Bad Girl for the Bikers (Screaming Eagles MC #11)

Chapter 1

PISTON

There’s nothing like a fist to the face to get the blood pumping. I’d rather be the fist than the face, but it’s true either way.

I grin at Beast, my lips twisted by the mouth guard. Bring it on, asshole.

“Wrap it up, boys, I’m starving.” Zero shouts from behind the ropes. “Take ‘im the fuck out!”

Don, the gym owner, is hanging out next to him. “Who’re you rooting for?”

Zero laughs. “Whoever gets this done faster.”

Gotta love trash talk from the guy who lost in our first round. If I wasn’t wearing boxing gloves I’d flip him off. Beast smirks, dodging my jab before moving in faster than a guy his size should be able to. He lands a couple solid hits before I beat him back.

“Piston, keep your left up!” Don yells.

I adjust my stance, but it’s too late. We’ve been sparring for a while and Beast is on a rampage. I eventually fall back and lift an arm in defeat.

Beast claps a gloved fist on my shoulder and spits out his mouth guard. “Good fight. I told you you’d enjoy it. You’re going to wipe the ring with me in a couple months.”

“Yeah, maybe.” It feels strange to be fighting again, and even stranger to actually enjoy it.

When I was a stupid kid, it was about money and survival.

The rings I grew up in might not have been to the death, but I’ve gone up against plenty of sadistic motherfuckers who thought me being young made me an easy target, and so long as it made for a good show, nobody cared.

Being harder, faster and meaner was the only way to keep it from destroying me.

The rules here are more complicated than just no killing and no weapons, but the rush is the same.

“He’s right,” Don agrees. “Your instincts are good. It’s starting to click.”

“As long as I can beat Zero.”

“You mammoths are in a different fucking weight class!” Zero snaps without much heat behind it as we head to the locker room. “I know what I’m good at.” He mimes lining up a shot and pulling the trigger. “You’ll never even make it to the ring.”

Beast snorts. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, man.”

We walk out with Don as he closes up the gym. He hesitates, hand on the lock.

“Something up?” Zero asks, keeping his voice low.

Don grimaces. “How much longer is this pissing match with Kozlov’s goons going to go on?”

“You looking to choose sides?” I ask.

He shakes his head, mouth a hard line. “I just want to stop jumping every time a car backfires. You know how it is. The Ditch has always been neutral ground and I like it that way. Don’t get me wrong, the Eagles have always been good neighbors, but you aren’t the only power in town.

I have to walk a careful line, you know? ”

“Pres won’t let it drag on. End of the summer, max,” Beast grunts. “We’ll do our best to keep the collateral damage to a minimum.”

Don looks tired, but he nods. “I hope so.”

His boxing gym operates out of what used to be a small factory in Detch; a strip of mostly industrial properties that stretches along a good length of South Side where the Screaming Eagles rule.

It’s a gray, dreary part of town that locals call The Ditch, and functions more as a way from one place to another than as its own destination.

It doesn’t get much attention, but is an important buffer zone between us and the gangs that operate to our north. Or at least it should be.

Tensions in the city have been high since the Screaming Eagles got mixed up in politics again.

The kind that left a prominent judge dead and the rot in the core of the legal system exposed to the scrutiny of the media.

Follow that up with being linked to the kidnapping of the daughter of a tech billionaire, and there’s a segment of the underbelly that’s hoping we’ve gotten too full of ourselves to bother paying attention to the streets.

It’ll be their funeral.

We won’t push the border just to grab more space, but to keep our own safe? In a fucking heartbeat.

What Kozlov doesn’t understand is that Eagle-eye, our president, isn’t in it for the money or the power. Blood, sweat and tears went into carving out our place here, and he’ll hold the line to his dying breath for the same reason we all will. To defend our family, both by birth and by choice.

As far as we’re concerned, Kozlov on his own isn’t shit. He’s just another wannabe mafia type who wouldn’t know the real thing if it bit him in the ass, but he talks a good game and he’s riled up some of the local gangs into thinking it’s a good time to strike.

And it’s our job to figure out how and when.

Like usual, we hit Hal’s diner across the street to fuel up after working out. On the way out, movement between a couple of parked cars sets off alarm bells in my head. I can see the slight shift in Zero and Beast that means they saw it, too. I prepare to draw.

The shadow moves, dashing right in front of us in the form of a stocky, chocolate brown dog with white markings.

Beast laughs. “Shit, I thought we were about to get jumped.”

The dog takes one frightened look at us, and veers towards the road.

Zero sprints to cut it off before it ends up in traffic.

It comes to a skidding stop, panting in the middle of the parking lot with its tail between its legs and a front paw held awkwardly off the ground.

We surround the dog, who stays frozen in place until the sound of a car honking at the intersection sends it dashing under a truck.

I approach real slow with my hands out. “Hey, buddy. It’s okay. We’re not gonna hurt you.”

A stressed growl comes from behind the back tire in warning.

"Rough day, huh?" I keep my voice light and crouch down onto my heels. “Been there, trust me. Where’s your people? Are they out looking for you?” I ask, not looking for an answer but relying on my tone to carry my intent.

"What's going on with your leg, huh? You gonna let me take a look? " I pat the ground in front of me.

It takes a few minutes of coaxing, but eventually the white streaked end of a brown muzzle pokes out. Amber eyes look up at me as it inches forward with a whine, keeping its belly low to the ground.

“That’s right, come here, baby,” I croon.

Fuck. The poor thing’s been through it. Not just the paw, which is swollen and speckled with dried blood, but there’s blood matting the fur under its chin, and its left ear looks like someone bigger and meaner got a hold of it long enough ago that it’s healed into a ragged mess.

It’s not huge, but whatever soup-pot of breeds this dog popped out of gave it a blunt face and a stocky, muscular body that looks like it could do some damage with the right incentive.

Fortunately for us, it looks more scared than mean.

"Try this," Beast whispers from behind me, tapping me on the shoulder with the extra burger he picked up on the way out.

I pull off the paper wrapping and take out the patty. “Thanks.”

The dog’s head perks up as I rip off a chunk and toss it on the ground.

It’s gone faster than I can blink. I leave the second piece slightly closer, and it’s gone just as quickly.

The dog’s out from under the truck and still crouching low but not scraping the ground anymore.

From up close I’m pretty sure it’s a female.

“Hey, pretty girl,” I say softly. She's shivering but doesn't run away.

Her eyes are locked on the rest of the patty in my hand like she hasn't eaten in days. I tear up the rest, and do the same to the bun, scraping off the extras in case there’s onion or something hiding in there. "Here. All yours."

Apparently that’s enough for her to decide we’re trustworthy, at least for now.

She scarfs down the food so fast I’m worried she’s going to end up eating gravel or who the fuck knows what else from the ground.

When she’s done, she heads straight to my hands, hoping for more and licking at what’s left of the flavor.

“Hope you aren’t attached to those fingers,” Zero says with a snort.

“Nah, she’s a gentle baby, aren’t you?”

“Think she’s a stray? Or is someone missing her?” Beast asks.

I consider it. “Too friendly to be a stray, and see here?” My fingers trace what looks like the mark left by a collar that must’ve started biting into her neck before it was removed. “Someone was taking care of her at some point.”

“I’ll go check inside,” Zero offers.

As he heads back into the diner, she inches closer until her muzzle is resting on my knee.

Each of her paws are tipped in white. Ignoring the fact that she needs a good bath, or three, I give her head a cautious rub, paying close attention to her body language.

Her tail pats the ground. Poor girl, who knows how long she’s been on her own, or what kind of situation she was in before that.

“What do we do if nobody knows whose dog she is? Should we bring her back with us?” Beast asks.

“On our bikes? Too far, even if she doesn’t freak out and throw herself into traffic, plus someone needs to look at her paw. She’s putting enough pressure on it that I doubt it’s broken, but it’s obviously hurting.” I run a hand down her front leg and she lets out a little yelp when I get close.

Zero jogs back out, phone in hand. "No luck, but they said there’s a rescue a few blocks over that might still be open.

They’ll either know what to do or where to point us if they can’t take her.

She might be chipped, and if she’s got someone looking for her, it’s better that she’s somewhere they can check. "

I nod. "You got a name, girl?" The second I stop rubbing her ears, she shoves her head into my palm. With a chuckle, I get back to it. "How about Junkyard? You look like maybe someone was using you as a guard dog, and you remind me of the old mutt we had at my Dad’s scrap lot."

She doesn't seem to care as long as I keep petting her.

Amazingly enough, she doesn’t complain when I scoop her up, and aside from some whining and a little wiggling, she lets me settle her into my jacket.

I can’t close it, but having the bottom zipped is enough to partly hold her in place.

She nearly jumps out of my arms when I start my bike, but holding her close and staying calm gets her settling down again.

"Alright, let’s take it slow and I’ll stick curbside in case she makes a run for it. "

Zero leads the way as we roll barely above walking speed down the road. Some asshole honks as passes us and Beast gives him the finger, but a few minutes later we pull into a small parking lot.

Squeezed into the shadow of a delivery depot, the rescue is a blocky, mint green building that’s covered in blobs of slightly lighter and darker paint from endless graffiti cover-ups.

It’s not much to look at, but there’s a fenced in yard in the back, stuffed animals hanging in the windows, and a cartoon dog painted on the front door.

Over it, a sign reads Detch Canine Rescue in big block letters lit up from below by a solitary flickering light.

Beast looks around. “You sure we shouldn’t bring her back to the club?”

“Come on. We’re already here,” Zero says.

I carry Junkyard close to my chest and try the front door. It's locked, but there’s a ‘Press to call staff” sign over a button to the side. A shadow moves behind the frosted glass in the door. “Give it a go.”

Zero pushes the doorbell. It buzzes loud.

After a few minutes of nothing, he pushes it again.

A face peeks out the window, wearing headphones.

Ruby lips, glittery green eyeshadow over pretty brown eyes with a delicate gold loop in her right eyebrow, and bottle black hair with a hint of purple peeking through from beneath.

Hello, beautiful.

Her eyes skim over us before darting to the dog in my arms, and a moment later the door clicks open.

She pulls off the headphones and I hear a faint strain of heavy club music.

She glances at the three of us, probably weighing if we’re a threat or not, but if she’s intimidated by finding three bikers on her doorstep, it doesn’t show.

Junkyard has her full attention. “Where’d they find you, sweetie?

” she purrs, reaching out and rubbing Junkyard’s ears.

"She was hiding in the parking lot outside Hal’s." I shrug and smile. Bikers on our best behavior. No danger here, unless you want to get a little dirty. "Her front paw’s hurt, but she was running around so I don’t think it’s broken. Do you guys take in strays, or?"

“Yeah, absolutely. We have room.”

“You wouldn’t put her down, right?” Beast asks. “Cause we’ll take her with us if that’s—”

The woman’s eyes go wide. “What? Oh my God, no. All strays get at least a week while we wait to see if someone’s looking for them, then they go up for adoption or fostering if everything checks out.

If you’re worried, you can leave a number and I’ll let you know what happens, and if you want, you can get priority for adoption after the wait is over.

I’m Sandra, by the way. Come on, let’s get her checked into Hotel Detch. ”

Sandra turns and motions for us to follow her inside.

Faded black jeans hug her curvy hips, and the name of the rescue is printed on the back of a black t-shirt that’s tied at the waist, cinching it in.

She has a black choker around her neck with small silver spikes, along with a silver chain with a sparkling moon pendant.

Zero raises his eyebrows and Beast shrugs.

Our gear proudly proclaims our association with the MC, which is usually enough to earn some healthy caution, but she doesn’t seem to care.

It makes me curious, because I’m pretty sure I haven’t seen her around.

Pretty face, a little attitude and a sexy body? I think I’d remember.

I give Junkyard a squeeze and chuckle softly to myself. "Maybe you aren’t the only one getting lucky.”