Romeo (Dark Knights MC/Blood Fury MC: Crossover)

Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Maddie sat in her car in the parking lot at Smith’s Sports Therapy & Rehab Center and stared through the windshield at the building in front of her.

Her place of work should really be in her rearview mirror right now since normally she’d be heading home for the night. Instead, she sat contemplating on whether to put her Toyota in Drive, smash her foot on the accelerator and plow through the front of the building.

Would it be stupid? Yes.

Would it make her feel better? Also, yes.

At least, until the reality of her actions set in.

Her fingers choked the steering wheel, and every damn muscle was tense. One of the massages she gave to her patients to relieve knotted muscles would be great about now.

She really needed to keep pushing at getting a job with a professional team, but if she applied for them now, she’d get turned down without even an interview since she needed more time and experience under her belt.

Hence, the reason she still worked at Smith’s .

She also needed a good reference. Another reason she wasn’t ramming her SUV into the building.

A regular paycheck would be nice, as well, so she could eat, put gas in her vehicle and pay rent. She might even need bail money if she ended up taking her frustration out on her asshole boss.

All this was why she was leaving her car in Park and only shooting daggers at the building instead of creating a new entrance with her Toyota.

The pros when it came to working at Smith’s: her patients and getting the experience she needed to advance her career to the next level.

The cons: too many to fucking list.

However, at the top of the list of cons was one Roger Smith. She didn’t think anyone could be more arrogant or cocky than a biker. Time and time again, “Roger Dodger” proved her wrong.

Every time her mother called to check in on her, Maddie donned her game face and lied about how she loved her job. The last thing she wanted was to tell her the truth.

Because one, they might insist she move back home. And that was happening… Never.

Two, Shade might pay Roger a visit. That was something else she needed to prevent.

Shade was overly protective of his blended family. Not only of her mother Chelle, but of Maddie, her younger sister Josie, and her adopted brother Jude.

When it came down to it, also Gabi, currently living with Crash and Liz in Shadow Valley. For a short time, she had lived with Maddie’s family after she was rescued from the Shirleys on Hillbilly Hill.

But since Gabi and Jude had formed some sort of deep connection in that short amount of time and were considered too young to act on it, Crash and Liz from the Dirty Angels welcomed her into their household.

Doing so prevented a lot of problems and temptations. It also gave both Gabi and Jude stable homes and families.

Maddie spent a lot of time with Gabi since she was now almost twenty-one. So, even if Trip hadn’t notified Zak when she moved down here, Gabi would’ve known and shared that info.

When it all boiled down to it, Romeo was bent out of shape for nothing.

With the three clubs being so interconnected, Maddie couldn’t escape the MC life. Or their meddling. No matter how much she might want to.

For a hot minute, she did consider moving to Thailand.

Or Antarctica.

She loved her family, both immediate and the Fury, she really did. She received plenty of love, support, and protection. Even if, at times, it felt a little smothering. However, if she needed anything, it was only a text or phone call away.

If she was short on money one month, a deposit would appear in her bank account.

If her SUV needed serviced, she could either get it done for nothing in Manning Grove at Dutch’s Garage or here at Shadow Valley Bodyworks, a garage owned by the DAMC and run by Crash.

Anything she needed could be covered by one of the three clubs. So, she really shouldn’t complain about the MC life. It took good care of her.

Unlike the asshole owner of Smith’s Sports Therapy & Rehab Center.

If her Toyota broke down causing her to be a few minutes late to work, he’d dock her pay by an hour.

If she tripped over a piece of equipment, he’d loudly call her a klutz, or worse, in front of all the patients and employees.

If a client complained over the smallest reason, he’d write her up and mention it in her employee evaluation, using it as an excuse not to give her a decent raise.

He also insisted on calling her Mad instead of Madison or Maddie.

And quite frankly, that made her… mad.

He thought the nickname was funny. She didn’t agree. Maybe if anyone else but him used it, she’d think otherwise.

His biggest—and lamest—joke was, “Are you Mad?” Then he’d guffaw so much and so obnoxiously, she wanted to knee him in the nuts. That would stop the stupidity.

It would also get her fired.

Not to mention, ruin her future as a sports physical therapist for the Pittsburgh Steelers. Then she would have to move to Antarctica and work with penguins. The actual birds, not the NHL hockey team.

She blew out a long breath, started her car and forced herself to turn the steering wheel. She needed to head out of the parking lot before she made a mistake she wouldn’t be able to undo.

Today had been extra difficult.

So, if she couldn’t ram her car into the building, or kick Roger in the nuts without fucking up her future, she needed a damn drink. It was too bad Gabi’s twenty-first birthday hadn’t come and gone yet.

Soon. Then she’d have someone to go out with to the bar or club. A “wing-woman.” Unfortunately, since Gabi was still underage, Maddie had to go out on her own.

She really needed to make more of an effort to find friends around here. Even if they were some of the women from the Dirty Angels. But until then, she could head to her regular drinking spot… The Iron Horse Roadhouse.

Or…

She could go to Dirty Dick’s.

She’d be safe at either location. She wouldn’t have to worry about protecting her drink when she wasn’t looking. She wouldn’t have to worry about being accosted in a dark parking lot. She’d also be taken care of if, for some reason, she drank too much.

However, at Dick’s she’d be worried about running into Romeo. She already fended off one aggravating man today, she didn’t want to deal with another.

She was tired and her patience was non-existent.

That decided it.

The Iron Horse it was.

Romeo crab-walked his sled backwards into the spot next to another Harley, shut it down, pulled off the bandana that kept bugs from getting stuck between his teeth and shed the clear protective glasses he wore when it was too dark to wear his shades.

He decided to leave his skull cap and of course, his cut in place. The DAMC had no problem with other clubs wearing their colors in their establishment as long as it didn’t cause issues. If it did, that cut, along with the troublemaker wearing it, was quickly ejected out the front door by the prospects playing bouncers that night.

But now that the Shadow Warriors MC was long gone and what was left of the Deadly Demons on life support, trouble usually didn’t find its way into the Iron Horse Roadhouse.

Unless they considered Romeo trouble. Some of the Angels might.

Hawk had previously run a tight ship and now shared manager duties with Coop. The DAMC vice president was about as present in their bar as much as Magnum was at Dick’s. Basically, he kept himself scarce. While Coop, along with the other long-time DAMC members, kept the bar running smoothly.

As soon as Romeo yanked open the thick, bullet-proof door, the deep bass of loud rock music smacked him right in the chest.

He recognized the song immediately as one belonging to Dirty Deeds, Nash’s band. The band still did well but could’ve been a national—or even international—success if the Dirty Angel hadn’t settled down with Cross, his badge-wearing pig husband, to raise adopted twins.

The band still toured, but not like it used to. The Knights occasionally hired them when they threw a big bash or event.

The Iron Horse played their music a lot, both recorded and live. When it was live, they were a huge draw, and the bar was usually packed shoulder to shoulder. Tonight, Dirty Deed’s music was recorded, and the bar was about as busy as any drinking hole would get on a Thursday night.

Not very.

That made it much easier to spot the person he’d hoped would be here.

He had a fucking hunch she might show up at the Iron Horse only because she had mentioned the other night that this was where she drank.

Her mistake was his advantage.

He grinned.

Since she was playing pool, her back was to him when he strode straight to the bar to grab a beer .

He slid his ass backwards onto a stool and only twisted his head enough to give Coop a chin lift in greeting.

Instead of returning it, Coop came over. “Brother.”

“Whassup? Need a cold one.”

“Tap or bottle?”

Romeo answered, “Whatever’s on the house.”

“Nothin’s on the fuckin’ house ‘cept conversation. And maybe a bowl of stale peanuts.”

“Whataya got on tap?” Romeo asked him.

“Probably the same shit you have on tap at Dick’s. Why you here?”

“Damn! Can’t a man come in here and have a fuckin’ beer?”

“Sure. But if you wanna drink for free, Dick’s got you covered. Maybe you’re lost.”

“Ain’t lost. Can’t hang out here? Jesus fuckin’ Christ. Hawk know how you’re treatin’ your customers?”

“Since when are you a customer?”

“When I gotta fuckin’ pay!” he just about shouted. With a grumble, he dug out his wallet and thumbed through his cash. He turned and slapped a fiver on the bar.

“You’re short.”

“I’m goddamn six-one. How the fuck am I short?”

Coop snorted and tipped his head toward the five-dollar bill. “It’s six now for a draft. And that don’t include the generous tip you’re gonna leave me.”

“Here’s a fuckin’ tip for you…” Romeo flipped Coop the bird, then jabbed it at him. “See the tip of my finger?”

“You’re goddamn hilarious, Rome. You should do fuckin’ standup.”

“Prolly should.”

“Okay, cheap ass, draft or bottle?”

“Whatever that five spot covers.”

“That’ll get you a glass of tap water. Without ice.”

Romeo shook his head and gave the man his back again so he could concentrate on the woman playing pool.

Now that she was standing under a light, he noticed he was right about her hair being slightly darker. Nothing drastic but it didn’t seem as blonde as when he last saw her. It was now more of a reddish brown.

Either way, it was still long enough to fist a handful of it as he pumped in and out of her sweet lips.

Anyway, he didn’t give a fuck if her hair was neon purple, the woman was still fuckable. If her hair distracted him, he could turn off the lights. Or cover her head with a pillow. Or something.

The plunk of a bottle on the wood bar top behind him made him glance over his shoulder. “That water’s a weird fuckin’ color. Better have your plumbin’ checked.”

“Lucky we fuckin’ like you, brother. Otherwise, for five bucks I would’ve poured you a half a draft. You could take tiny fuckin’ sips all night to make it last.”

“Maybe you should be the fuckin’ comedian.” He turned back to watch Maddie work the pool table.

She was damn good. Much better than he would expect. He wondered who taught her how to play that well.

He eyed up her partner next.

Zeke Jamison.

Romeo wondered if the next in line to hold the DAMC gavel had managed to get down her pants yet. Knowing Little Z—a nickname the kid now hated—he most likely had worked her hard. Whether she fell for his game or not was another story.

Romeo knew LZ wasn’t even twenty-one yet. Was she into younger guys? Rome might be seven years older than her, but LZ was seven years younger .

Was she doing him?

He was damn sure Maddie would prefer a man over a boy.

He could definitely be that man for her. He only needed to get her away from Zeke and convince her Romeo was what she needed in her life.

For a night.

Maybe two.