Down & Dirty: Dex
Welcome to Shadow Valley where the Dirty Angels MC rules. Get ready to get Down & Dirty because this is Dex’s story…
A stranger with a diary that contains a thirty-year-old secret. One that could rip a brotherhood apart...
DAMC born and bred, Dex was never like the rest of his club brothers. Even though being a biker was his destiny, something was always missing. He could never figure out what it was or why until one day a woman walks into Shadow Valley Pawn. A sexy, badass woman who challenges him at every turn.
When Brooke discovers the truth about her mother after her death, she comes to Shadow Valley. However, a simple trip to find answers twists into something she never expects. Not only that, but the successful businesswoman crosses paths with a biker who tests the control she loves so much both inside and outside of the bedroom.
Unexpectedly, Brooke not only flips a switch inside Dex and shows him his true self, she learns it’s okay to give up some of the independence she holds onto so tightly.
But that’s not the only discoveries the two make. One secret shakes the club to their core by exposing a member who’s been destroying them from the inside out.
Note: This book can be read as a standalone. It includes lots of steamy scenes, biker slang, cursing, some violence and, of course, an HEA. If you like alpha males who like to take charge, this book is for you.
Release date: November 3, 2018
Publisher: Double-J Romance, Inc.
Print pages: 260
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Listen to a sample
Down & Dirty: Dex
Jeanne St. James
Dex had a fucking half-chub. He grimaced because he needed to adjust it, but if his sister caught him doing so, she would give him shit. He glanced over his shoulder through the large picture window into the pawn shop’s office where Ivy sat working in front of a computer.
Then his neck twisted once again to stare at the woman who was wandering around Shadow Valley Pawn pretending to check out the items for sale.
She was faking it and he wanted to know why.
It was possible she was just trying to pass the time. Maybe she’d been sent here from that asshole rival MC, the Shadow Warriors, to case the joint so they could wreak future havoc.
They hadn’t heard from those outlaw nomads in a while, so it was about time for them to show their bastard faces.
But no matter why the woman was here, Dex couldn’t ignore the fact that the woman was fucking dick-hardening sexy.
Tall. Leggy. And tits that made his mouth water.
Now his half chub was a full-blown hard-on.
Fuck it. He reached down and yanked it to a more comfortable position.
Fuck Ivy. She could bitch all she wanted.
If he was lucky, she hadn’t noticed.
Now that he wasn’t so uncomfortable, he leaned back against the counter behind the glass display case and crossed his arms over his chest as he continued to check the “customer” out.
Her hair was like a strawberry blonde. He was pretty sure that’s what chicks called it. Not as red as his sister Ivy’s and not as light blonde as Emma’s, Dawg’s ol’ lady. An in-between.
He could imagine the woman on her knees in front of him, his dick in her mouth, his fingers wrapped tightly in her hair and her head bobbing up and down.
His dick twitched, and his balls pulled tight as he wondered if the carpet matched the drapes.
For fuck’s sake, he never wanted to lick a carpet as badly than he did at that moment.
He needed to see the color of her eyes. He wanted to imagine what they would look like when she tipped them up toward him as he blew his load into her mouth.
He groaned. Then groaned again when she ran her fingers over a marble sculpture that reminded him of some ancient dildo.
Yeah, that’s it.
When she circled the base of the sculpture with her fingers, a soft whimper escaped him before he could stop it.
Fuck. He was going commando today and his dick was making a mess in his jeans. He shifted, then shifted again as the denim scraped the sensitive head.
He might have to go back into the storage area, lock himself in a closet and relieve the load in his balls.
He checked over his shoulder once more to make sure Ivy was doing whatever she did. Her head was down and she was busy typing away on the keyboard.
His gaze shot back to the sex-on-a-stick who was now running her thumb over the crown of the...
It was a fucking sculpture!
Why the fuck did Ace accept that pawn? No one in their right mind would pay a grand for a marble thing that looked too much like a dick.
Maybe this chick would since she seemed fascinated by it.
He pushed off the counter, adjusted himself one more time, and strode over to where she stood fondling the...
“Hey.” He winced as his voice cracked. He cleared his throat and dropped his voice an octave. “Hey, you need any help?”
Glancing up from running her finger up and down the smooth veiny marble, she pinned him in place with...
He couldn’t tell what color her eyes were. They were blue, but not a typical blue. Like a greyish blue, sky blue, slate blue, whatever. He had no fucking clue since they seemed to keep changing the longer he stared at her. Maybe it was because of the lack of blood to his brain.
“What are they?” he asked as if in a trance.
“What?” she asked softly.
“Your eyes. What color are they?”
She raised her brows and tilted her head to study his face. “Do you ask all of your customers that?”
Just the ones that make my dick hard. “Yeah, it’s a requirement.”
“Like a credit check?”
“Somethin’ like that.”
Her lips twitched, and she shrugged. “They’re blue.”
Simple enough. Those blue eyes met his and he pictured himself pumping his cum down her throat.
She jerked her head toward his now throbbing dick. “Do you always sport wood when you talk to your customers, too?”
Dex smiled, but kept his hand from creeping down to touch what she was looking at. “Depends on who the customer is.”
“You know that’s sexual harassment, right?”
He frowned. “What is?”
“Undressing me with your eyes the moment I walked through the door, staring at my tits, standing this close to me with a hard-on.”
“Well, maybe you shouldn’t jerk off a marble dick.”
Her gaze bounced to the sculpture, and she removed her hand. “Is that what it is?”
“Dunno. Don’t care. Just know I’d like to be in its place.”
She clicked her tongue. “I guess you didn’t hear what I just said.”
“Nope.” He grinned. “Haven’t touched you yet. When I do, you can warn me again about my bad behavior.”
Dex shrugged. “Just wanna let you know, I like what I see.”
“So, the marble sculpture turns you on?” Her eyes crinkled at the corners.
“You touchin’ it did.”
“No filter, huh?”
“You just say,” she waved a hand around, “whatever’s in your head.”
“Yep. Pretty much.”
She laughed and shook her head.
Damn, that laugh didn’t help the little problem in his jeans. Fuck that, his big problem.
“I guess you work here?”
“Yeah,” he grunted.
She jerked her chin at his cut. “Is that a uniform all the employees wear?”
“Some of us.” At least Ace and Dex wore the Dirty Angels MC colors. Ivy didn’t wear her ol’ man’s cut. And Ace had a couple of part-timers who worked in the pawn shop, but they weren’t a part of their club. “Ain’t a uniform. It’s a cut.”
“I know what it is,” she answered.
Dex pursed his lips and ran his gaze over her from top to toe. Sexual harassment be damned. Did the Warriors send her in?
Would those fuckwads even know a woman who looked like her?
She wore jeans that hugged her thighs and hips, brown high-heeled boots that went up to her knees, and a tight long sleeved-top that... yeah, emphasized her rack. A brown leather coat was tossed over her arm.
“Don’t look like a biker chick,” he murmured.
“What does a biker chick look like?”
Good fucking question.
The buzzer went off, indicating the front door to the shop had opened, and Ace stepped inside. His uncle’s eyes immediately landed on them and Ace shook his head.
As he passed, he gave Dex a pointed look. Ace didn’t like Dex flirting with the customers. He’d warned him time and time again not to turn into Pierce, the former DAMC president, who was a total dick and liked to take advantage of women by...
Sexually harassing them.
He shuffled his feet, hoping Ace didn’t spot his hard-on, and cleared his throat again. He was supposed to be helping customers and making sales, not chasing them away.
“So... you wanna buy that... thing?” He cocked an eyebrow toward the sculpture.
“For a thousand bucks? I could buy a Rabbit cheaper.”
“I said no.”
That wasn’t what she said. He had no idea what a rabbit was, besides the kind that hopped. But maybe he should find out.
Later. When he was alone.
“So if you don’t want it, what are you here for? What are you lookin’ for?”
The guy was handsome... sort of. In a bit of a rough biker way. But he wasn’t bad. He didn’t have a beer gut. Yet. And he didn’t have a long beard. Yet. Unlike the older man that had just entered and walked through the pawn shop in worn jeans, heavy biker boots and wearing a similar cut as this one’s.
Brooke’s gaze went over to where the man stood behind the counter. Could he be him? Her father?
“Who’s your father?”
Her attention was drawn back to the man before her. Colorful tattoos spilled over his forearms, from where his long-sleeved thermal shirt was pushed up past his elbows, down to his wrists. He sported a small gold hoop in one ear and a couple fingers were encircled by clunky brass-colored rings. A wide band of leather wrapped around his left wrist. So typical of a biker. “Trying to figure that out.”
He had good teeth, though, and he looked clean. Well, except for his leather vest. The patches were dirty. But then it wasn’t like he could throw his cut into the washing machine. A white rectangular patch over his right chest said “Secretary.”
“Why would you come here, though? Gotta have a reason.”
Brooke moved behind the biker to read the back of his cut. She reached out and brushed her fingers over the top rocker of his colors. “Because of that.”
He twisted his head. “What?”
“What your patches say.”
He spun around to face her. “Fuckin’ speak English.”
She shrugged. “Okay. Like I said, I’m looking for my father.”
His dark brows furrowed. “And what does that have to do with the DAMC?”
“I’m pretty sure he’s a member. Or was. At least when I was conceived. Not sure if he still is.”
Brooke watched a look cross his face. It held a mixture of disbelief and surprise. Her gaze dropped to his name patch. Dex.
She wondered what that name meant. Surely all bikers had a nickname. “Dex.”
“Yeah,” he grunted, then turned to yell across the shop to the older biker behind the counter. “Ace, you got another kid you don’t know about?”
The older biker’s eyes widened, then narrowed as they landed on Brooke.
“What the fuck you talkin’ ‘bout?” this “Ace” grumbled as he rounded the long glass display counter and headed in their direction.
“A kid. As in, you knocked up a bitch an’ didn’t know?”
Brooke sighed. She should take offense at this Dex calling her mother a bitch. Hell, she should take offense at the way he fucked her with his eyes.
Ace was pulling on his long salt and pepper beard as he approached and eyeballed her up and down. Almost as if he was trying to see if she looked familiar. She did look like her mother, at least before the cancer turned her into nothing but a shell.
Ace’s voice was gruff and worn like his cut. “How old are you?”
Some women would also take offense to that question. But she was here for a specific reason, so it would be smart for her to answer. “Thirty.”
Ace snorted and ran a hand over his brow as if he was wiping off sweat. “Ain’t mine. Janice had me neutered after Diesel came outta her like a wreckin’ ball.”
Brooke should feel relieved that this biker wasn’t her father. But she wasn’t. Disappointment crept in before she could knock it away. Because that meant she had to keep looking.
“Also, haven’t fucked anyone other than Janice since Hawk was conceived on the back of my sled. Knew right then it was true love.” He shot her a wide grin and then leaned closer like he was about to tell her a secret. “Yeah. Tight pussy over a Harley. Nothin’ better than that.”
Dex whacked Ace on the arm. “True, brother. Maybe good head’s a close second.” His eyes landed on her lips.
Brooke tipped her head down to hide the roll of her eyes. She needed to keep them on the topic at hand. “I’m sorry. I just know he’s a biker and might own a business in Shadow Valley. I asked around town, and there seems to be a few businesses owned by bikers, so I’m stopping at them all. This just happened to be the first one on my list.”
“Well, the only bikers workin’ in this shop are me an’ Dex here. An’ this boy might be a horny fucker but doubt he knocked anyone up when he was two.”
Brooke fought the twitch of her lips. “Are you two related?”
“Uncle. An’ club brothers,” Ace stated, then tilted his head. “Sure your pop was an Angel?”
“How come you’re only lookin’ for ‘im now?”
“My mom passed away a couple months ago, and when I was going through her things, I found out my father wasn’t really my father. Or at least he wasn’t my biological father.”
Ace regarded her for a long moment. “Got a name?”
Brooke shook her head. “Nope. Just found some things hidden away in the attic. Some of it mentioned your MC and it was dated about the time I was born.”
“You think she hung ‘round the club thirty years ago?” Ace asked her.
Brooke shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m not sure how involved she was with this biker. Might have been just a one-night stand since she was married when she got pregnant with me. Whatever happened, she never talked about it, never told me the truth. I always just assumed my father was... my father. His name was even on my birth certificate.”
Dex shifted next to her. “So why do you think he ain’t your father?”
She regarded him for a moment. “Besides the stuff that I uncovered? I found it curious that I never looked like him. I never looked like my brother or sister, either. I just didn’t fit in.” Though, she looked like her mother, she looked nothing like her father, while her younger siblings did. Brooke had always wondered about that, but never got a good answer. So she let it go. Until she began to wonder again as she cleaned her mother’s house out, and came across a few things that made her question who her real father was.
“D’ya ask your pop?” Ace asked her, hands on his hips.
She shook her head. “No, he died from a heart attack when I was a teenager.”
“Damn. Lost both your mom an’ pop. Sorry to hear that,” Ace mumbled. “But still don’t get why you’d think your biological father was an Angel. Just a few mementos, or whatever, don’t indicate shit. Been a member of this club forever. Hell, I was born into it. My pop was a foundin’ member. So I know everyone who’s come an’ gone an’ has worn our colors. Had to be a brother who was ‘round my age or older. Unless...”
Ace shrugged his broad shoulders. “Unless it was a hang-around or prospect who didn’t pan out. Ain’t too many members left from back then. Rocky an’ Doc’s in prison. As for the rest, quite a few of ‘em got taken out when shit began to get hot an’ heavy with the Shadow Warriors.”
“Grizz,” Dex mentioned.
“Who’s Grizz?” Brooke asked.
“One of the oldest members,” Dex answered. “At least not in prison,” he added quickly. He glanced at Ace. “Could it be Grizz?”
“Fuck. Don’t even say that out loud. Momma Bear would have his balls on a spit an’ be servin’ ‘em up at The Iron Horse lickity split.”
“Is The Iron Horse one of the club’s businesses?” Brooke asked. She didn’t remember if that one was on her list. If it wasn’t, she needed to add it.
“Yeah,” Dex answered.
“Who runs that?”
Ace snorted. “My son, Hawk. He definitely ain’t your father, either.”
“If it ain’t Grizz, then who?” Dex asked. “One of the members the Warriors killed?”
Ace pulled at his beard slowly and frowned. “Could be.”
“How ‘bout Rocky?”
“Dunno, boy. He’s old enough to be.” Ace regarded Brooke. “Question is, if you find ‘im, then what?”
That was a damn good question. She hadn’t thought that far ahead. She figured she needed to find out who he was and if he was still breathing, then...
Then depending who it was...
“If it ain’t you, an’ it ain’t Grizz. Might be Rocky.”
“Could be anyone, Dex. An’ she don’t even got any solid proof. Not even a fuckin’ name.”
“Maybe she could talk to D. Maybe his crew can help ‘er out.”
Ace scowled at Dex. “For what?”
“To help her figure out who ‘er pop is. What the fuck, Ace?”
“Why do you fuckin’ care, boy? Why do you wanna bring more drama into this damn club? Ain’t we got enough? You just wanna stick your dick in ‘er, an’ think she’ll give you a little grateful pussy if you help ‘er. Keep your nose outta it. For all we know her pop could be the same as yours since that deadbeat took off, leaving your fuckin’ mother with three little ones.”
“No.” Ace threw up his hands. “Don’t be stickin’ your dick in ‘er ‘til you know she ain’t your sister. For fuck’s sake! That’s all we fuckin’ need.” He stalked away grumbling.
“Um,” Brooke began, heat crawling up her neck.
“Yeah,” Dex muttered. He raked his fingers through his dark hair which was a little on the longer side. Not quite shaggy but not trimmed tight, either. His dark brown eyes landed on her. “Sorry ‘bout that. Kinda killed my fuckin’ boner, too.”
Brooke’s gaze automatically dropped to where his hand landed, then she closed her eyes and cursed herself for doing just that. But Ace was right, they could be siblings. She shuddered as she thought back on how Dex was staring at her earlier.
A knuckle grazed her cheek and she opened her eyes. “Ace is wrong. Ain’t my sister. My pop was no longer an Angel when your mom got knocked up. He got on his sled, took off an’ never came back.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, babe. ‘Cause that woulda sucked.”
“’Cause I’m gonna buy you a fuckin’ beer.”
She wasn’t sure if that was supposed to be a pick-up line. Because it if was, it sucked. But she had to admit, the man had a lot of confidence. “I don’t drink beer.”
“We could still have a whiskey together even if we were related.”
“Yeah, but couldn’t do the rest of the stuff I have planned.”
Her eyebrows shot up her forehead. Maybe what she thought as confidence was actually cockiness. “Oh?”
“Oh, fuck yeah,” he whispered, then licked his lips.
Well, now his confidence was bordering on creepy. She needed to get the hell out of there.
“Dex!” Ace yelled across the shop. “Leave ‘er alone an’ get the fuck back to work. She needs to get gone.”
That was one thing she could agree on.
Dex’s lips twisted in a frown. “Guessin’ you ain’t from ‘round here.”
Brooke shook her head.
“Where you stayin’?”
“I...” Why the hell was she even going to answer his question? “Nowhere, yet.”
“Need a place to crash?”
“Are you offering?” she asked in disbelief.
“Gotta room above church. Bed’s too small. Was hopin’ you had a motel room or somethin’.”
“Church,” she repeated. She knew that didn’t mean what it should. She had done some research on MCs before hopping in her car and heading to Shadow Valley. But she couldn’t remember what church meant in biker speak.
“Yeah. Was gonna move into the apartment upstairs, but D’s a stubborn fuck an’ thinks he’ll be raisin’ his kid up there. Jewelee’s havin’ a shit fit about it.”
She shook her head, lost on who he was talking about.
“Don’t matter. You end up bein’ a part of the DAMC, you’ll meet ‘em all eventually. This club’s like a big dysfunctional family.”
Her plan wasn’t to join the MC. Her plan was to find her father. Ask some questions. Take care of business and go the hell home. She wasn’t here to settle in with a bunch of bikers like they were long-lost family.
“How about if I just meet you somewhere?” She quickly added, “For that whiskey.” She certainly wasn’t meeting him for anything else. But she wouldn’t mind getting together with him and asking more questions since he seemed willing to help. Maybe get a chance to meet more of the club members. Try to find out who her father really was.
And why she should even care, she hadn’t figured that part out yet, either.
She had loved the father who raised her, whether he was blood or not. But when she dug through that shoebox and found info in it to make her wonder who she really was, something had pulled at her.
And maybe he would understand the meaning behind some of the things her mother had written down in the diary that had been buried under some old newspaper clippings. Maybe he could clarify some of the cryptic scribblings.
But no matter what, it wasn’t like she needed an actual relationship with her biological father. She just wanted to know who he was. At thirty, she didn’t need any type of “daddy.”
Especially not the type that stood in front of her.
Wanting to buy her a whiskey.
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