Down & Dirty_Jag Read online

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Epilogue

  Down & Dirty: Jag

  Dirty Angels MC, Book 2

  Jeanne St. James

  Copyright © 2017 by Jeanne St. James

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Editor: Proofreading by the Page

  Cover Art: Susan Garwood of Wicked Women Designs

  www.jeannestjames.com

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  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Disclaimer

  Acknowledgments

  About Down & Dirty: Jag

  DAMC

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Epilogue

  Bear’s Family Tree

  Doc’s Family Tree

  If You Enjoyed This Book

  About the Author

  Also by Jeanne St. James

  Down & Dirty: Hawk Sneak Peek

  Down & Dirty: Hawk (unedited) Sneak Peek

  FREE Erotic Sampler Book

  Warning: This book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered offensive to some readers. This book is for sale to adults ONLY, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

  DISCLAIMER: Please do not try any new sexual practice (BDSM or otherwise) without the guidance of an experienced practitioner. The author will not be responsible for any loss, harm, injury or death resulting from use of the information contained in this book.

  A BIG thank you to my beta readers:

  Krisztina Holló & Author Whitley Cox

  Keep an eye on her website at http://www.jeannestjames.com/or sign up for her newsletter to learn about her upcoming releases: http://www.jeannestjames.com/newslettersignup

  Author Links: Jeanne’s Blog * Instagram * Facebook * Goodreads Author Page * Newsletter * Jeanne’s Review & Book Crew * Twitter * BookBub

  Acknowledgments

  Thanks to author Whitley Cox for brainstorming the sketch idea for this book. Ivy needed to find Jag’s sketches to see what was right in front of her face her whole life.

  Jag thanks you, too.

  And, as always, I thank the man who listens to my story lines (I tend to ramble) and continues to be amazed at what I come up with. I’m lucky that he answers my crazy questions about being a man (and everything that goes along with that) with complete honesty and openness. Since we both have a law enforcement background and training it’s nice to bounce those ideas off him, too. Love ya, honey.

  About Down & Dirty: Jag

  Welcome to Shadow Valley where the Dirty Angels MC rules. Get ready to get Down & Dirty because this is Jag’s story…

  The only thing Jag, DAMC Road Captain, loves more than his custom bike is Ivy. He’s wanted her ever since he could remember. However, through the years, he’s had to watch her date anyone but him since she avoids dating bikers like the plague. Instead, she gravitates toward the complete opposite: geeks and nerds. Something Jag will never be.

  Smart and independent, Ivy wants to be the property of no man. Growing up in the club, she knows firsthand how they treat women. She regrets the mistake she made by dragging Jag upstairs to his room at the club one drunken night. Ever since then, she’s been doing her best to keep him at arm’s length, though it’s proven difficult. Especially when she finds out his secret, which only endears her to him even more.

  Between secrets, lies, and a violent tangle with a rival club, can these two passionate hot-heads find the love and solace they’re looking for in each other’s arms? Or will everything just tumble down around them?

  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.

  Down & Dirty ’til Dead

  Chapter One

  He was going to kill the bitch.

  Jag pounded on the door. Again.

  She was pushing him to his limit. And that was not good.

  For him.

  For her.

  For the human race in general.

  “Fuckin’ open the door or I’ll bust the fuckin’ thing in, got me?”

  He was going to knock politely only one more time, then that was it.

  He politely kicked the door with his heavy biker boot. That was going to leave a mark.

  “If you don’t open this fuckin’ door right—”

  The door jerked open and something—or someone—tried to fly by him.

  Jag reached out a hand and snagged the fleeing body. With a grip around a skinny bicep, the guy came to a screeching halt.

  Jag flung him around to face him. He scowled. “Who the fuck are you?”

  The already pale guy turned sheet white. With eyes wide, mouth open, he had a discarded shirt bunched in his fist and his pants hung loosely around his hips, since he apparently hadn’t taken the time to finish fastening them before the man decided to jet.

  Which was a smart move. But then, Ivy tended to pick smart dudes. Though, they never hung around long. Geeky dudes and a biker babe don’t mix no matter how many times she tries.

  And he got it, he really did. Ivy was smart herself. Genius even. And she needed a challenge.

  Other than becoming a biker’s ol’ lady. Or his ol’ lady, more like it.

  Jag looked down at the guy’s bare feet. It seemed he forgot his fucking shoes in his haste.

  Stupid fuck. Maybe he wasn’t so smart after all.

  “You touch Dirty Angels property?”

  The guy’s mouth opened and closed like a guppy as he stared up at Jag, who towered over him by at least five inches.

  “Asked a damn question. Did you—”

  “Get gone, Jag.”

  His eyes slid to the woman now standing in the doorway, holding out a pair of loafers with socks tucked into them. The one wearing a fucking robe and probably nothing else.

  The guy’s eyes dropped to his offered shoes, then he snagged them and clasped them to his chest as if they were a lifeline.

  “Get in the house. Deal with you shortly.”

  “The hell you will. Get gone, Jag.”

  His head twisted in her direction and he took his time inspecting her from top to toe. That fucking deep red hair of hers spilled around her shoulders, clearly messed up from a fresh fuck, which he hoped he’d interrupted. Because if anyone should be in her bed, it should be him.

  Her lips were swollen and pouty. Goddamn, if she had those lips around this nerd’s cock, his brain would explode. Her green eyes snapped in anger.

  Whatever. She could be mad all she wanted. He was just as pissed. No, more.

  “Who I fuck is none of your damn business,” came out of
that smart mouth.

  He gritted his teeth before answering. “The fuck it isn’t. Anything to do with DAMC property is my business.”

  Especially after she climbed into his bed all those months ago.

  “Well, I’m not DAMC property. So GET GONE!”

  Jag released the now very scared guy with a shove. He stumbled, caught his balance on the veranda railing, then ran down the metal stairs, taking two at a time. Like a scared mouse, he sprinted toward a car parked on the street.

  He should’ve known the guy drove a fucking Prius. He should’ve slashed the geek-mobile’s tires for dipping his dick in DAMC property.

  “Fucker doesn’t even ride a bike. You’ve got shit taste in lays, Ivy.”

  “Don’t I know it,” she muttered, making Jag’s jaw tighten.

  “Don’t come back here,” Jag yelled his warning through the dark to the guy scrambling into his car like his ass was on fire. “If you know what’s good for ya,” he finished under his breath. He turned back to face the pissed-off redhead dressed in black silk that hugged all her damn curves. His balls tightened as hard as his jaw. “Probably needs a dick extension to fuck you.”

  “I don’t know if that’s an insult to me or to him. Either way, you don’t belong here, Jag. So, I’ll say it again, get gone.”

  “Not leavin’.”

  Ivy lifted a shoulder. “Okay then. You’ll be standing out here all night while I’m sleeping soundly in my bed. Thanks to you, alone. Normally, I’d say good night, but... fuck you.”

  The door slammed shut and Jag heard the deadbolt click. He grimaced and stared at the door.

  Little did she know that her uncle, Ace, had given him the key.

  He grinned, turned on his heel and jogged down the steps to where his bike was parked at the foot of the stairway in the pawn shop lot.

  She may not let him in, but his mission was accomplished. He chased away Ivy’s latest conquest.

  And he’d keep doing it until she got some sense and realized everything she needed has been right in front of her all along.

  He put his girl between his legs, hit her starter and closed his eyes for a moment, surrounded by the smooth rumble of his straight exhaust pipes.

  His bike was everything to him. The only thing he wanted more between his legs was Ivy.

  The only thing he loved more than his bike was... fucking Ivy.

  And she was a fucking bitch.

  Ivy leaned her head back against the door, her hands covering her face as she tried not to scream. She sucked in a deep, shaky breath in an attempt to control her temper, as well as her frustration. She wasn’t having much luck.

  Fucking Jag.

  Finally, she heard the roar of his bike before it faded away.

  Coast was clear.

  She had no idea how the brother knew she had a man in her apartment. It was like he had some sixth sense. This wasn’t the first time he’d chased a man away.

  Probably wouldn’t be the last.

  The problem with being raised in a motorcycle club and being around bikers her whole life was just that... being around a bunch of misogynistic macho bikers.

  Women were considered property of the club. Property. And being born into a bloodline of bikers made it hard to escape that.

  Not that she necessarily wanted to escape. She loved her brothers and she loved her life for the most part.

  She did well financially working in her uncle’s pawn shop and living above it rent-free. She also had gone to school for computers and programming, so she ran the club’s website, all the club’s businesses’ websites and fixed any of the club member’s computers when needed. In all reality, she could open her own computer shop if she wanted. She knew how to diagnose, knew how to program.

  The club relied on her a lot. Sometimes she even helped Ace, the club’s Treasurer, run the numbers for the club’s finances.

  She was smart. But sometimes she just did dumb things.

  Like sleeping with Jag once during a drunken mistake one night after a pig roast. She had lost her mind and dragged him upstairs to his room at the clubhouse. Ever since then, there’s been tension between them.

  Luckily, Ace never found out because, even though the man was her uncle, he acted like a father to her, especially since she never knew her real father. And though he loved Jag like a son, she wouldn’t put it past him to kick the younger man’s ass for “defiling” Ivy.

  Even though Jag was in no way her first lover.

  Ace tended to encourage Ivy to date men outside the club. Though she wasn’t sure why since he was an engrained member of the club himself. So, he couldn’t think the brothers weren’t good enough. Could he?

  Maybe he was just overprotective.

  Who knows.

  But Ivy slipped up that night, Jag didn’t fight it and now she’s regretted it ever since.

  Because the last thing she wanted was to be wearing a “Property of Jag” vest similar to the cuts that some of the other ol’ ladies wore.

  She was an independent woman, goddamn it, and intended on staying that way come hell or high water.

  But she had to admit that the guy she had brought home tonight wasn’t for her. He was just going to scratch an itch. The “date” they went on had been boring. He was a nice guy, sure, and cute enough. However, the spark was missing.

  Both her and Jag had been drunk as all get out when they hooked up, there weren’t sparks either. No, there had been explosions.

  And that scared her to death.

  Jag sat at the large lacquered wood table. The one that had the Dirty Angels MC logo carved in it all those years ago by one of the founding members, his granddaddy Bear.

  May the brother rest in peace.

  The way things were going, it didn’t seem that there would ever be peace. Ever since Bear was killed by a Shadow Warrior back in the eighties, things had been a little rocky.

  Which brought his thoughts to his father, Rocky, who was serving a life sentence at SCI Greene for taking out a few of those Warriors in retribution.

  But even after all these years, the bad blood between the two clubs hadn’t lessened. The Warriors showed up now and again to create havoc like a bad fucking penny.

  And now because of recent events, the club prez, Pierce, was sitting at the head of the table talking about keeping security beefed up at all the club’s businesses. Which put a bigger strain on Diesel, who was both the club’s enforcer and in charge of In the Shadows Security, which provided bouncers to area bars as well as personal and commercial security to those who can afford it.

  “Need to keep vigilant.” Pierce glanced around the table, his eyes bouncing from one executive member to the next. “Even the ol’ ladies, so spread the word to them, too. Fucker had a set on him when he tried to snag Sophie right in front of Z on a busy street. If she’d been by herself, no tellin’ what woulda happened to her.”

  Head nods and pounding of fists went around the table.

  “Can tell you what would happen if they took one of our ol’ ladies, a fuckin’ slaughter, that’s what,” Diesel grumbled.

  “No doubt,” Hawk agreed.

  “Yeah, an’ then we all end up at Greene in adjoinin’ cells like Rocky and Doc,” Ace, the oldest member and the coolest head in the room said to both of his sons.

  Jag whacked him on the arm. “Then, brother, you and me both would get to see our pops.”

  Ace frowned. “Ain’t funny, boy.”

  “Respect to Doc and Rocky,” Dex shouted, causing a few hoots and hollers.

  Pierce pounded the gavel on the table. “Okay, okay. Settle down so we can get through our business an’ I can go bust a nut in my woman.”

  They all chuckled.

  “Now, anybody got shit goin’ down with the Dark Knights?” Pierce pinned his gaze on the large man at the other end of the table. “Diesel?”

  “Nothin’ new.”

  He looked to his left. “Hawk?”

  “Only thing I got wind of is th
ey took over Dirty Dick’s Bar.”

  Pierce frowned. “Took over?”

  Hawk leaned forward to look down the table at Pierce. “Not runnin’ it. At least not yet. Mostly usin’ it as a regular hangout for anyone wearin’ their colors.”

  “That’s just south of the city line.” Which could be concerning since it was farther out of the city than they’ve been before.

  “Yup.”

  “They pushin’ shit?”

  Hawk raised a brow. That was enough of an answer for Pierce. He muttered, “Shit.”

  Dex spoke up. “Last thing we need is them runnin’ drugs or guns through Shadow Valley. Don’t want ‘em stirrin’ up the local boys in blue.”

  “That’s for fuckin’ sure,” Jag muttered. “Bad enough Axel’s always hangin’ ‘round Sophie’s bakery.”

  “That’s ‘cause he’s sniffin’ ‘round Bella,” Ace volunteered with a frown.

  “I’ll kill the fucker,” Diesel said. The club’s Sergeant at Arms was a bit overly protective of his cousin. Though, for good reason.

  Ace looked at his younger son. “You ain’t doin’ shit, boy.”

  “We can just hurt ‘im a bit,” Hawk added.

  Ace’s head swung to his oldest and he pointed a finger towards him in warning. “You neither, boy. Leave him be. It’ll sort sooner than later. You know better than to fuck with SVPD.”

  “But if they’re fuckin’ with DAMC—”