Undercover at the MC

JACKSON

I put my tools back in place in the workshop and wash my hands. Hammer’s Harley, which was leaking oil, is repaired and good to go. In the end, a whole new tank had to be installed.

Hammer doesn’t like to be without his “baby,” and he’s been bothering me regularly in recent days for updates about his second love—or first. It depends on whether Morgan is there when he talks about it.

Asher helped me all day, along with West. Those two are inseparable, and sometimes I wonder if my little brother doesn’t have more than friendly feelings for West.

Asher retired from the navy two years ago and couldn’t wait to join me at the club. There is quite an age difference between us. He’s twenty-nine, and I’m thirty-five.

Our parents were always proud of the fact that my father served the country in the army for so long, so it was expected of both of us that we would also serve the nation.

Asher entered the navy as a technician and worked on an aircraft carrier on the fighter jets and helicopters stationed there.

When he was a prospect at the club, he quickly earned the name Navy, given his past job.

I worked as a Navy SEAL for several years. SEAL missions take place across the sea, air, and land, hence the name. We were charged with going after high-level targets or getting information behind enemy lines, and I did my time in jungles and blizzards.

I’ve always been a big man. When I hit puberty, I shot up, and soon I was six feet, seven inches tall. The training sessions with the SEALs added a lot of muscle, and my SEAL buddies often called me the “lethal giant.”

Enemies tended to underestimate my speed and mobility, so I always had the element of surprise in combat.

When I was thirty, I finished my time with the SEALs, partly because of a shot in the abdomen that left me with one less kidney. But also because I needed a more stable base. I had seen enough danger in my still-young life.

The name Steel came to me soon after I earned my place in the club, and it wasn’t just because of my looks.

Serving with the SEALs leveled out quite a few of my emotions, and I’m often called out for having a default straight face.

The fact that I know almost as much about engines as my brother does just makes my nickname even more fitting.

Hammer and I quickly became good friends. We are often on the same page, and I helped him a lot with cleaning up the club.

Hammer’s father, Hank, got himself in deep trouble with some drug cartels, and we lost a lot in the fight over the money Hank owed them…including Hank himself.

In my early years as a club member, I was with a different Devil’s girl every day. Until Naomi.

Naomi was drop-dead gorgeous, the Devil’s girl every guy wanted to be with. By some miracle, she wanted to be with me. Not only that, she wanted to be exclusive.

Naomi and I were together for a while, but that’s a time I’d rather not think back to. Because of her, I gave up all hope of a lasting relationship.

Let’s just say she was a dishonest, greedy, crazy bitch.

For years after Naomi, I had one-night stands. I didn’t think I would ever date anyone long-term again, let alone have an ole lady.

Recently, though, I’ve started to feel a certain itch. Maybe not every woman is like Naomi.

My—communication skills are just a little bit of a hindrance when it comes to the ladies. You might not expect it, but I’m a pretty shy guy. Asher is really outgoing and always knows what to say. I, on the other hand, am more of a silent listener, not good at starting conversations.

When the workshop is tidy, I walk to the clubhouse, as usual. It’s only about a ten-minute walk, and I like to stretch my legs after spending the day in crazy positions around the bikes.

Ashley is doing the dishes with her back to me, and I take a moment to watch her because she’s definitely worth watching. Not that I do that very much. I have little interest in the new cook.

She has taken off her jacket, and through her tight top and pants, you can see her beautiful figure. Her long blond hair falls in curls down her lower back, and her narrow waist is emphasized by the curve of her hips.

And now I’m staring like an idiot while telling myself that I’m not interested in the new cook. Irritated with myself, I feel my mood darkening.

“Whiskey,” I mumble, trying to keep my voice as emotionless as possible.

“Please,” she says, and I blink at her slowly. What did she just say?

“Can I have a whiskey, please,” she says in an overly sweet tone, and I roll my eyes. Like I’m going to say please now.

I turn around and focus on the TV. I hear her mumble “asshole,” and can’t help but grin a little. My attitude bothers her. Good.

Moments later, I hear someone swearing in the kitchen, and I head in there to see what’s going on.

Ashley has her hand under the faucet, and there’s a large knife on the floor. I walk over, take her hand, and inspect the wound—my SEALs first aid training kicking in.

It’s not deep, so a Band-Aid should be enough. She holds still as I put the bandage around her finger—but then I manage to insult her with some shitty comment.

With steam just about coming out of her ears, she storms out of the kitchen. I follow her out but then decide to let the whole thing drop. It doesn’t bother me that I insulted her. Not at all.

Asher joins me while I’m still standing there, looking toward the bathroom like an idiot.

“Dude, did you scare her off with your grumpy face?” he cackles.

“Fuck you,” I growl, and he laughs louder.

“Try to laugh more; that works,” he says, slapping me on the back and walking away.

“Steel,” someone shouts, and I turn to see Hammer walking into the clubhouse with Morgan.

“My office, now,” he growls, and I already know something is wrong.

Morgan glances at me and walks into the kitchen. Ashley darts past me and heads to the kitchen as well. She gives me another deadly look, and I roll my eyes, but I’m starting to feel a little guilty. I never meant to upset her.

I follow Hammer into his office and take a seat at the table. A moment later, Morgan arrives with a coffee pot and some cookies, then leaves the room again.

“Ink is on his way. I’ve asked Hack to come too,” Hammer mutters as he starts typing on his computer. I nod and wait quietly in my chair. Hammer has a big frown on his face, and I know he has something on his mind.

Ink and Hack both stumble in and sit next to me in the empty seats. Hack smells strongly of weed, and I scrunch up my nose. Not my favorite smell.

Hammer sighs and runs a hand through his hair. We all sit silently, waiting for him to start talking.

“We’re going to be investigated by the police,” he begins, and I sit up a bit.

“According to Justin, they’re trying to pin us for still running dirty deals,” he growls.

Justin is our police insider.

“But we’ve been clean for years. Why would they want to do that?” I say, more to myself than to the others.

“Justin wondered that too,” says Hammer. “He came in today to ask if we ever really stopped doing the shady stuff. I assured him that there’s nothing to see here—but we have to look after ourselves in the coming time. Hack, see if you can get into their system and figure out what they’re up to.”

Hack jumps up and leaves the room.

Hack is a boy of twenty-two, but nobody knows computers better than he does. He joined us when he was twenty and quickly earned a spot as a member.

“Keep your ears and eyes open at your workplaces, guys. But don’t tell anyone yet. I want this to stay between us,” he says seriously, and we nod in agreement.

“Dismissed,” he mutters, and we walk out of his office.

“Hey, I’m done with the design for your tattoo, Steel. Want to come look?” Ink says, and I grunt an affirmative. Hammer’s words have left a chill, but I’m still excited to see the artwork.

The smell of food fills my nostrils, and my stomach starts to rumble. Ashley and Morgan are setting up the buffet, and I take a seat in the booth with Asher and West.

“Have you said sorry to your girl yet?” Asher asks, and I glare at him.

“His girl?” West asks. Nosy bastard.

“She’s not my girl, asshole,” I growl, and Asher and West look at me in surprise.

“Navy, did he just say more than two words?” West asks in fake shock, and Asher grins wickedly.

“Apparently, my brother’s extensive vocabulary is getting him into trouble with the ladies. This afternoon he insulted the new cook,” Asher says with a grin, and I actually want to punch him in the mouth.