by Ambere Sabo
“I didn’t, but it seems we have a common enemy. I can’t go back to Porkies after yesterday’s fuck up. So, I’ll just have to find out what I can through Blue Bells. It’ll let us continue to keep an eye on Loki, but keep you safe at the same time,” he sums up.
He and Havoc both look at me, waiting for me to say something. I really don’t want a fucking bodyguard, but Mr. Broody stuck to my side could be oh so much fun.
“You hate Blue Bells,” I say. It’s not a question, but a statement.
“I don’t hate Blue Bells. I just don’t care for one of your dancers, but I’ll deal,” he responds briskly.
After a few minutes of thinking it over, I can’t help but ask, “Which dancer?”
His jaw ticks and I can tell he doesn’t want to answer me, but finally, he offers, “Tempest.” He gives no further information.
Fuck. I have no clue why he would have an issue with her, so I’m not sure how what I say next is going to go over.
He can sense my apprehension and questions, “What?”
“Um,” I stall, trying to figure out how much I should tell him. If they have church later with all the brothers, I’m sure Rodeo will let them know about the missing girls anyway.
“Out with it, Cessy,” he commands, stopping my internal battle.
“Well, Snoopy has been trying to find a few of our girls that went missing,” I offer as a test to see if he’s already aware of the issue.
“And?” he asks impatiently. That lets me know that he knows a little bit of what Snoopy has been working on besides Martinez. Looking at Havoc, I see that he hasn’t been told exactly who disappeared either. Fuck it. They’re going to find out sooner or later anyway.
“Well, Tempest is one of the three girls who went missing before they could talk to my pops about the VIP room,” I explain. “Some of the girls were tired of being forced to do more than dance for patrons. They were fed up. As far as I know, Tempest is the one who pushed the other girls to go talk to Pops in the first place. After she got clean, Loki couldn’t keep her drugged up and quiet anymore. But the girls never made it to speak to my pops.”
I’m not sure what reaction I expect from him. He surprises me with very little emotion.
“Well, if she’s still alive, Snoop will find her. At least I won’t have to see her ass in the meantime,” his voice is neutral. The only emotion is the tick in his jaw. I’m starting to realize that he does that when he’s trying to keep his anger in check.
Looking at Havoc, he just shrugs his shoulders, so I decide to leave it alone.
Chapter 11
Venom
What the fuck was I thinking? I’ve been coming to Blue Bells with Cessy for a damn month—a month of pure hell.
Don’t get me wrong, I’ve spent my time in way worse places than a strip club, but it’s been a month of her brushing up against me at the bar, watching her dance around with the girls and her barely there shorts.
I am half inclined to buy her a pair of fucking jeans. I swear this chick doesn’t own anything that covers her ass. Do I mind the view? Fuck no! But the other guys checking out that same view makes me want to break a neck or two, and that won’t get us any damn where.
My biggest complaint? The number of nights I end up in a cold shower, fucking my hand, is getting ridiculous. I don’t think I’ve ever been more sexually frustrated in my whole damn life. It's pure fucking torture.
Snoopy hasn’t found anything else out about Martinez and his connections to the Cartel or Loki, but we do know most of the missing money is going to him. Apparently, Loki’s been absent a lot more than normal, not that I mind. He only shows up after closing to pick up the money for the drop. Sometimes he even has Cessy keep the money over until the next.
Dash and a few of the prospects are rotating keeping an eye on him, but aside from spending a shit-ton of time at his cabin and some old warehouse, nothing appears out of the ordinary. Dash is getting tired of babysitting duty, but he’s the best at staying hidden.
We need to get into that fucking warehouse. There’s something going on in there. But Dash hasn’t seen shit. From the outside looking in, it's just an empty building. But no one buys a warehouse for no damn reason.
We haven’t seen him with Martinez a single fucking time, so someone else must be in the middle of getting the money back and forth. Not that we can seem to figure out who—which is just another reason I’m irritated as hell. I’ve spent hours racking my brain trying to figure this all out but without any new leads were sitting ducks.
No one seems to have a clue as to why Loki is even paying Martinez or why the hell Martinez is back in town in the first place. We’ve got a lot of damned questions with no fucking answers, and it’s fucking driving me crazy.
It’s almost closing time, so I head to the back with Cessy while she counts the money. It’s become our routine. I wait while she counts the drop and documents the serial numbers, then I’ll take them to Snoopy after I make sure she gets home safely.
“You good Venom? You’ve been a bit broodier tonight than you’ve been in a while,” she teases.
“I am not…” I start to argue. But when I look up and see her beautiful smile, I forget what I was saying.
“You’re not what, Venom?” she asks with a laugh.
“Broody, I am not broody,” I mutter.
“Ah, I disagree. I think the club should change your name from Venom to Broody. It would be fucking awesome.” She giggles. She loves poking fun at me. Typically, I would lose my shit on any girl who had the nerve to talk to me like she does, but for some reason, I don’t mind it coming from her.
“How’d you get your nickname anyway?” she asks.
Fuck. Normally I’m happy to let a motherfucker know why they call me Venom, but for some reason telling her ties my stomach in knots.
“Well?” she asks after a few minutes when I don’t respond.
Fuck it. I’ll give her the PG version for now. She doesn't need to know that after my close encounter with death by snake, my weapon of choice became the sinister creatures rather than a gun. If she sticks around long enough, I’m sure she’ll see firsthand why the name stuck.
“After I turned eighteen, I joined the army. I wanted to be a part of something that mattered. I missed a shit ton of school and had crap grades in high school, so college wasn’t really an option. I felt like the army was where I needed to be,” I explain.
She looks at me with something new in her eyes, maybe it’s respect. I’m not really sure.
“It was the first time I felt like I belonged somewhere. It gave me a purpose in this world. I was deployed to Iraq after finishing boot camp. We weren’t even there a month when I got bit.”
“Bit? Bit by what?” she interrupts.
“A snake was outside of our barracks when I came out one night. I didn’t check the area. We all knew better. But I forgot. I spooked it, and it bit me on the calf. I don’t remember much after the shock of being bitten. I was told later that I passed out.”
“Wow,” she murmurs.
“By all accounts, I should’ve died, but somehow I pulled through. The medics didn’t know what kind of long-term effects the venom could’ve had on my body, so I was honorably discharged and sent back home,” I finish, hoping she doesn’t question me as to the rest of the story.
“What’s your real name?” she asks instead.
“I could tell ya, but I’d have to kill ya,” I joke and she gives me the side eye. I think only a handful of my brothers know my real name, but fuck it “Ethan. My name is Ethan Walters,” I say with a sigh.
“How’d you end up a Silent Son?” she asks. Finally, something I have no problem telling her. The Sons were my saving grace after I came back stateside.
“I was lost when I came home. I didn’t have any family or anyone that truly gave a fuck about me here.”
She lays a hand on my shoulder to comfort me. Surprisingly, I appreciate the gesture.
“At the same time, t
his was the only home I knew, so I stuck around. I got mixed up with scrapping cars, bikes whatever I could find,” I continue as I look up at her enraptured face.
“I’ve known how to hotwire a car since I was eleven, so it was easy money. That was until the night I tried to steal Rodeo’s bike,” I admit with a chuckle.
“Tried?” she prods with a raise of her brow.
I can’t help but laugh as I tell her, “He walked out and caught me before I could even get her started. He’s had that bike for years; I don’t know anyone who can even get her to run but him. Damn, I thought I was dead when he walked out that night. Instead of killing me he let me go.”
“I’m surprised he didn’t at least teach you a fucking lesson. Everyone knows you don’t mess with a dude’s bike.”
“Yeah, he told me if I wanted to actually be a part of something, then to come find him. He told me where his shop was. I thought he was crazy as shit, but about a week later curiosity got the better of me, and I went and found his shop.”
“What did Rodeo say when you showed up?”
I chuckle as I remember the day I walked in scared as shit. “He gave me a job and a place to stay over the shop. I started fixing up bikes instead of stealing them and was damn good at it. A few months later he invited me to the clubhouse, and I’ve been a Son ever since,” I finish with a smile.
I’m thankful every day that I picked his bike to try to lift. I don’t know where I’d be today if it had been a different bike. Hell, in all honesty, I’d probably be dead.
“Rodeo’s a good man,” Cessy says. “Had that been my pops’ bike you tried to steal, he would’ve shot you in the head no questions asked,” she tells me with a sad look on her face.
“Do you know how I finally got to know my pops?” she asks. I shake my head. I know they weren’t close until after she graduated, but that’s all I really know.
“Guns,” she says with a sigh.
What the fuck did she just say?
“Some shit went down when I was eighteen, and I decided I wanted to learn how to shoot. If I was going to be in this life, I wanted to know how to protect myself.”
I could understand her needing to be able to take care of herself after all the other shit she had gone through.
“Havoc was dealing with his own shit at the time, so I asked Pops to teach me. I'd lived at the clubhouse for six years by then. And besides an occasional conversation about school, he rarely talked to me. I was surprised when he agreed to teach me, but after that, we started going out twice a week to shoot.”
“Bonding over guns, huh?”
She giggles lightheartedly. That sound does something to my heart.
“He’d take different guns and targets for me to practice with. I’ve fired almost every gun the club has. I’m a pretty good shot if I do say so myself. Out shooting targets was the first time he ever talked to me about my mama. We got to know each other over AK’s and ammo.”
“Not the way most fathers and daughters bond, I guess. But when the dad is an MC Prez, I guess it’s not that odd.”
She shrugs. “It worked for us. I finally got to see the man my mama fell in love with. When we were shooting, it was our time—where he didn’t need to be the Prez, but could just be my pops. No keeping up appearances for anyone else. Just him and his princess fucking shit up. I treasure that time I had with him...” her voice hitches a tiny bit as she continues, “because I got to know the man under the cut. We still went shooting at least twice a month up until he died...” she looks away from me, but I see the tears in her eyes.
I’ve learned that she doesn’t like to cry in front of people, so I tell her, “Loki should be here in a few, I’m going to go wait in the bar until he leaves.”
She nods her head without looking at me, so I turn to head out. I hate waiting in the bar when the fucker shows, leaving her to deal with him by herself. Unfortunately, it’s a necessary evil right now. By some grace of God, Loki hasn’t realized Blue Bells is crawling with Silent Sons lately, and we’re trying to keep it that way. The brothers are more than happy to make the rounds here. I swear, I’ve seen some of them here more than I have at the clubhouse lately.
So far, we’re keeping a low profile, but if Loki was to find me in the back room with Cessy, I’m not sure what would happen. She’s already a ticking time bomb with him as it is.
Chapter 12
Cessy
I need to pull myself together. Loki will be here any minute, and I won’t let that motherfucker see me breaking. But this whole ordeal is wearing on me. Eight weeks and we’re no closer to proving this bastard had something to do with Pops’ death.
Thanksgiving is next week, and Christmas is right around the corner. Holidays weren’t a big deal after Mama passed. But Pops and I still had each other. Now I’m dreading the holidays without either one of my parents. Luckily, Blue Bells is closed for the holiday weekend. That gives me a week off. I plan on camping out at the cottage in my pajamas with old movies and tequila.
My phone buzzes with a text message from Loki. Fucking figures, the bastard isn’t coming again. Moving the stupid gambling dog painting on the wall behind my desk, I open the safe and lock the money inside before heading out to the bar.
“Loki isn’t coming for the drop,” I tell Venom.
“Did he say why this time?” he asks his frustration showing.
Letting out an irritated laugh, I reply, “Nope. Same bullshit he’s been spouting about being too busy. The prospects still tailing him?” I question.
“Yup, I think he’s been at that old warehouse most of the day today, but from what we can tell it’s just an empty building. Does the club know he bought a warehouse?”
I shake my head before answering, “I don’t think so. No one has said anything to me about it, anyway. It’s not like I can ask. Then they’d want to know why I know where Loki’s been spending his time.”
“True.” Venom takes a sip from his glass before slipping off the barstool.
“We have to figure out who’s involved with this shit within The Reapers. If we had one of the brothers that we could trust, helping out, he could find out more than I can.” This is something I’ve brought up to Havoc already, but he keeps blowing me off with some bullshit about it not being safe for me if we approach the wrong brother.
I’d bet money Wraith was loyal to Pops and still is to the club. There’s a reason Pops wanted him as his VP, and I have to believe he wouldn’t be okay with Loki stealing money from all his brothers. The money that comes in, after expenses are covered has a trickle-down effect. The higher ranked brothers make more, but everyone gets a share. Loki is stealing from all them.
“I’ll talk to Rodeo about it,” Venom states.
“Really?” I ask incredulously.
“Yeah, I think you’re right. We need to try something else. We’re not finding out any new information from any other avenues. If it’ll help, I’m all for it,” he agrees.
I practically knock him over as I hug the fuck out of him.
“Whoa, what the hell is this for?” he asks as I back up, giving him some space.
“Thank you!” I exclaim. “I’ve been trying to get Havoc to talk to him about it for over a week. but he refuses. And I haven’t had time to go ask him my damn self.”
Laughing he says, “Ya. I doubt Havoc will be very happy with me when I do it. But fuck it. We just need to be careful about who we talk to. You ready to head home?”
“Yup, I'll lock up on the way out,” I tell him.
We walk out together turning off the lights as we go. Venom gets all the neon that I can’t reach without a damn chair, and I flip all the switches. When we get outside I don’t even ask, it’s been our routine for weeks now. I know he’ll follow me home before heading back to the clubhouse. We both mount our bikes and ride out.
Fifteen minutes later, we pull up at the cottage. Climbing off my bike, I take a deep breath. I’m weary of repeating the same pattern for yet another night.
If I don’t do something, I know he’ll wait until I’m inside, and then he’ll leave. But fuck that. I’m so tired of the cat-and-mouse game we’ve been playing. I may need some tequila to make this shit happen, but I refuse to spend another night getting off with porn and BOB. Squaring my shoulders and adding a little extra swing to my steps, I walk up to the house. Stopping on the porch, I turn to look at where he sits on his bike.
“It’s been a shit week. Want to come in and have a few shots with me?” I ask him. I know he’s feeling the same frustration I am about the lack of information coming in. I just hope he feels the same sexual tension as me too. He’s so damn hard to read. Usually, all it takes is me rubbing up on a guy, and I know whether he’s interested or not.
Don’t get me wrong. I know he’s been hard on more than one occasion at the club, but come the fuck on. It’s a strip club. If he didn’t catch a little chub, I’d have to start wondering if he was gay. Hell, all the best ones usually are, or so they say.
He takes forever to think about it. Finally, he kills the engine on his Bonneville, or Baby as he calls her. “Why the hell not. I think we both need to blow off some steam.”
Yes! Hopefully steam isn’t the only thing I’m blowing tonight. As he climbs the porch, I stifle my look of victory. Don’t want to tip my hand. The air between us is charged. I open the door quickly so we can head inside before he changes his mind.
“I’m going to get out of these clothes really quick. Cut up some limes will ya? The tequila’s in the cupboard above the fridge,” I direct before I head down the hall to the bedroom.
I quickly work on getting out of my shorts and tank top, tossing them in the corner as I go. Grabbing and throwing on my favorite comfy sleep shirt, I look myself over. It’s a bit longer than the shorts I had on, but when I sit down, I know it’ll ride up my thighs. After throwing my long blonde hair up into a messy bun on the top of my head, I go back to the kitchen.
