Bred by the MC VP (Breeding Season Book 6) Read online

  EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING ®

  www.evernightpublishing.com

  Copyright© 2020 Sam Crescent and Stacey Espino

  ISBN: 978-0-3695-0225-4

  Cover Artist: Jay Aheer

  Editor: Audrey Bobak

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  BRED BY THE MC VP

  Breeding Season, 6

  Sam Crescent and Stacey Espino

  Copyright © 2020

  Chapter One

  “None of you have anything better to do?” Dog glared at the growing group of onlookers.

  He ran his free hand through his hair, trying his best to keep still. He’d been sitting on the stool in the main yard for over three hours, so he wasn’t in the best mood.

  One of the old ladies was giving him his latest tattoo, an intricate collage of skulls on his left bicep. She’d been doing ink for decades, and this was the fourth time he’d been her canvas. He glanced at his arm as the crowd dispersed, thankful that the artwork looked about finished. It was better than he expected. Right now, all he wanted to do was get out of the hot yard and grab a cold beer.

  “That’s a nice one.”

  He’d already told everyone to fuck off. Dog didn’t appreciate an audience when he was hot, uncomfortable, and edgy from the needles. When he noticed it was Sable, his anger melted away. She was his only weakness.

  “You think so?”

  She nodded, walking around the tree stump they used as a table to take in every angle. When she came up behind him, she ran her fingertips along his shoulder, bringing his entire body to life. He sat straighter on the stool, adjusting his stance. “Good job, Patty. I think this is your best work yet,” she said.

  “Thanks, sweetheart. When you going to let me do you?”

  Sable shrugged. “I’m too chicken.”

  “You don’t need any work done. You’re perfect the way you are,” said Dog.

  There was a stretch of awkward silence.

  “Old Dog playing with kittens?” said Patty. She coughed as soon as she started laughing. Her voice rough from a lifetime of smoking. The old bitch didn’t know when to keep her mouth shut. Dog was the VP of the Hell’s Slaves MC, so she wasn’t too bright pissing him off—old lady or not.

  “You finished? You sound like you’re going to cough up a fucking lung.” Yes, he was twenty years older than Sable, but he never said he was claiming the twenty-six-year-old. Any attraction he had was bottled up and on the shelf.

  Patty kept her mouth shut and cleaned off his arm. Dog stood up, stretching out all his cramped muscles. Sable was still there, but he walked back to the clubhouse, ignoring her.

  “How long did the tattoo take?” she asked.

  “No fucking clue. Too long.”

  She tagged along with him. He remembered when she was an awkward teen. Sable was all grown up now—loads of curves, perfect features, and soft pale skin. He stopped just before going inside. Dog tried to replicate disinterest with Sable, like he did almost every day of his life, but it was impossible when she looked at him with those big doe brown eyes. She pulled her dark hair around to one side of her body. Whenever she was nervous, she’d twirl and fiddle with it.

  Sable was a club whore, the same as her mother and sister. That meant she wasn’t to be taken seriously. She was pussy for the brothers to share. He could take her right now. Tell her to get upstairs in his bed and spread her legs. But something always held him back.

  It wasn’t just the huge age difference.

  He wanted something more and that could never happen with Sable. Maybe in a different lifetime, but not this one. He’d be laughed out of the fucking club if he attempted to take club pussy as his old lady. He’d be a joke.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  She blocked the entrance with her body.

  “You’ve hardly talked to me since the shootings. I miss you, Dog. Did I do something wrong?”

  It had been almost a year since the club was shot up. Several of them had gunshot wounds, including him, the prez, and Sable. Ever since that day, he realized how important she was to him. They’d almost lost her. He’d spent months helping her rehabilitate, even with his leg fucked up. She’d worried about the scars and had a fear of guns for a while—and he’d helped her through it all. He wished he could protect her forever.

  Of course, being a nice guy had worked against him.

  He’d fallen in love.

  His feelings for the young beauty had to be doused, and the only way he knew how to do that was to keep his distance—out of sight, out of mind.

  It wasn’t so easy.

  “You’ve done nothing wrong. You saved Beth’s life. Everyone respects what you did for the club.”

  “That’s not what I meant. I’m talking about you and me. We used to be closer, even more after the shooting, and now you can’t stand to look at me.”

  He couldn’t do this. Nothing could happen between them, so his entire conversation was pointless. Dog fought the frog growing in his throat. “We all have our roles to play here, Sable. I have a club to run, you have men to fuck.”

  She scowled, but the expression looked more hurt than angry.

  Dog moved around her and went inside. As soon as the door closed behind him, he simultaneously felt his heart drop, like it weighed two hundred pounds, and a sense of bitter relief. He’d done what he had to do. Maybe being a fucking asshole would ensure she stayed away from him.

  He entered the kitchen and checked out the lunch offerings on the counter. Dog grabbed a plate and filled it up, then took a seat. He needed to grab a bite to eat then meet up with Forge, his prez, to discuss business.

  His mind was still a mess when Beth walked toward his table. He ground his teeth but forced himself to play nice.

  “How’s the baby?” he asked.

  “He’s sleeping.” She sat down opposite him.

  Dog nodded and continued eating. “I’ve never seen Forge so happy. A family looks good on him.”

  Beth smiled. “What about you, Dog? I just saw Sable run upstairs. She was crying.”

  “And?”

  She scowled. “I know how she feels about you. I thought it was mutual. You visited her every day after she got shot. It doesn’t make sense to me.”

  He hated when old ladies couldn’t mind their own fucking business, but Dog had to be on his best behavior with Beth or Forge would rip his head off.

  “You never grew up in a club. Things work a certain way, always have, always will. We don’t marry whores.”

  “Why the change of heart?”

  “No change of heart,” he said. “A guy can’t be nice? We help our own around here. That’s where it ends.”

  “I never said anything, but before she was shot, she talked about you. She said it was her dream for you to pick her. Like it was some big prize. It’s obvious that she’s in love with you.” Beth shrugged. “Sable’s a great girl. No way does she deserve to be treated like garbage.”

  Beth got up and walked away. He wanted to tell her to wait, to hear him out, but he kept his mouth shut. Beth and Sable had become good friends, so he’d always be on the losing side.

  Dog continued eating, his body still tense from hearing what Sable
said about him. Yes, in a perfect world, he’d claim her. But if he ever decided to settle down, he’d want a woman who was clean, just for him. He didn’t want half the fucking club knowing what she looked like naked or reminding him they’d fucked her every which way. And they would. Besides, taking an old lady and starting a family weren’t priorities in his mind. He had a lot of anger built up. His own mother dumped him when he was born, and that rejection stuck. He didn’t want to repeat history.

  He was better off on his own.

  Being VP to the Hell’s Slaves was his life.

  His mood continued to sour as his thoughts darkened. What he needed was the usual violent outlet, and the club always provided. He hoped Forge had something he wanted cleaned up. It would give him a chance to blow off steam.

  Dog met the prez out back near his forge.

  “Hey, daddy.”

  Forge glared at him, his features set hard. Then he smiled. “I can’t even get mad. It sounds too damn good.”

  Dog leaned against the doorway. “Things going well with the family?”

  “Perfect. I’m living on cloud-fucking-nine.” Forge began to tidy up the tools on his bench. He was working on some new knives and some sort of iron work with his kid’s initials. Dog didn’t bother mentioning it, or Forge would get defensive. Deny it or not, the prez was putty when it came to his wife and baby son.

  “You wanted to talk?”

  “Yeah.” He continued tidying. “How’s Redneck getting along? Any problems?”

  After they killed their backstabbing Sergeant-at-Arms, they’d gone without an enforcer for too long. They finally voted in Redneck. He was younger but he’d been born in the club and was a ruthless motherfucker. He’d proved himself loyal time and time again. “He’s doing good. That kid has a lot to prove.”

  “I like the sound of that. Keep an eye on him.” Forge came closer and focused on him. “The new mayor wants some quiet cleanup.”

  Dog laughed out loud. “One corrupt mayor after the other. Good for business, I guess.”

  “Very good. We’ll have him wrapped around our finger in no time. We’ll visit him tomorrow and hear him out.”

  “He know what happened with Peterson?”

  “I really don’t fucking care. If he pays, we’ll do the job,” said Forge. “In the meantime, get some of the boys to pull up any dirt there is on him. Ideally, I’d like to get pics of him with one of our girls. He’s married and they’ll come in handy if he tries to fuck with us. Politicians are so easy to blackmail.”

  “Will do.”

  No violence for today. He’d have to hit the gym and take out his frustration on the punching bag. Anything to get Sable off his mind.

  ****

  Sable spent most of the afternoon crying in her room. She felt like garbage. Worse than garbage. No, she had no rights to the VP of the club, not even close. Apparently, he couldn’t even stand her.

  Then why did she love him?

  She remembered having a crush on him since she was seventeen. He was strong, ruthless, and in control. She’d watch him lift weights, pretending to be cleaning or sewing patches on cuts. His body was rock hard, weathered, and toned to perfection. The scars and tattoos only made him sexier.

  Her mother had tried to get in his bed, but he’d refused her. The fact he wasn’t a pig like so many of the other men in the club only made her attraction to him grow.

  But, like he said, she was club pussy and nothing more. She had no rights. She had no future.

  Her little sister was four years younger and loved her role in the club. She’d fuck anything that walked. Sable supposed her future had been mapped out for her before she was even born. Her mother was a club whore, and Sable was born into the club, daughter to one of the bikers. She had no clue who. Her sister likely had a different father considering how much her mother got around and how different they looked. Honey had blonde hair and blue eyes and was a favorite with the men.

  Sable preferred to keep on the down-low. Every time there was a party or cookout, she’d stay behind the bar, handing out beer and mixing drinks while the other girls competed for the guys’ attention. Keeping a tally of how many guys she could fuck in one night wasn’t her idea of a good time.

  After feeling sorry for herself most of the afternoon, she decided she needed to get off the compound for a while. Maybe some retail therapy.

  She found Old Boy in the yard, shining the chrome on his bike. Sable smiled as sweetly as she could, then begged for a ride to the strip mall. It was the closest point of civilization from the club, and it promised a few hours of escape from her depressed mood. It was hard wanting something she knew she could never have. Soul-crushing. One day, Dog would find the right woman, and she’d have to watch from the sidelines.

  Sable wasn’t sure what happened to Dog. He’d changed into another person seemingly overnight. He’d been so good to her in the past, and now his true feelings were shining through.

  Old Dog and Brass dropped her off in front of a clothing store, then rode off together. She was supposed to call them when she was ready to head home.

  Sable looked through the window at the clothes but decided she was too hungry to do anything but eat first. She’d missed dinner, so she walked over to the diner. All-day breakfast was her favorite.

  The waitress came over once she’d settled into a booth. “You one of those girls from the Hell’s Slaves?”

  She just nodded. Sable hated how outsiders judged them, especially the girls. She made her order and watched the cars and people from beyond the large windows. The scent of bacon and eggs made her stomach rumble.

  “Hey, beautiful.”

  Sable looked up to find a cop standing at the end of the booth. Being raised in a motorcycle club gave her a natural distaste for law enforcement. She ignored him. Cops were usually trying to get information on the club. Being part of Hell’s Slaves was who she was, and she’d never betray them.

  The cop was much older than her, clean cut and skinny. She already hated him.

  “I’ve seen you here before. I never forget a face. Especially your face.” He sat down in the booth opposite to her.

  She rolled her eyes. They’d been taught to keep quiet. It came naturally to her.

  “What are you doing out here all alone? They leave you unprotected? You mustn’t be very important to them.”

  Her heart raced a little, but she kept calm on the outside. She’d done nothing wrong.

  The food came and the waitress dropped it down in front of her. “Want to order, Hank?”

  “Give me the usual. Luckily, I won’t be eating alone today.”

  He winked at Sable and her stomach roiled.

  “I’ll take my food to go,” she said.

  Hank grabbed her wrist, way too tight. “Stay put. You’d be stupid and make a scene here. It won’t end well for you.”

  She hated how the cops profiled everyone from the club. They’d become enemies, and sometimes allies when they wanted to make extra cash. Forge had a handle on the local police and politicians, but this guy was pushing his authority. The only people who could keep her safe were the brothers at the Hell’s Slaves.

  As soon as he relaxed his grip, she pulled her hand away and rubbed her wrist. This was the last thing she needed right now. All she’d wanted was a couple of hours of peace.

  “What do you want?” she finally said. Should she call Old Dog now? This cop was starting to scare her. She wanted to be back in the safety of the club. Sable rarely left the protective grasp of the compound.

  “You,” he said. “I know who you are and where you come from. You’re better than them, Sable. I can give you a real life in the real world. They’ve blinded you, you just have to see that.”

  “I’ll pass.”

  Hard pass.

  How did he know her name? She didn’t like the fact he’d been stalking or spying on her every time she came into town. How much digging had he done?

  “Think about your future. Hell’s
Slaves are going down one way or another. We’re on to them, and it’s only a matter of time. The file is ten inches thick. If you help us out with some inside information, you’ll be well-rewarded.”

  She shook her head, not looking him in the eyes.

  “More than that. I knew from the first time I saw you that you’d be mine one day. I have intuition like that,” he said. “I have a real job. A respectable job. I can take care of you. I’m not a filthy murderer with no respect for women or the law. I can look beyond your past.”

  Sable only wanted Dog, even if he was a hard-core killer.

  But he didn’t want her.

  He couldn’t look beyond her past.

  The club only saw her as pussy.

  She didn’t matter.

  “You don’t know me at all,” she said. “I have nothing to say to you.”

  “Protecting criminals will get you into a shitload of trouble, young lady. Be smart. This could be the first day of the rest of your life.” He reached out to touch her face, but she backed away. “Give me a chance, beautiful.”

  “My name’s not beautiful.” She looked at the food, hating the thought of leaving it behind, but she stood to leave.

  “Can you put a tracker on Forge’s bike? They’ll never know who put it there. You think the prez would lose sleep if anything happened to you?”

  “Leave me alone.”

  She rushed from the diner and speed-walked along the mall sidewalk to get away from the cop. She knew what they were capable of. So many of them abused their power and dragged them down to the precinct with no probable cause. She didn’t want to see the inside of a jail cell. Sable pulled out her cell phone and dialed Old Dog.

  “I need a pick-up,” she said.

  “I just dropped you off, little miss. I ain’t coming for at least another hour.”

  Tears pricked her eyes. “Please. There’s a cop tailing me. He’s pushing me to rat out the club.”

  There was silence on the line.