Read Online The Bare Bones (The Bare Bones MC) by Layla Wolfe - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Layla Wolfe
Tags: Romance, motorcycle
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in her flowered nurse’s smock and the lanyard around her neck with her ID card covered in plastic only made Ford hotter for her.
Not one day had gone by in the past twelve years that he hadn’t thought of Madison Shellmound. Her picture was still on the wall behind the bar at the Bum Steer, although they’d long since stopped using that as a clubhouse. So the same picture—of her in her trademark push-up bra, white wifebeater, and microscopic cut-offs—was now on the wall of his Veep’s office at the Citadel on Mescal Mountain. Except a youthful Ford himself was in that photo, shirtless except for his cut, with his arm around her. He’d never forgotten how warm her shoulder had been against the sensitive skin of his inner arm.
“Oh, I’ve got my spies.”
“Speed.” Ford used her brother Bobby’s road name. He’d popped back up a year or so ago, sick of being an army grunt, sick of being a car mechanic grunt, wanting to be a biker club grunt. Ford had instantly sponsored his prospect status. Speed had been doing well, knowing he had to commit or roll over like a bitch.
“Is that the idiot’s new name?” Madison sounded amused now, hugging her little clipboard. So she wasn’t down on the club any longer. “Yes. He told me you’ve got quite the spread up there on the mountain.”
“The hangar? Yeah, it’s a sweet setup. Game room, chapel, offices, even a dining room and kitchen. It’s all self-contained. We theoretically never have to go anywhere.”
“Except your house in P&E. Bobby said it looks like an entire pueblo from the outside, with the exposed beams and watch towers and all. Well, I admit I looked on Trulia because I didn’t believe him. Very impressive, Ford. I like what you did with the kitchen countertops. I should say what you had Speed do with the countertops.”
Ford was proud. He knew that Madison’s opinion shouldn’t mean that much to him, but it did. He was proud of what he’d achieved since the bitch had vanished, leaving him seriously in the lurch. The VP patch meant that everything even halfway important came down on him. He’d been out of the service for a good four years running the club’s operations out of the Citadel.
“Yeah, I basically run things—Illuminati Trucking, the streaming studio, the brothels. We’ve even got a marijuana dispensary but of course Turk runs that. There’s an indoor archery range, if you can believe that. We host Boy Scouts there. Cropper’s got a new citizen wife who’s very big on the country club scene, so he’s barely ever at The Citadel anymore.”
“Seriously? I thought you were kidding about that. So now Cropper wears the plaid pants?”
Ford chuckled. “Not hardly. Listen, I was just on my way to the chapel. Do you want to join me? I hope you don’t have something urgent you’re rushing to do.”
“No, I’m on lunch. Yes, that should’ve been my first question. Why are you here? Something to do with your service injuries? There’s a quiet room down the hall connected to the chapel. Let’s see if no one’s using it.”
Ford was thrilled beyond all reason when Madison took his arm to steer him in the right direction.
He was crestfallen beyond all reason when she stopped touching his arm. That was how he knew that he was still in love with Madison Shellmound.
CHAPTER EIGHT
MADISON , 28 years old
I was reluctant to let go of Ford’s arm.
I never wanted to let go of him again.
I was overjoyed to hear he’d just split with that cunt, as Bobby—Speed—had described her. Corinne was a gorgeous cunt who treated everyone with disdain, as though she’d just discovered them stuck to the bottom of her Louboutins. She wasn’t trashy like so many sweetbutts and even old ladies were. I would never forget the sweetbutt who soaked her tampons in alcohol. It bypassed the liver that way and got her drunk. Of course she was one of Riker’s favorites.
According to Speed, Corinne literally held her nose high,
Not one day had gone by in the past twelve years that he hadn’t thought of Madison Shellmound. Her picture was still on the wall behind the bar at the Bum Steer, although they’d long since stopped using that as a clubhouse. So the same picture—of her in her trademark push-up bra, white wifebeater, and microscopic cut-offs—was now on the wall of his Veep’s office at the Citadel on Mescal Mountain. Except a youthful Ford himself was in that photo, shirtless except for his cut, with his arm around her. He’d never forgotten how warm her shoulder had been against the sensitive skin of his inner arm.
“Oh, I’ve got my spies.”
“Speed.” Ford used her brother Bobby’s road name. He’d popped back up a year or so ago, sick of being an army grunt, sick of being a car mechanic grunt, wanting to be a biker club grunt. Ford had instantly sponsored his prospect status. Speed had been doing well, knowing he had to commit or roll over like a bitch.
“Is that the idiot’s new name?” Madison sounded amused now, hugging her little clipboard. So she wasn’t down on the club any longer. “Yes. He told me you’ve got quite the spread up there on the mountain.”
“The hangar? Yeah, it’s a sweet setup. Game room, chapel, offices, even a dining room and kitchen. It’s all self-contained. We theoretically never have to go anywhere.”
“Except your house in P&E. Bobby said it looks like an entire pueblo from the outside, with the exposed beams and watch towers and all. Well, I admit I looked on Trulia because I didn’t believe him. Very impressive, Ford. I like what you did with the kitchen countertops. I should say what you had Speed do with the countertops.”
Ford was proud. He knew that Madison’s opinion shouldn’t mean that much to him, but it did. He was proud of what he’d achieved since the bitch had vanished, leaving him seriously in the lurch. The VP patch meant that everything even halfway important came down on him. He’d been out of the service for a good four years running the club’s operations out of the Citadel.
“Yeah, I basically run things—Illuminati Trucking, the streaming studio, the brothels. We’ve even got a marijuana dispensary but of course Turk runs that. There’s an indoor archery range, if you can believe that. We host Boy Scouts there. Cropper’s got a new citizen wife who’s very big on the country club scene, so he’s barely ever at The Citadel anymore.”
“Seriously? I thought you were kidding about that. So now Cropper wears the plaid pants?”
Ford chuckled. “Not hardly. Listen, I was just on my way to the chapel. Do you want to join me? I hope you don’t have something urgent you’re rushing to do.”
“No, I’m on lunch. Yes, that should’ve been my first question. Why are you here? Something to do with your service injuries? There’s a quiet room down the hall connected to the chapel. Let’s see if no one’s using it.”
Ford was thrilled beyond all reason when Madison took his arm to steer him in the right direction.
He was crestfallen beyond all reason when she stopped touching his arm. That was how he knew that he was still in love with Madison Shellmound.
CHAPTER EIGHT
MADISON , 28 years old
I was reluctant to let go of Ford’s arm.
I never wanted to let go of him again.
I was overjoyed to hear he’d just split with that cunt, as Bobby—Speed—had described her. Corinne was a gorgeous cunt who treated everyone with disdain, as though she’d just discovered them stuck to the bottom of her Louboutins. She wasn’t trashy like so many sweetbutts and even old ladies were. I would never forget the sweetbutt who soaked her tampons in alcohol. It bypassed the liver that way and got her drunk. Of course she was one of Riker’s favorites.
According to Speed, Corinne literally held her nose high,
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