A Biker's Arms A Collection of Biker Romance

By Tami Baxter

A collection of steamy romance 
Motorcycle gang leader Robby has spent many years in prison because of liquor store robbery gone awry. But inside the jail he is befriended by David, an older member of the same gang who tells him of a secret treasure map. David has a fortune tucked away back home but he dies before he can tell Robby of its whereabouts. A prison guard finds out about the map and the two race to find the buried fortune as Robby finds an unlikely accomplice in the guard's lustful wife, Laura.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pettway Publishing
• Release date: Jun 29, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201212476

Book preview

BOOK ONE

Chapter One

The sound of dripping water didn't bother him much during the day.

But at night. Jesus.

It kept Robby up for hours on end, the only sound in his dull prison cell.  You'd think that after three years in the same cell, with the same rusty, leaking faucet, he would have got used to it, been able to sleep through it. But here was yet another sleepless night.

So he was awake when they came around to get everyone up for breakfast. They marched them down the narrow corridors and out into the chaos that was the mess hall. And he waited in line, half-asleep until it was his turn to get whatever slop they were calling 'oatmeal' that morning. Then, he made his way over to his assigned seat, fell down into it, and slumped against the table.

You look like hell, David commented, already picking into his roll, breaking it up into pieces that were manageable with his rotting teeth.

Thanks, Robby said sarcastically, rolling his eyes a little.

No sleep again? the old man asked, even though Robby knew it must be obvious in his slumped posture, in the bags beneath his eyes. Robby was well-built with short-cropped brown hair. He had a baby face and pale blue eyes that seemed incongruous with broad, cleft chin.

So he merely shrugged, picking up his spoon and prodding at the gray sludge on his tray. Even that seemed to take most of the effort that he had.

One of these days, you'll be out of here again, David said, his eyes turning inwards as they always did when he was thinking of home. He smiled a little, wistfully. I still remember the feel of a soft breeze on my face as I flew over the fields with my mistress thrumming between my legs...

Robby snorted and rolled his eyes. Yeah, yeah, he said. It'll be good to get back on a bike. I've got another five years in here, though, so that's not going to be happening anytime soon. And truth be told, there was something else Robby would rather have between his legs, after ten years in prison.

I know what you mean, David said. Sometimes I just close my eyes and see myself rolling through endless gold-colored fields. Not a cloud in the sky. No one around. Just me and my Harley rolling. And the wind. The wind whipping past me. Fuck. I miss the wind.

Why torture yourself like that?

You and my son Alex would get along like a house on fire, David said, ignoring the question. He lowered his voice, leaning in close—as though no one in the prison knew that he and Robby were members of the same gang. Alex's one of us, too—a Maverick. But from the Midwest, rather than the Northeast. Maybe you'll meet him, once you're out of here.

Robby snorted and finally took a bite of his meal. David, the only reason I would ever head out to Nebraska to meet your son would be to dig up that treasure everyone knows you have buried out there.

David put his head back and laughed. His laugh came out more like a bark, like an old coyote and the sound drew the eyes of the prison guards. But when he looked back at Robby, his eyes were glinting with secrets.

The thing was, there were rumors about David's fortune—and Robby could tell by the way he talked, sometimes, that he didn't come from the wrong side of the tracks like most of the Mavericks did. No, David had had a decent upbringing and had put himself through school. He hadn't been caught at just twenty years old robbing a liquor store.

Of course, he'd still ended up in jail anyway.

What are you in here for, anyway? Robby asked, not for the first time. There were plenty of theories, of course—but no matter how many times the younger man asked, David danced around the issue. The man was a mystery, but he was one of Robby's closest friends there in the prison. After all, he was really one of the few people that Robby didn't have to watch his back around...

David narrowed his eyes at Robby for a long moment, munching on a bite of oatmeal. Do you really need me to tell you that? he asked, shaking his head.

I was hoping that today would be the day I finally got the whole story.

Read Dante's Inferno.

Excuse me?

Dante's Inferno, the old man said, trying to sound professorial. There is a scene where Dante meets a character named Guido in the 8th circle of hell. Dante asks Guido why he's in hell. Guido agrees to tell him why but only because he thinks that Dante will never make it out of hell himself.

I'll get out of here, no worries, Robby said, his voice low and determined. A part of him wanted the old man to continue to educate him on the great literature of the past. Something that Robby knew nothing of. He knew the old man had a soft spot for him and saw through his tough guy facade. Deep down he had his own neuroses and fears. He never made many connections in life and desperately wanted to, even in a jail cell.

Well, all the rumors are true, and then some. At least, the ones that matter are. One day, maybe I'll tell you the whole story. He looked around and spat off to the side, his saliva splattering wetly on the floor. When we're out of this accursed place, maybe.

If we ever live to see the day, Robby muttered, eyeing the prison guards, who for a moment looked as though they might intervene. But David was old and brawny enough that most of the guards let him do as he would.

All except for Danvers.

Robby looked around the cafeteria for a moment, but he didn't spot the red-headed bastard. The thing was, he was pretty sure he would have gotten along with the man if they were outside of the prison. Judging by the man's tattoos and burly muscles, he probably was a biker as well—but Robby doubted he was a member of the Mavericks or any other bike gang; the man was too clean-shaven and rule-obsessed for that.

But in the prison, the man was a nightmare. He was a stickler for rules, and he didn't hesitate to write anyone up for the smallest infraction—last week, Robby had been sent down to solitary for a day (or two; he wasn't really sure) because Tom Landrow had picked a fight with him in the yard. Robby hadn't even thrown a single punch, but the next thing he'd known, he'd been down in the dark on his own.

Truth be told, solitary didn't really bother him at this point—in fact, he kind of liked having a private place to put his head back together again, and he'd take any reprieve from that leaky faucet. But when he'd come back to the surface, David had been sporting a black eye that he hadn't had when Robby had gone down there, and the old man had refused to talk when Robby had pressed him for details. Whatever had happened to him, his attackers had clearly waited until Robby wasn't around to protect the man before assaulting him. And Robby hated dirty plays like that.

Anyway, it was clear that Danvers had something against David—Robby wasn't sure what, but it had to be something big, some sort of a grudge. Maybe it had something to do with David being the old kind of biker dude, which really wasn't all that different from a mafia mobster or anything like that. Robby didn't doubt that David had done some shady things in his time, and although those weren't the kinds of rumors circling about what David was in for...

Well, David sometimes got this look in his eyes, when people started fighting out in the yard, and Robby wouldn't be too surprised to find out if David had killed men, back in his time.

But there was no proof to any of that, and there was no justification for the way Danvers kept pulling David off to the side and questioning him in a low tone of voice. Robby didn't know exactly what Danvers kept harping on about, but every time he pulled David aside, the man returned looking more and more grim. And Robby hated that, but it wasn't as though he could attack Danvers or anything like that; they'd increase his sentence if he did.

And it was bad enough that they already knew he was a member of the Mavericks. He didn't know how he had managed to get away with just fifteen years before, what with everything that had happened during that robbery-gone-awry, but he doubted the judge would be so lenient if he went up on trial again if he attacked a prison guard with no provocation.

David reached over and put a rough, wrinkled hand over Robby's, shaking it slightly to draw the younger man back into the bustle of the cafeteria. There's no sense in working your brain overtime on this, he said, his eyes serious. When the time is right, I'll make sure you know what you need to know. But not now. And not here. He took one final, decisive bite of his breakfast and got to his feet, lifting his tray. Eat up, soldier. It's a tough world out there, and you know Danvers will be itching to have you back in solitude by the end of the day.

The corners of Robby's mouth turned down in a deep frown, and he finally began to shovel food into his mouth—because David was right, of course. He wondered sometimes if there weren't some sort of a law that would keep Danvers from putting him into solitary confinement as often as he did, but even if such a law existed, it wasn't as though anyone was going to call out the guard, and not on behalf of a low-life biker like him.

I wish I knew as much about books. As much about life as you, Robby said.

Books are overrated.

But you know a lot, Robby said. And nothing gets to you much.

Should I, after and cakes and ices, David went into professorial mode again. Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis? But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed, though I have seen my head brought in upon a platter, I am no prophet-and here's no great matter; I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker, and I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker, and in short, I was afraid.

Robby stared at David, not knowing what he was missing. He just felt a connection.

––––––––

Chapter Two

Everyone in the prison liked to joke that Robby only worked out because he got into so many fights and needed to prove himself so often. Well, except for David, who joked that Robby only worked out because he was hoping to sleep with someone really attractive when he got out of jail. David always joked about his secret sweetheart, and Robby let the man keep on talking about that. It was kind of nice to imagine a secret sweetheart for himself, waiting for him somewhere out there.

But really, he worked out because it gave him something to do and because it calmed down his mind some. He always hoped that if he worked out long and hard enough that he would eventually be able to sleep easy at night. That never happened, but he kept hoping that it would.

That day, David had joined him in the gym, so Robby was spending more time spotting for the old man than he was working out on his own. But he didn't begrudge the man that.

What are you going to do when you get out of here? David asked suddenly, taking Robby by surprise.

The younger man blinked over at him for a moment, then shrugged. I mean, there's gyms in the outside world as well—at least, last I knew. So I guess I'll have to get a membership, and then I'll keep working out, just the same as I do here.

"See, this