Lucky: The Irish MC Read Free Page B

had to run off in the first place.
     
    Shaking my head, I thought back to six months ago. One of my guys had been working against the MC, with the cops. We’d found out, but it had been almost too late. He’d revealed a lot of damaging information, and I wasn’t sure what our state was. Then he tried to attack me in the auto repair shop where I was having my bike repaired. He didn’t attack me personally, but he rigged an explosion to happen when I was supposed to be there. Mason found out and told me at the last second, and I was able to escape. But the traitor, Cain, had been there.  And he’d died in the explosion. Afterwards, I’d fled the country. I had to lay low for a while if I was ever going to think about heading the club again. It had been painful, but it was over now.
     
    I was so close to freedom that I could taste it. I wish I could taste some pussy , I thought, working my tongue around in my mouth. Irish girls didn’t like to have their clits sucked; for some reason, they thought it was a sin. Even gorgeous, racy little Kiley wouldn’t let me go down on her. It was something that I’d missed for months, and I wanted to find a willing girl and eat her until she was screaming with pleasure. I missed the musky juices of arousal flowing into my mouth, missed the little rock-hard pebble of the clit as I sucked on it. Most of all, I missed the shrieks and moans of the woman I was pleasuring. There was no sexier sound on earth than getting a woman off, and I intended to get my fill of it as soon as I could.
     
    Well, not my fill, I thought with a smirk. There was no way that I, Mickey Jameson, could ever be satisfied with one night. The woman would have to be a goddess, she’d have to be unreal. She’d have to be everything I ever wanted, she’d have to be perfect. And as much as I loved women, I didn’t think such a thing existed. Except for my mom, and she was a different story altogether.
     
    I knew that Mom wouldn’t be happy about my return to the MC. She’d always wanted me away from the business, even when I wanted to get the club involved in legitimate activities. She was too worried that the same thing would happen to me that happened to my old man. And not that I blamed her; The Irish buried a lot of club members. But I was honestly hoping my return would lead to some change. After all, I was getting older. At thirty-two, I wasn’t an old man, but I would be soon, and I didn’t want to spend my middle-aged years keeping the club out of prison on a weekly basis. It was exhausting to think about that. I wanted normalcy, peace. I wanted to settle all of our debts and start a new venture that would really change Dos Palmos. The Irish had a bad reputation, and I wanted to fix that. I knew people would never love us the same way they loved, say, the old guys from the Moose Lodge. But at least we could do something . We could try to legitimize the business again. Or at least look like we were trying.
     
    The rig hit another pothole and the crate jerked and tipped precariously to one side. I groaned as I thumped back down. I regretted not asking Jimmy and Mason to make sure I was tied down in the back of the truck—a few more bumps like this and I wouldn’t be conscious enough to meet them. Come on, drive faster. I know this isn’t that fucking long of a ride .
    As if reading my mind, the rig sped up. I felt the crate sliding back on the truck bed towards the door and I shuddered. There was a fresh cut on my forehead that was bleeding and the blood was dripping in my eyes, making it uncomfortable to keep them open. Plus the inside of the truck was hotter than hell, with no air flow. I felt my lungs burning every time I released a breath: a sure sign that I was running out of oxygen. Jimmy and Mason must be laughing their asses off by now. I sure hoped they had a plan to compensate me for all of this shit. After all, I was their leader. If they were going to put me through hell, I at least