Breaking Spade (Dead Presidents MC Book 6)

by Harley Stone

  “Carly doesn’t know the fuckin’ meaning of friendship. She said we were friends, but she lied. Then she left. Friends don’t do that shit.”

  “Dude, friends don’t ask each other out, either. You stepped over the line and scared her. She didn’t want to hurt you, but her ex had just died, and she wasn’t ready for a relationship. You should have waited, man. Hell, I bet if you would have contacted her and asked her out again when you got to town, instead of giving her kid a creepy-ass note, she would have gone out with you.”

  I had no clue what was going on, but either Wasp was making this stuff up as he went, or Carly had told him a lot more about her past than she’d told me. That smarted a little, but now wasn’t the time to worry about my hurt feelings at being left out of the loop.

  The door eased open and Wasp crept forward, his hands in the air like he was surrendering. He left the door open behind him and I could see two men in the hallway. One was a big black guy I recognized immediately from the news. Havoc’s face had been plastered all over the papers when he’d put Mayor Kinlan’s son in the hospital for raping some girl. Standing well over six feet tall, with muscles on top of muscles, he looked entirely too large and intimidating for my narrow hallway.

  On Havoc’s left, stood the most attractive man I’d ever laid eyes on. He looked like a young Antonio Banderas, but with muscles, tattoos, and facial hair. Okay, he looked nothing like the actor, but he did have that Latino sex appeal that made me want to curl up at his feet and be the Puss to his Boots. Like Wasp and Havoc, he wore a black leather vest over a short-sleeved T-shirt with worn blue jeans. The patch on his vest introduced him as “Spade.” Tribal tattoos covered both of his muscular, light-brown forearms, his eyes were dark and mysterious, and his lips were framed in a well-kept mustache and beard. It was his expression that did me in, though, somehow both protective and lethal as his gaze locked on mine.

  With nothing but a look, Spade promised me I’d be okay. Every inch of my body heard him loud and clear. As my heart rate and breathing calmed, I held his gaze, ready to move the moment he told me to.

  Wasp was still busy flinging nonsense at Nate. “Yeah, man. For sure. I mean, you love her so much you drove all the way here to tell her. Chicks dig that romantic shit. She’ll eat it right up,”

  Nate’s grip on me loosened.

  Spade gave a slight nod.

  I eased forward, shifting my stance.

  “Put down the gun, Nate. Let me help you,” Wasp said.

  Spade beckoned me forward, reaching out a hand. He looked like salvation wrapped in sin, and I was more than happy to escape the crazy scenario behind me. I lunged.

  “Wait,” Nate said.

  I was already flying through the air. A flicker of movement came from Wasp’s side as Spade grabbed me midair and threw me to the ground, covering my body with his. All oxygen left my lungs with an oomph.

  Two shots were fired.

  Someone screamed. Probably me. I waited for the pain of Nate’s bullet to hit, but felt nothing other than the welcome pressure of Spade’s body. Tucked into the safety he provided, I whispered, “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah. So are you. I got you, babe.” His warm breath tickled my cheek as his dark, deep, slightly accented voice made me all too aware of the length of him growing against my stomach. Despite the seriousness of the situation, Spade was getting hard. That knowledge, coupled with the masculine scent of leather and sandalwood, and the fact that he’d literally risked his life to keep me safe, heated my blood and made all my girly parts tingle.

  “That’s right, motherfucker, we are not friends,” Wasp growled. “You hurt Carly. You took away two people she loved, and you scared the shit out of her. I promise you, she will never know that kind of fear again. Trent will never have another nightmare, because this ends today.”

  Nate’s response was garbled.

  Spade lifted himself off me and stood, offering me his hand. As he hefted me to my feet, I took in the scene. Nate was bleeding out on the carpet at the foot of my bed with two gunshot wounds in his chest.

  “He didn’t shoot,” I observed aloud.

  Wasp nodded. “He tried. I’m faster.”

  “But we want him to shoot.”

  Wasp’s eyebrows shot up as his gaze met mine. “That crazy motherfucker should have never even gotten his hands on a gun. Now he’ll never shoot anyone again.”

  I shook my head. My mind was spinning, but I couldn’t seem to get the right words out.

  Spade squeezed my hand, drawing my attention to the fact that we were still connected. “What do you mean, Jessica?”

  Sirens screamed in the background, closing in on us. We didn’t have much time. “The cops. You should fire off a shot with his gun. Erase any doubt that we were in danger. Make it look like he shot first. Or at the same time.”

  Wasp’s eyes widened.

  “Smart thinking,” Spade said, squeezing my hand again.

  Havoc grabbed a shirt off the top of my dresser and wrapped it around his right hand.

  “You have to use his hand to shoot for the residue…”

  Havoc cracked a smile at me. “Yeah, I’m not new to this shit. I know what I need to do. Spade, take Jessica into the living room. Wasp and I will handle this.”

  Spade tugged me down the hall. “Come with me, beautiful.”

  Beautiful? I’d been called a lot of things in my life, but only my family ever called me beautiful. I wondered if he was just trying to keep me calm after what had happened, but the bulge in his jeans said differently. Regardless, I was distracted. A man had been shot and killed in my bedroom, and all I could think about was the way Spade’s lips puckered when he said “beautiful.”

  Then the third shot fired, bringing me back to reality.

  Spade

  AS SOON AS her bedroom door opened, Jessica drew my attention. Wearing a fitted blazer, slacks, dark-framed glasses, high heels, and with her hair pulled up into a business bun, she checked off all the boxes of every sexy nerd fantasy I’d ever had. She looked like the kind of woman who’d fit in well in the boardroom or my bedroom, and just the first eyeful of her provided me with enough spank bank to last months.

  Then I saw the gun pressed against her side.

  Call me old-fashioned, or chauvinistic, or whatever, but nothing made my blood boil like seeing a woman in danger. Especially when a man was the cause. Getting her out of the line of fire became my priority. Watching her absorb and follow my cues told me she was smart and observant. Most broads would lose their shit at the sight of some crazy motherfucker with a gun, but she was cool as a cucumber as she inched toward the door, careful not to draw his attention until she made the lunge for freedom.

  Grabbing Jessica, I took her to the floor and shielded her with my body, feeling every dip and curve of her full-figured body beneath me. She smelled like peaches, and I wanted to take a big ole’ bite of her. My cock grew so hard it chaffed against my jeans. She had to feel it poking her in the stomach, but she stayed still.

  When the proverbial smoke had settled, Jessica’s first reaction was to make sure I was okay. Working as a bouncer, I was exposed to plenty of narcissistic, needy women. Having one show genuine concern for my wellbeing threw me for a loop.

  She was a fucking phenomenon.

  Jessica suggested we fire off Nate’s gun to keep the police off our backs, and I gained a whole new respect for her. My appreciation grew when she remained calm after the cops arrived and advised us to head down to the station so they could officially take our statements. Link, our club’s president, his wife, Emily (a ball-busting attorney), and Carly showed up to accompany us. Between bikes, a Jaguar, and a Jeep, we made up one hell of an eclectic caravan.

  Since I played such a small part in the altercation, Seattle’s finest only questioned me long enough to make sure they couldn’t punch any holes in my story before releasing me. I headed out into the lobby, where I found Carly pacing in front of the police station doors like a caged animal
.

  “What’s up, babe?” I asked as I approached. “You waiting to go back?”

  “No. Already gave my statement.” She frowned at the phone in her hand. “Shari’s watching Trent, but she has to get to work soon. Jess rode with me in Wasp’s Jeep, and I don’t want to leave her stranded here by herself. Especially not after everything she’s been through today.”

  “Shari’s watching Trent?” I asked, surprised. Shari was a club whore who had big fake titties, dressed like a tramp, and swore like a sailor. Trent was far too smart and observant to be left with someone of her… uh… qualities. God only knew what sort of shit she’d teach the kid. Carly needed to get back to her son like yesterday.

  She nodded, looking a little green around the gills.

  “Go,” I replied. “I’ll take care of your girl. Does she have somewhere to go?” The idea of getting a little more time with Jessica had potential, but there was no way I’d take her back to her apartment with a broken door and the memories of what had happened there. Especially since I knew Carly and Trent would be staying with Wasp for the foreseeable future.

  “She has parents up north, but I don’t know if she’ll want to stay with them. The traffic would make her morning commute hell.”

  I nodded, understanding all too well the hardship of Seattle traffic. “I’ll check with Link and see if we can put her up at the station.” Since our headquarters was only blocks from Carly and Jessica’s apartment, it would be more convenient for her.

  Carly’s face lit up as she rushed forward to give me a hug. “Thank you! You’re the best, Spade. I’ll text her and let her know you’re handling everything.”

  “Get out of here. I like Trent. I don’t want to see him get kicked out of preschool for smokin’ and swearin’,” I said, pushing Carly toward the door.

  “Oh, God.” She hit the doors running.

  With no idea how long I’d be waiting, I took a seat and pulled out my phone to check in with Link. He and Emily were in with Wasp and Havoc, making sure they didn’t answer anything incriminating. He replied, telling me that Jessica was welcome to stay and to let Eagle know which of the empty rooms she’d take.

  Planning to stash Jessica in the room across the hall from mine, I texted Eagle. Then I twiddled my thumbs, waiting for a response and wondering what else I should do. It bugged me that Nate had made such short work of Jessica’s apartment door. In fact, her building’s complete lack of security pissed me off. Using my phone to search the internet, I found her building manager’s contact information and made a call.

  Matt Hempernick answered on the fourth ring. After listening as I explained the situation, he replied, “I’m aware of what happened. Procedure has to be followed, but I’m sure we’ll repair the door. What did you say your relationship is to Ms. Munroe?”

  “I’m a friend, and that door is beyond repair. It, and the entire frame, need to be pulled off and replaced with a more secure solution.”

  “I’m not authorized to speak with anyone other than the tenant about her apartment.” He was trying to play the privacy card and I wasn’t about to let him get away with that shit.

  “I’m not talking about the apartment. I’m talking about the door. It’s a piece of shit and you can’t repair it. The frame’s shot, too.”

  “Although I’m sure you’re a certified expert on doors, we do have a procedure to follow and our maintenance man will evaluate it.”

  Condescending little bastard.

  Maintenance people were rarely licensed and known for cutting corners and doing shit jobs. “As a matter of fact, I am an expert on doors. I’m licensed and bonded and I’m trying to help you and my friend out by telling you that door is not repairable.” And I was losing patience.

  Hempernick snorted. “Thank you for your concern. I’ll take it under advisement.” His tone made it clear he’d do nothing of the sort. The son-of-a-bitch was dismissing me.

  Letting my anger seep into my voice, I tried again. “You’re not listening. That door is a piece of shit, and if you don’t mount an up-to-code replacement, I’m going to shove every splinter of the broken one up your ass. You feel me?”

  “You’re not on the lease,” he reiterated, still trying to pull that bullshit card. “I don’t know who you think you are, and why you believe this is any of your business.”

  He clearly didn’t value his life.

  “I’m a concerned citizen who won’t sit idly by and let a cheap-ass slumlord take advantage of a single woman. I’m also an Army veteran, a member of the Dead Presidents Motorcycle Club, and a licensed contractor who knows how to call the state and report a violation of a tenant’s fucking right to a safe rental in good repair. That’s who the fuck I am, and I’m making this my business. Either mount a new fucking door, or I’ll use the old one to mount you. You understand, Matt?”

  “I’ll talk to the owner and see what he’s willing to do.”

  “You do that.” I said before ending the call.

  When I looked up, half of the cops in the room were watching me. I hoped Matt chose to do the right thing, because if I ended up having to kill that motherfucker, the word ‘premediated’ was sure to come up.

  My phone dinged with an incoming text from my father and I swore under my breath as I opened it.

  Dad: You planning on coming back? Breaks aren’t supposed to be all day.

  He made it sound like I was slacking, like I did this shit all the time or something. My father didn’t understand my involvement with the club, but as long as it didn’t distract me from work or family obligations, he held his tongue. I couldn’t tell him that I’d left work for club business without getting an earful about my responsibilities. But I also didn’t like to lie to him. It took me a few minutes to come up with a truthful reply that would explain my absence—not make me sound like I was shirking my duties—and not worry him.

  Me: Sorry. I meant to message you. I witnessed a shooting and the cops needed me to come down to the station so they could question me. I don’t think I’ll be back today.

  He didn’t respond, probably irritated but accepting that I couldn’t do shit about the situation. Spurred to take action and keep myself out of trouble with my other boss, I called Flint, the manager of the Copper Penny Bar and Grill. He’d already heard about the situation.

  “I’ll call in Stocks,” Flint said. “He’s been sniffing around lately. That man is bored out of his mind and lookin’ for somethin’ to do.”

  Stocks was the newest patched member on our roster. He was a good man who’d lost his leg in service to our country and had been shot in service to our club. “Thanks. Tell him I owe him one.”

  Flint disconnected. I pocketed my phone and rubbed the tension out of the back of my neck. Between the two jobs, the club, and my family, I spent most of my time in a state of wound-up exhaustion. I needed a vacation. Maybe just a weekend on a beach with a babe under my arm. More specifically, a certain babe, stripped of her power suit, hair released from its bun, glasses still on…

  Before I could think too much on the fantasy, Jessica emerged from the back. As she approached, she flashed me a sweet, shy smile that did a hell of a lot more to unwind my tension than my neck rub had. “Carly messaged me and said you’d be giving me a ride? If it’s not too much trouble, that is. I don’t want to be a bother. You guys have already done so much to help me. Seriously, I don’t know what I would have done had you not shown up today, Spade. This is all so crazy. I still can’t believe how easily that psycho busted down my door. Who does that? And then you came along and…I… yeah.” Her cheeks reddened. “Sorry. I’ll shut up now.”

  The asshole with the gun and the police hadn’t thrown her off, but I made her nervous enough to ramble. That was strangely hot. As she spoke, my gaze took in the way her pretty pink lips wrapped around my name like it was a lollipop, making me fantasize about shoving my cock into her mouth. I wasn’t usually such a savage, but this woman kept checking off my boxes and driving me out of my mind
. “It was our pleasure, Jess. And I can’t think of a damn thing I’d rather do more than give a beautiful woman a ride.”

  Yeah, that line was loaded with innuendo, but I meant every ounce of it and wasn’t the least bit sorry.

  “Thanks. My parents live in Renton. I should probably go there, but it’s quite the drive. Especially in traffic. You know what? I can call for an Uber. You don’t need to mess around with this nonsense.”

  There were too many eyes and ears on us, and I needed to say shit to her the cops had no business overhearing. I ushered her outside and down the steps of the cop shop to stand in front of my bike. “You helped us today, and you’re Carly’s friend, which makes you a friend of the club. We take care of our friends. We can offer you a room at the fire station we use as our headquarters. It’s not much, but it’s only a few blocks from your apartment and you better believe that nobody will bust down your goddamn door. You’ll be safe with us. Link says you can stay as long as you want.”

  She seemed to consider my words for a moment. “Thank you.”

  I shrugged off her appreciation. “It’s nothing. I’ll sleep better knowing you’re protected.” Actually, with her across the hall, I’d be too damn hard to sleep. Hopefully I could talk her into my bed, and we could both get some shuteye. After we got in a good work out, of course. That made me sound like an opportunistic bastard, but I couldn’t care less. I wanted to get to know Jessica’s mind and her body.

  As she stared at me, her brow furrowed, and her eyes flooded with questions.

  “What are you looking at me like that for?” I asked.

  “I’ve heard about the Dead Presidents on the news and from Carly. She says you guys are a club, a brotherhood, and not a gang, and that you’ve always treated her right. But I never would have thought bikers who looked so rough and tough would be so… kind. I’m embarrassed to admit my surprise.”

  “You stereotyped us?” I asked, pretending to be shocked. Most people couldn’t see past our beards, tats, cuts, and bikes to get to know us. Some treated us like we were the scum of the earth, unable to hold down a job. Because I was Mexican, I also fought assumptions that I was here illegally and should be deported. Nobody cared about the shit my parents had to go through to prove they weren’t terrorists and earn their citizenship to start a business and a family without worrying about getting robbed and shot up by one cartel or another.