I Dare You (manxman)* Biker Short Story *

Chapter 6

Chapter 6

(Mckillian Construction executive offices)

Donovan Forbes walked into the lobby of the Construction Company's office building, he nodded a greeting to the security guards before heading towards the bank of elevators. The company's CFO was early as usual, but this morning he fully expected that by the time he made it upstairs to his office, he was going to have either Patrick Sr. or most likely Patrick Jr. waiting for him. Especially after the events at the club this weekend. Reaper still couldn't believe that the flame haired beauty who had caught his sole focus was of all people, Patrick Sr, his boss, and his MC club president's kid.

Shaking his head yet again as he recalled how he'd practically beaten his chest and outright claimed the boy like some prehistoric cavemen in front of everyone after he'd gotten an eyeful of Stuart in the dungeon. But fuck, the Dom in him couldn't have stopped himself even if he'd wanted to, the stunning boy had stolen all reason and common sense from him the minute those emerald green eyes met his. Reaper, the hard ass tough as nails MC Sergeant losing his shit for a pretty face. The man has been a full member of the Skulls for close to eight years. If you counted from the days where he's been only a prospect, then that would make it closer to ten years with the hardened fuckers. He only made the rank of Sergeant of Arms within the last three years.

Actually, he made Chief Financial Officer of McKillian Construction Incorporated before he'd received my SAA patch on his cut. The Skulls and the company where his life, his family, and his brothers. The strapping man he was today owed his Prez and his club nothing short of his very life. He'd first met Patrick Sr. jail no less. The cops had picked the biker up on some trump charge trying to tie the man to something they will never be able to prove in this lifetime or the next, and Donovan had been pinched trying to steal something to eat.

They had placed the red haired mammoth of a man in the same holding call where he was being held and he'd wondered how the biker could look so confident in jail of all places. He had shown not one iota of fear, a shred of nerves or a hint of anxiety. Donovan's eyes had nearly popped out of my head when the man had told the cops to go fuck themselves. The younger man had sat there gaping when the ginger just kicked up his feet on the hard ass bench and went to sleep like he wasn't in a holding cell full of all kinds of criminals. The man had the biggest balls that Donovan had ever witnessed up until this very day.

He had found myself scooting closer around the edges of he concrete wall wanting to get closer to someone with that level of confidence. It had been his first time in jail and as a scrawny gay kid looking the way he did when he was barely twenty-one, just being in there scared the ever living shit out of him. But there was this big ass ginger wearing a leather vest and ripped jeans with heavy black boots, and he was acting like he was right at home within the sickly gray walls of NYPD 5th precinct holding area. You could almost smell the fear and desperation leaking off the pimps, the wanna be ganstas, the druggies, and petty thieves oozing into the stale air, causing a perpetual stench to permeate the small, dank cell area.

The man had slept the afternoon away like he had been in his own bed in his own house. Donovan had managed to take a seat and fold into himself almost underneath the bench where the biker had laid down. He hadn't stirred until the cops started banging on the bars making all kinds of noise. They had opened the doors and rushed the cell in pairs driving everyone to the side and the back of the room. Then they'd wheeled a cart inside and placed a tray of sandwiches, juices, and old looking fruit on the table before leaving and slamming the cage door back into place.

As hungry as he'd been, he recalled having the good sense not to move from where he'd been because chaos had ensued. It was like someone had put gold bars on the table the way the men had dived for the food. If Donovan had tried, he would have been trampled to death or they would have taken notice of him and made him do all kinds of things in order to get a morsel of food, and he would have rather starved to death before someone made him their bitch.