The Possibility of Trey (A Hellion MC Novel)

Chapter One

Trey slung his leg over his Harley, glancing up at the large cabin before putting his key in the ignition. It had been a helluva party with lots of good food and great people. True, it was a Hellion's party so it was gonna be off the charts but having it at Brand and Reese's place had made it even better.

Number one was because Brand's woman could cook and had been working with the Honeys, the female portion of the club, to improve their culinary skills. Tonight, Reese had served pulled pork sandwiches with all the trimmings. When the buffet on the dining room table and bar had been settled, you could tell those that had plates from those that didn't from the silence that had ensued. The ones who'd snagged plates first could do little more than an eye roll as the taste of all she'd offered hit their mouths.

Brand hadn't forgotten about activities either. In the far corner of the massive open living space was a regulation sized pool table that had a lot of the club brothers drooling. Brand had even set up darts on the back patio and had pulled out an old foos-ball table from one of his back sheds. Plus the video games which blasted and crashed on the 50' TV over the fireplace.

Yeah, it had been a helluva good time.

And with the little bit of perfumed fluff making her way across the porch and down the steps toward him maybe the fucking night was going to end on an equally high note.

Where you going, sweet thing? He asked as she stopped next to his bike.

Your place, she answered with a smile. Combined with the amount of creamy cleavage on display and the carefully spaced bourbon in his bloodstream, he knew he'd not be turning her down.

Hop on. He lifted his hand and felt her fingers grab as she swung up behind him. Her skirt was a bit short for a motorcycle ride but if she was willing to provide the town with a view, who was he to argue?

The ride back to the compound seemed both too short and too long by turns. Too short because the late autumn air felt so good running through his hair and over his skin, dragging the cobwebs of booze from his mind. Too long because of the roaming hands of the girl behind who had let her fingers do the walking over his chest, abs and crotch the whole of the way.

He leaned back and let her do what she wanted only drawing the line when she reached for the button on his waistband. Trey didn't care if she wanted to expose herself, but he wasn't into the whole exhibitionism thing himself. He'd covered her hand and moved it to the unfolding length that was trapped in the leg of his jeans instead.

Oh yeah, it was going to be a fucking perfect end to a perfect night.

Why are we here? He heard her ask when he turned off the bike. I thought we were going to your place.

"This is my place, " he said, pulling himself off his ride while dragging her body into his. He dropped his head and went at her mouth. Preliminaries were over and he was in the mood for the main event.

Luckily, she seemed to get with the program pretty damn quick and their lip-lock had moved on to passionate clutches and tongues that seemed destined to explore other areas. Trey reached for his huge key-ring and opened the padlock on a door marked with the number four. Flipping the light switch, he kicked the door closed and twisted the deadbolt before backing her up to the bed.

Naked. Now, he instructed, peeling her off him as he toed off his boots. It took her half as long to follow his instructions as it did him, but then she was wearing half as many clothes. His eyes did a slow roam over her as she spread herself out on the mattress. Skinnier than he liked and with a purchased rack but she was female and willing.

And that was all that mattered.

Grab a condom, babe, he instructed, doing a chin lift towards the bowl on the nightstand. Each room in the back of the compound was fitted much like a cheap hotel room and included a bowl of condoms free to the members who made use of the accommodations.

After stroking the latex on, Trey wasted no time in rolling onto his guest. You wanna start slow or are you ready for how I want to give it to you?

He saw the overly made up face scrunch as the woman breathed, man, you don't waste time do you? Whatever happened to foreplay?

Trey reached between them to shove two fingers into the juncture between her legs. You're wet. I'm hard. Why the fuck bother?

Her eyes popped and she gasped more than likely shocked at his crude words and cruder actions but he didn't give a fuck. Her expression held as he began to inch himself inside. Once seated, he offered a cautionary, hold on, before he grabbed her legs and began to drill her. He closed his eyes as he worked himself in and out of the woman hard and fast, pressing her skinny thighs against her surgically-enhanced chest as he moved. It was exactly the way he liked it, impersonal and slightly rough, keeping the emotional distance between them as their biological functions took over.

But it only took a handful of strokes and his round one was done.

Trey pulled out and immediately got off the bed to get rid of the condom in the trashcan in the corner.

That's it? the woman asked as he came back into the room.

Give me ten. He glanced at her and realized she wasn't actually as young as he'd originally guessed. Maybe mid-thirties, which would put her around his age.

Old enough to know better.

Haven't seen you around the Hellion's before. This was the awkward part. The part of the one night stand where you knew you were supposed to give a shit and pretend to have an interest in your partner.

Naomi's sister, the woman answered the unspoken question. From Pocatello. You're Trey, right?

Yep. Christ he was terrible at this shit. Either she needed to fucking leave or they needed to get on with round two.

Mind if I take a shower, Trey?

Knock yourself out. His eyes followed her as she grabbed her purse and moved naked to the bathroom. Yeah, she was skinny. The kind of skinny that made him wonder about an eating disorder. Even with all his experience, he still managed to wear his booze bifocals when it came to getting laid.

He glanced around the room wondering how long she'd be because either they needed to get goddamn busy so he could get her gone, or she just needed to do the latter part as soon as was fucking possible. He knew she was disappointed to be at the compound and not at his house but he never took a woman home. That was his personal space. Sacrosanct. And unless the woman was worthy of being more than a piece of ass, she would never see the inside of his front door.

Her shower seemed to be a bit more than just a quick clean and Trey decided enough was enough. The first round had not been anything worth repeating so he knocked on the bathroom door before opening it.

Need to leave, babe. Got shit to do, he said over the billowing steam before noticing the skinny girl wasn't actually in the shower but was sitting on the closed toilet, bent over a mirror with a rolled dollar bill shoved up her nose.

Great. A cokehead.

He reached in and turned off the water before directing his gaze back to her. Get dressed and get out. I don't care where you go or how you get there but get the fuck off Hellion property.

She made the experienced cokehead move of squeezing her nostrils between finger and thumb as she stared at him. You're throwing me out?

Not into repeating myself especially to drug whores, he muttered turning and going back to his discarded pile of clothes.

Did you just call me a whore? she yelled rushing out of the bathroom and he watched as she tossed her purse on the bed before reaching for her own clothes. I'll have you know…

Shut it and keep it shut. He advised in a low, menacing voice. He had little to no patience for anyone with a Jones riding them. He'd been there, done that and he was completely over it. Be thankful I'm not calling the cops.

He caught her glare as she adjusted her top, tucking it into the micro-mini she was wearing. But she kept her mouth shut, letting her one-finger salute say it all as she slammed out the door.

Sitting on the edge of the mussed bed, Trey rested his forearms on his thighs allowing his head to drop.

How he got himself into these fucking situations was starting to piss him right the hell off.

*.*.*.*.*

I'm sorry to wake you, Ms. Sheridan, but we have a situation, the voice on the other end of my cellphone said. A voice I was very familiar with, that of Officer Hubbard who worked desk for the graveyard shift at our local Police department.

Drake? I croaked, trying to see the clock on the dresser.

Yes ma'am, came the reply.

I'll be right there, I advised and felt my tired body protest as I tried to lever myself up in my small bed. It was one in the morning, which meant I'd only been asleep three hours and needed to be at work by five-thirty. This shit wouldn't have me back home in less than an hour and a half, maybe two. Which meant I'd be dragging all the next day.

Goddamn Drake and his stupid fucked up way of thinking!

I pulled out a pair of jeans and a thermal after getting myself into my underwear. If I caught a break, I'd be able to just strip down to underwear to catch the rest of my severely needed zee's before my shift began. After of course, beating the ever-loving shit out my sibling.

I grabbed my keys and wallet, attaching the chain to one of my belt loops before tucking my cell into the other back pocket.

Leaving a note in case my mom woke up, I left the house and hopped in the cab of my F-150, mentally cussing my younger brother out the entire way.

Breezing into the station, I waited at the counter, drumming my fingers into the worn top that had probably seen more drama than I could imagine.

Ms. Sheridan? I saw Officer Hubbard come through from one of the back doors coffee cup in hand.

Yeah. What'd he do now?

Defacing public property and resisting arrest.

Shit! Same ol', same ol'.

What's it going to take to spring him this time? I couldn't help the sigh that accompanied my question. Last time it'd been $2,500 and six months probation that had me carting his little butt both to and from his mandatory community service and visits to his PO. Requiring both money and time I didn't have.

He's going to have to stay according to what I just heard. Third strike and all. Hubbard's eyes seemed sympathetic but when it came to Drake and his behavior, I'd learned to let my pride go. Not so long ago, that kind of sympathy would've had me bristling. Don't know what the judge is going to do, but I suspect its either going to be juvie or house arrest.

Shit! Neither choice was a good one. Juvenile hall would just teach my much younger brother new skills in creating mayhem, and a house arrest would be too much stress for my folks.

Did you consider one of the places we talked about last time? Hubbard's voice was quiet and kind in the dead of the room. A room that was, during the day, so bustling you could barely hear yourself think.

Yeah, I looked into a couple. They seem kind of extreme, though. He was talking about the different places to send 'kids at risk' to help them learn responsibility and how to make better choices. And they're kind of expensive.

So are all of the fines, he prompted and he wasn't wrong. By my calculation before this latest incident, I'd spent almost ten G's in fines, restitution and legal fees on the little punk. One more year and the shithead would be on his own.

I couldn't wait.

A wave of self-pity came up and broadsided me, which hadn't happened in years. But it was the middle of the night after a very long day so I could forgive my emotional response. I turned away from the counter in order to get a grip before asking what I needed to do. Although you would've thought I'd learned enough from his previous arrests.

We need you to sign the paperwork. He'll be arraigned tomorrow by four p.m. but like I said, I don't know if the judge will let him be released or not. You might want to have a plan in place before then.

Goddamn Drake!

I don't get off work until three-thirty or four. I had long hours as a plumber at Hellion Construction that sometimes saw me putting in twelve hour days. Which for normal person was a good thing with overtime and all. But with a brother like Drake and my parent's medical issues, it was almost more than I could handle.

I'll make a note of it and see if we can get his as one of the last on the docket. Hubbard knew the whole of it, what I dealt with day to day. Not just because we'd had numerous meetings due to my brother's wickedly bad choices but because back in the day he'd been one of my dad's closest friends.

Appreciate it. I signed the numerous forms and pulled up my jeans before turning to exit the building. I stopped at the door and looked over my shoulder. Thanks, Troy.

You're welcome, Dallas. Stay strong.

I nodded, feeling the self-pity thing starting again only this time with an eye prickle before I slammed through the doors and stomped my way back to my truck.

Stop being such a girl, I warned myself. You've done this before and gotten through it.

Yeah, but when would it end and how many pounds of flesh would it take to get out of it this time?

Chapter Two

You have Dallas Sheridan on line two, Rita announced over the intercom in his office. That was twice today the dude's name had come up. First it was on Silo's lips at their weekly management meeting where the towering biker had recommended Sheridan be promoted to lead one of the Missoula crews and now a phone call.

Weird.

Jackson, Trey said into the phone. When he was at his desk in the construction office, he left the president of the MC behind although most everyone knew what he did and was responsible for. He just didn't think his customers, suppliers and competitors needed to have the bad-ass part of his life shoved up in their grille while they dealt with him in the business arena.

Hey, Mr. Jackson. I'm sorry to bother you but accounting said I needed to speak with you regarding getting an advance on my salary, he heard the voice say. Either the dude was a eunuch or had some serious damage to his vocal chords because he sounded like a girl.

Which means you've already run through two draws already. Hellion Construction was one of the premier places to work and one of the reasons was their leniency in allowing long term employees to get salary advances. But any more than two in a year needed his approval.

Yes, sir. But, I'm in good standing at the moment. I wouldn't ask, sir, but my brother's in a fix and… the girlie voice on the other end explained. It wasn't just the high voice but the way the words were said that made it sound so…feminine. He wasn't homophobic but he didn't like how his cock was sitting up and taking notice to what he was hearing through the phone.

Can you meet me tomorrow at, say, five to discuss it? Trey loved having his calendar online so that at a couple of keystrokes he had his full agenda at his fingertips.

Uhm. I was hoping for today, sir. His arraignment is at four, came the voice.

I can do four-thirty but only for fifteen minutes. That gonna work for you?

Yes, sir. Four-thirty. Thank you, sir.

Great. And stop fucking calling me 'sir'. Trey hated that corporate bullshit and had made a point of weeding it out when HC began to employ non-club members.

Ah. Okay. Thank you, Mr. Jackson. Today at four-thirty.

Be on time! Trey barked before disconnecting, angry at how the voice had gotten to him. Obviously, his little bit of last night hadn't satisfied what he carried between his legs, but that was to be expected after he'd realized she was into drugs. He'd been so creeped out by the whole of the experience he'd ended up leaving and sleeping in his own bed when he'd typically toss the girl out and catch his shut eye at the compound.

He hated druggies of any kind.

Dare poked his head inside the doorway. Got a minute?

Yeah, but only just. What's up?

I put Stark, Dice and Snake on getting the furnishings for the house up on west Eleventh. The Honeys have cleaned it and will get it all arranged.

When do Melvin and family arrive? Trey had made an executive decision after some guys from west Texas had tried to mess with Brand. Of the four of the alleged 'hit men' only Mel turned out to have a lick of sense. And it had come to light that Melvin, one of the youngest of the bunch, had only been roped into it because his younger brother and sister were being held by some old fuck by the name of Deschames who had since gone to his heavenly reward. Trey had made the decision to move Mel and siblings up to Montana and teach the kid a trade while securing a safe place for the family of three to live. The club had empty properties, plenty of stored furniture and the Honeys to help out which had made the whole issue a no brainer. And teaching the kid a trade would help him secure his future.

Whether he was material for the Hellions Motorcycle Club was a different fucking matter and had yet to be seen.

Tomorrow. But everything will be in place by then. Dee's getting the school records transferred and all the utilities are on. I'm thinking of either the Cutlass or the Tacoma as his wheels. Do you know if he can drive a stick? Dare's face held a frown that Trey's face mirrored. None of them knew that much about the Davis family but what info Mel had given had been verified.

The kids had lost their parents under suspicious circumstances when their general contractor father had ignored warnings to stop bidding on jobs that the Deschames construction company considered to be 'theirs'. After the death of the parents, Mel had been pressed into goon duty and his brother and sister held as ransom to ensure he complied.

No. But the kid's scrappy so if he doesn't, he'll learn. Thanks for seeing to that. Trey was all for giving credit where credit was due and in the whole scheme of things, he'd gotten sidetracked from the Davis's issues. Make sure Dee knows of our gratitude.

Will do. Think this was just what she needed, though. Dare's eyes met Trey's and they shared a grin. Dee, the former club president's old lady, had been at odds since Big Duke had offed himself. True, with pancreatic cancer, the old man hadn't had long to live but the old guy hadn't thought the deed through. By taking his own life, he'd made the life insurance he'd paid on for years null and void, leaving poor Dee with almost nothing. No money, no future and no man.

A win-win for everybody then, Trey muttered, feeling something inside him ease.

So how was Teri? Dare asked with a sly smile.

Who?

The skinny broad with the tits. Naomi's sister.

Christ! She'd had a name?

Druggie, Trey replied, shifting his eyes back to the computer screen. In fact, I think it's time for Naomi to pee in a container herself.

Cool. I'll see to it but I'll use Dee for that. So, if that's it… Dare said, pushing off the doorframe.

Let me know when Mel and the kids are at the house. I'll swing by and give him an official welcome. Trey reached for his phone, his mind already on the next call to be made.

And so it went. Calls and meetings, one right after another as Trey worked through his day only pausing long enough to gulp down a sandwich.

You're four thirty 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 doorframe, he glanced up at the petite girl. Sorry, beautiful. You have to make an appointment.

I did, Mr. Jackson. 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 ones that 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 one of the feminine gender. Not from the shiny black layered curly hair to the chest that rounded the front of the Hellion Construction t-shirt tucked down into the well-worn, figure hugging jeans. It was her face comprised of nickel colored eyes and a sexy, pouty mouth that drove all thoughts of her being anything other than a beautiful girl from Trey's mind.

In all his years and with all he'd seen, Trey wasn't easily shocked. But the little vision of loveliness standing in his doorway knocked him on his fucking ass.

*.*.*.*.*

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. Jackson. 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 body to match. Which moved him into 'then he's gonna be a dick' column of my rate-a-man scale.

Then I caught sight of the denim vest that hung over the top of his chair.

Biker. A Hellion biker.

I pressed down the pinch of panic that hit me with the knowledge. Sure, I was aware that Hellion Construction by and large was ran by the motorcycle club but had managed to push it down since they offered half again as much in the way of pay than the other firms in our area. I'd told myself when I was hired that I'd just ignore that side of the business, that if I stayed off their radar, I'd keep them off mine.

Up until now it'd worked great.

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 in 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.

Who?

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 front area and warehouse space but only 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. And I needed to keep in mind that this particular hot man was a biker, a group I'd been successful in avoiding during my time at the company.

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 maybe my challenging 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…ah, I mean, stuff they shouldn't. And they're so stupid about it always getting caught in the