Falcons Landing Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  The Playlist

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Forever Steel

  Men of Steel Introduction

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Jase (Men Of Steel, #1)

  Summer

  Crushin’

  About The Author

  Also By MJ Fields

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

  Copyright © 2017 Hammered by MJ Fields. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.

  Visit MJ Field’s website at www.mjfieldsbooks.com

  Edited by Ellie McLove, Love & Books

  Cover, Interior Design & Formatting by Juliana Cabrera, Jersey Girl Design

  ISBN-13: 978-1544933108

  ISBN-10: 154493310X

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  First Edition March 2017

  The Playlist

  Die A Happy Man by Thomas Rhett

  Hello World by Lady Antebellum

  Wide Open Spaces by The Dixie Chicks

  It’s Different For Girls by Dierks Bentley and Elle King

  She Thinks My Tractors Sexy by Kenny Chesney

  Black by Dierks Bentley

  Chapter One

  A Better Man

  Gage

  I pull into the little dive bar, twelve miles from my property at Lake Hopatcong and hop out of my 1975 International Scout. An old classic, a man’s truck, a pet project of mine for the past couple years. No, I don’t have time for that shit, but any minute spent alone is a minute wasted unless you have something to keep you busy.

  Cars have been my thing since I turned sixteen and was given my father’s, a man I had never known, ride. He died when I was sixteen months old.

  Then, because shit happens, divorce, every third Saturday there wasn’t shit keeping me busy, so I bought this damn thing to keep me that way.

  Stepping out I check out my surroundings, there’s about twenty cars in the dimly lit dirt parking lot. Not one met the description of the woman who was going to meet a need tonight.

  I walk into the bar and almost laugh. Apparently everyone drove two cars and every one of the drivers is looking at me.

  I half expect them all to call out my name, except they don’t know my name, and that’s exactly why I’m here. I know no one. No need to do a meet and greet at a place where you’re recognized or known when you know damn well you and the little lady won’t be hanging out in a bar for that long.

  She’s busy, I’m busy, we both just need a little adult interaction once in a while. Both of us are adults and agreed on this shit in advance.

  “Friends with benefits?” she asked when we spoke on the phone.

  “Really don’t have time for friends,” I replied honestly. “I’m also not looking for my next forever.”

  “I totally understand,” she laughed. “I’m in the same situation. Kids, work, every other weekend, no time. I’d like that, to, you know—”

  She stops and I finish the sentence for her. “Get off.”

  “Yeah,” she whispers in a breathy tone.

  “Perfect.”

  That was it, no bullshit, no lies, no nothing, but an agreement between two consenting adults to meet, make sure there was an attraction, have a couple of drinks, then fuck for a solid ten hours, maybe order some room service between rounds.

  I sit at the bar and order a drink from the old man, “Jameson, on the rocks.”

  I sit back in my padded barstool and take a drink, the liquor burns as it goes down my throat and it feels fucking good.

  I keep my eyes lowered, I don’t want to make any fucking friends here, hell I wish I could be sure no one in the place would recognize me if they saw me again. But that shit’s not possible.

  I toss down my drink and think to myself, here’s hoping this shit works out.

  I hold up my empty glass to the new bartender, she nods then grabs the bottle of Jameson, while I look down at my phone.

  I hit the app with the flame and check my messages, no cancellation, it means we’re on.

  I look up and only then do I notice the tiny, hot as hell little exotic Asian bartender pushing my drink towards me.

  Sexy as fuck.

  “Thanks, babe,” I nod, then wink and pick it up.

  She turns and walks away.

  Okay, that’s not fucking right. Women, all women get fucked up on my look. This one, she’s not giving a damn.

  Something must be wrong.

  I look up in the mirror behind the bar just to be sure I didn’t have some shit on my face or hair sticking up in the wrong direction. I made eye contact, and I fucking winked. A wink typically gets me at very least a smile.

  “Hey,” I call after her.

  She turns back and looks at me, annoyed as hell and I can feel the smirk forming in the corner of my mouth. “What’s your name?”

  She rolls her eyes at me, holds up her middle finger, turns around and walks away.

  You have got to be fucking kidding me.

  I know myself too damn well, she’s a challenge. I always liked a challenge. Step back man, I tell myself. Step. Fucking. Back.

  But fuck I’d like to make her eyes roll again, but with my cock shoved in her pussy.

  Get a fucking grip, I scold myself. You’re not a fucking kid anymore.

  “Are you Gage?” I turn away from what my dick seems to want to be in and look left as a blonde slides onto the barstool next to me.

  I look her up and down before answering. She has great tits, long legs, her face was good, all matching her profile picture.

  I nod, “You’re—”

  Shit, shit, shit, what’s her name.

  I could pull a real dick move and look at the app, or I could ask, I mean she’s down for doing the hookup thing why would that offend her, but I don’t, I pull out the charm.

  “A very good-looking woman.”

  She blushes, smiles, and says, “Thanks.”

  I hear a loud slap against the bar and look away from, whatever the hell her name is, and at the exotic little piss pot.

  “What can I get you to drink?” she says in an almost annoyed tone that makes me snicker immediately. Her reply is the eye roll...again.

  “What wines do you have?” my date asks, the reason I’m getting hard, the challenge.

  “Merlot, Lambrusco, White Zin,” she answers trying to be hospitable while holding back hostile.

  “That’s it?” my date tone is unmistakably repulsed.

  “Yes,” the sexy little bartender answers, obviously forcing herself to be nice.

  I have no idea why she’s being that way, but she is. I also have no fucking clue why she’s pissed off, but it’s kind of hot.

  “Zin I suppose,” she shrugs and then looks at me. “So what do you do again?”

  “Construction.”

  I give her the answer I give them all. I don’t tell them I own a company, it’s not necessary. I don’t want to give them any false hope that they’ll be the next Mrs. Gage Falcon. There won’t be another.

  “Do you want to know what I do?” s
he asks.

  Not really, I think as I force my focus on her.

  “Sure,” I say instead.

  “I’m an accountant. I’m really good with numbers. I love them, in fact they are everything.” She beams.

  Another smack on the bar makes me look away from her and at the little hottie.

  “Who’s paying?” she asks looking at me and then...fuck I need to figure out her name.

  “I am,” I say and slide a pile of money across the bar.

  “By the hour,” the bartender says under her breath as she walks away.

  Quickly I look at...the date to make sure she didn’t hear that shit.

  What the fuck is wrong with this chick...fuck it. I reach in my pocket and pull out my phone, hit the app and look at my date’s name, Tonya.

  I look over at her and she smiles. “Do you have a call?”

  “Yeah, but it can wait, Tonya.”

  I swear I hear the bartender laugh. I look over, and she’s shaking her head looking down as she turns on the faucet under the bar, about two stools away from us.

  What the fuck is with her? No way I fucked her, hell she looks just a few steps past legal.

  I look back at Tonya and she looks at me then her, then back at me.

  “Am I missing something?” she asks.

  “No, of course not,” I say catching exactly what it is she’s implying.

  “Are you sure?”

  “He’s sure,” the bartender says walking past us to the couple a few seats down.

  “Look,” Tonya says shaking her head. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

  She starts to put her coat on, one I hadn’t even noticed she’d taken off because I was too busy checking out the bartender when she walked in.

  I push back my stool and stand. “Let me help—”

  “No, I’ve got it, thanks anyway,” she stammers.

  “Did I miss something?” I ask, knowing damn well I didn’t, but it’s not what she thinks, well...no, it’s not.

  “I don’t know what it is you’re into. I was good with enjoying some adult time, but I’m not into being a third,” she motions between the bartender and me.

  “Oh no, you definitely got it wrong, Tammy—”

  “Tonya,” she corrects.

  “Fuck, right, I apologize.”

  I look toward the laughter.

  “You two sure are something you know,” she shakes her head and walks away.

  I point to the bartender. “What’s your problem?”

  “Mine?” she says still chuckling and points to herself.

  “You did that shit on purpose,” I point to the door.

  She walks over, laughs, and grips the edge of the bar “Now why would I do that?”

  “No clue but tell me, what’s your deal?”

  She stands up taller. “Putting men like you, in their place.”

  If I wasn’t pissed that tonight’s ass just walked out the door, I’d laugh at the chick who maybe stands five foot two without heels, and clearly feels like she’s some sort of bad ass when she stands on something to make her taller. I lean in closer and she holds her bad ass steady, not moving an inch as I lean closer. With my face an inch from hers I look over the bar.

  Leaning back, I bite the side of my cheek to stop a grin.

  “Oh, here we go with the short jokes,” she sputters. “Let me save you the time.”

  “I wasn’t gonna make jokes...shorty,” I pause to watch her face contort into obvious annoyance. “I was trying to answer a question I had running wild through my mind.”

  “Short trip, men like you only have one thing on your mind,” she smarts back.

  I shake my head and sigh.

  “Don’t deny it. Your hooker just left because she wasn’t into a threesome.”

  “Let me clear things up for you. I don’t pay for sex. I don’t enjoy threesomes and women like you and her,” I toss her sexist shit back at her, “come off as wanting no strings, but you all do. You think your pussy has some magical power that gets you the man and everything he’s worked for.” I can’t help myself. “Like catching a leprechaun for his pot of gold.”

  “Ha, ha, ha,” she chides. “I’d prefer to pay my own way than deal with a man like you and prefer batteries over brawn.”

  “Shorty, you couldn’t handle a man like me.”

  “Oh really?” She crosses her arms over her chest pushing her tits closer together, nice little titties too. “So what the hell are you doing sniffing around like a dog looking for a place to hide his bone?”

  “Sweetheart, there is no way in hell you could handle my bone.”

  “Then what the fuck are you doing sniffing.”

  “Wasn’t sniffing, just trying to answer that question I had.” I toss a few bills on the bar and turn to walk away.

  “And what question is that?” she says at my back.

  I turn around and smirk. “I was wondering how much of my cock would come out of that smart little mouth of yours when I bury it in you.”

  I watch her reaction and feel satisfied when her jaw drops and she is unable to give me a smartass comment. Then I turn around and walk out the door...half-mast.

  I look up at the neon sign and read the name of the joint, Carlin’s Cocktails, more like cock-fucking-tease.

  Zandor fucking Steel, you son-of-a-bitch, giving me shitty dating advice.

  Paybacks a bitch Steel, payback, a bitch.

  *****

  Twenty minutes later and I am pulling onto the dirt road surrounded by trees and tall grass leading to my place. A quarter of a mile in and I see the black metal sign with copper color lettering, Falcon’s Landing. Didn’t want the sign on the roadside, wanted it as private as it could be. So it was, for now.

  Falcon’s Landing, is one hundred and twelve acres of peace and fucking quiet. Land that once was empty and now has ten small two-bedroom vacation cabins and my home away from home.

  When we moved back to the states from Portugal when I was fourteen, and my brothers were twelve and ten, my parents bought five acres of lakefront property. We used to come here and hunt, fish, camp, and get away from the hustle and bustle of everyday life.

  When they retired, and my divorce was settled, I bought everything that bordered their land.

  It was at the same time my brothers — half-brothers — Garrett, Grayson, and I were handed down the construction company, which neither of them wanted. They hated it, I didn’t like it much either, but we...I, owed it to them to keep the business that they built and loved almost as much as they did the three of us running. It afforded all of us the lifestyles we had grown accustomed to. It also made my dream, this place, Falcon’s Landing, a reality. It became bigger than I had planned, and still there’s a lot of work to do, a lot of time and money to keep this place running, and it wasn’t going to finish building itself.

  There was no guarantee after I finished it, I’d be able to keep it. Dreams are beautiful and in vibrate living color, until reality shits all over them. Then it’s on you to wade through the shit and see if you can find your way back to what brought you here in the first place.

  Garrett and Grayson, have turned their backs on the company, went their own way, neither in the direction of Falcon Construction. My stepfather is a good man. They don’t always see him that way. He missed ball games, concerts, shit like that. He wasn’t always home from work for dinner, but he busted his ass for his family and what he didn’t or couldn’t do, Mom did. Mom stepped up and did everything he couldn’t, plus worked to keep the business alive and running smoothly.

  My mother Gail and stepfather Armando Falcon, married when I was just three. Two years later, we moved from the US to Portugal where his parents lived. While there, my parents ran his family’s construction company, DeFalcon.

  Armando senior, my step-grandfather, had passed away and his mother hadn’t any idea how to take care of the business, which was a multimillion-dollar operation.

  After she passed away, and aft
er some serious issues with the locals, Armando sold DeFalcon Inc. and we, all five of us, moved back to the US, where my mom’s parents lived, the Jersey Shore.

  As strained as shit has been for the past couple years, I respect the hell out of them.

  Armando and Mom grew Falcon Construction just as they did DeFalcon, they just dropped the De.

  Drop the D, I think to myself as I see my seven thousand square foot lodge style log home coming into sight.

  I would have been dropping the D right now if not for the fact that the bar wench, cock blocked me.

  Christ, she was fucking hot in the most infuriating way. My dick stiffens when I think about how I could have tossed her around and handled her fine fucking ass while I pounded the fuck out of her.

  I would fucking lay it out in front of her, guaranteed to make her shake in her heels, my cock was probably the same size, if not bigger, than her forearm.

  I’d eat that little pussy till it was sloppy, cum running down her legs sloppy, while she was lost in orgasm number three or four. I would ram it into her until I battered, maybe even bruised her just enough that the next time she tried to get in between me and no strings pussy, she’d back the hell off, no fuck that, she’d fucking want it that good again, and not because I’m like one of ‘those men’, I’m not like other men.

  I’m a fucking better man.

  Chapter Two

  Carlin’s Cocktails

  Phoenix

  Okay, he caught me off guard, he did, not a damn thing I can do about it. Wouldn’t happen again. Jesus what was I thinking, there wouldn’t be another time. He wasn’t a local, he was using Carlin’s as a hookup spot, he wouldn’t make that mistake again. Which is what I wanted...yes, yes it was exactly what I wanted...I think.

  What he just said to me, and the way he said it, combined that he is without a doubt the most attractive man who has ever stepped foot in this dive, possibly even on this planet, with his GQ looks, the way his clothes fit, and that freaking ink peeking out where ever his olive tone skin was uncovered, it was leaving me with very unwanted feelings.