Cowboy Bikers MC #3 Read online

  Cowboy Bikers MC #3

  By Esther E. Schmidt

  Copyright © 2020 by Esther E. Schmidt All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, without permission in writing from the author.

  This book is a work of fiction. Incidents, names, places, characters and other stuff mentioned in this book is the results of the author’s imagination. Cowboy Bikers MC is a work of fiction. If there is any resemblance, it is entirely coincidental.

  This content is for mature audiences only. Please do not read if sexual situations, violence and explicit language offends you.

  Cover design by:

  Esther E. Schmidt

  Editor #1:

  Christi Durbin

  Editor #2:

  Virginia Tesi Carey

  Dedication

  Casey,

  Thanks for sharing the love for horses.

  This one’s for you.

  Table of contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  EPILOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  — Decker —

  I place my forearms on the top board of the fence and one foot on the bottom board as I wait for my ex-colleague, Nick, to park his black SUV. Nick called me in the middle of the night to cash in a favor. A favor concerning a protection deal for a woman who is being tormented by a stalker.

  She needs to go into hiding for her own safety, and he might have mentioned her health and work, but it was the middle of the night and I didn’t pay much attention since he was going to debrief me this morning anyway.

  Hammer—my Australian cattle dog—is lying at my feet until the door of the SUV swings open. Hammer dashes up and barks while he heads for Nick. The smart man freezes when he sees my dog coming and I give a sharp whistle. Hammer instantly drops to the ground however, he keeps barking.

  “New dog?” Nick chuckles uncomfortably before he adds, “Might want to make him hang back a bit, Muriel isn’t used to dogs.”

  What kind of person isn’t used to dogs? Great. Already off to a nice start if she isn’t used to dogs, seeing as Hammer is practically my shadow. How the hell is she going to survive on a damn ranch filled with animals?

  I shake my head. “If she’s going to stay here, she might as well get used to Hammer, he’s always around. Not to mention all the horses, Longhorns, and some wild animals running around on the ranch. Shall I recite everything that walks and crawls around here? The list will be long.”

  I stay in place while Nick shifts uncomfortably and stalks around Hammer with a wide berth.

  “She has some issues, but I know you will find a way to work around them. I really appreciate you doing this, even if it’s a favor I’m cashing in.” He holds out his hand and it forces me to step away from the fence.

  I give him a firm handshake and a smack on the shoulder. “Don’t mention it. I’m always up for a challenge to rip me from my routine. Email or text me the details and give me the short recap right now so you can drop off the package and focus on the case you’re working on.”

  He glances over his shoulder at the SUV, the tinted windows don’t give anything away of who might be hiding inside.

  “Muriel Packsy, twenty-three years old and she sure doesn’t belong here. She’s a country singer and extremely popular. Her management gave the whole going into hiding part a twist and made her fans believe she’s retreating for a couple of weeks to work on some new material. No one expects any news from her for at least a couple of weeks. She’s done this a few times in the past so it’s nothing unusual. If anything, the fans are excited because she always makes a massive comeback with a load of new songs.”

  I hold my hand up to prevent him from blabbering out more stuff. “Not interested in that shit. Tell me what’s going on with her to be placed in my care.”

  “Stalker. Going on for eight months but it escalated last week. She recently released a new video and there was a male model in it who played the part of her lover. It showed a peck on the cheek and holding hands, nothing much. Except, the model went missing last week, then Muriel received a few letters which had a straight link to the missing model. That’s when we got involved but it all escalated when the model was found yesterday morning. Well, first the lips and hands were delivered to her doorstep and the body was discovered later, floating in the river behind the building where her penthouse is located.”

  Fucking hell. I grab my Stetson and let my hand slide through my hair before placing it back.

  “You guys have a good idea who the stalker is?” I let my eyes slide to the SUV, knowing I can’t see the woman but I can’t help wonder how scared she must be.

  “Not a damn clue. She has a handful of obsessive fans, the usual shit celebrities have to deal with, but nothing stands out. We have a full team on it and with you taking Muriel, it gives us a chance to check out a few leads.” Again, with the uncomfortable shift.

  “Why don’t you just spit it out, Nick?” I question because his whole demeanor screams...aw, fuck. “You’re hoping he follows her here, aren’t you? Making me a target to take him out.”

  Nick only shrugs. “All of your training still up to date? Still carrying?”

  I shoot him a glare and grab my leather cut to hold it slightly away from my body to show the gun I’m carrying.

  “My president isn’t going to be happy about this. You could have warned me this wasn’t just a job to keep a woman in hiding.”

  “The President thanks your president. Since she also happens to be the niece of the president,” Nick easily supplies.

  A groan rips from my body. “No wonder you guys dumped the girl in bumbfuck Texas at a ranch filled with bikers. Who the hell would look for the high-class superstar in this hellhole?”

  Nick points at me and snickers, “Bingo.”

  I’ve heard of her, but that’s it. I have no clue how she looks, what songs she sings, or how her voice sounds. All I know is the fact that the niece of the President of the United States is a country singer with the voice of a rugged angel. Well, that’s how they describe her.

  “Go a little easy on her, okay?”

  His request makes me snicker. “You’re asking the wrong man if you think I’ll pamper the little princess. You should have kept her surrounded by men in suits, not shove her in the care of—”

  “Cowboy bikers who thrive on loyalty and respect? You guys might be a ragged, outlaw bunch of crazy, but I’d put my life in your hands any day, Decker. Any damn day.” Nick’s words render me speechless.

  There’s nothing to add to it and he’s right about the loyalty and respect part all my brothers in this MC have. And the way we run this ranch together like a well-oiled machine also indicates our flawless ability to run things as a solid brotherhood.

  Nick might call us outlaws and in some ways we are, but Weston—the president of this MC—pulled us out of shady and dangerous business and put the main focus on livestock. Something that’s worked quite well for us. I might have a background in law enforcement and once was standing in Nick’s shoes, but I quit the FBI for a solid reason. And I never looked back.

  “Okay, enough ass-kissing. Hand over the woman, I have more things to do than standing around here all day. Besides, you need to get back to work too. Heading home or are a few of you staying in town?”

  Nick nods. “Yes, three of us are, including myself. We’re staying at the hotel to oversee things. You have my number and I have yours. I will keep you updated.”

  “Sounds good,” I tell him and with that he heads for th
e SUV and opens the door.

  A brown pinched cowboy hat appears. Thick, long, black hair with pink highlights is hanging loose and spilling over a woman’s lush, magnificent tits. Tits held together by a combination of lace and leather. She’s managed to squeeze her sexy curves into tight blue jeans and is wearing black cowboy boots with rhinestones.

  Rhinestones. She’s going to lose that shine real quick if she keeps those shiny boots on.

  I meant what I told Nick; there will be no pampering. If she’s here with me she needs to work with me and will get dirty. It’s inevitable, even standing around doing nothing will make the dust land on those shiny boots.

  She swings a large duffle bag over her shoulder and her steps falter when she’s standing in front of Hammer. With her head still bowed I can’t see her facial expression but the way she shuffles in a wide berth around my dog shows she’s indeed not used to dogs.

  And then it happens. Her head tips back, our eyes meet, and I fucking fall. I’m rooted to the ground; my body isn’t moving and yet I’m falling so damn hard it literally knocks the wind right out of me. This woman is a natural beauty with a sweet and delicate angle. All wrapped in a body with curvy perfection, one a man like me needs for the rough kind of fucking I crave.

  Something hard is shoved against me and Nick’s voice rips me from staring at the woman I must own in every way possible. “You can carry this one. Make the lady feel at home and keep her breathing.”

  I for sure as fuck will keep her breathing, damn well panting. For me; only me.

  “Get the hell out of here, Nicky boy. I got this,” I snap and take the guitar case he was shoving at me.

  I take the duffle bag from Muriel’s shoulder and spin on my heels. I have to ignore her for now and get my raging body under control before I say or do something stupid. Like speak a claim or push her against the fence, ripping down her tight jeans to bury myself deep and make both of us come with a mind-blowing orgasm.

  I give a sharp whistle and Hammer is running ahead of me before I can so much as blink. The large building up ahead is a massive space we basically use as our clubhouse. It has a main room we can relax and eat in along with a big kitchen and rooms for most of the bikers this MC has. I have a room in there too, but I’ve also been building a cabin next to Roper and Weston.

  They each have their own space and an old lady. Me? I need the time and space for myself and Hammer. The last few months I’ve been taking care of a lot of things here at the ranch and the junkyard we own.

  Working nonstop allows me the privilege of my own space. A lot of my brothers don’t need it and are happy with a room at the main house, but they are still young where I’m getting older and crave some quiet time and solitude every now and then.

  “Make yourself at home,” I tell her as I stalk inside the cabin.

  Hammer jumps on the couch and starts his staring match while Muriel is uncomfortably standing in the middle of the room.

  “Seeing this situation might be awkward for the both of us, let me make some things clear so we know what to expect. It might make things easier to deal with.”

  Her throat bobs and a silky, rugged voice enters my ears when she says, “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

  Smooth as silk and yet the rough punch of decades old whiskey: the burn making you feel it—appreciate it—longer than the taste that lingers. Yeah, no wonder this woman is a damn good singer.

  “I’m in charge at all times. Trust me to have the better judgement in any situation, your life might depend on it. You and I will be attached by the hip for this reason. You’re not to leave my sight unless I place you in the safety of two of my brothers, but that won’t happen. Your safety is my priority, and mine alone. One bedroom, we’ll share. Bathroom is through there, kitchen there, we’re standing in the living room. Hammer is my dog. Leave him be and he’ll tolerate you in return. Clear?”

  Stormy gray eyes narrow as she says, “You introduced the dog but not yourself. And the sharing a bedroom part? I don’t think—”

  “It’s nonnegotiable,” I snap, cutting her off. “My eyes will be on you twenty-four-seven.”

  “For the first two days, maybe. Then you’ll crash and will have to shut your eyes. And we won’t be sharing a bed,” she snaps and places her hands on her hips.

  Hammer growls low in his throat and her eyes slide to him as she lowers her arms and panic visibly starts to fill her gaze.

  “Relax. He won’t attack and neither will I. When I mentioned we will share the bedroom, I meant I will be sleeping in the chair I have in the corner next to the bed. It’s not my first security detail and for sure not the first stalker case I’ve worked on. And Hammer here only attacks if people are fighting or if I give him the command. You’re completely safe and carefree when you’re around me.”

  “Can I get that in black and white because safe and carefree is something I didn’t exactly understand or realize until I wasn’t any longer.” The sigh ripping from her body while her shoulders sag makes me want to close the distance and pull her into my arms.

  But that would be unprofessional.

  Screw unprofessional. She might be a job, and the government is handing me a fat paycheck for the favor I’m doing them, but at the end of the day? No one controls me. And I’ve always been the kind of person who follows his gut instincts because I’m never wrong.

  In three steps I’ve closed the distance and roughly plaster her against me. Maybe a little too rough because she grunts and grabs my leather cut to balance herself. She doesn’t complain about the roughness, nor the fact she’s being hugged by a complete stranger. The only thing she does is release a sigh as if all the bottled-up frustration, fear, and worry from the last couple of weeks is flowing from her body.

  Her reaction makes me growl, “Hasn’t anyone been there to simply give you the comfort of a hug?”

  She snuggles closer, tightens her arms, and I swear I hear her mutter, “Who knew the massive grizzly was the first one to show a little humanity? Figures since the rest wouldn’t act without thinking.”

  I take her hat and with one throw let it hit the middle of the table. The curves of this woman fill my arms and yet she barely reaches my shoulder. I can easily place my chin on the top of her head.

  “I assume that’s a no. And I can’t recall anyone calling me a grizzly.”

  She snuggles again, rubbing those curves against my body and making my dick come to life along with it. I shift and regretfully step away. I clear my throat and give her a hard look in an effort to distance myself. She’s in trouble and that should be my main focus, and not wondering how tight her pussy is or how her voice sounds when she’s screaming my name through the orgasm I’ll give her.

  “You should put your stuff away, change those shiny boots since you’ll be joining me for work within half an hour.”

  “Joining you for work?” Her eyes go wide. “What kind of work?”

  “I’ve already checked on our livestock.” I shrug. “We breed Longhorns and quarter horses. You skipped that for today. Now I have to head to the junkyard. We also flip cars and recycle. You know, all the stuff a junkyard is all about.”

  She stalks to the table and grabs her hat. “No, I don’t know. I was practically born with a guitar in my hand and a microphone as a rattler. My parents never let me be involved in any other work or take a regular job, no matter how much I wanted to. You can’t expect me to suddenly do something I know nothing about. I’ll screw up. And I never screw up.”

  If I thought she was panicking because of a stalker, I’d be wrong. This woman is utterly panicked from the prospect of doing a regular job.

  “Don’t get your rhinestone thong in a twist, precious. I said you’ll be joining me for work. My main focus might be keeping you safe, but my tasks within the MC I’m a part of will not be neglected. This entails for you to join me, and watch me work while you’ll be keeping your hands free and clean. Clean enough if you don’t mind the dust settling around you.”
<
br />   “MC? As in bikers? But we’re at a ranch and you look like a cowboy. And you work at a junkyard too? Why did Nick say you’re FBI’s finest while clearly you have a whole different agenda, jobs, whatever?” Her voice has a panicked squeak to it and it makes me smile the way she’s thrown off balance.

  “I am FBI’s finest. Even if I don’t work for them anymore, I do team up every now and then as a consultant or like now, protection duty if they need something fast and off-grid. Though I don’t make it a regular thing since I’ve clearly made the whole career switch.”

  I shoot her an easy grin but it quickly slides off my face when I give her the hard truth. “My former job left enough scars for me to almost give up life itself. The MC dragged me back to the land of the living, giving me focus and a new purpose. The junkyard is one of the businesses we own. You joining me for work doesn’t mean you have to work, so the worst thing that might happen to you is boredom. With you being stuck with waiting for me to complete my tasks for the day.” I glance at my watch. “I need to be there in twenty minutes. So, we’re leaving in five minutes. If you want a change of clothes, I suggest you get your lush ass moving.”

  An actual low growl rumbles through her chest before she snatches up her duffle bag and stomps into the direction of the bedroom.

  Yeah. This protection detail is going to be a lot of fun for the both of us.

  CHAPTER TWO

  — Muriel —

  How can every single thing I lay eyes on be dirty? Everything is also extremely chaotic and I’m trying really hard to ignore and focus but how can I do that when there’s a dog lying on the couch, chewing on a bone. People need to sit there. People like me for instance.

  I have issues. A lot of them, I know. My mother’s a neat freak and I’ve inherited her quirk along with a crazy dose of...okay, never mind, let’s name my weirdness and be done with it; I have the tendencies of a germophobe.