Signaling Hank for another beer, I admit that I’m curious about the unknown female that we’ve offered our protection to. I’m also more than a little concerned about the information Mouse has managed to find out about the man who’s apparently after her.
“Whaddaya reckon about the Brit?”
At the distinctive growling voice behind me, I turn to see Drum coming up behind me, not surprised he’s on the same wavelength. We’d met earlier, an emergency church to go over what our intel expert, Mouse, had come up with. I shake my head. “St John-Davies sounds like a bad fuckin’ enemy.”
“You’re not fuckin’ wrong there.”
Drummer’s on the whisky tonight, Hank gives him a glass clinking with ice cubes, and I wince. In my view, good scotch shouldn’t be drowned, especially the top-end brand that the prez drinks while other members make do with that on the bottom shelf.
I take a gulp of my beer. “He got any pull over here?”
“Not that I’m aware of. His main base of operations is in the UK, but our military uses some of his software, so who knows? He’s got good connections in the UK. There have been a few investigations into some of his activities, which all seem to have been dropped before they went too far. Nothing sticks to St John-Davies it would seem.” Drum taps his fingers on the bar, causing Hank to swing around in case his prez might need a refill. Seeing he’s set for now, the prospect goes back to washing glasses.
“We gotta hope he hasn’t got the same clout over here and gets the feds involved.” As VP, I’m worried we might have bitten off more than we can chew.
“Yeah,” Drummer’s face tightens, “a fuckin’ RICO investigation isn’t something we need.”
That’s my concern, and my face tightens. “You think he’d go that route?”
The president thinks for a moment. “He wants the girl, that’s obvious. But whether he’d go so far as to get the authorities involved, I couldn’t say. I suspect it would be a last resort. Surely, he wouldn’t want it to be too obvious? Reckon if he finds out where she is, he’ll probably try to take her if he wants her as leverage like Horse suggests.”
“We gonna let that happen?” I’ve never met the woman, and while I have sympathy for her—fuck, who wouldn’t after watching that video—I certainly don’t want to risk my club or my brothers to save someone I don’t know.
“We’ll give her protection as Horse wants, as long as it’s at no cost to ourselves. I love Horse like a brother, man, as we all do, but he’s not a full member—heck, he’s not here most of the year.”
As normal, Drum and I are thinking along the same lines, so I nod. Satan’s Devils wouldn’t want to put a woman in danger, but she’s not club property or an old lady. Even though we’ve agreed to protect her, that was before we knew all the facts. If shit gets real, we might have to cut Horse loose to protect our own. “You got a bad fuckin’ feeling about this, Drum?”
He closes his eyes briefly, his hand idly pulling on his beard, a sure sign he’s giving careful thought to the matter. And that’s one thing our prez does, he thinks things through. “Not particularly. I think the Devils will prove a match for St John-Davies. Doubt he’s come across folks like us before.”
There is that.
Suddenly the front doors bang open. Swinging around, I realise the moment is here, as the mystery woman we’ve offered our protection to—or at least as long as it doesn’t adversely affect the greater good—comes through, pushed by my old friend, Horse. Pulling up straighter to get a closer look, I suck in air as I get my proper first sight of the woman in the wheelchair, to find she’s not what I expected at all. The glimpses in the horrific video I’d seen hadn’t shown me much. Fuck, she’s fuckin’ beautiful! For a moment I’m frozen to the spot as I examine her, noticing how much she looks out of place.
The Arizona sun makes it impossible for most residents to retain such pale, flawless skin, and there’s a slight pinkish colour to her cheeks. Yellow-blonde hair cut into a short bob shows off her slender neck and frames an oval face with symmetrical features. Her cornflower-blue eyes, currently flicking around the room with concern, are perfectly set, outlined by just a small amount of eyeliner and mounted under arched eyebrows which haven’t been over-plucked. Her lips are made for kissing, full and a natural red. Having been used to the heavy makeup of the sweet butts for so long, she takes my breath away.
She’s small, even taking into account she’s sitting in that darn chair, and I don’t need the club’s instruction for my protective instinct to come to the fore. Unlike the other girls in the room, she’s demurely dressed in simple jeans and a V-neck sweater, but the top outlines her breasts, which make me want to reach out and touch them. A pulsing in my jeans tells me I’m not unaffected, and a quick glance around the clubhouse shows me from the expressions on my brothers’ faces that I’m not the only one. Fuck, we’re in trouble here.
Viper pushes himself off the wall he’d been leaning against and moves toward her. “Hey, Wheels! Good to meet cha! I’m Viper.” The way he’s leering down at her suggests he’s forgotten he’s married—and that he’s almost twice her age. Mind you, that’s quite normal for him. Then I realise what he’s said.
Wheels? Pushing back down the strange feeling of jealousy to where it belongs, hidden and buried, I huff a laugh and exchange amused looks with Drummer. One second into the club and she’s already got a nickname. It suits her. But the way her eyes have narrowed, they suggest she’s not happy about it at all.
It will stick though. And the more she protests about it, the more we’ll all use it. We’re cruel fuckers when we want to be. I know my brothers all too well.
The rest of the vultures start hovering, sensing fresh meat. Once again, Drummer meets my eyes. That I’m not the only one finding her attractive is blindingly obvious, and we can both sense trouble on the way unless we put a stop to that shit right now.
The prez steps forward, taking charge. “Hey, you dogs, give ‘er some fuckin’ space, eh?” He pushes through the men who’ve started introducing themselves, probably overwhelming her on what has to be her first foray into a one-percenter motorcycle club. “Hey, sweetheart.” Having cleared an area around her, he leans down and offers his meaty hand. “Name’s Drummer, I’m the president here, and any of these fuckers give you trouble you let me know.”
She takes his hand; I notice hers looks tiny. She murmurs something I don’t catch but see she doesn’t look at him for long. Again, her eyes scan the room as if she’s looking for something, probably a way of escape.
“Horse, good to see you!” The prez and Horse exchange man hugs. “You both want some refreshment?” Drum’s eyes flick down to include Sophie in his invitation.
Her attention flits back to him. “Not for me, thank you. I’m pretty tired after the flight.” It’s the first time I’ve heard her speak. Her voice is so soft and sweet, and her quaint English accent pulls at something inside me.
I can’t take my eyes off of her and am still staring when her mouth falls open. As I turn to see what she’s looking at, I spot Allie giving head quite openly to Rock, who’s about the only one taking no notice of the new arrival. Well, he’s got other things on his mind, or rather his cock at the moment. Then as I look further around, I notice the other three resident sweet butts glaring at the new arrival with narrowed eyes, as though weighing up exactly what she’s here for, and it’s then I decide to get her some breathing space.
Pushing away from the bar, I go to stand beside Drum, nodding at Horse before shaking his hand. “I’ve got rooms organised for the two of you. I’ll take you to them.” Swinging around, I spot the prospect who’d driven them here. “Hey, Marsh, get their bags, will you?”
“Do you mind?” I turn back to Sophie and put my hands on the back of her wheelchair. At the shake of her head, I start pushing; Horse walks alongside.
“Horse? Come back when you’ve got her sorted. There’s a beer with your name on it here!”
“Sure thing, Drum!”
Horse shouts back over his shoulder.
As clubhouses go, this one's not bad. There are still signs of fire damage and burned-out buildings we haven’t yet bothered with, but we’ve done up a fair amount of the accommodation. Admittedly not to the previous five-star standard, but enough so it’s comfortable and not too shabby. And, once having been a prestigious resort, there are ramps for disabled access everywhere, which we haven’t bothered taking out. Comes in handy when a brother wants his bike in his room for some reason or other. And believe me, sometimes they do.
As I wheel her along, I make conversation with Horse, and after a while realise I’m not including her. I didn’t exclude her on purpose, it’s just that she’s on another level. So I make an effort, bending over and waving my hand around. “I don’t know what Horse has told you, but this used to be a vacation resort. Got burned out and the club bought it for peanuts. Disabled access everywhere so you shouldn’t have any problems getting around.”
“Horse hasn’t told me anything.” Now that she’s away from the clubhouse I see some of her spirit coming through as she scowls at Horse.
He shrugs. “Didn’t want to frighten you off.”
“Hmm.” I smile to myself, thinking he’s probably going to hear more about that later. Then she looks up at me. “Thank you, er…?”
I realise I should have introduced myself. “The name’s Wraith. I’m the VP. The vice president.”
“Wraith?” She’s intrigued by my name, not my position.
“He moves like a ghost,” Horse explains for me.
She’s scrutinising me as though trying to fit my solid, muscular six-foot-three frame with a mental image of an ethereal creature. Then she smiles, and it’s like the sun coming out.
“I’m Sophie.” As she introduces herself in that melodious voice, my cock twitches again. Something it shouldn’t be doing. I might be VP, but I’m still bound by the promise we’d all be hands-off, and in my role I should be the one championing that instruction and making sure others toe the line. But I can’t help wondering whether her woman bits still work. Then, to get my mind to matters higher than my crotch, I correct her.
“Wheels.” I laugh. “You’ve got a club name now, and I reckon it’s going to stick.”
“That’s sick,” she spits out, and her smile fades. “I’m a person, not this bloody chair I’m stuck in.”
I shake my head, knowing the boys too well. “Take it as a compliment, woman. A club name is a sign of acceptance in our world.”
Her deep indrawn breath advises me she still doesn’t like it. “Some fucking compliment,” she adds, half under her breath so I only just catch it. The thought that there’s still some spirit there in her broken body causes the corners of my mouth to turn up.
We arrive at the bloc I’d gotten prepared for them—they’ll have it to themselves as it’s used for officer accommodation when we have visiting chapters. Marsh rushes ahead and dropping the bags for a moment extracts a key from his pocket and unlocks the main door. It’s a two-room suite, both with adjacent bathrooms and a small living room in the middle. It would have been one of the most expensive in the old days, but now I reckon it will do for them both. The prospect brings the luggage in and then leaves.
“I’ve put you in together, but if you want to live separate, Horse, just let me know. I wasn’t sure what you’d want.” Suddenly I realise I don’t like the fact he’s going to be staying so close to her and wonder what exactly the relationship is between them.
“No, man, I’m happy with this for now. I’d like to keep Sophie company for the moment at least. That okay with you, Soph?” He would like the arrangement, wouldn’t he? But then it comes back to me how he’s lost his wife. Fuck, I should have more compassion. My face starts to relax as I remember Horse is probably the one man I could trust to keep his hands off of her. Probably. He’s still human after all.
She’s looking into the suite, noticing the two bedroom doors are open, and that there’s the basic set up of a bed, closet, and drawers for clothes and shit inside. I don’t have to wait long for her reply. “Yeah, this will suit me fine. Thank you.” Her voice sounds a little lost now, a reminder that staying in a biker club is something she hadn’t expected.
But I can’t resist. “You’re welcome, Wheels.” I grin at the glare she tosses my way as she quickly turns her head around. Ignoring her, I continue, “There’s food in the kitchen back at the clubhouse―just help yourselves. Sometimes the ol’ ladies cook for everyone. If you’re handy in the kitchen, you might want to help out, but there’s no pressure there.”
“Thanks, Wraith.”
I nod at Horse. “Okay, I’ll leave you to get settled. Don’t forget that beer, Horse.” I want to hang around, start to get to know her better, but try as I can, I can’t think of any excuse to linger. I make a mental note to question Horse about her later when he comes down to the bar. So with nothing else for it, I leave them to get settled.
Striding back to the bar, I shake my head, trying to rid it of inappropriate thoughts of the woman in the wheelchair, replacing them instead by deliberating how the fuck she’s going to fit in with our lifestyle. Not for the first time I worry whether she’ll be able to cope. The sweet butts will probably give her hell, and knowing my brothers, they’ll be flirting with her even if they remember the boundaries Drummer has set. I curse Horse for not preparing her better; she doesn’t have a clue what to expect.
Nearing the clubhouse and despite my best intentions, my thoughts sink lower once more. When I was pushing her wheelchair? Well, it gave me a glimpse of her cleavage, and the memory of the sight now has me sporting a hard-on. As I wonder whether her breasts were natural or enhanced, again I find myself considering just how much her disability affects her in that department.
After taking the necessary moment to adjust myself before going inside, I find Marsh is already back behind the bar, and as soon as he sees me has a beer ready and waiting. I sense he wants the patch as soon as possible, anxious as he is to please his VP or prez at every turn.
I take the beer, throw him a scowl as though he took too long to serve me, and turn to my brother, who’s come up alongside. “Good one, Viper. Wheels! She hates it by the way.”
As he laughs, I get a fist to my arm from another brother. “Got her settled?”
“Yeah, Peg. Well, I took them up there. Horse will see she’s got what she needs. It’s his responsibility, isn’t it?”
“He tapping that?”
I shake my head, hoping it’s not just wishful thinking, but there was no sign of them being particularly intimate. “I doubt it. Just doing his good deed, I reckon. Where’s Drum?” I change the subject, not wanting to torture myself wondering just what the English couple might be getting up to in the suite.
Peg gives a hearty laugh. “Gone off with Pussy.”
Well, that will be the last we’ll see of him tonight, but if any brother walks past his room, doubtful the last they’ll hear. Pussy’s quite a screamer, and Drum certainly knows how to make her screech.
I shoot the shit for a while and can hardly suppress my sigh of relief when it’s only a few minutes before Horse joins us. Hank and Marsh fall over themselves to get our visitor a drink, and it’s not long before he’s got a crowd around him, all pressing him for information about the woman he’s brought to seek sanctuary in our clubhouse. It seems I’m not the only one to be intrigued by her.
“What’s her story?” Peg doesn’t give him much time even to sip his drink before he starts his interrogation, which isn’t at all surprising if you think about it. “She ever gonna walk again? That wheelchair is a bit basic. It’s not even motorised.”
Horse swigs his beer―he looks like he needs it―then turns to Peg, but his voice is loud enough so we can all hear. “You see that video?” As the murmurs of confirmation come to him, he continues, “Well she’s lost her left leg below the knee, and her right one is pretty busted up. She’s got crutches, and I gather she’s supposed to try t
o use them, but honestly? I think she’s given up. That wheelchair is just a simple model as it’s only meant to be temporary. She got minimal compensation as far as I can work out, as they didn’t find the bastard who did that to her.”
Peg’s frowning. “She’s got a prosthesis?”
“Yeah.”
“She’s got a snatch? That’s all I care.”
“Tongue!” I swing around snarling, curling my fingers into my palms to stop myself from hitting him. “She’s off fuckin’ limits. And that means to you and your namesake too! And that goes for the rest of you fuckers!” I’m incensed at the thought of any of my brothers touching her. Well, we’re all under instructions from Drummer, aren’t we? There’s a general murmur of discontent, but they all knew the score. I have some sympathy—it had been easier to agree to be hands-off before we saw what we were dealing with.
“Hey, Horse! Been a long time, fucker!” The new voice puts a frown on my face, being one I’m not particularly pleased to hear. My fingers curl into my hands as I turn, then, before Buster can get into it with Horse, I grab hold of his arm and lead him outside.
My hands have formed fists again and I’m itching to use them. “You fuckin’ missed church. Again!” I don’t like this motherfucker and I’m done pretending.
“What the fuck? Church was Friday. It’s Tuesday, you been sampling the product or something?” Buster sneers out, showing no respect for his VP.
This time I do let a punch fly. To accuse me of that when he knows my own sister died from an overdose is a step too far. As he stumbles backwards, I yell at him, “Check your phone, fucker. You’ve got no fuckin’ excuse. You missed a text from Drummer. It was an emergency church today!”
Any other man might have pulled his phone out and checked. Buster doesn’t, and the smirk he can’t quite keep from his face shows me the message had been received, understood, and ignored. Christ, my dislike is turning to outright hatred, even though he’s one of my brothers. Something about him just rubs me up the wrong way. Instead of making any apology, he starts to draw back his arm. Oh no, you’re not going there, are you? I flex my muscles. Bring it on. Before he can prepare himself, I hit him hard in the stomach.
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