Dreamer: Book 7 of The Steel MC Montana Charter Read online

  Finding a clean pair of jeans and a black t-shirt he scanned the room for a pair of boxers. After dressing, he grabbed his leather jacket, as the men rarely went out in public without their cuts on display.

  Downstairs, the place had filled up. Freaky saw a few of his closer friends. Brick and Shark sat at a table drinking beers. He walked over and sat down. “I’m starving.”

  “Yeah, food is done they’re going to cattle call us shortly,” Brick answered.

  The food was set up to be dished, he grabbed a plate and began to fill it up. Then he grabbed another beer from Topaz at the bar and proceeded back to his table.

  Hack and Preacher Girl walked into the clubhouse.

  Freaky had been tasked to plan the man’s bachelor party. That’s what he gets for having a reputation. “What do you guys know about Hack? I need to plan his party. Can’t believe another of us is actually getting married.”

  “He’ll want all the guys to be there.” Brick smiled then took a drink of his beer.

  “He seems so low key,” Freaky said.

  “It’s the quiet ones,” Shark replied then glanced at Freaky. “Present company excluded.”

  Freaky finished his food and pushed his plate away . Taking a small notebook out of his front pocket with a pen, he started to write down all the members of the MC he knew Hack would want to come.

  Cass, Red, Baldy and Hollywood walked into the clubhouse. After they got their meal, they sat at the table next to Freaky. There were no women around them.

  Freaky thought it would be a good idea to ask these guys what they should do for Hack. “Cass? Hack is one of your best friends. Why don’t you plan his bachelor party instead of me?” Freaky leaned toward the table.

  “That’s your job.” Cass bit a piece of bread then pointed it at him. “You were told to plan it. We’ll all be there. Just don’t let Hack know what you’ve planned. It’s supposed to be a surprise.”

  The curtains cleared and the task began to make sense. “He’s expecting you to plan it,” Freaky said to the former Guard member who’d talked him into becoming a Steel.

  Cass gave him a half ass wink. “Mix that with Lil’ Mama and we might have issue with me searching out strippers.”

  “Wait, I can’t use the Hoez?”

  “What fun would that be?” Red replied.

  “The man’s about to get tied down to one woman for life. The last thing he wants is to see the regular ass shaking for him.” Freaky leaned back as he processed and blew out a hard breath. “Gotcha.”

  “Regular ass.” Topaz had a batch of cold beers locked between her fingers to pass off to the men. “Want to rephrase?”

  “Not really while you’re armed,” Freaky said taking his beer from her. “Pretty sure, I’d fuck that up too.”

  “Uh, huh,” she said making sure all the men in the area had fresh beer. “That’s one.”

  “How many you giving me?” Freaky asked with a wink.

  Topaz slapped him upside is head.

  “Aww, see now, you’re just trying to turn me on.” He grinned.

  “With this regular ass,” she challenged and left the men to themselves.

  Freaky glanced down at his list. “What about Hoez from other charters?” he asked.

  His Prez Red gave him a hard glare.

  “Ok, I’ll just get it planned then. How about Saturday the thirteenth. It’s three weeks away and a few days before the wedding. We inviting any other charters?”

  “We can put out an all call,” Red announced. “But Nevada and New Mexico for sure should be here. We want to have it at the restaurant. That should be big enough we’ll close it from the public that night.”

  Preacher Girl walked over to their table. “Freaky, I heard you’re the one planning Hack’s bachelor party.”

  “Bachelor party?” Freaky replied taking a swig of beer. “Why would Hack ever—”

  “I just wanted to let you know donkeys are better with ramps than stairs.”

  “What?”

  If this hadn’t been the sweet Preacher Girl with her Little House on the Prairie, long dark hair and innocent face, he would be able to follow her train of thought.

  “I know you have priors, but this time you’ll just have to do without.”

  “Without a donkey show? Do you know what a donkey show is?” he asked.

  She leaned in close, her dark eyes almost as frightening as Hack’s. “I know that my fiancé needs a good time, with ass he will not touch and alcohol at levels respective to his rank. He’s a Navy man, not some weak ass grunt, so plan accordingly. Furthermore, he will be sober when he walks down the aisle and pledges to love me and only me until the good lord takes him to the Promised Land. Are we clear?”

  “A slightly cloudy crystal,” he replied because this woman made Sunday School teachers look thuggish.

  She walked away swaying her hips, the leather coat stating she was the ‘owner and operator of Hack’ on the back.

  The table of men burst out in roars of laughter while Freaky was confused. He got the reference, but from Preacher Girl? The sweet one who got her nickname from quoting bible verses when she got nervous? “I just can’t figure that woman out. She was shy most of the time, but then at a time like this she comes walking right up and speaks out.” Freaky sat back down at the table and put his notebook back in his pocket.

  “Guess you have priors,” Cass said. “Don’t worry, Hack won’t figure it out. You got the go ahead for wifey. Preacher Girl was held back for too many years. Must think it’s a rite of passage.”

  “Or she wants her own dancers.” Freaky smiled. “Too bad, I’ll be busy.”

  The men with claimed women glared at him.

  “What? I’m joking, geez, women lock your asses down and you lose all sense of humor.”

  2

  Meadow packed her wares and put them in her SUV. She had a great day of sales and couldn’t wait to get home and tell Clive all their bills would be paid from today. With the day job in the morning, it would be nice if they didn’t fight tonight and instead, had one of their peaceful evenings. The ones that reminded her why she was even with him.

  Last minute sales when she was packing up and traffic from a different festival had her running late. Surely, Clive would have made himself something to eat by now. He wasn’t a child, though at times he did remind her of the neediness when it came to her students.

  All the lights were on as she pulled up to the trailer they shared. At least Clive was home and not blowing the few dollars at the bar that she’d left on the counter .

  Grabbing her supply bag, with her cash box, she walked toward the door.

  Clive stood with a bottle in one hand, holding the screen door open as he leaned, blocking the doorway. “Did you bring supper home with you?”

  “No, Clive, I didn’t stop anywhere. I can go out and get you something if you like?” Meadow watched his face to see if he was angry or not.

  “Don’t bother. You can cook something can’t you?” Clive moved out of the way of the door to let her in.

  “I’ll get something ready.” She made her way into the kitchen, nothing fancy since she was tired from the day, but she did enjoy the artistry of a well-made plate.

  Clive followed her, the thump of his heavy boots echoing in their small home. The jeans he wore had stains from her paints. She hadn’t had time to launder them from the passionate night when he’d come from behind while she was painting in their spare room. The canvas forever damaged, but the moment was divine in its own way.

  Clive sat at the island. He took a long pull from a bottle of beer he’d already opened.

  “We got more?” she asked leaning across the island to be captured by his smoky gray eyes.

  With his lids drooping a bit from what he’d recently drank, he asked, “More what?”

  “Beer?” she was asking for two reasons, the first to see how drunk he might be and second, so she could finish his if there were more to be had. Lord knows she needed
one as much as he did.

  “Yes, we have more,” he grumbled and let her take the little he had left in his bottle. “You think I just sat around drinking all day?”

  “Of course not baby,” she said taking the last swallow of beer before grabbing a pan and setting it on the stove. With a toss of the bottle into the recycling, she went to the fridge and took out a package of chicken and a bag of green beans from the freezer. Opening the chicken, she washed them in the sink before adding a bit of basic seasoning and placing them in the skillet to cook with a splash of oil.

  “You gonna get me another beer?” He barked. “I’m near dehydration here.”

  She opened the fridge, finding another beer, she opened it before handing it off to him. “I’ll have dinner done here shortly. Can you try and not drink too much before we eat?”

  “Meadow, don’t you worry none about how much I drink. Just get the food done. I’m starving.” Clive swallowed nearly half the bottle in one long pull.

  “I’d say the same thing if it was water,” she said as she used a spatula to move the now sizzling chicken breasts in the pan. “Just don’t want to waste the food.”

  He eyed her a bit, then gave her a shrug. “You were gone all day again,” he grumbled, moving over to the kitchen table and splaying his legs as he laid back in the chair. “It’s my day off, if you loved me you’d have stayed home.”

  “You know I make more money on the weekend,” she reasoned. “Besides, I got a lead today on a good project. Could make a decent profit, maybe get that new washer we need.”

  “How much you make?”

  “More than enough,” she replied. “I haven’t added it all up yet. Not with getting your dinner ready and all.”

  “So now, I’m stopping you from counting pennies. I just don’t see a reason for you to keep leaving the house.”

  “Won’t have a house if I don’t make money,” the honest words fell from her lips before she could stop herself. Normally, a filter was in place and she didn’t flub up, but when he was out of work, she knew better than to try to leverage control. And here she was doing it.

  Clive snatched her so quick, she barely had time to let go of the skillet. Her body slammed forcefully into the side of the fridge causing the door to swing open. This wasn’t one of his overcome by passion moments. The ones she yearned for when she slept. Those had faded like a photography left in the sun. Curling in on itself until you could no longer tell what initially had been there.

  “I own this house, Meadow, you hear me? I don’t need your fucking money. You’re here because—” His eyes darkened for a moment. “Because I let you be. If it wasn’t for me, your ass would be on the fucking street trying to sell sketches to tourists for French fry money.”

  “I know, baby,” she replied nodding her head a few times and holding in the tears currently muddying her eyes. Clive called them cheating. Making him feel bad when he hadn’t done anything to her. As if she had the ability to cry on command. “I didn’t mean anything by it. I’m just happy I can pay the lot fee this month, so you don’t have to. You work so hard, I’m glad my little hobby can take off some of that burden.”

  Sizzles and pops came from the stove and she knew by the thin layer of haze filling the space soon the chicken would be burning. “Let me finish making you something good,” she said hoping the vice grip he had on her upper arm wouldn’t bruise.

  Covering the discoloration wouldn’t be a problem, a nice shawl or even a three-quarter length sleeve. Somewhere, Meadow had a shirt that would work. Her mind kept tripping through her closet as a distraction from the reality of the situation around her. So many sundresses and camisoles. She loved the practical nakedness of them.

  “Bout time, the money spent on you wasn’t wasted,” Clive said as he released her.

  Instantly, she hustled around him toward the stove. Flipping the seared meat she, used her spatula to knock off some of the charring. Heat from Clive moving behind her sent a shiver up her spine. The harsh sound of one of their kitchen table chairs scraping along the linoleum alerted her to his location.

  Plating the food, she placed it in front of him. The lighter side of the chicken face up. Clive sliced off a bit and turned it upwards. The meat pierced by the fork with black coating she’d chipped away slightly, but would never lose. His jaw tightened, the thick muscle at the base twitching.

  Meadow flinched, leaning down to take the plates. “I’m sorry. Let me go and make something else.”

  Clive wrapped his hand around her wrists, locking in hard, the force painful enough to have her release the plates. “Forget it. Sit down and eat your supper.”

  She sat, rotating her wrist under the table, hoping to calm down the pain, as she reached for the fork

  Clive eyed her.. “What seasoning did you put on this?” he spat.

  “Salt, pepper, a little garlic?” she said. “Did I do too much?”

  “Why aren’t you eating?”

  “I was just letting it cool,” she replied.

  “But I can eat it hot, scalding even?”

  “You can do whatever—”

  Clive grabbed her hand, crushing her fingers together. The metal of the fork digging into her joints until she was finally able to drop it. A loud clink sounded against the plate as it bounced and fell to the floor.

  Meadow cried out, “Ouch!”

  He slapped her across the face, splitting her lip as the coppery taste of blood assaulted her tongue.

  What had she done this time? Was it just the alcohol? Her mouth? At this point, it didn’t matter because the darkness shadowed his eyes. Trying to get away, she stood and yanked her arm away from him, then she raced into the living room.

  Clive chased after her, snatching her by the hair and pulling her to the floor. Dragging her across the carpet with enough force to make her flowing skirt bundle around her waist as she tried to press her heels into the floor. Her skin scraping across the poly-blend fabric sending stinging burns from the back of her thighs.

  The front door crashed opened. The sound deafening as her hair was released and she dropped to the floor. Brushing aside the long red locks, Meadow glanced up to find herself staring into the angry eyes of a woman.

  Dell from the Steel MC? She was followed into the house by Roxy and two other women.

  Meadow pushed herself up from the floor. Shaking, she wasn’t sure what was going to happen, but if the weapon at Dell’s side was any indication, it wasn’t good.

  Clive was madder than hell. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing in my house?”

  “I didn’t like the way you touched my friend.” Dell took two steps into the living room and grabbed Clive by the throat. Fingerless gloves covered her palm in supple leather, the hand pushing him against the wall and as she stepped eye to eye with him. “You like to hit women I see.”

  “Bitch.” Clive tried to grab her hand and pull it away from him.

  With her free hand, Dell punched him in the face and blood spirted from his nose. “You’ll learn never to touch this woman again.” With a hard shove, she tossed him to the floor by the neck.

  Clive tumbled to his knees. “You broke my nose!” Clive’s voice no longer having the baritone it normally possessed as his hands covered his face, bright red blood dripping from his fingers. For once, she wasn’t the source.

  “I’ll do more to you if you ever think about hitting Meadow again.” Dell walked over to her. “Meadow, come on. I think it’s time you thought about leaving this man. I’ll take you out of here right now.”

  “Um I’m not sure.” Meadow wanted to leave, but all her things were here. Her life. Clive had his bad moments, but did that outweigh the good ones. The deep passion they found.

  “What are you not sure about? It’s time you left here.” Dell held onto her hand. “Anyone that can choke a person, can kill them.”

  “You choked him,” Meadow replied meekly.

  Dell smirked in response. “What’s your point? I didn’t do m
y job?”

  “No,” Meadow blurted and tried to refocus Dell’s attention as the other women stood guard over Clive. “I need a bag.”

  Meadow thought maybe it was time, and this lady was giving her the chance she needed to start fresh. In truth, the suffocation when it came to the relationship between her and Clive had her wondering if there was a light on the other side of his fist. Deluding herself into the belief of his passion for her. Lust for life. The way he lived for her and her alone, but could only handle so much of her disobeying him.

  “Meadow, I’ll never let you leave!” Clive yelled. “You know I love you. No one will ever love you like I do.”

  “Well, that’s good to hear,” Roxy replied shoving him back down when he tried to get up from the floor.

  “You don’t have a choice. She’s leaving with me.” Dell pulled on her hand. “Come on Meadow, let’s get that bag packed.”

  “You gone dike-bitch on me now Meadow,” Clive called after her as Dell pulled her through the hallway. “Your damn free loving self, it ain’t right. You want another woman in the bed you only needed to ask.”

  “Ladies, take care of this asshole. Don’t let him leave his spot on the floor,” Dell commanded over her shoulder. “Come on Meadow, move.”

  Meadow tripped a bit as she made her way down the hall behind Dell. In her disheveled bedroom, she pulled her suitcase from the closet then quickly threw some clothes inside and closed the bag. She packed her personals from the bathroom in another bag.

  Her car had most of her photography equipment in it. She intended to take her car that had everything, but her painting supplies.

  Looking around, she would miss this trailer, but she knew it was a way to escape the life she was used to. Clive had beaten her for the last time.

  “We good?” Dell asked.

  Meadow nodded. “I’m ready.”

  Dell walked toward her, “you made the right decision. Come on.”

  “Wait,” Meadow said moving toward her oversized bag with her cashbox tucked inside. No way was she leaving with nothing. Slinging it over her shoulder, she gave Dell a nod.