Undercover at the MC Book 2: Navy & West

NAVY

I’m never drinking again. That’s what they all say, right? My head is throbbing, my vision is fuzzy, and my mouth feels like the Sahara.

I groan as I sit up in bed, rubbing my eyes. The scent of alcohol seems to cling to me, so I head to the bathroom for a shower.

Post-shower, I feel a million times better. The aroma of food wafts through the house, making my stomach growl.

I find Jackson in the kitchen, looking surprised to see me.

“I figured you’d sleep in,” he says, reaching for a second plate and starting to pile food onto it.

“Sleeping in isn’t really my thing,” I reply with a shrug. He nods, understanding.

At the base, we always have a strict wake-up call. Sleeping in was never an option, so I’m used to an early-to-bed, early-to-rise routine.

I pour us both a cup of coffee while Jackson sets the table with toast, scrambled eggs, and bacon.

“Thanks, man. Looks good,” I say, grateful.

He nods, picking up his fork. “Simple, but tasty,” he grumbles, and I chuckle.

We eat in silence. After breakfast, Jackson heads off to shower, so I take care of the dishes.

Soon, I’m at my laptop, researching motorcycles. I’m not sure what model I want yet, but I’m getting a head start.

“Want to hit up a dealership next week? Maybe take a few for a test drive?” Jackson’s voice startles me from behind, and I punch him in the stomach.

He just grins at me, unfazed.

“Yeah, sounds good,” I mumble, turning back to my research.

The day is slow, perfect for nursing a hangover. We had a late breakfast, so I skip lunch.

Late in the afternoon, I head to the grocery store. Jackson’s fridge is practically empty, and I’m craving something other than beer or water.

When I get back, I find a note from Jackson saying he’s gone for a run. I put away the groceries and start making dinner.

I decide on a simple stir-fry with noodles, chicken, sugar snap peas, bean sprouts, leek, and sweet and sour sauce. Not homemade sauce, though. I’m not that skilled.

By the time I’m almost done, Jackson bursts in, drenched in sweat. He’s panting at the kitchen island, guzzling a bottle of water.

“I’ll shower. Be back in two,” he says, and I chuckle. Some habits from military life die hard. A quick shower is one of them.

“Breakfast tomorrow at eight. You still in?” Jackson asks, his mouth full of noodles.

I roll my eyes. How is this guy ever going to find a woman?

“Yeah, though I’m not sure how I’ll fit into the tour. But I’m excited to see what the club is like,” I reply.

He nods, thankfully not talking with his mouth full this time.

“Half of them will probably still be hungover, but Chef makes the best breakfasts. It’ll be fun,” he says, his eyes lighting up.

He always talks about the club with such passion, I can’t help but look forward to experiencing it.

I head to bed early that night, my headache so intense I’m seeing double. After a hot shower, I crawl into bed and feel…calm.

It’s a strange feeling, I can tell you. At the base, you always have to be on alert. Drills and unexpected exercises are common.

Even though I was mainly tech focused, everyone had to participate.

Morning comes too soon, and I struggle to get out of bed. But the sound of Jackson stomping around the house gets me moving.

He heads to the club on his motorcycle, and I follow in his car. When we arrive, it’s much quieter than last Saturday.

There are about ten motorcycles and three cars, one of which is mine…well, Jackson’s.

As I walk in, the smell of bacon and coffee hits me, and my stomach growls in response.

“Hey!” A voice rings out and a hand lands on my shoulder. I don’t need to see him to know who it is; the scent and touch are unmistakable.

I swivel around to meet West’s vibrant gaze.

“Man, I was hungover yesterday… I’m too old for this drinking business,” he declares theatrically, slinging an arm around my shoulder and guiding me toward the tables.

“Just wait until you hit your thirties,” Jackson grumbles, brushing past us.

I can’t help but chuckle at my brother’s gruff demeanor.

“Damn, he’s right. And that’s coming up quicker than I’d like,” West moans.

I laugh in response.

“I haven’t had a drink in ages, so I wasn’t much fun yesterday either,” I admit, scanning the room.

A large table has been set up near the bar where Morgan and another man, presumably a chef, are serving food.

“Breakfast is served!” Morgan bellows, earning a cheer from everyone…well, everyone except Jackson.

“Let’s go… I’m starving,” West mumbles. I chuckle again.

“You’re quite the drama queen today,” I tease, earning a playful punch in the chest.

I raise an eyebrow at him, surprised. West just shrugs, grinning mischievously, and heads for the food.

His pants hug his ass, and I struggle to keep my eyes off him… No… No… Get your mind out of the gutter, Asher…

I glance up at the ceiling, taking a deep breath. West is just looking for a friend, so I need to get my thoughts straight.

As Jackson promised, the food is incredible. Morgan and the chef receive a round of applause from everyone.

Morgan blushes and quickly retreats to the kitchen, while the chef basks in the attention, even assigning three men to dish duty—much to their chagrin.

“Navy, can I have a word?” Hammer asks. I follow him down a narrow hallway into an office marked President.

I take a seat across from the desk.

“What do you think about joining the club?” he asks, getting straight to the point.

“I’m really warming up to the idea, so I’d like to join if I can,” I reply. He nods.

“When do you have to report back to base? I understand you’re a technician in the Navy?” he asks. I shrug.

Truth be told, I’m considering leaving the Navy. I’m ready to settle down somewhere and stop being constantly on the move.

I haven’t discussed this with Jackson yet, but I remind myself to do so tonight. If I decide not to return, I’ll need to find my own place—I can’t keep crashing with my big brother.

“To be honest… I don’t think I’ll go back. I’m ready to settle down somewhere, so I don’t think I’ll return… But I’ve only just decided this, so no one knows yet,” I admit, feeling a bit awkward.

Hammer laughs.

“This is almost exactly how my conversation with Steel went when he joined the club. I’ll keep quiet so you can tell everyone yourself,” he promises, chuckling.

I laugh along, remembering Jackson telling me about his sudden decision to leave the military.

Hammer and I go over the club’s rules and requirements. I’ll start as a prospect, and once I’ve proven myself, I’ll become an official member like West.

He hands me a contract for the garage job, and after agreeing to everything, I sign it. I’m officially employed.

Not long after, we reenter the common room, and I’m introduced as the new prospect. Everyone greets me warmly and introduces themselves.

Eventually, Chef comes over to me.

“I heard you wanted to join the tour, is that right?” he asks.

“That’s right, but I don’t have a bike yet, so I guess I’ll join next time,” I reply with a shrug. He nods.

“Have you ridden a motorcycle before?” he asks cautiously, and I frown.

“Yes, why?” I ask.

“It’s a bit of a heartache for me, but I can’t join you guys today. I’ve got to visit my sister for a few hours. So… I guess you can borrow my bike… But only if you’re super, super, super, super careful.”

He seems to struggle with the words, and I can’t help but chuckle. I get the feeling this isn’t a common occurrence in the club. Generally, a member’s bike is considered sacred, and no one else is allowed to ride it.

“Are you sure? I can wait,” I offer cautiously, but he shakes his head.

“No, I know how much a ride with us would mean to you… So I’m giving you this opportunity,” he says, and I feel a warmth spread through my chest at his gesture.

“Am I hearing this right? Are you actually lending your bike to the newbie?” West chimes in, joining us and slapping a hand on my shoulder.

West doesn’t exactly make things easy for me either. Every time he’s near, he drapes an arm over my shoulders or touches me in some way. It’s clear that he’s a tactile person who enjoys expressing his affection physically.

“Yeah, I’d rather lend it to Navy than to you…kiddo,” Chef retorts with a grin. West looks at him in surprise.

“I’m not that young,” he grumbles. I can’t help but laugh at his disgruntled expression.

“How old are you?” I ask.

He shrugs. “Twenty-three, almost twenty-four,” he mumbles, and I nod in understanding.

“Getting back to your offer… If you’re sure, I’d be thrilled to accept it,” I say with genuine enthusiasm.

Chef later takes me aside to explain the ins and outs of his prized possession. It’s a stunning model, and I can hardly wait to take it for a spin.

Later, I find myself sitting with West, sipping coffee before we head out.

“I, uh… I hope I didn’t freak you out last Saturday,” West blurts out, causing me to choke on my coffee.

“What do you mean?” I ask, feigning ignorance, even though I know exactly what he’s referring to.

“I just… I wanted to know what it would be like to share a woman with someone else, and when you said you were turned on too… I thought… Well, you know what I thought,” he stammers, his cheeks flushing. My heart pounds in my chest.

“Yeah… Uh… No, you didn’t freak me out. I was just… Not feeling too great after all those shots,” I mumble awkwardly, avoiding his gaze.

“I get it… The vibe kind of died after you left,” he admits.

I look at him in surprise. “You didn’t continue?” I ask.

He shakes his head. For some reason, that makes me feel oddly pleased.

“I just wasn’t in the mood anymore,” he says with a shrug, and we fall into a moment of silence. I try to keep my relief from showing on my face.

The fact that they didn’t have sex affects me more than I’d like to admit.

“I have to say…you’re a pretty good kisser,” he whispers, causing me to choke on my coffee again.

West bursts into laughter, and now it’s my turn to blush. Asshole.