Twisted Steel: An MC Anthology: Second Edition Elizabeth Knox (cheapest way to read ebooks .txt) 📖

After we eat, Tim loads the plates into a dishwasher, refusing my help. He swats my ass with a dishtowel. “Quit distracting me.”

“How am I distracting you?” I ask. “I’m just standing here.”

“Exactly. You in my shirt, that’s all you gotta do.”

I grin and pop a grape in my mouth. “Fine, I’ll take my coffee and check out your old house.”

“You do that.”

I wander around and end up in the front parlor, running my hand along the mantle of the stunning fireplace. There’s a chess table and two chairs in front of one of the windows. I pick up the knight, and study the beautiful piece, remembering how his grandfather taught us both to play.

The floor creaks behind me, and I see Irish leaning a shoulder against the frame of the archway, sipping on his coffee. My eyes run down his shirtless body, his sweatpants slung low on his hips, and all those beautiful abs on display.

I flush, and his eyes sparkle, having caught me. Turning back to the board, I set the piece in its place. “Do you still play?”

“What, chess?”

“Yes. You were quite good, I remember.”

“I haven’t played in years. Since high school, I guess.”

I sit, taking the white side, and arc a brow at him, challenging him to a game.

He chuckles but strolls over to take the chair across from me. “Your move.”

We both set our coffee aside and I play my queen’s pawn, moving it two squares forward.

Irish grins at my classic move, and counters, moving his queen’s pawn forward two squares. I bring forward my white knight, putting his pawn in jeopardy, and he counters with his black knight. I bring out my queen’s bishop putting his knight in jeopardy, and smile.

The roaring of motorcycles comes up the street, vibrating the window glass. Irish has his arms folded on the table, and he leans to one side, peering out the turret window. “We got company.”

“What?” I whirl around, my eyes widening. Three bikes slow and turn in the drive. I take in the patches they wear. These aren’t just recreational riders; these guys are in a real club. I twist to look at Irish. “You know those guys?”

“Yep.” He makes no move to get up to let them in, instead he puts his hand on a chess piece studying his options, and hesitating.

I frown, confused by his action, or lack thereof. Are we just going to keep playing and leave those guys outside? “Irish?”

The back door creaks open, and then boots are clomping across the kitchen floor. I sit, stricken, knowing if I make a dash for the stairs, I won’t make it in time. I glance around for an afghan or something to cover the fact I’m sitting here in just his shirt but find nothing.

And then three bikers are trooping in, taking up most of the room. I feel like all the oxygen has just been sucked out of the space, and I look over to catch Irish grinning at me, his chin in his hand. I mouth, “You are so dead.”

He chuckles.

The men stop short, staring, and by the strange look on their faces I’m not sure if it’s the sight of me that has them so shocked.

“What the fuck are you doin’?” one of them asks.

Irish calmly turns his head to look at them. “Playin’ chess with my woman, you rude ass bastard.”

Oh shit. My wide eyes flick to the men he just insulted, and my skin goes cold. I wait for one of them to pull a gun and shoot him. I’m trembling when the tall red-haired one that looks strangely like a Viking, grunts.

“Since when the fuck do you play chess, Green?”

Green. There’s that name again.

“I play. What’s it to ya?” Irish replies, still just sitting there with his arms folded.

Another of the men strolls closer to the table, and stares at me. “This her?”

Irish looks up at him. “Yeah. You come by just to see?”

The man has dark hair and a beard. He smiles at me, flashing white teeth, and extends his hand. “They call me Wolf, darlin’. Green lacks the manners to introduce us.”

My gaze darts between Tim and him, and I slowly place my hand in the man’s. “Sara.”

He lifts it to his mouth and kisses the back. “Enchanted.”

“Knock it off, Wolf. Sara, these are my brothers, Wolf, Crash, and the big Viking over there is Red Dog.”

“Brothers? But I thought you were an only child.” I scan the men; none of them look alike.

“Club brothers, darlin’,” Wolf corrects me.

My gaze pierces Tim’s. “Club . . .” my voice trails off, putting it together. Oh. My. God.

The one called Crash leans against the mantle. “He didn’t tell you he was in an MC?”

“Ya mind, we’re trying to play a game here,” Tim says, turning his head.

Wolf whacks the back of his hand against Tim’s shoulder. “Since when the fuck do you play chess, Green?”

“Since always.”

Red Dog folds his arms, his boots spread. “Who the fuck are you, Green? Tuxes and fancy balls, and now suddenly you play chess.” He lifts his chin toward me, his eyes still on Tim. “I suppose she’s Alice in this fucked up Wonderland, huh?”

“Fuck off, all of you. You just came by to fuck with me. Think I don’t know it?”

Crash chuckles. “That’s our job, bro, especially where you’re concerned.”

“You really think we’d haul ass across the mountain first thing in the morning just to check out your woman?” Red Dog asks.

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” Tim replies, arcing a brow at the man.

Red Dog breaks into a big toothy grin. “You’re damn right, we would.”

Crash lifts his hand toward Red Dog. “Dog’s son, Billy, is turning eighteen Monday. We’re throwin’ a party at the clubhouse.”

Tim nods. “Okay. I’ll be there.”

Wolf lifts his chin at me. “Bring Sara.”

Tim nods. “I will if you haven’t scared the hell out of her. She might hightail it out of here the minute you shitheads pull out.”

Crash takes Tim in a headlock and rubs