Thunderclap: Steel Infidels MC Romance Series Book 3

The player has met his match.

Sam...

I admit it. I’m a player.

I adore women and they love me.

I’ve never met a woman that I couldn’t wrap around my body with only a smile and a sexy wink.

Until Lila blew in to town.

For the first time in my life, my tricks aren’t working.

I want her and she thinks I’m nothing more than a two-bit thug.

It’s time for the player to up his game.

––––––––

Lila...

I can sketch Sam Mason with my eyes closed.

Every line of his tattoos, every muscle in his arms.

Even the crinkle around the corners of his blue eyes with every easy smile.

I know him well...he’s been my mark for weeks.

Nobody said going undercover as an agent for the Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives special units division was going to be easy.

Working my way into the Steel Infidels Motorcycle Club’s inner circle will take time.

Then again I’m a patient and determined woman.

Sam Mason may be the sexiest man alive but he’s still going down.

This time the player has met his match.

Cover Model: Travis DesLaurier

Photograph by: Scott Hoover Photography

Cover Art by: Kevin McGrath

Thunderclap is a complete standalone book in the bestselling Steel Infidels MC Romance series. The books in order are Liberated, Steel Justice, Thunderclap and Take Down. If you have questions, please email me at [email protected].

LIBERATED

STEEL JUSTICE

THUNDERCLAP

TAKE DOWN

STEEL INFIDELS CHRISTMAS

Introduction by Dez Burke

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Dez Burke writes hot, steamy books featuring Southern boys who ride fast and love hard. To sign up for her newsletter to hear first about upcoming new releases sign up here!

Please note this book is for Adults 18+ and older due to adult situations and language.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Chapter One

Sam

––––––––

I notice her legs first. Long and firm in a pair of tight blue jean shorts.

Her car is pulled off on the shoulder of the road and she’s reaching up on her tiptoes into the open trunk. As I drive past her on the mountain road, I see the front flat tire.

Damn!

What a bad place for a woman to have a breakdown. The nearest gas station is twenty miles away and roadside assistance in the mountains of North Georgia is nonexistent. Since I’m going too fast on my motorcycle to stop, I slow down and make a wide U-turn on the road.

Lucky for her, I know how to fix a flat.

Lucky for me, she’s a sexy lady in distress.

A winning combination in my way of thinking.

This might be my lucky day.

I pull my bike alongside her car and unbuckle my helmet. She straightens up from the trunk and gives me a wary look.

“Need some help?” I ask, pointing to the tire and walking closer.

She holds up the heavy jack. I don’t know if it’s her way of letting me know she has a weapon or if she intends to change the tire herself.

“Not really,” she replies. “I can handle it.”

She walks around to the front of the car and squats down to look at the tire. Okay, so maybe she isn’t bullshitting me.

I grin and give her a doubtful look.

“You can change a tire all by yourself?”

She raises her eyebrows and challenges me with a smile. “Is there something about me that makes you think I can’t?”

Other than you’re a girl?

I’m not stupid enough to say it.

Something tells me that she might smack me on the side of the head with the heavy jack.

She’s not my normal, long-haired blonde bimbo type, but she’s sexy as hell. She’s tall, almost my height, with long toned legs that go on forever and an ass just begging for me to grab it. Her hair is almost shoulder-length, cut in an edgy, punkish style. I’ve never seen the color before, an unusual blend of purple and red.

Kind of weird, but for some reason I like it.

My eyes stray to the dangling strings of her frayed jean shorts. I have a strong urge to grab one and pull, before slipping my fingers under the denim fabric to find out if her ass feels as firm as it looks.

From where I’m standing, I can see straight down the front of her low-cut white shirt. It’s at least ninety-five degrees on the hot asphalt, and I watch as a drop of perspiration slowly rolls down between her full breasts. I wonder if she would get pissed if I leaned down and licked it off.

I smile at the thought.

Hell!

She might even enjoy it.

“Are you enjoying the view?” she snaps at me with a frown. “Why are you standing there smiling when it’s blazing hot out here and I have a flat tire? If you’re going to just stare at my tits, you might as well make yourself useful and help me.”

I love a girl with sass.

“Yes, ma’am. I don’t know why you’re getting all testy with me. I offered to help. Move out of the damn way and let me take care of that for you.”

She hesitates for a second, and I think she’s going to be stubborn and refuse to move. With a loud sigh, she finally stands up and hands me the jack. We switch places and I start working on her tire.

“Where are you headed to?” I ask.

“Bardsville.”

“You’re about twenty miles away, so I’ll follow you into town when we finish up. I want to make sure you get there safe and sound.”

“That won’t be necessary,” she says.

“Sure it is. Do you have a spare?”

She points to the trunk. I stand up, strip off my t-shirt, and wipe my face with it before throwing it onto the roof of her car.

“Nothing like a hot summer day in Georgia, right? The heat is a killer.”

She stands there blinking at me with her big green eyes. Maybe I scared her by saying the word ‘killer.’ She should be scared. It’s not safe these days for a woman to be stranded on a lonely mountain road. Anyone could come by and drag her off into the woods. Actually, now that I think about it, that’s exactly what I would like to do. Rip her shorts off and back her up against a tree.

Only if she’s willing and begging for it though, and from the look she’s giving me right now, I’m not betting on that happening anytime soon.

Bummer.

“I have a cooler with drinks,” she offers. “I’ll get one for you. And thank you for helping me. I appreciate it. The heat is making me grumpy. Sorry for snapping at you.”

“My pleasure, darling. I would never pass up a lady stranded on the side of the road without stopping. I’m Sam, by the way.”

I wipe my hand off on my jeans and hold it out.

She gives me a reluctant smile and shakes it with a firm grip.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Lila.”

She reaches into the back seat of her car, opens a small cooler, and pulls out two bottles.

“Take your pick,” she says. “Water or kombucha? Either one is fine with me.”

I glance up from the tire and look at the bottles she’s holding out.

“Looks like we’ll be sharing the water,” I say. “You need to throw that other shit away. For God’s sake, don’t drink it. Can’t you see all that crap floating around in the bottom? Something is growing in there, and it looks nasty.”

She laughs and hands me the water bottle.

“Kombucha is supposed to have that icky stuff in it. It’s good for you.”

I shake my head and take a big gulp of water. “No thank you. Water is fine. You’re from Atlanta, aren’t you?”

She looks surprised. “Yeah, how did you know?”

“I can tell. You’re a big city girl and not from around here.”

“Is that a bad thing?” she asks, leaning against the side of the car.

I wink at her and turn back to the tire.

“Not to me, it isn’t.”

Chapter Two

Lila

––––––––

I had it all together and under control until he stripped off his shirt.

Why the hell did he do that?

It caught me completely off guard and for a moment, I was actually speechless. Something about the sight of his tattooed, muscular chest threw me in a way I wasn’t expecting and certainly couldn’t have planned for.

I already knew Sam Mason was a handsome man with baby blue eyes the color of a clear Montana sky and a smile that could make a woman want to drop her pants on the spot.

I’ve studied his photos.

I came prepared.

Or so I thought.

Looking at still photos of Sam Mason in my office cubicle was one thing. Seeing him up close and in the flesh is something completely different. No way could a photo or even a video capture the raw masculine heat oozing from his every pore.

This job is going to be harder than I thought.

Ten minutes into the operation and I’m already hitting a major hurdle. Sam is sexy, likable, and almost irresistible. The key word being almost.

While he works on the tire, I try not to let him see me checking him out. I notice he has recently added a couple of new tattoos that I haven’t seen before. I wonder if he’ll keep going until eventually his whole body is covered. I wouldn’t be surprised since he’s a tattoo artist. Personally, I think he has exactly the right amount. Any more and he’ll be covering up some very nice-looking muscle.

I don’t know why I keep staring besides the fact that now that I’m here, I can’t seem to tear my eyes away. The truth is I can sketch Sam Mason with my eyes closed.

Every line of his tattoos, every muscle in his arms.

Even the crinkle around the corners of his eyes with every easy smile.

I know him well...he’s been my mark for weeks.

For countless hours, I’ve stared at photos of Sam and the rest of the Steel Infidels until my eyes blurred. I’ve memorized their patterns, their habits, what they like to do and even what they eat. From my research, I know the three brothers in the motorcycle club, Sam, Flint and Jesse, are handsome, charming, and dangerous as hell.

Nobody said going undercover as an agent for the Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives Special Units division was going to be easy. Worming my way into the Steel Infidels inner circle will take some time. Then again, I’m a patient and determined woman.

There’s no doubt in my mind that I can do this.

Sam Mason may be the sexiest man I’ve ever met, but he’s still going down.

This time the player has met his match.

He stands up and reaches for his shirt. I’m secretly hoping he doesn’t put it back on.

“All done,” he says. “You’re ready to go.”

“Great!” I clasp my hands together. “Thank you. You’re a lifesaver, Sam.”

I’m expecting him to ask for my cell phone number any second now. Instead he walks to his bike and straps on a helmet.

“I’ll follow you into town,” he says. “If you have time, swing by and see me sometime. I own a tattoo shop on the main street in Bardsville. You can’t miss it. The Inked Dragon.”

Okay.

Not exactly the outcome I was hoping for, but I can work with it. At least he gave me an opening that I can use.

“Sure,” I reply. “I’ll drop by one day while I’m in town.”

I slide behind the wheel and start the engine. After adjusting my rearview mirror, I catch a glimpse of Sam pulling out onto the road behind me.

I reach for my cell phone in the console and hit the send button on a saved text.

Operation Thunderclap is a go.

Chapter Three

Sam

––––––––

I drive into the lot of the Steel Infidel’s clubhouse and park my bike alongside the others. Toby, the newest patch member of the motorcycle club and my best friend from high school, pulls up right behind me.

“What’s up, Toby?” I call out as I unbuckle my helmet.

“Nothing much,” he replies. “What’s going on? Jesse called me an hour ago and said we were having an emergency meeting.”

“Beats me. I’ve been at the shop all day and haven’t had a chance to talk to him. Maybe he decided to vote you out of the MC.”

A worried look crosses Toby’s face, so I punch his shoulder hard.

“I’m kidding, man! You’re my best bud. No way in hell is that going to happen. The MC is thrilled to have you back.”

Toby has spent the past few years serving as a Marine in the Middle East. He usually doesn’t say much about his time there unless he’s rip-roaring drunk. The tales he told me were horrific enough to give me nightmares. I can’t imagine what they must do to him.

He’s trying like hell to work through some issues he brought back and get his shit together. A few months ago, the MC brought him in as a patch member. Any day now, we’ll make him a full member of the MC. He doesn’t know, which means I can still tease him a while longer.

We step inside the dark clubhouse where we are immediately greeted by Laura, one of the regular Sweet Butts and my favorite go-to girl for a casual fuck. She flips her long blonde hair over her shoulder and leans into me with her soft tits.

“Are you busy later tonight, Sam?” she asks. “I can hang out here a little while longer if you don’t have any plans.”

“I’m not sure yet,” I reply with a playful swat on her ample ass. “I’ll let you know.”

She smiles and walks away, apparently satisfied with my answer.

“So what’s the deal with her?” Toby asks when she moves out of earshot. “Do you two have something serious going on?”

I laugh at the ridiculous thought.

“Hell no! Are you kidding me? Why? You want her? You can have her.”

Toby shakes his head and grins.

“No way. I don’t want your leftovers. A girl needs to have a little something more between her ears than that one anyway. Too much empty space.”

“If you’re going for brains, widen your search beyond the Sweet Butts,” I advise.

We head to a big room at the back of the building. The chicks hanging around the clubhouse know the room is off limits to everyone except the thirteen members of the Steel Infidels Motorcycle Club. All major club business and meetings are conducted inside.

We’re the last two to arrive for tonight’s meeting. My older brothers, Jesse and Flint, are already seated at the head of the long wooden table. The other nine members of the MC are scattered around the room waiting for us. They look up when we walk in.

“Take a seat,” Jesse says. “We don’t have time for any bullshit tonight.”

I pull out a chair beside Flint. The other members stop talking and join us at the table too. Jesse’s face looks grim, which makes me nervous. Nothing much rattles my older brother and President of the MC, so this can’t be good.

“We’re in a shitload of trouble,” Jesse begins. “One of Flint’s contacts in Atlanta passed us word that we’re under investigation again. This time it’s the Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives division. The ATF can nail us on a number of different charges if they start digging. We don’t have a clue as to what they have on us yet or how long we’ve been under their microscope. Flint knows more of the details, so I’ll let him fill you in.”

“The word on the street is that they’re going to send someone undercover to Bardsville to poke around in our business,” Flint says. “Whoever they send might even try to infiltrate the MC. For them to allocate this much manpower and time to an investigation means they’re confident they can find something solid. Obviously none of us want to go to prison, so we need to get a handle on this quickly and be prepared.”

He picks up the large manila envelope sitting on the table and pulls out a stack of photographs.

“Pass these around,” Flint says. “I want everyone to take a good look. If someone shows up undercover here, they will most likely be a member of this group. This is the field team of the ATF’s Special Agents division. Keep in mind they might change their appearance, so look at the shape of their eyes and facial features. The minute any of these people arrive in town, we need to know so we can cover our asses. Memorize these photographs.”

“How many do you think are coming?” Rocco, the oldest member of the MC, asks.

“Maybe a team of two, or it could even be a single agent working alone,” Flint replies. “It’s a small town, so if more than a couple of people show up and start asking questions, the locals will get suspicious.”

Flint passes the photos across the table to Rocco, who starts thumbing through them.

“What are the exact charges they’re trying to nail us on?” I ask.

Flint is a lawyer so if anyone knows how much trouble we’re in, it would be him.

“The fact that we’re selling bootlegged alcohol in a dry county would be the first and the most obvious illegal activity they would go after. And the cigarettes. Not only are we selling without a license, we’re also exporting hundreds of cases every week across state lines and not paying sales or excise taxes. I suspect the Georgia Department of Revenue is involved too since the two agencies work together. It’s not as if what we do is a big secret. Everyone in this town knows about it. Hell, half of the county’s citizens are our customers.”

“All it takes is one person to turn us in,” Jesse adds. “They probably already have. The alcohol and cigarette operation needs to be suspended until this blows over.”

“How the hell are we going to do that?” I ask. “We’ve been selling out the back of the tattoo shop for years. Toby and I are scheduled to pick up another shipment this week. Where are we supposed to store the inventory? We’ve made agreements with our suppliers that we can’t back out of, and the bottles are going to pile up to the ceiling.”

“I don’t think we have a choice here,” Jesse replies. “Either we temporarily shut it down, or the ATF is going to permanently shut us down. We’ll make it work somehow.”

“Isn’t there another way?” I argue. “Our customers are going to be so pissed when they show up Friday after work and we tell them that we’re closed for business. They depend on us.”

Flint shrugs.

“They’ll have to deal with it. The operation has to be shut down for now. Let’s just hope the ATF doesn’t know about any of the other stuff.”

“Like the guns?” Toby asks with a worried frown.

Jesse and Flint have been grooming him to take over the club’s gun running division since he came back to town. With his military experience, he is by far the most qualified man for the job.

“If we shut everything down, we take the chance of losing face with the other MCs, our suppliers, and our distributors,” Jesse says. “If at all possible, we need to keep the guns going.”

“I agree,” Toby says. “We’ll need to shake up our schedules though. I’ll alert the suppliers tonight.”

Rocco finishes with the stack of photos and slides them across the table to Toby. I glance over his shoulder while he leafs through the pile. Most of the photos are of middle-aged men with short hair, glasses, and dull facial features. They look like worn-out tax accountants. Toby slows down to look at a photo of a prim young woman wearing a tan business suit buttoned up to her neck.

“I bet she’s a lot of fun,” Toby says sarcastically.

I laugh and take a closer look. The woman’s long hair is pulled back into a bun.  Wire-rimmed reading glasses cover part of her face. She isn’t wearing any jewelry or makeup. She reminds me of the girls in the high school Math Club. Then I notice something familiar about her eyes.

I grab the photo out of his hands to take a better look.

No way. It can’t be.

“Fuck!” I blurt out. “She’s already here. Damn it! I can’t believe this.”

Flint leans over and snatches the photo from me.

“Who? This girl?” he asks. “How do you know?”

“I’ve already met her. She had a flat tire up on the mountain and I stopped to help her out. Trust me when I say she doesn’t look anything like this now. She’s hot and sexy as hell. I wouldn’t have recognized her except for her eyes. I’m absolutely sure it’s her.”

“When was this?” Jesse asks.

“Yesterday,” I answer. “I was on my way back from my regular weekly cash drop.”

Flint jumps up and runs his hand through his hair, an old nervous habit of his when he’s stressed out.

“She set you up,” he says.

My mouth drops open and I stare at him in shock.

“No way! What are you saying? That she faked a flat tire?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. You were coming back from a weekly drop. The ATF must know your schedule. She was waiting for you and you fell right into her trap.”

I slump down in my chair. “Well, this sucks,” I say. “I can’t tell you how upset I am. I was planning on getting a piece of that sweet ass.”

“Sam!” Jesse snaps at me. “This is a serious situation. Quit thinking about chasing pussy.”

“Never,” I say.

The Story Continues on BooksBarbecue!

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