Wirth (Dirty Aces MC Book 5) Read online

  Wirth

  Dirty Aces MC

  Lane Hart

  D.B. West

  Contents

  Synopsis

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Epilogue

  Coming Soon

  About the Authors

  Copyright

  This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue were created from the authors’ imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual people or events is coincidental.

  The authors acknowledge the copyrighted and trademarked status of various products within this work of fiction.

  © 2021 Editor's Choice Publishing

  All Rights Reserved.

  Only Amazon has permission from the publisher to sell and distribute this title.

  This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Editor’s Choice Publishing

  P.O. Box 10024

  Greensboro, NC 27404

  Edited by Angela Snyder

  Cover by Melissa Gill Designs

  WARNING: THIS BOOK IS NOT SUITABLE FOR ANYONE UNDER 18. IT CONTAINS STRONG LANGUAGE, VIOLENCE, AND GRAPHIC SEX SCENES.

  Synopsis

  Trouble is coming for the Dirty Aces MC when they least expect it.

  After a patch-over party turns into a near fatal shootout that injures several members, the Dirty Aces MC is left reeling.

  Wirth feels especially guilty since he wasn’t at the bar when his brothers needed him the most. Instead, he had left with a beautiful, mysterious woman, making some of the new members question his loyalty to the club.

  Needing to clear his own name, Wirth intends to find out who the rat is within the MC. Suspicious of the new girl, Maeve, he decides to try and get closer to her to determine where her true loyalties lie.

  Once he finds out Maeve’s secret, Wirth’s own loyalties may be shaken to the core.

  Prologue

  Maeve Donovan

  “I’m begging you, Cormac, let my brother go!” I’ve tried reasoning with Rian to leave town with me, but he refuses. He’ll never budge on his own. I need someone else to help me free him from the chains of the ridiculous sense of duty my father laid on his shoulders so that we can both have a normal life for once.

  Smirking behind his lowball glass of amber liquid, the cliché redheaded Irish asshole in a black perfectly tailored suit says, “Come on now, Maeve. You act as if I have Rian tied up in the basement like a captive. He knows he can leave the cause whenever the hell he wants.”

  “But he won’t leave, and you know that!” I shout at him. “He thinks he has to fulfill some…some stupid promise he made to our father, to follow in his footsteps. He won’t ever walk away from you or this chaos unless you throw him out!”

  “Rian’s eighteen now – a grown ass man, who is loyal and strong with one hell of a good aim. He can make his own decisions, sweetheart. He no longer needs his big sis to try to protect him.”

  I grit my teeth at his condescending tone. Men are all the same – self-centered assholes who only care about themselves.

  “And you don’t need Rian to protect you either!” I point out to him. “Just because he brags about hitting the bullseye of a practice target doesn’t mean anything. He’ll probably end up killing himself before he shoots anyone else!” I huff.

  “You don’t give the boy enough credit. I wouldn’t put him on my detail if I didn’t think he had what it takes to back up his cockiness.” Cormac chuckles before sipping his whiskey with a grin. I don’t miss the irony of him calling Rian a ‘boy’. That’s what he still is, despite his age.

  My brother, the stubborn hothead that he is, insists on staying with Cormac’s crew, playing the role of one of his bodyguards. Rian says it’s the best way for him to learn how to lead so that one day he can take his place, which is just fucking ridiculous. Cormac can’t teach him anything other than how to increase his alcohol tolerance while sleeping with every woman he meets. My brother doesn’t need Cormac to show him either of those things. Our father did the exact same thing from the time we were born until the day he died by taking a bullet in his back while fucking some slut in a hotel room. No one saw his killer before he got away. Rian swears he’ll find out who it was one day. I would much prefer for him to work on solving that mystery rather than being one of Cormac’s henchman.

  “Please, Cormac,” I plead with him again. I know I’m grasping at straws when I say, “Do you really want to be the man who ends the Donovan line?”

  Finally, his smile falters and his skin turns even paler than usual as he quietly considers that scenario while sipping his drink.

  Our people may be wanton alcoholics, but they’re also superstitious and suckers for tradition. For over a hundred years, a Donovan was the head of the Irish mafia in the United States. It’s not a family history that I’m proud of, but it’s one that lasted an entire century – that is until my father was murdered last year. His men all voted for Cormac to lead until Rian was old enough to stand on his own.

  On his eighteenth birthday, Rian could’ve stepped into the role, but so far, he hasn’t. For some unknown reason, he’s thankfully hesitating. Which means there’s still time for me to get him free and clear of being the fourth Donovan to also die for the mafia’s cause.

  “Fine. What you’re asking isn’t easy, but…I may be able to figure out a way to push Rian out…”

  “You will?” I say in surprise.

  He holds up his palm. “After the new arrivals in the city are handled. If Rian leaves, I could lose the support of other…nostalgic men who may decide to go with him. And with competition coming to town – the cause won’t stand a chance of surviving without every last man protecting it.”

  “How long will it take to get rid of the new guys?” I ask.

  Cormac shrugs a shoulder casually under his suit jacket. “I don’t want to underestimate our new foe. It could take a year, maybe more. Quick or drawn out, either way, we’re looking at a bloody war.”

  Fuck. War is exactly what I’m trying to avoid! What good will our deal be if Rian ends up dead before I get him out of Cormac’s grasp?

  “Unless…” Cormac drawls.

  “Unless what?” I ask.

  His green, up-to-no-good, eyes assess me from the top of my long, straight, dirty blonde hair to the toes of my sneakers.

  “You’re a sexy girl, Maeve.”

  “And?” I scoff, crossing my arms under my chest indignantly. Men have told me the same thing for years. It’s not a compliment, but basically them saying I’m only good for one thing. Besides, there is no way I would sleep with Cormac.

  “And if you were to use your beauty and sex appeal to charm our new enemies, you could be our little Trojan horse, speeding things along from the inside. So, tell me, how far are you willing to go to save your brother?”

  “As far as I have to go,” I assure him. That’s the truth. While I may only be six
years older than Rian, I’ve been more of a mother to him than a sister. I enjoyed taking care of him, protecting him while we were growing up. If I hadn’t, who would have? Certainly not our father who only had children to make an heir for the family business. He didn’t love either of our mothers, and they obviously didn’t care for us if they were willing to hand over their babies to him rather than stick around.

  If I had been a boy, I probably would’ve been an only child, so I’m glad I wasn’t. For eighteen years, Rian has been all that I have in this world, so I’ll do whatever I need to do to keep him safe.

  Chapter One

  Wirth Wright

  I’m running late to the patch-over party in Wilmington on purpose. I took my damn sweet time disassembling a Porsche that someone brought to the shop this morning for some quick cash. Socializing has never been my strong suit. I prefer spending time with cars and motorcycles in the garage. Vehicles are easy to get along with compared to people – women especially. I always know what to expect when I’m under the hood. Cars have never revved me up and then left me high and dry. Unlike pussy, I can always fit inside of a car, even the tiny ones if I push the seat back as far as it goes. Automobiles are accommodating while most females are not, no matter how much time I spend…aligning their gears beforehand.

  So fine, I’m cranky and horny as hell! That’s because I haven’t had a good fuck in months. Months! But what else is new? Most men would think being well endowed is a blessing, but for me it’s a curse that dates back to high school. There I tried for four years to lose my virginity, getting close no less than six times. I always ended up sending the girls running.

  I can count on one hand how many times I’ve actually finished inside of a woman in all of my twenty-five years. The number of mouths to finish me has only been maybe twice that amount, and usually they have me come on their tits or face, rarely down their throat.

  Tonight, I’m sure there will be plenty of pussy for the other men, but none that can handle me. So, once I get to the bar, I’ll be on my own for the rest of the night. All but one of my brothers in the Dirty Aces MC have settled down for good, so they’ll be cozied up with their old ladies. And while Fiasco may always be good for a few laughs, he’s no doubt already balls deep in the first woman he met at the Knights of Wrath’s party. Unlike me, Fiasco doesn’t need the jaws of life to wedge his dick into a tight cunt.

  I probably should’ve just stayed at the shop working rather than make the half-hour drive. It’s not like I even voted to let these guys wear our patch.

  A year or so ago, all six of us voted against patching the Knights of Wrath in because they were deep in the black tar market and their ancient president was a humongous dick.

  Over the last few months, though, crazy old Bobby G. did a little too much of his own heroin and croaked, putting Hunt in charge.

  The Dirty Aces voted again recently, and a majority agreed to patch the Knights over if, and only if, they were willing to set up shop in Wilmington to help out with our speed and gambling enterprises there. We didn’t think they would actually take us up on the offer; but apparently, they all wanted a fresh start in a new city. Which leads us to the patching over tonight.

  The sun set hours ago, but that’s fine with me. I enjoy riding west through the cool summer nights on my new Yamaha without the sun blinding me. The pavement below my tires and the trees on either side of the highway are nothing but inky blurs as I open the throttle as far as it will go until I have to slow up to take my exit.

  It’s there at the top of the dark ramp that I see a car pulled over onto the grass – a little white car that glows under the light of the moon. It only takes a second to determine it’s a Honda Accord.

  My first thought is that, if it’s still there tomorrow, I’ll send our tow truck out to haul it back. Honda parts are a big seller and one of the easiest cars to move through the chop shop.

  Then, thanks to my headlight, I spot movement along the passenger side – the top of a golden head before it disappears out of sight.

  Curious, I ride off the shoulder and circle around in the grass. My headlight then lands on a blonde woman in a black dress kneeling beside the back tire. She turns her pretty young face to squint at me for only a second before she goes back to work, tugging roughly on the lug wrench.

  I’m sure there are plenty who can do the same out in the world; but in all my life, I’ve never actually witnessed a woman on her knees with a tool in her hand trying to change her own tire. It’s the hottest thing I’ve ever fucking seen.

  Do they make female mechanic porn? If so, then I’ve been missing out, because nothing is as sexy as the sight before me even if she’s totally fucking clueless.

  I put the kickstand down on my bike and turn off the engine. Before I can even get my helmet off, she mutters without turning around, “I’ve got it! I don’t need any help!”

  Huh.

  “You sure about that, doll?” I call back as I swing my leg over to stand up. I place my helmet on the seat and then walk over to her, pulling out my phone as I go to light her up again. I consider taking a picture but first things first. “You jack that wheel up right there and your car’s going to roll right down the hill.”

  “The parking brake is on.”

  I make a quick assessment to ensure none of her body parts are behind the wheel before letting her proceed to jack the car up, mostly because the sight is making me hard but mostly because I’m realizing she’s not going to toss the tools down and just let me do it for her.

  It starts slow, just a few inches before the car really starts moving.

  “Shit!” the woman exclaims as she jumps up. She starts toward the trunk like she’s going to stop the momentum of three thousand pounds of steel rolling downhill.

  I do act now, snatching her with my arm around her waist and holding her backside to the front of my body as the car begins to pick up speed.

  “What are you doing? Put me down!” she exclaims as she starts to kick and squirm, drowning me in her strawberry and vanilla scented hair. Her car really picks up momentum as it rolls down the hill, the flat tire she had been loosening flying off just before the little Honda slams into a row of trees.

  “Congratulations, doll,” I say next to her ear. “You found the only hill on the east coast, the worst place to stop and change a tire.”

  The fight goes out of her body, but her words are still sharp. “I could’ve stopped it if you had let me!”

  “I’m sure that when the tires ran your body over it would’ve slowed down significantly, but it still would’ve ultimately ended up in the trees.”

  “You’re an asshole!” She pushes at my arm around her waist, so I let her go. It’s not easy to restrain her with my brick of a phone still in my hand.

  “I’m trying to help you and probably just saved your life!”

  Spinning around, she yells, “You could’ve just told me!”

  “Like you would’ve listened, Miss I’ve Got It and Don’t Need Any Help.” I shine my phone on her to get a better look at her face but only get a glimpse for a second before she covers it with her palms.

  “Sorry.” The word is muffled like she hates saying it. “I’m running late and was just in a hurry. Now I’m fucked.”

  “You’re not fucked,” I assure her. “I can give you a ride wherever you need to go tonight. Tomorrow, I’ll have a tow truck take your car to my shop and fix it up for you.”

  “Really?” she says, her voice full of disbelief when she finally lowers her hands.

  “Yeah, really.”

  “What’s the catch?”

  “The catch?” I repeat in confusion. “There’s no catch.”

  “Yeah, right. There’s always a catch when it comes to men like you,” she says as she stabs her fingers through the front of her silky straight locks to push it out of her face.

  “Men like me?” I echo.

  “You’re big and buff with the fast bike and patches. I know what those mean. You�
�re all the same.”

  “You know a lot of bikers?” I say in surprise as a sudden stab of jealousy gets me in the gut. Why do I care what kind of men she runs with? We just fucking met. Still, I don’t like it.

  “Yeah, I do. In fact, they’re going to be pissed that I’m running so late. Their dicks won’t suck themselves.”

  “Wait,” I say, holding up my palm because I don’t want to imagine her on her knees for some other man. I prefer the image of her on her knees trying to change a tire or her on her knees for me. That fantasy is completely ruined if she gets passed around like a bong that everyone gets to hit. “Don’t tell me you’re going to the Knights of Wrath patch-over party too.”

  “Oh. Um, so you know the Knights?” she asks, all stubbornness gone. Now she sounds…nervous, scared even.

  “Yeah, I know them. They’re about to become the Dirty Aces MC tonight.”

  “They’re patching over?” she says in surprise.

  “That’s right.”

  “Tonight?”

  “Yes.”

  She bites down on her bottom lip in thought, making me think of dirty things before she mutters, “I just thought it was a regular party. Patching over means…does that mean more protection?”

  “Something like that,” I agree with a sigh. “At least we’re going to the same place. Makes it easy for me to give you a ride.”

  She casts a longing look at her car that’s half in the forest, half in the grass.