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  Greatest MC

  The Iron Cobras MC – Book #5 - #7

  By Blair Grey

  Copyright © 2020 by Blair Grey

  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.

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  Table of Contents

  Unexpected

  Unforeseen

  Undeclared

  UNEXPECTED: AN MC ROMANCE

  The Iron Cobras MC – Book #5

  By Blair Grey

  Copyright © 2020 by Blair Grey

  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.

  Chapter One

  Clyde

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  White smoke hung in wisps over our heads as we sat around the Iron Cobras’ round table, contemplating the needs of the club. Carl took a long drag on his cigar – we all had been given one for the special meeting. Our president had splurged on a box of Arturo Fuente’s Opus X cigars - hands down, the best smokes on the planet.

  Letting the smoke ease out of his lips, curving like a snake around his salt and pepper beard, he savored the flavor. “So, as you can see by the facts I’ve laid out, we are in need of more security than our members can give us at this time. I’m sure we can allow more of our prospects to join within a year or so, to help us get back on a level that will allow us to let the additional security go.”

  As the Sergeant at Arms for our MC, I knew I would be at the center of the hiring process. “Do you have any security companies in mind, boss?” With our unique business ventures - most of them frowned upon by the state of Maryland - we couldn’t have just any security company overseeing our men.

  “I have a few I’ve been checking out, Clyde.” Opening the manilla folder that had sat closed in front of him for the better part of an hour, he pulled out one sheet of paper. “Here we have the portfolio of the Clandestine Service Agency.” His broad chest shook as he laughed heartily. “Sorry, I just find their name humorous. You guys get it, right?”

  Although I had no clue what he was talking about, our vice president, Leo Clapton did. “Clandestine means, secret. So the Secret Service Agency is what their title eludes to. Funny.”

  The things well-educated people thought to be funny blew my mind. “Ha, ha. What sort of people make up this agency?” That’s what’s important here.

  Carl had this knack for getting background information on the most elusive of people. “Teddy Fender is the owner of this operation. He’s retired FBI and his men, and some women, are also retired government agents.”

  Our enforcer, Lyly Franklin, wasn’t impressed. He blew out a wave of smoke, filling the inner circle of the large table. “So, we’re talking about a bunch of old people then, right?”

  Carl’s dark brow shot up. “Old? Not in my opinion. In their fifties and sixties? Yeah. But we’re not talking about a bunch of doughboys who’ve sat around in cushy offices their whole careers, Lyle. We are talking about hard-working, smart as hell, government agents who are more than capable of pulling off the extra security that we’re in need of.”

  The secretary, James Mathews, also seemed skeptical. “Their ages aren’t what worry me. The fact they’re all government agents does though.”

  “Ex-government agents, James,” Carl reminded us all as he looked into each and every one of the sets of eyes that made up our council. Carl had a way of making it seem as if he was talking straight to each one of us during meetings. It was part of what made him a great leader. “I’ve spoken with Teddy personally and he’s assured me that he and his people don’t get into what’s going on when they take on a security gig. They watch over everyone and everything. Keeping the peace is what they do.”

  Leo shrugged as he put out his cigar very carefully as to be able to smoke it again later. “If these guys had been around when the Irish Reapers were wreaking havoc with our strip club, The Executive Viper, because of your daughter’s ill-devised plan to steal their strippers, do you think they could’ve stopped things before they came to a head the way they did?”

  With a nod, Carl explained, “I do believe that if added security had been around when Sarah made her series of unfortunate decisions, that at least one of them would’ve caught her in the act of enticing the strippers from Horney’s Babes. Thus, ending her antics before the members of The Irish Reapers became angry with us.” Rubbing his forehead, he sighed. “And I blame some of that on our brother and my son-in-law, Axel, as well. As the manager and her partner in that endeavor, he should’ve been paying more attention to what my daughter was doing. But that’s ancient history now and they’ve married and made me a proud grandfather, so all is forgiven, and that mess has been cleaned up.”

  Our chaplain, Lucas Hoss, blew smoke out of the side of his mouth. “Well, I for one, think we’re good. If we would’ve had extra security back when Ryder was incarcerated, then he might not have asked me to watch over his wife and I wouldn’t have ever found the love of my life.”

  I had to laugh. “Okay, Lucas. You’re right. But if we would’ve had more security before Ryder got locked up, he most likely wouldn’t have been set up by the punks in the Angry Hogs in the first place. And since I’ve spent a pretty fair amount of time with him recently in Atlantic City, I happen to know that his marriage to Hailey – who is now your wife – congrats on that, by the way – was a sham. That marriage would’ve ended on its own anyway.”

  Lucas nodded. “Maybe I’m just being selfish.”

  Carl agreed, “Yes, you are. If you will recall, I had my own brush with The Irish Reapers and extra security would’ve been great back then. Hell, it would be great now that Britt and I have the twins running all over the house, making our lives a lot more exciting than they had been. And that was plenty of excitement.” With a huff, he put it out there for us. “Here’s the thing, brothers. We all have full lives now. Well, most of us do anyway. And with all we’ve got going on, we need some outside help. I’ve got toddlers now and Britt’s itching for more babies.” He gestured to Lucas. “You and Hailey got your bun in the oven. Axel and Sarah are on kid number three for God’s sake. And even Ryder and Janine just shared the good news about their pregnancy.”

  He was right, we needed help. “I get it. If anything was to happen right now, we’re at least four brothers short. Carl, you nor Axel, should put your lives in danger. And neither should you Lucas, not Ryder either for that matter. You all have too much to live for and too many people counting on you for you to take unnecessary risks. But I can’t agree on this clandestine agency. I don’t trust the government – ex or not.”

  “I get it.” Carl crumpled up that paper, tossing it across the table, into the trash can near the bar before he pulled out the next paper. “The second candidate for our extra security is made up entirely of men under thirty who are single and have no known children. And the reason I even took the time to check them out is because men without families have nothing to lose.”

  His words stung a bit. I had no family, no girl in my life, and no prospects of a love or family life either. “I can attest to what Carl is saying. I’ve got nothing to live for and never think before I get involved in dangerous activities. Not that I seek them out.” I paused as that wasn’t entirely true. “Well, I do seek them out, I guess. Anyway, the main thing here is that I agree with Carl. I’m
going to vote for this security agency.”

  Shaking his head, Carl didn’t seem as if he would be accepting my vote yet. “But you haven’t heard anything else about them, Clyde. But as long as I’m talking directly to you, I should point out that the men in that agency are all under thirty, which you are not. Thirty-two, right?” He didn’t wait for my answer as he knew well how old I was. “And I’ve got one more agency to tell everyone about as well.”

  Steve McDonald raised his hand. “Before you move on from this agency, would you please state the name of it so I can research the costs that would come along with hiring them? This is for my own research and not just for the club. My father-in-law is opening a small bistro in town and he’s looking for security as it’s in a high crime neighborhood.”

  “Sure, that agency is called, The Lost Boys. But you should let your father-in-law know that we can watch over his place, Steve.” Carl put out his cigar, waving through the air to clear the smoke. “These things are the bomb. But a little goes a long way.”

  Our road captain, Danny Smith, spoke up, “If I may be so bold here, boss. We do not currently have the muscle to watch over our own businesses, much less anyone else’s. With all due respect, sir.”

  “Yeah, you’re right, Danny.” Carl looked a little angry with himself for not seeing that before he’d opened his mouth. “Here I am telling you guys how we need extra help and I’m doing the same old things I’ve always done – offering our help. Well, I’ve gotta face it the same way I’m asking you, men to. We have to hire out. During that time though, we will have to step it up on accepting some of the many prospects we have. And the ones we do accept will need to be trained and taught how to secure our holdings.”

  While I liked the idea of the loveless guys as added security, I hated the title of their agency. I wasn’t going to be telling anyone that we were using The Lost Boys for anything. “So, who else do we have, boss?”

  Stretching my legs underneath the table, the meeting had gone on a bit too long for me. I had a ride I wanted to get to. Fresh air was calling my name.

  Pulling out the next and last paper, Carl slid it to me. “Check this one out, you old jarhead,” he said as he brought up my status as an ex-Marine. “The Keepers are a group comprised of only ex-military. So far, they’ve only taken on Washington D.C.’s most elite politicians as clients. They’re not cheap by any means. And they might even be overkill for us. But I like them. What do you think, Clyde? You were one of them, once upon a time.”

  Flashing back to my days in Afghanistan, I knew what kind of people Carl was talking about. Men and women who fought hard, even though not all of us understood what we were fighting for. And many of us left our fields of service with trauma that wouldn’t heal or go away.

  As a former Marine, I knew better than most what one could expect from our ex-military. “I think you’re right about them possibly being overkill, boss. We’re talking trained killers here. We’re talking people who know how to take out someone without making a sound, nor having any ill feelings about what they’ve done.”

  That part wasn’t exactly true of all of us. I’d had ill feelings about some of the things I’d done and seen done by my fellow Marines. But I didn’t like to think about those times. Whiskey and smoke did a lot to keep those memories at bay, where they belonged.

  I’d told myself that I didn’t want to go to another country and do the things I’d done. I’d done it for my fellow Americans. Even though the majority of them didn’t agree with why we were elsewhere, instead of at home, defending our borders - America the Beautiful.

  Carl seemed to understand as he nodded. “Yeah, I know what they’ve been trained to do, Clyde. What I’m asking you is how you would feel about letting them help us out for a while?”

  As Sergeant at Arms, I was head of the Iron Cobras’ security. So, ultimately it was up to me who we picked – if we picked anyone. I’d been with Ryder in Atlantic City. I’d seen some things there that we would’ve had trouble with had we been on our own.

  Bringing in the authorities on that one had been a thing we had to do if we wanted the Wicked Warlocks brought down efficiently and for a long time. What they were doing to people was unethical and I was proud that we’d saved some avid coke users from the Wicked Warlock’s dirty drugs.

  Leo tapped his long fingers on the table. “Clyde, whoever we choose here today, you’re going to be our liaison to them. So, will it be a bunch of old farts, boys with no love lives, or people you can understand?”

  Carl cleared his throat to draw my attention. “You should know that The Keepers are an MC made up of only ex-military, and not just a security company.”

  I found that interesting. “You don’t say.”

  “I do say.” He went on, “And this MC allows both males and females. As a matter of fact, their president is currently a woman. Tequila Santos – a former Marine herself, she was a Master Gunnery Sergeant. Have you heard of her?”

  I’d been out of the service for the last five years. “Nope.” But the idea of a woman who could get the members of an MC to vote her in as president – the leader of their pack – said a lot. “I bet she is something else.”

  “Maybe you’d like to meet with her before me make a decision,” Carl offered. “They’re in D.C. and The Lost Boys are in Annapolis. So, which way are you going first?”

  “If it’s a toss-up between some kids with no reason to live and highly trained and proven people who also happen to have the good taste of living the motorcycle lifestyle, I’ll pick The Keepers each and every time, boss.” My choice was an easy one to make.

  “Sounds good to me too, Clyde.” Carl pushed one more paper to me. “Here’re the names and numbers of the council for The Keepers MC. Get Steve to set you and one more guy up in a nice hotel in D.C.”

  “One more guy?” I hoped I got to pick who went with me. “I’ll take…”

  “You’ll take one of our prospects, Clyde,” Carl informed me. “Garrett Robertson is his name and he was once in the Navy. Almost became a SEAL. Unfortunately, PTSD set in and worked against him. He could use another brother who can understand him.”

  He forgot one important thing. “He’s not an Iron Cobra yet, boss. Being from a military background doesn’t automatically mean he has what it takes to be a member of our MC.”

  With a nod, Carl agreed with me. “You’re right. That’s why I’m sending him with you to help convince The Keepers to take on this gig. You can see what he’s got. In the end, it’ll be you who says if he gets to become one of us or not.”

  “Me?” I hadn’t ever had that kind of pull with our MC before. I liked it. “I can handle that, boss.”

  As long as the squid knows who’s boss, we’ll be just fine.

  Chapter Two

  Tequila

  “Of course, Mr. Thomas, I’ll be happy to confer with my council and I’ll get back with you before the end of next week. You’re in luck because we have a meeting this evening. I’ll put it on the agenda. Talk to you soon.” Ending the call, I put my cell away in the top drawer of my desk.

  My assistant Amanda came in with a stack of papers in her arms. “Here are the minutes from the last council meeting, Tequila. I went over them and found that every issue you all agreed on was taken care of. So, that frees you guys up to take on only new business. Cool, huh?”

  I had to agree, “That is very cool. Three months into my presidency and I’m on top of things. This good news should silence some of the naysayers.” Taking a bottle of Glenlivet Scotch out of the bottom drawer of my desk, I filled a couple of glasses, passing one to Amanda who’d taken the other seat. “A toast is in order.”

  Raising her glass, she nodded. “To Tequila Santos. May the remainder of your presidency of The Keepers MC go off without a hitch.”

  Tapping my glass to hers, I knew her wish was a pipedream. But it was a nice one. “Here, here!”

  Taking a nice long drink, the heat from the liquor bathed my throat. Putting the
glass down, I picked up the papers she’d brought, just to make sure we had indeed dealt with all the issues from the previous month’s meeting.

  Her hand plopped on top of the pages, pushing them to the desk. “You don’t trust me, boss?”

  “It’s not just you that I don’t trust.” I couldn’t trust anyone. Not since my presidency had been questioned by a rather distinct group within our MC. “Jake’s reach hasn’t been determined yet, Amanda. And this might seem bitchy of me, but I did see you having drinks with him just the other night in our club’s bar.”

  “In my defense, there was a group of us having drinks and he just so happened to be one of them. It wasn’t a date or anything like that, Tequila. He and I weren’t one on one. I don’t follow him. I’m not in his camp. And I’m not some sort of spy for him either.” Placing the glass on my desk, she huffed. “See, the thing with you is that you have severe trust issues.”

  “Yeah, I’m pretty sure I just said that straight up.” I wasn’t one of those people who talked behind people’s backs or lied to myself and others about who I was and what my shortcomings where. But I also knew what my strengths were and so far, they’d overshadowed my weaknesses. “Look, I trust you more than I trust most people. That’s why I gave you the prestigious position as my personal assistant. Many vied for this coveted position.” That was a joke. I’d had to fall back on the fact that Amanda and I’d had a past of working together when I’d first enlisted in the Marines. She’d joined at the same time. We were in boot camp together. But she had quickly decided military life wasn’t for her shortly after finishing her first tour. While I’d made two more before I decided to get out.

  No one in our MC was in the military for the long haul. Each one of us had our own specific reasons for leaving. Not that we discussed them. We gave each other the psychological space each of us demanded.