Angel Unseen: An Unseen MC Novel Read online

  Angel Unseen

  An Unseen MC Novel

  J Bree

  Copyright © 2020 by J Bree

  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.

  Contents

  The Unseen MC - Coldstone Original Charter

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty One

  Chapter Twenty Two

  Chapter Twenty Three

  Chapter Twenty Four

  Chapter Twenty Five

  Chapter Twenty Six

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  Chapter Twenty Eight

  Chapter Twenty Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty One

  Chapter Thirty Two

  Chapter Thirty Three

  Chapter Thirty Four

  Chapter Thirty Five

  Chapter Thirty Six

  Epilogue

  Also by J Bree

  About the Author

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  Also by J Bree

  Prologue

  The Unseen MC - Coldstone Original Charter

  Rogan Callaghan - Unseen MC founding President (deceased)

  Kingston ‘King’ Callaghan - President & Rogan’s son

  Memphis ‘Hawk’ Callaghan - Vice President & Rogan’s son

  Reece ‘Hellion’ Callaghan - Enforcer & Rogan’s son

  Thomas ‘Tomi’ Callaghan - Hawk & Keely’s son

  Ruin ‘Rue’ Callaghan - King’s son

  Reece ‘Speck’ Callaghan - Prospect & Hellion’s son

  Keely Callaghan - Hawk’s wife

  Katrina ’Trink’ Callaghan - Hawk & Keely’s daughter

  Lawson Frazier - Harbin’s son

  Lyndon Frazier - Harbin’s son

  Briar ‘Thorn’ Johnson - Poe’s brother/guardian

  Alby ‘Pops’ Johnson - Thorn’s maternal grandfather

  Posey ‘Poe’ Graves - Trink’s best friend

  Prologue

  The Callaghan curse.

  Sounds like some old fucking fairytale, nothing that a man in one of the most powerful MCs in the country would have to deal with but there’s never been a doubt in my mind that someday I’d be ‘struck. My grandfather and his brothers built this MC from the ground up, started in the gun trade, and opened up a pipeline through the South until the Unseen became a fucking legend.

  Didn’t stop them all from losing their heads to women that only ever fucking lost them everything.

  Cuntstruck.

  Infatuated with the pussy attached to an even bigger cunt, leads to nothing but fucking trouble. They didn’t even know there was another option there until my pops met my mom and felt the same fucking lightning bolt from the heavens and knew he was lovestruck.

  The only Callaghan to not lose everything to a cunt, he’s proof that maybe you can get lucky.

  One out of eight aren’t great odds though.

  I’ve never fucking wanted to be ‘struck. Not once.

  I’ve watched my cousin follow his little flower child around, desperate for her to grow the hell up and be his, the whole time I’ve watched and I’ve hated the thought of it happening to me.

  Strippers and biker sluts are all I fucking need.

  And all is right in the world.

  Until it’s not.

  Chapter One

  Angel

  Coldstone, Mississippi.

  Not exactly the type of place I thought I’d be running away to but the last six months in the city were fucking hard. Like, terrifying and cold and hungry at night types of hard. My trauma means finding a job is fucking impossible because everywhere I try people can’t stop touching me.

  I’m like a fucking magnet or something.

  They just can’t stop.

  I can hide my shit from people just so long as they don’t try to grab me or hug me or something. As long as they keep their distance, I’m good.

  They never keep their fucking distance.

  So now, I’m in this tiny rural town. The population size alone should be something keeping me the hell away from it, but Coldstone is famous for one thing. The Unseen MC was started here, the original charter still has a compound here and owns a helluva lot of businesses here and in the surrounding towns.

  The strip club they own is one of the best in the country.

  Men drive in from fucking everywhere to see the girls who dance and they’re known for taking care of their assets. I’m sure half the stories are total bullshit, I mean there’s no way they got into a shootout with the local cops and skinned one of them alive without the whole club being shut down, but even if some of the rumors are true then this is the place for me.

  Years of dance classes have brought me here to this moment but I’m not sure my dad would be thrilled knowing what the tuition he’d paid for was getting me now.

  There’s a lot of shit about my life after his death he wouldn’t be too fucking happy with.

  I can’t think about any of it.

  I took my last real shower last night right before I bailed on the shitty, crackhead hotel. I feel like the whole country is full of them now, full of desperate people who are looking for their next high and really… I don’t blame them. That’s the real reason I stay the hell away from even the slightest high, too aware that I’d slip so far and fast into that kind of oblivion to get away from the demons in my head.

  I’ve wanted an escape for as long as I can remember.

  The town is small enough that I find the strip club without even really trying.

  The Boulevard.

  I park up and ignore the sputtering sort of sound the old Chevy makes. If I knew anything about cars I might be worried but I don’t have money for anything maintenance related. Fuck, I’m almost out of money for fuel and food, only a couple of hundred dollar bills left that I stash in my bra at all times so I know where they are. Two hundred dollars isn’t going to get me far and the outfit I bought last night on the way over here is still stinging me but if I’m really going to dance then… I gotta fucking look the part.

  I lock the Chevy and hitch my bag up on my shoulder a little higher. Deep breath, gotta make this shit happen now. This is a do or die situation, Angel. Do or fucking die. I look up at the building, painted black and freaking huge, but it’s not exactly what I was expecting. I step up to the door and the half look I get inside just confirms it.

  The Boulevard is really nice.

  Clean and neat, it looks like a super exclusive sex club or something, nothing sleazy or shady about it at all. The bouncer is already at the door and although he’s freaking huge he’s also clean-cut and respectful as he looks over my ID. Not once does he make a dirty comment or check me out, just looks over my license and hands it back, careful not to touch me.

  Shit, this place might actually work.

  “You here for a job?”

  I force a smile on my face and nod. “I heard
you’re looking for girls.”

  He nods and keeps his eyes off of me. “Diamond takes care of the hiring and firing, she’s in the back. Speck can take you, he’s helping out here today.”

  Speck.

  That’s a weird name but I don’t mention it at all, I just nod and thank him quietly while he talks into an earpiece. It’s so… formal and official. Nothing like what I expect from a biker-owned club, even with the rumors of this place.

  The bouncer, his name tag says Mike, shows me to a booth and leaves a sealed bottle of water with me to drink. I wait until he’s gone before I check the seal, run my fingers over the whole thing to make sure it hasn’t been tampered with in some other way, but I don’t find anything.

  I don’t drink it.

  I’m too cautious, too scared about even being here to risk it, but I relax just enough into the plush cushions of the booth that I don’t feel as though I’m going to vomit on my own feet.

  It’s already busy here, even so early in the night. Men are everywhere but they’re respectful of the women, even while they’re having lap dances they don’t attempt to touch the women or make any terrible comments. There’s no way I want to be getting that close but it’s another mark in the ‘yes’ column for me. The longer I’m here the more I’m finding that this place might be right for me. I keep waiting to find some sign to say there’s people trafficking or drug dealing going on, but the longer I sit in the booth the more comfortable I get.

  “Hey, gorgeous! You must be from outta town because I’d remember that face if I’d seen it before.”

  I freeze and glance up to find a guy leaning against the booth table. He’s grinning down at me and he has dimples. Honest to God dimples. The leather vest over his shoulders that’s covered in grinning skulls and patches looks entirely out of place with his freaking dimples. He leans down to hold out a hand for me and though I’m sure he’s cute enough to other people, I cringe away from him a little before I can stop myself.

  His eyes take it in but the smile barely falters on his face. “It’s all good, gorgeous, I’m just trying to talk to ya. We don’t let girls dance here unless we like ‘em.”

  Oh God.

  There it is.

  There’s the warning sign, the bikers try out the girls before they dance because this guy is wearing one of those leather vests so there’s no mistaking he’s in the MC.

  “I’m probably not cut out for this… I’m not exactly likable,” I mumble and stand up.

  He laughs at me and shrugs. “That face is definitely likable. What’s your name?”

  It’s still weird to use the new one I’ve chosen, so I roll it around on my tongue to taste it. “Angel. Angel Valetti.”

  He motions for me to follow him and this time he doesn’t try to touch me at all, just waits until he’s sure I’m close behind him before walking me across the club and out behind the bar. There’s a lot of back rooms here, a locker room and a full set of showers. There aren’t any bedrooms that I can see so there’s another positive. I don’t wanna find myself being pimped out, that’s for sure. I just wanna dance.

  We pass some other girls, all of them topless and giggling at him as they pass him. He grins at them but when they move past us both he turns his body just a little like he’s shielding me from their view.

  It feels protective.

  I don’t know what to do with that.

  “Diamond will check you out, make you dance for her to see if you got the goods. Did you bring something to dance in? ‘Cause I mean, those shorts are hot and all but you got something a little smaller?”

  I scoff at him without meaning to and slap a hand over my mouth. Jesus. Just because he looks like some hot, flirty guy, one I would’ve crushed after back before my life went to hell, he’s still a freaking biker.

  He stops outside a door and leans against the wall there. “Look. You’re hot but you gotta be able to dance. Can you do that?”

  I hitch the bag back up on my shoulder a little higher. “Yeah. I can dance better than the girls you got out there now.”

  He quirks an eyebrow. “Is that right? Well… can’t wait for the show. I’m guessing you don’t wanna grind on anyone though?”

  My stomach drops. “I just plain won’t. If it’s a requirement I’ll find another club to dance at, pure and simple.”

  He looks at me and then glances over his shoulder but when I look behind him there’s nothing there. Nothing I can see anyway.

  “Tell Diamond I’m backing you.”

  I blow out a breath and straighten up. “Doesn’t that mean I’ve got the job? Don’t… doesn’t your club own this place?”

  He scrubs a hand through his dirty blond hair and out come those dimples again. “The MC owns it yeah but I’m only a prospect. I get a little more leeway around here though, being a Callaghan so I’ll throw that into the ring for you. Diamond has a thing for bagging herself an Original. She’s been shit outta luck so far.”

  None of the words coming out of his mouth make a huge amount of sense to me but all that matters is that he’s open to helping me out. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

  He chuckles and knocks on the door. “I’m doing it because I wanna see your ass on the stage so you probably shouldn’t thank me. It’s purely selfish.”

  I work freaking hard at keeping the flinch in, at not cringing away from him hard but his eyes are intense on my face. I wait for him to call me out on it but he doesn’t say a word, just opens the door and pokes his head in.

  “Gotta new girl for you. She has my vote so don’t be an ass about it.”

  I swallow and force my back a little straighter. Even if I’m not feeling all that sunshine and rainbows about doing this… it’s kind of my only option.

  Strip or starve.

  Starve or go home and honestly, I’d rather fucking starve than ever go back to the hell I left.

  “Well, get her ass in here then. I’ve got paperwork comin’ outta my ass today. Fucking taxes due and suppliers wanting payment for shit they didn’t even send to us yet… fucking bullshit.”

  Her voice is a little rough, but when I step past Speck and get an eyeful of her I want the ground to just open up and swallow me.

  She’s naked.

  She’s naked and tattooed and there’s a cigarette hanging out of her mouth as she shuffles papers and sits there with a calculator. It’s fucking weird as all hell but I keep my face blank.

  Well, as blank as I can get it.

  “I’m between bartending shifts so excuse my tits. Honestly, if they’re worrying you then this place ain’t for you.”

  I duck down onto the seat. “I’m not worried. I was just caught off guard. I’ve seen a lot of accountants in my time and none of them had a rack like yours.”

  She scoffs at my joke but the frown eases off a little. “I’m no fucking accountant, sugar, no way I’d die that slow death. I’m just handy with paperwork and been around long enough to know the score. You wanna dance here? You’re pretty enough. Might make a little money.”

  I nod and slide my bag to the ground at my feet, rummaging around until I find my ID. “I can start tonight. Or anytime really.”

  She shrugs. “Hold your horses, a pretty face ain’t all you need. Can you dance? Swing on a pole, ride a man’s cock so good he’ll throw money around this place like he don’t care his rent is due?”

  I swallow. “I can dance. I won’t do lap dances or let anyone touch me though. That’s my line, but I can get on a stage and have a man forgetting he’s a man of God.”

  She huffs and leans back in the seat, linking her hands over her pierced belly button like this is all business as usual. “I don’t take on girls who don’t give men extra. Dancers are just foreplay, lap dances and extra work on the side is where the green is really made here.”

  She looks over me again and I try not to squirm. I need to be nothing but confident, let that shit ooze out of my pores at her until she believes what I’m saying.

  I was so
careful in how I dressed myself for the interview. A low cut shirt, tiny jean shorts, and the biggest heels I could find on short notice. It’s not enough for her, she doesn’t seem impressed.

  It’s fine.

  The second I get on stage I can change her mind.

  “You ever stripped before? You look… fresh. We don’t have time to be training newbies.”

  I clear my throat. “I haven’t but I won’t need training. I have routines already and I have what it takes. I won’t get in anyone’s way, I’ll always be here on time, and I know how to keep my mouth shut. I’ll be a great addition, even without the extra duties.”

  I force confidence into my voice, confidence I definitely don’t have. I know I can dance and the routines are sexy, something any club would want to have, I’m just not sure I can do it without puking my guts up in terror and shame.

  I guess we’ll see.

  My hands shake as I change into the thong and the pasties.

  The laws here mean I have to keep those on while I’m dancing and that’s another reason this place is the right fit for me. I can’t fuck this up, not even a fucking little. I triple check the mirror before I step out of the locker room and find Speck waiting for me.

  His eyes do a full sweep of my body and then he starts muttering under his breath to himself.

  I pitch my voice low so he doesn’t hear the nerves as I ask him, “What? Do I not look like the other girls?”