Mountain Misfits MC: Complete Box Set

by Voss, Deja

  “I think it’s time for some beers,” Clutch cheers. “To the new president.”

  * * *

  Esther:

  I don’t know how I thought I would feel, setting foot into the clubhouse for the first time after our extended honeymoon. As much as I’ve loved living in our disjointed reality for the last month, far enough away that I could focus on our relationship and our relationship only, with a whole lot of practice baby-making, and days filled with fun and exploration of new places, I knew this day was going to come, that we’d have to come back to our lives and face whatever wreckage we left behind. I look around the big barroom, and I feel like all the air is being pressed out of me. I know the guys got rid of all my dad’s stuff, but everywhere I look, I still see little memories of him.

  All the experiences of the club as I know it, all the pictures, all the deer heads mounted on the walls, everything in this building just screams him. He will forever haunt this place. I swear I can still see him sitting there at a barstool out of the corner of my eye, puffing on a fat cigar, making some crude joke to the bartender about her tits.

  “Are you ok, babe?” Brooks asks me as I cling to his hand, hovering in the doorway.

  “It feels weird,” I whisper. “It’s so sad here. Do you care if I go outside for a little bit? I don’t want to take away from your big day with my feelings.” I don’t. I want to be able to uplift him, celebrate with him, celebrate the future of our club and our men, and look forward to all the exciting things that are about to come. I want to support my husband like a good wife, like he always supports me. Instead, I feel like I’m having an anxiety attack. I feel like the walls of this giant mansion are closing in around me. It’s hard to breathe, my chest tightens, and I feel like I’m suddenly very warm.

  “Come on,” he says, wrapping his arm around my waist. “Let’s go outside.”

  “Brooks!” Gavin yells from behind the bar, holding up a glass of moonshine. “Get over here!”

  “I’ll be back,” he says, waving to him. God, he’s such a good man.

  We walk out into the cool mountain air, the smell of smoke still lingering as the fire burns down to ashes. I shield my eyes from the sun as we sit at the picnic table.

  “I don’t want to feel like this,” I tell him, as tears start to pour from my eyes. “I’m happy for you. I’m happy for us. I want to support you, Brooks.”

  “Esther, you do support me. You support me in ways that you don’t even know, and you’re allowed to feel however you want right now. We can’t hide forever, but if you’re not ready to face this place, you don’t have to. Let me take you home. Let me take care of you.”

  “No,” I say. “This isn’t about me. You’re right. We can’t hide forever. There’s no reason to hide at all. These are our people, and they don’t want to be sad anymore. They definitely don’t want us to be sad. The only way I’m going to get over the past is to make damn sure that we have the best possible future. Together. Me and you, Brooks. Now, Mr. President, you need to go inside and celebrate with your men. I’m going to call up the dirty birdies and the old ladies and we are going to throw a good old-fashioned Mountain Misfits celebration.”

  “You sure?” he asks, grinning like a little kid who just got away with something.

  “Go,” I say, smiling up at him.

  “I need to talk to you about the clubhouse. I know the president usually lives here, but…”

  “There’s nothing in the world that would make me move into this place,” I say. “That rule is going to have to go.” I love our home. I love the way it feels, the way it smells, I love how cozy it is. There is no way in hell I will ever move out of that house on my own accord.

  “Oh thank God,” he says.

  “I actually have another idea for the mansion,” I say. “A business proposition, if you will. But I’m going to save that for the next meeting. That is, if I’m still allowed.”

  “You will always have a place at my table, Esther. That will never change.”

  He kisses me on the lips with his warm mouth, every time still feeling like the first time, taking my breath away.

  “You better stop that,” I laugh, “or you are going to have to take me home.”

  “Oh, I will,” he says. “We have a lot of rooms we’re going to have to christen as newlyweds, you know.”

  “As president and first lady,” I laugh.

  “That too.” He doesn’t say anything else, and I realize that maybe he needs to talk. This new position of power has just been thrust upon him, and nobody really considered how he might feel about it.

  “You don’t want it, do you?” I ask him.

  “Esther, I do want it. I just wish my dad were still around to help me. I wish he was still here to guide me and teach me everything he knew about running the club. He was such a good man.” I wrap my arms around him and hug him tight, pressing my cheek to that solid chest of his.

  “He would be so proud, Brooks. You avenged his death. And you saved me and the rest of us from my father. He did teach you everything you need to know about running this club. He taught you to be fair. He taught you to be kind. He taught you to do the right thing and be fearless. He taught you loyalty. What else do you need to know?”

  “Are you guys coming back in here or what?” Clutch shouts from the doorway. “Come on! We missed you assholes.”

  I kiss him softly and shoo him off. “I’m gonna make some phone calls. Go have fun with your friends.” He lingers a second, squeezing my hand, smiling at me. “Go!” I say. I sit back down on the picnic table bench, watching the ashes smolder, and breathe in the mountain air. Everything has changed, everything is still changing, but the reality is, I’ve got everything I’ve ever needed, and even more so, I’ve got everything I ever wanted. There’s no reason to dwell on the way I got here, I can only move forward.

  I pull out my phone and set up a group text. It’s time to gather the masses. We’re going to throw down tonight. My husband deserves a celebration, and my men need one.

  Party on the hill. I send to the girls. Not just my friends, Olive and Sloan, but all my girls: My bartenders. My dirty birdies. The wives who often times go forgotten. Not Morgan, but I’m sure I’ll forgive her one of these days. Brooks might have a band of wild Misfits to wrangle, but I have an even more important job. One that I’ve let slip lately. I need to be the one who empowers the amazing women in our lives. To show them how important they are to the club.

  “How’d you get here so fast?” I ask Olive as she comes walking up the driveway.

  “You told me I could move into your trailer, right? Or was that pot brownie day and I was just imagining things?”

  “Yes!” I squeal. Knowing that one of my best friends in the whole world is going to be living basically next door to me is just the icing on the cake of this awesome day. “I do have one question though, totally random, but it’s kind of been bugging me. My dad tried to tell me that Morgan was living with you after she left Salazar’s?”

  “Oh my God,” she says, rolling her eyes. “I let her stay at my place one night because her apartment complex was being fumigated for cockroaches. After about a week I realized I was going to have to call a guy to come spray for her to get rid of her. Why do you think I wanted to move up here?”

  “I knew you wouldn’t be that awful.”

  “I missed you, girl,” she says, hugging me tight. “Now let’s go get stupid.”

  * * *

  Brooks:

  “You look gorgeous, babe,” I tell her as she walks down the steps in her black jumpsuit. Her red hair is curled and pulled off to the side, and her make-up is dark and sexy. The way the halter top crisscrosses over her breasts makes me want to bury my face in them. But that’s for later. Today is the grand opening of her newest business endeavor, the Mountain Misfits’ newest business endeavor, and it’s my job as loyal husband to support her and make sure everything goes as smoothly as possible. And also keep anyone from touching her, looking
at her, or thinking about her inappropriately. That might prove to be a challenge, but I’m up for it.

  “Relax,” she says, noticing my eyes on her cleavage. She slips on a black sequin jacket and buttons it up to her neck. She still looks stunning, but I breathe a little sigh of relief. I’m so proud of her. She’s been busting her ass for the last couple months, researching a business plan, reaching out to our alliances, and helping the guys completely gut the entire mansion to turn it into a place where we can do business.

  A place where we can keep working with the clientele she has spent most of her adult life catering to, without her having to ever cater to them ever again. At least not personally.

  Obviously when we got together, she got out of the sex work game. Ever the entrepreneur, though, she realized we as a club would be leaving money and big connections on the table by completely cutting ties with those networks she worked so hard and sacrificed so much of herself to build.

  And that’s when she figured out the perfect use for the big old garish mansion that her old man built all those years ago. Most days, it’s still our Mountain Misfit hangout. It’s still our clubhouse and home base bar. But on the weekends and special occasions, it’ll be the Gingerbread Ranch. High-end strippers, high-class call girls, none of which will be my wife.

  Sure, she’s been really hands-on in the hiring and training process, but this is her passion project. She wants a safe place for sex workers. She has nothing but love for women who chose to be in the industry, and she doesn’t want any of them to have to go through the things she went through. By hand selecting her employees, training each one of them in the rules and objectives of the MC, she made sure that her life’s work wasn’t for nothing. We have the space and the muscle, and the guys in the club sure as hell don’t mind being surrounded by hot strippers and hookers.

  “You ready, Esther?” I ask as she stands in front of the mirror in the living room, dabbing on some bright red lipstick.

  “I’m nervous,” she says. “It’s gonna be weird seeing all these people again who have… uhhh… not seen me at my best.” She made sure to invite all of her former clients to the grand opening, a brave move on her behalf, but definitely one that will pay off in the long run. Once these guys see this place, they’ll have no problem continuing to do business with the club.

  “Listen,” I say, kissing her on the top of her head, “you’re an entrepreneur now. You’re one of them.”

  She laughs that sweet laugh of hers that bounces off the walls of our house every day and makes this place feel like home to me. “I’ll never be one of them, Brooks. You remember Salazar and his wife, don’t you?”

  “Straight-up weirdos, and it really takes a lot to make me uncomfortable. You just don’t worry. It’s not like everyone up on this mountain has seen me at my best, you know. I’ve had my share of dirty birdie horror stories.”

  “Aw, I know, sweetie,” she teases, running her fingers through my hair. “You were a straight-up man whore. And now you’re all mine.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment. Now let’s get going. We don’t want to be late.”

  I can’t help but slap her perfect ass as we walk out the door, and she punches me in the shoulder. Being married to her is fun. It’s light. It’s easy. It’s the way things were supposed to be. I straddle my bike and she hops on the back and we drive down the road to the new and improved clubhouse, The Gingerbread Ranch.

  “I guess I should stand by the door and greet people,” she says as we pull up. The guys have their motorcycles lined up out front, and everyone is standing around in the parking lot wearing their leather cuts, looking menacing as hell. “That’ll definitely work,” she says. “You boys never let me down.”

  “Just so you know, I’m going to be glued to your hip tonight,” I tell her.

  “I wouldn’t expect anything less, husband.”

  The sun is starting to set, and soon the parking lot is filling up with expensive cars. Men in business suits wearing watches that cost as much as my bike make their way to the door. Some of our alliances show up on their bikes too, in support. Showing them a good time is almost as important as taking care of our high-end clients. You never know when you’re going to need a hand in this gang life.

  Esther greets them all casually but politely, welcoming them to her new place and ushering them in without getting too close.

  “How you holding up?” I ask her.

  “It’s not as bad as I thought it was going to be. I’m a different person now. So much has changed. It’s all your fault,” she laughs.

  “Oh Lord,” I mutter into my hand when I see the odd couple roll up. “Weirdo alert.”

  “Mrs. Salazar,” Esther grins, hugging her, kissing her on the cheek. “I’m so glad you two could make it.”

  “Esther, we wouldn’t miss it for the world. We’re so proud of you. You were always such a smart girl. You look beautiful. And your boyfriend? I don’t think you formally introduced us.”

  “He’s my husband now, actually,” she says, holding up her ring.

  “I knew it. I called it. I’m so happy for you two.”

  “Congratulations, man,” Joe says, patting me on the shoulder. “If you’re ever up for a little swap-a-roo…”

  “No,” I say, pulling his arm off of me.

  “Absolutely no,” Esther says. “No offense to either of you, obviously.”

  “None taken,” Mrs. Salazar says to her. “I know that our situation or proclivities might look strange from the outside, but at my age, I’ve come to find that’s not what matters when it comes to marriage. Love isn’t a black and white thing. Marriage is about finding someone who is on the same page as you are, no matter what that page is. It’s not about finding someone who is already perfect, it’s about finding the perfections in someone that you love and bringing them out into the open.”

  “That’s really sweet,” Esther says.

  It’s sweet, but it’s true. I’m not a perfect man, I don’t claim to be, but when I’m with Esther, I am a better man. She’s flawless in my eyes, even if she doesn’t think so, and I’m going to spend the rest of my life supporting her and making her see what an amazing woman she is, even on the days where she can’t stand herself.

  “I wish you two all the luck in the world, but I don’t think you’ll need it. You have everything you need right here. I knew it the day I first saw you two together. Where should I send your wedding present?” Mrs. Salazar asks.

  “Actually,” I say to her. “We haven’t had a formal wedding yet, but when we do, I’ll make sure that you’re on the guest list.” Esther looks at me like she’s slightly amused. She ushers the couple inside.

  “That’s very big of you,” she says to me.

  I wrap my arms around her from behind, holding her close to me.

  “I respect your past, Esther. I don’t like that it ripped you away from me. I don’t like that it ever caused you pain. In my eyes, you’re still the same girl I fell in love with back when we were kids; only now, I will do whatever it takes to make sure I never have to spend a day without you again. I don’t ever want you to feel sad again.”

  “The only reason I ever felt bad was because I thought I lost you. I thought you could never accept me for who I had become.”

  “I love who you’ve become, Esther,” I assure her, kissing her on the top of her head. “Now, let’s get inside and see how all your hard work paid off.”

  “You just want to see the strippers,” she teases.

  “Woman, I will walk around blindfolded all night if it makes you feel any better.”

  “While I do like the sound of that, maybe we should save the blindfold for later.” She takes me by the hand and we walk into the dimly lit room, the place completely transformed, every trace of her father and his reign of terror gone.

  The only way I can describe how I feel is complete fulfillment. My club is back on top. My woman is brilliant, beautiful, and all mine. And as for me, I’m exactly wh
ere I belong.

  THE END

  Chapter 1

  Olive:

  These last sixty seconds feel like the longest of my life. They always do. I swear if I have to wear these stiletto boots for much longer, I’m going to have to have my feet amputated.

  The things we go through to make our asses look better. I’ve been working at the Bucktail Saloon long enough to know that most of our customers are ass men, though. I’ve got the boob department covered too, just in case, my tight leather halter top holding everything perfectly in place. I’m one wrong move away from a major wardrobe malfunction, but it’s not the worst thing that could happen. My tip jar would probably benefit from an unexpected nipple slip.

  The clock rolls over to 2:00 a.m. I’m about to make a lot of people really miserable. If you’re too stupid to not have that girl who’s way too hot for you out in the parking lot before the lights come on, I don’t know what to tell you. That’s rookie shit.

  Hell, I guess if she still likes you when she sees you under the unflattering fluorescent glow, you probably found yourself a keeper.

  Everyone groans when I turn off the jukebox and flip the light switch.

  “Finish ’em up or I’m dumping them!” I shout to no one and everyone. Buzzy, a regular at the bar, just stares at me defiantly, and I’m not looking forward to our usual back-and-forth about why I’m not serving him another beer after hours.

  It’s a Monday night and I don’t know why everyone is in the mood to get wasted, but usually I’m long gone by now, back home, curled up on the couch in my sweatpants with a cup of tea and the remote, or a joint and my battery-operated buddy if I’m feeling festive. It’s a glamorous life I lead, but for once, I feel pretty darn competent and content with my decision-making.