Dash silver saints mc, p.1
Dash (Silver Saints MC), page 1
Dash
Silver Saints MC
Fiona Davenport
Copyright © 2021 by Fiona Davenport
Cover designed by Elle Christensen.
Edited by Editing4Indies
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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Contents
Dash
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Epilogue
Epilogue
About the Author
Dash
Silver Saints MC
Brynn Thomas desperately needed a job and jumped at the chance to work for the cleaning company owned by Dallas "Dash" Smith. But she never expected to find her boss cleaning up a crime scene. Or to be swept off her feet by him.
The men of the Silver Saints MC moved fast when they found the women meant to be theirs. Dash was no exception.
They’d also do anything to keep their women safe. And Dash wasn’t going to let anyone hurt Brynn. Ever.
1
Brynn
After three bus transfers and an hour of travel time, I wasn’t feeling upbeat, but I pasted a smile on my face anyway. Now wasn’t the time for me to give in to my tiredness. If I didn’t want to end up living on the streets, I had a job interview to ace.
While I waited for the receptionist to finish her call, I smoothed my hand down my shirt and looked around the lobby. The place was messier than I expected a cleaning company to be. Not that it was dirty, just cluttered. Although the tile floor was spotless, a stack of magazines on the table in the waiting area looked like they were about to tilt over and could use a good dusting. The receptionist’s desk wasn’t much better, with papers scattered all over the side opposite her computer. And the bulletin board on one of the walls was covered with notices and sticky notes that had been stacked on top of each other without taking anything down in what looked like years.
“Brynn Thomas?”
The receptionist’s question pulled me from my thoughts. “Yes, that’s me.”
She pointed toward the hall to her left. “First door on the right, with the human resources sign on the door.”
“Thank you.”
I followed her directions and knocked on the already open door before walking in. The woman seated behind the desk looked in her late fifties to early sixties, and the smile she aimed my way put me at ease. “You must be Brynn. Please, come in.”
After we shook hands and introduced ourselves, Mrs. Acker—according to her name plate—gestured toward the chairs in front of her desk. Once I was seated, she didn’t waste any time jumping straight into my interview. “Tell me about yourself.”
“I recently graduated high school, where I was on the soccer team. This would be my first real job other than babysitting, but I have lots of experience being a team player. And I’ve always been a bit of a neat freak, so I think I’d be a natural fit for this job.” This was my tenth interview, and I’d gotten this same question every time. I’d flubbed my answer the first few times since there wasn’t really anything interesting I could say about myself that would make someone want to hire me. But after doing a little research, I figured out how to take my hobbies and turn them into a selling point.
She jotted down a note before asking, “No plans for college?”
“Not at the moment.” If my circumstances were different, I would’ve been off to college in a flash, but telling her that wouldn’t do me any good.
We went back and forth with her asking the standard questions and me doing my best to sound upbeat for another fifteen minutes. I felt as though the interview was going great until she set down her pen, laced her fingers together, and leaned toward me. “Are you sure this is the kind of work you want to do?”
“Cleaning wasn’t at the top of my list when I started looking, but it’s a job that pays more than minimum wage, doesn’t require me to take my clothes off, and won’t get me arrested. That’s good enough for me.” Her lips parted before pressing together into a thin line as though she wanted to say something but decided against it. Worried that I was making her think twice about hiring me, I rushed to add, “It might not be what I want to do with the rest of my life, but I swear I’ll be a good worker. I’ll show up to work on time for every shift and do whatever is asked of me.”
“This wasn’t what I planned to do with my life either, but here I am,” she muttered, heaving a deep sigh. “I can’t complain too much, though. Dirt Dashers takes good care of their employees. I wouldn’t have stuck around so long if they didn’t.”
None of the people who’d interviewed me had said much about their employer. They’d made it clear that I was there to convince them to hire me and not the other way around. Since I hadn’t gotten a single job offer, it was safe to say I hadn’t been successful. Hopefully, this was a good sign that Mrs. Acker was thinking about hiring me. “How long have you worked here?”
“Almost twenty years.” She pointed toward an old poster on her wall that said Sparkling Clean Company. “I’ve been around for two name changes and three different owners.
“That’s impressive.”
She shook her head and laughed softly. “I have to admit the current one is my favorite of the bunch. I never would’ve guessed it when I first met him with how rough around the edges he is. I thought for sure the company would go under in no time at all under his management, but I’m happy to say that he surprised me.”
When I’d walked in here, I hadn’t really cared if my boss was a nice guy or a complete jerk. But I took heart in knowing that he'd earned Mrs. Acker’s stamp of approval. As nice as she was, she also struck me as a tough person to trick.
“If you give me the chance to surprise you too, you won’t regret it,” I promised.
“The only shift I have available at the moment is nights.” A wrinkled popped up in the middle of her brow as she scanned my face. “I’m not sure how long it’ll be before something opens up during the day, and I’m not sure it’s a good fit. I know you recently turned nineteen, but you look young enough to still have a curfew.”
“Nights are fine by me.” Leaning forward, I let her see how desperate I was. “I’ve been staying with my sister since I moved to town after graduating from high school, but she’s pregnant and needs the room I’m using for a nursery.”
She tilted her head to the side, her eyes narrowing. “Is that the only reason you’re so fired up to get hired?”
The pregnancy was the excuse my sister was using to push me out the door, but it wasn’t why I was in such a rush. “Her boyfriend wasn’t exactly thrilled by the idea of me staying with them in the first place, and he’s made it crystal clear he wants me out as fast as possible. If I had the money to move, I would already be gone.”
“Hmm,” she murmured. “Sounds like you really do need this job.”
“More than you could possibly know.” I wasn’t above begging. “Please give me a chance.”
“I suppose it’s silly for me to worry anyway.” She sighed as she opened a drawer to pull out a stack of papers. “Nobody is going to give you a hard time when you work for Dirt Dashers. That’s just asking for the kind of trouble people like to avoid.”
Although I had no clue what she meant by that, I didn’t ask her for more details—like what kind of trouble she meant since it sounded bad. I probably should have, but desperate times called for desperate measures. The interview seemed to be going my way, and I didn’t want to jinx anything. But it turned out that I didn’t need to worry because she volunteered more information.
“The owner considers his employees to be under his protection, and he takes that responsibility very seriously.” She strummed her fingers against the top of her desk. “In fact, he could probably do something about your sister’s boyfriend if things get too bad at home before you’ve saved up enough to move out.”
Hope began to blossom in my chest, but the feeling had nothing to do with the supposed protection the company’s owner could provide. The odds of me complaining to him about the petty stuff my sister’s boyfriend liked to pull were basically zero. Not when I didn’t know the guy and depended on him for a paycheck…assuming I got the job in the first place. “Does that mean you’re hiring me?”
She nodded. “If you really want it, the job is yours.”
“I do.” I practically bounced in my seat with anticipation.
“When can you start?” she asked as she handed the stack of papers to me.
I glanced down and nearly groaned at all the forms I would need to fill out. But only my excitement at being hired could be heard in my tone when I offered, “Whenever you need me.”
“How about today?” She tapped on her keyboard and nodded. “One of the guys on the night shift called in sick again, and it’s a job we can’t put off. The building needs to be cleaned tonight.”
“Just tell me where and when, and I’ll be there,” I promised.
2
Dash
“You just had to use the Glock,” I muttered when I walked into the room.
Bear, one of my brothers in the S ilver Saints MC, was leaning a shoulder against the wall on the opposite side of the room while talking with Doc, another brother.
They both turned to look at me, and Bear shrugged. “All I had on me. Besides, I thought you’d enjoy the challenge.”
I looked over at the dead body crumpled on the floor with a .45-inch hole in his head. The hollow point bullet was embedded in the wall behind him, which was splattered with blood, bone, and brains. It was all over the carpet behind him as well.
“This isn’t a challenge. It’s a fucking pain in the ass.”
Blood had a way of seeping into everything, even the concrete below the carpet. Cleaning it early helped, but we would have to take the time to draw it out of the pores in the floor to make sure no evidence of the murder remained.
Not that this sick fuck hadn’t deserved what he got. Word had reached us about some incidents with girls going missing and ties back to a couple of chat rooms. One of our enforcers owned a security company and was a world-class hacker. When he heard about this, he’d gone digging. Bear tracked him down after discovering this man’s involvement in a human smuggling ring. He lured the asshole to this mostly abandoned office building, and we’d intended to leave him with an anonymous tip to the authorities.
Apparently, he’d pissed Bear off enough to have his brains blown out. Which made one less depraved psycho in the world, and I called that a win.
But seriously, did he have to use ammunition that made such a fucking mess?
“Already called Mrs. Acker,” Doc informed me. “Ernest called in sick again, but she has an interview in ten minutes, so maybe we’ll get lucky, and they can start right away. Patch’s friend who owns the funeral home will dispose of this trash once it’s been burned to ashes. So, as long as elite cleaners do their job first, the front line can wipe the rest down.”
Doc had been given his nickname because he was the MC’s “fixer”—not to be confused with the MC’s real medical professional, Patch (because he patched us up), who was also an enforcer. When he referred to my elite cleaners, he was talking about my employees who worked for the…darker side of the business. I’d been cleaning up the MC’s shit since I was a prospect. Eventually, I’d needed more help, and it seemed like the logical choice, so I started a company. Of course, I couldn’t exactly advertise to the world that we specialized in scrubbing crime scenes—although our reputation was well known in the right circles—so part of the business was a typical, run-of-the-mill industrial cleaning and janitorial service.
“Whoever takes the shift tonight will be here in a couple of hours. I’ll get a crew here to do the dirty work and take care of the body,” I told them as I pulled out my phone to text my assistant, Carrie, to call in the job. Doc took off to do the necessary paperwork and planting of evidence that kept the Silver Saints above suspicion for such things as executing scum.
Cash and our newest patch, Grey–formally known as Benji–were out for a ride, so they stopped by to offer their help. “By the way,” Cash said as he unfolded a body bag. “Girl who called us about this shit is the sheriff’s daughter. She overheard some students talking about it and decided this guy needed our brand of justice.”
Bear raised an eyebrow. “Ballsy. But how the fuck does she know what kind of justice we mete out? Or how to get in touch with us at all?”
“I’m guessing she’s overheard things she shouldn’t from the sheriff and snooped for a way to get in touch with us,” I mused as I put on a pair of latex gloves and rubber coverings for my shoes. “Someone should tell her to forget the Silver Saints, or we could end up on the sheriff’s shit list, and he’s been a good ally.”
“Agreed,” Bear grunted. “Don’t need a little girl interfering because she thinks she knows the MC life and wants to play on the other side of the tracks.”
Cash nodded as we walked over to the body and tossed Bear a grin. “You’re in charge of enemies and intel, Officer. Guess that means you get to have a talk with the kid.”
Bear rolled his eyes and began dismantling his weapon so we could clean it. “Fine. How hard can it be to scold a little girl and tell her to go back to her dolls instead of sticking her nose into things she shouldn’t?”
“Dude,” Grey interjected with a chuckle. “She’s a senior in high school, not an eight-year-old.”
Bear shrugged. “Same difference.”
Frankie and Andy showed up with their equipment just as Cash and I lifted the body onto the open bag, then we maneuvered him into it and zipped it up. I checked my watch and warned them, “The overnight will be on shift in an hour. Take care of as much as you can and strip up the carpet. We’ll come back tomorrow to treat the concrete.” They nodded and began setting out their tools.
My phone pinged with a text, and the screen flashed with a message from Mrs. Acker.
Hired someone. She’s going to start tonight. She’s young but determined. I like her, so don’t scare her off if you run into her.
When have I ever done that? I typed back with a smirk. Mrs. Ackman had been in charge of my human resources department since six months after I bought the company. Without any effort, she’d made my current manager look like an incompetent fool, so I fired him and promoted her. She’d never steered me wrong with her instincts, and the people she hired had been good workers. It wasn't my fault some of them were pansies who ran scared with one look at me.
It wasn’t because I was ugly or disfigured or anything. I was just a scary-looking motherfucker with big muscles, hard eyes, and an MC cut. I didn’t have a place for pussies like that anyway.
Her sister’s boyfriend could use a little of your charm, though.
Well, that was interesting. Mrs. Acker usually pretended not to know about my seedier activities. Either the boyfriend was truly bad or she’d taken a real shine to the new chick.
I’ll look into it.
I put my phone back in my pocket and made a mental note to have Hack or Grey do some digging into the guy.
“Oh, Dash,” Bear said, catching my attention as he popped the magazine back into his Glock 21. “Patriot wants you to take the tail on the run tomorrow.”
“Done,” I grunted. As the Silver Saints’ Tail Gunner, I took up the rear on runs, ensuring all members were accounted for while dealing with any breakdowns or injuries. It was my official title, but Cash and Knight, another citizen, filled in for me when needed. However, it was rare that Patriot, our Captain—Road Captain actually since our prez had strong-armed him into taking the promotion last week—went on a run without me and vice versa. Especially since he married Erin and knocked her up. He didn’t trust anyone else with the job.
I glanced around at the other patches in the room and found it interesting that we were all single. An epidemic of love had hit the MC over the past decade. I frequently gave my brothers shit for being whipped—although it wasn’t as much fun when they just shrugged and agreed. Obnoxious motherfuckers—but there were times when I was a little envious. My parents were still happy and in love after thirty-eight years together. My sister and her husband were disgustingly in love and had adorable six-year-old twin girls. I didn’t hate the idea of finding that for myself someday.
But I wasn’t all that confident it would happen. What were the chances of finding a woman who would look at the dirtier parts of my life and not be bothered by them? I literally wiped human brains off walls. But hey, when the zombie apocalypse happened, I would be all set for survival.
3
Brynn
In the general scheme of things, nine o’clock wasn’t super late. I’d been out past this hour plenty of times—just never by myself to somewhere I’d never been before when it was pitch black outside and nobody was around.
