Introduction
Malcolm is the first book in the Dirty Aces MC series and can be read as a stand-alone.
If you’re a fan of our Savage Kings MC series then you may recognize the Dirty Aces from their brief appearance in Cedric’s book.
If you have not yet read the Savage Kings, the complete series is available on Amazon and it’s FREE to read with Kindle Unlimited: https://mybook.to/SavageKingsMC
Synopsis
While Malcolm Hyde may look like your very own personal Jesus, he’s anything but a saint. Covered in tattoos and leather, he’s a smoking hot biker and nothing but trouble.
As the president of the Dirty Aces MC, Malcolm is known for being cold and calculating. One bad decision – getting into business with the wrong person – is all it takes to bring down the entire MC. It’s happened before to his predecessor, which is why Malcolm refuses to let it happen again on his watch. He doesn’t trust anyone except for the few men who wear the same ace of spades patch on their back.
And that’s exactly why he doesn’t ever take his eyes off of me – the new girl. I never intended to make an enemy out of Malcolm or the MC when I was sent to steal everything I could from them.
After Malcolm finds out what I’ve been doing, he’s furious and shows no mercy until I spill all of my secrets, ones that could very well end my life. That’s when he makes me a surprising offer – he’s willing to take care of all of my problems, and the only thing he’s asking for in return is for me to completely surrender myself to him.
Spending two weeks in bed with a bad boy biker sounds more like a reward than a punishment.
There’s just one little catch – once he claims my body, there’s no guarantee he won’t steal my heart too.
Chapter One
Malcolm Hyde
“Good news, prez. We’ve got five clubs up and down the east coast who would give their left nut to patch over,” Nash says when he walks into the chapel and finds me sitting alone.
I take a deep pull from my cigarette and let the smoke roll out from my lips slowly. “So?” I ask him as I lean back in my chair at the head of the Dirty Aces’ long wooden meeting table, my boots propped up on the corner, crossed at the ankle.
“So, everyone else is on board with expanding. Now is as good a time as any, right?” he explains, plopping down in his usual chair to my right.
“Careful, brother. I can practically see the dollar signs dancing in your eyes,” I tell my VP with a raspy chuckle.
“Who doesn’t like a little extra cash in their pocket every month?” he responds with a smirk. “But it’s not just about the money. It’s about the power and the prestige, finally putting our club on the map.”
“Prestige? Seriously?” I scoff.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m all about more cash, more respect, and more power. Nash is right. Who doesn’t want to have an abundance of those things, especially someone like me? I grew up so poor my piece of shit mother had me holding up cardboard signs begging for food and loose change at busy intersections from the time I was old enough to stand on two feet. After you’ve been truly hungry, desperate for a half-eaten cheeseburger someone tosses out their window, you don’t ever forget that shit. That’s why I’m so tight with my earnings now. I wear the same boots and torn jeans that I’ve had since I started prospecting – that was long before money started coming in from the Dirty Aces’ gambling and drug enterprises hand over fist two years ago. Those memories of a constant gnawing ache in my empty stomach are why I still live in a one-bedroom beach cottage, drive a five-year-old bike, and put every penny into savings like I’m preparing for the apocalypse.
Never. Again.
Never again will I have to be a beggar on the streets or go to sleep hungry. That’s the promise I made to myself after I turned sixteen and got my first job slinging pizza dough and delivering late night pies to stoners. Not only did I earn a wage, but one of the perks was getting to eat for free whenever I wanted, something that was a foreign fucking concept since my mother preferred booze or meth to feeding us.
“Look, man,” Nash starts once I finish my smoke and put it out in the glass ashtray on the table. His knee is bouncing nervously, a clear indicator that he’s uncomfortable with my silence. He knows I’ve been trying to avoid this conversation like the plague. “I get that the shit with Lowell fucked you up. It fucked us all up.”
“Thanks for that newsflash, Captain Obvious,” I mutter when he brings up the recent betrayal of one of our brothers. Lowell was stealing a shit ton of money from the club for months without any of us having a goddamn clue.
“You’re convinced that we can’t trust anyone outside of our circle, and maybe not everyone in it completely. But thinking like that is only going to hold us back from taking the Dirty Aces to the next level, becoming…more.”
“Yeah, but why exactly do we need more?” I ask him. “Shit’s great the way it is.”
“Because growing is a sign of success.”
“You sound like some shady CEO pushing a pyramid scheme when you say shit like that,” I point out when I lower the soles of my boots back down to the floor and rest my elbows on the table. “Who the hell are you trying to impress, Nash? Ellie isn’t coming back, man. It’s been what? Over two years? And even if she did, having a few new charters isn’t shit compared to the mountains of dough her daddy keeps her swimming in.”
“Fuck you,” he grits out through clenched teeth after I knowingly took aim and hit his sore spot. Shoving his chair back to shoot to his feet, he slams both of his palms down on the table in front of me. “None of this is about her, asshole! It’s about what’s best for the goddamn club. And you may be the president, but this isn’t a dictatorship. You don’t even have veto power. That’s why I’m done waiting. Next time we meet, I’m bringing it to the table for a vote.”
“Good for you,” I grumble as I give him a dismissive wave.
Nash turns around and stomps out, slamming the door behind him like a toddler.
Hell, I know fighting the expansion is a lost cause. I’ve put off the damn vote as long as possible, but there’s no way the other guys will say no. They all want the power and the money because it’ll mean more pussy, which is pretty much the only fucking thing they care about.
But there’s one thing that is more important to me than the increase in revenue or status, and that’s loyalty.
You can’t put a fucking price tag on that shit. Hell, it might be the only thing in this business that’s truly priceless.
After one of our own brothers stabbed us in the back, I’m not too thrilled about opening our doors and letting in strangers. One wrong step and we could end up right back where we were a few years ago when the former Ace of Spades MC was literally burned to the ground for getting into business with the wrong people.
Now that I’m in charge, I won’t ever let that shit happen again. This MC is all I fucking have, and nothing and no one is going to take it away from me.