The first book for the Hellion Motorcycle Club is about three-quarters of the way through.
The story is set around Trey Morrow, the biker introduced in Human Hieroglyphix II and who played a bigger part in Hiding in Plain Sight. He's recently taken the gavel at the club and is also the general manager at Hellion Construction. A lot of responsibility but this hot bad-ass biker can handle it.
Much like he wants to handle the only female tradesman on one of his crews.
Dallas Sheridan, the only girl plumber at HC, also has a lot on her plate. In addition to her job, she's trying to keep her younger brother out of juvie and her disabled parents healthy, stable and secure.
Oh! Can you imagine how hard it is for these two to find time to get together when the I've-just-got-to-be-with-you hits?
As an apology for being out of the loop and dropping off the face of the planet (I didn't, I was just all caught up in the yummy Trey), here's a sample of Chapter 2--completely unedited. Please keep in mind that my editor, Laura Kingsley, may cut, change, singe or poke holes in it. Which means it might be different in the final book which I hope to have published at the beginning of March.
In the meantime...Enjoy!
*.*.*.*.* HMC - The Possibility of Trey *.*.*.*.*
"You're four o'clock is here," Rita announced on his intercom and Trey moved the papers from his desktop into an empty drawer as he pulled up his calendar. Oh yeah, Dallas Sheridan and his request for a salary advance.
"Send him in," Trey called and waited. At the knock on the door frame he glanced up at the petite girl. "Sorry, beautiful. You have to make an appointment."
"I did, Mr. Morrow. I'm Dallas Sheridan."
Trey blinked and rewound the words to hear them again, said in that same feminine voice he'd heard on the phone that morning. The one which matched the womanly curves of the female before him.
And in spite of the way she was dressed, there was no mistaking Dallas Sheridan for anything but a woman. Not from the black layered curly hair to the chest that rounded the front of the Hellion Construction t-shirt down tucked into the well-worn, figure hugging jeans. It was her face though comprised of nickel colored eyes and a sexy, pouty mouth which drove all thoughts of her being anything other than a beautiful girl from Trey's mind.
You could've knocked him over with a feather.
I stood in the doorway and watched my boss's, boss's boss blink with his mouth open. But I didn't know why.
I'd tucked myself in, washed up and ran a comb through my hair before checking in with Rita so I knew I wasn't a horror show. And surely he knew I was a girl which was a bit of a stretch in the trades but in this day and age wasn't unheard of.
"You're Dallas Sheridan?" The deep voice rumbled and held a note of incredulity. He still hadn't moved other than to do a long, slow blink.
"Yes, si…erm. Mr. Morrow. I have an appointment to discuss a salary advance." Geesh, for a guy that was supposed to be running the show he seemed a little slow on the uptake.
I didn't have time for slow.
He lifted his tall, tall self from the cushy leather thing he'd been sitting in and gestured to one of the chairs in front of his massive desk that only contained two computer monitors, a keyboard and a multi-lined phone. Which was nothing like I expected. For some reason I thought busy men would have busy desks—covered in file folders and scraps of paper but his was ridiculously clean.
Plus, I expected captains of industry to be older, shorter somehow. But this guy was a tall hottie with a bod to match. Which moved him into 'then he's gonna be a dick' column of my rate-a-man scale.
I sat down and kept my fingers in my lap determined not to speak until spoken to in spite of the red-brown colored eye roam he seemed intent on performing.
"I was expecting a dude."
I swallowed thickly. This could be tricky since it had taken a while to get my boss and the rest of our crew to recognize me for my work and not my gender. I wasn't sure how to answer the president of the company with regard to being a woman instead of what he'd been expecting.
So I shrugged in response. "Just a girl."
"Yeah, but a girl with some serious skills from what I hear." The man hadn't let up with the eye thing which was starting to make me uncomfortable. "Silo speaks well of you."
"Mr. Kettering." His voice was almost a growl. Funny how his big office even with the door open didn't seem to get much of the noise of the busy office and warehouse space but echoed his voice.
"Yeah, he's a good boss."
We shared a stare and I got the warning buzz in my stomach area telling me to shut the guy-meets-girl-and-they-both-like-what-they-see shit down fast. I dropped my eyes which seemed to do the trick.
"How much, for how long and for what?"
"Five G's over six months and it's to get my little brother into one of those teenaged behavior modification ranches." I tried to keep my reply as succinct as he'd kept his question remembering I only had fifteen minutes to plead my case.
I heard a drawer open and saw him take out a pad and pen. He was gonna take notes? Shit. I added 'anal retentive asshole' to the 'dick' side of my internal scorecard.
"Need more info." Damn, could a man's voice get any deeper? It was more than off-putting and I felt the sharp pinch of sweat start beneath my arms.
"How much and in what?" I shot back. I tended to get a bit mouthy when uncomfortable. Not that my question was out of line. Except for its phrasing and my tone.
Without raising his face, his eyes again hit mine. Dear god, those were some seriously hot eyes. Long, long assed lashes combined with a red-brown, the most perfect color of brown, made me weak-kneed. "Your brother to start."
Okay. At least I had a place to begin.
"Drake is seventeen and since he was fifteen he's been in trouble. Running with the wrong crowd, getting into stuff he shouldn't and basically just causing youthful trouble. But, its escalated. Now he and his 'boys' as he calls them are into tagging. You know, spray painting on shi…erm, I mean, stuff they shouldn't. And they're so stupid about it always getting caught in the act." I turned my face away to try and hide my blush. No one in our family had ever had a problem with the law but Drake just seemed to be a magnet for it. "This is his third offense."
"Which means what? I'm not up on legal proceedings for delinquents."
Damn. I hated hearing my little brother being assigned that label but, in truth, that was exactly what he was turning into.
"The hall or house arrest." I had to force the words out of a tight throat.
I saw him write for a bit as I chewed my lower lip. I couldn't read his scrawl from where I was sitting but I knew it wasn't good.
"Parents?" came the next bark.
"Uhm. Dad was a pipe-fitter in the Navy but lost his sight and an arm due to one of the bombs on the USS Cole in the Gulf. Mom had a massive heart attack six years ago and can't do much." I hated to admit my family's failings, my failings in keeping all of us on the right track, financially secure and together. But I'd done pretty good until Drake had hit fifteen.
"You're the sole bread-winner?"
"Outside of dad's pension."
"Shit, pretty girl. That's a lot of weight on your shoulders." I heard a note of respect in the deepness of his voice and that's what I clung to. I chose to ignore the other words which would've set the women's movement back fifty years.
"I'm handling it, si…uhm, Mr. Morrow."
He shot me a sharp glance before his eyes again went to his pad of paper. "Where's he now?"
"If that's your brother's name then yeah."
"In the reception area with Rita." I didn't know where he was going with this and the lack of knowledge caused another round of sweat.
"Let's get him in here, shall we?" he said with a lethal grin. Not the Friday night kind of grin where a girl's panties were in trouble but the kind that made me fear for Drake's very existence. He punched a couple of buttons on the phone and told Rita to send Drake to his office.
And wouldn't you know my brother swaggered into my boss's, boss's, boss's office with all the arrogance of some kind of Grammy-winning rapper. I wanted the floor to open up and swallow me whole.
"S'up," my ass-hat of a brother offered lifting his chin.
"Sitch your hard ass down and shut da fuck up," came the response which was barked with a truly bad-ass stare.
Luckily my sibling wasn't completely stupid because I watched his bony shoulders creep up towards his ears as a flush moved over his face while he plopped into the chair next to mine. I caught my brother's gray eyes, filled with a questioning though suspicious light before Mr. Morrow spoke again.
"Eyes to me, punk." There was no way in hell a person could refuse to do as instructed. Not without severe repercussions that went unspoken. "You know your sister has asked to go into hock to save your scrawny ass, right?"
I turned my eyes to my brother and watched as his fingers held a white knuckled grip on his baggy pant legs. But there was no response.
"Asked you a question, wanna be. You gonna answer or am I gonna have to get physical?" The words were said slowly, menacingly and I couldn't help how I'd open my mouth to run interference. But I caught Mr. Morrow's quick glance and shut my mouth with an audible click. "Don't look at her. I'm the one talking here."
"Yo-you can't to-touch me, dude. I'm a mi-minor." Such a thin pathetic excuse from a skinny wisp of a boy.
"You know where you are, little dick? On Hellion property. And on this property, I'm king. I can do what I want to whom I want and no one will be the wiser. You get me?"
Shit, that even scared the be-jesus out of me!