. I’m getting myself out of this.”

  “No, you can’t.” She held them out of reach. “You have to do this and stay. That’s why I brought the clothes.”

  “Mel, I’m not going to be held here against my will. Give. Me. The. Keys.”

  Her eyes filled with tears, but I wouldn’t be swayed by her puppy-dog looks anymore. Who knew this woman was so manipulative? I need to start thinking like an FBI agent again.

  “Please, Oriana.”

  “The keys. Now.” I wouldn’t let her guilt me. The situation had grown too dangerous.

  Before she could do anything, someone knocked on the driver’s side window. We both jumped, my heart galloping like an entire herd of bison. Panic flashed across Mel’s face before she pressed the button to lower the window.