Topaz

Steel MC - Montana Charter Book Eight

Michel Prince Wren McCabe

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Epilogue

Ride with the Steels

Books by Michel Prince

Books by Wren McCabe

About the Author

About the Author

Copyright © 2020 by Michel Prince Books

Photograph and cover by Royal Touch Photography

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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1

Sitting behind the desk in the office of the Roadside Bar in the small town of Turnabout Creek, Montana, Sarah “Topaz” Cardwell scanned the work schedule. Leaning back in the chair she wondered what the hell she was doing here. At twenty-eight years old, she had no future and didn’t see a happy ending to her life. She was a stripper and managed most of the day to day in the bar, but that was about all. No real long term plan, while she performed an important job for the Steel MC she couldn’t help feeling a bit unappreciated most days.

Rubbing her temples, she tried to push through the headache from the music on the other side of the wall. She had to admit it, her day was off, being down on herself hadn’t been her MO for years. Today was different and she knew why. Waking up this morning, her body laid next to a prospect and she didn’t even know his name… real or road. He’d been a warm body at the end of the night, but there had been a time when she required more. Being a Hoez had a certain level of freedom when it came to one’s body. It also came with a certain level of expectation, but still a prospect? There was a difference between loving sex and loving yourself and she might have crossed the line last night.

She hadn’t slept with every man in the MC, but lately she’d been using men to avoid the one she couldn’t get out of her thoughts. No matter how many ways she separated herself from him the fates, magnetism, shit maybe even some twisted plan from the big man… threw him in her path. One she’d shut down years ago for reconstruction. Much like any government works project, the damn thing had gone over budget and deadline and yet a jackass was driving down the middle going ninety, picking off safety cones.

Gathering the calendar for dancers, waitresses and cooks from the stack of papers in front of her, she stood and walked to the board on the wall. Snatching the pin holding the old schedule, she held up the new one and stabbed it through the calendar. The schedule was done for the month now. Everyone could stop bitching at her. The damn thing had been a mix of wanting to pick up extra and a group wanting the same day off to party.

Dreamer and Freaky said they were having a simple quiet ceremony by the creek. What they wanted and the clubs want to party were at odds and those who worked at the Roadside, were betting on a party. Dreamer may be a sweet, mother of the Earth type of girl, but she was marrying a club member and that was a commitment to a family of misfits. Misfits, degenerates and wild animals. All, willing to kill to protect you, but all wanting to celebrate the big things.

Even though the music was blaring in the bar, no one was around. When there was a break in between songs, she heard whistling coming from behind the bar. Walking back there, she found Slug counting bottles and marking an inventory sheet.

“Doing inventory?” she asked the obvious.

“Yeah, Cass wanted me to start keeping track for the club. There’s some inconsistencies with the volume of liquor that is sold, versus consumed. Someone is giving away the booze.”

“More than a heavy pour?” she asked, because she’d been guilty of eyeing a shot when mixing instead of using a jigger in a pinch. “Drunks tend to tip more.”

“I think it’s more than a free round or turning a double into a triple.”

“That is just wrong. I haven’t seen it, but then I don’t concentrate on the bar unless they’re totally swamped and I need to keep a guy happy. I worry more over the Hoez on the stage and the servers. Maybe I can keep an eye on the bartenders as well. I can work the bar into my rotation when I’m watching everything else.”

“I’ll talk to the club. Let them know you’re willing to help.” Slug continued to count the bottles as he moved down the bar. “Really I don’t know what their issue is, maybe they think a bottle has more drinks in it.”

“Doubt it,” Topaz said with a light laugh. “If there’s anything ya’ll know is how many licks to get to the center of that Tootsie Pop.”

“True.”

Swiping a bottle of disinfectant and a towel from the folded stack by the register, Topaz wiped down the bar and tables in the room. It was nearing eleven o’clock when they opened and she liked the place to shine for the early crowd.

The front door opened as Free, Zoe, Zen, Tempest, Lyna, Porsche and Roadkill walked in.

“Hey, Topaz did you get the schedule done?” Roadkill asked as she approached.

“Yeah! Hanging up in the office.” Leaning on the brass rail, she pointed to the women walking toward the office. “Did they whine to you?”

Roadkill was the Prez’s wife which gave her an authority over the women of the club. Maybe it was more of a responsibility. They weren’t far apart in age, but Roadkill was more than an overprotective sister. She was practically a mother to them. Making

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