Breaking Spade (Dead Presidents MC Book 6)

by Harley Stone

  “But that’s not appropriate talk for the dinner table,” Carly added.

  “Why not?” Trent asked. “I’m not wrong, Mom.”

  Carly sighed. “Just once, I’d like to have the right answer for him.”

  Carly had been abandoned as a baby and had grown up in the foster system, which didn’t exactly give her a strong child-rearing foundation. She loved Trent and wanted to raise him right, but she questioned her instincts and reactions far more than she ran with them. As far as I was concerned, she was doing an excellent job and needed to relax and stop being so hard on herself.

  “You have the important answers,” I assured her.

  She gave me a grateful smile. “Wasp is going to watch Trent while I work tonight, by the way. I didn’t want you to have to worry about him with everything else you have going on.”

  “I’m not watching him, I’m hanging out with my little buddy,” Wasp corrected, getting her attention. “He’s a package deal and that’s part of being with you, Carly. I knew and accepted that when I signed on. It’s my privilege to keep Trent.”

  “We’re gonna watch How to Train Your Dragon and eat ice cream!” Trent added, grinning up at Wasp with unabashed adoration.

  Wasp squeezed Trent’s shoulders. “Damn right we are. I even got that hard chocolate shell stuff you like so much, buddy.”

  Carly’s eyes softened as she looked at the two of them together. I couldn’t blame her one bit. They were adorable. To me, she whispered, “I’m glad they get along so well, but I’m also dreading what Trent’ll pick up from this movie.”

  Trent had an uncanny ability to home in on questionable material and repeat it at the most inappropriate (but hilarious) times. Everyone but Carly got a kick out of his antics. She was far too concerned about him growing up to be a contributing member of society to fully appreciate his humor.

  “Have you met everyone yet, Jess?” Wasp asked.

  I glanced around the table at the unfamiliar faces and shook my head.

  Wasp started up introductions. The men all had nicknames like Stocks, Eagle, Rabbit, and such, and most of the women he also referred to as a biker’s ol’ lady. A few scantily clad women—Kim, Lacy, and Shari—didn’t have that title, and I made a mental note to ask Carly about them later. As introductions ended, Margo returned with a heaping plate of fried chicken, mashed potatoes, corn on the cob, and a slice of chocolate cake. I dug in to find that Carly was right; Margo was a fantastic cook.

  Keeping my mouth full gave me the perfect excuse to sit quietly by while everyone else discussed plans for the upcoming Independence Day celebration. I had no plans. My parents always invited me up to their house, but it was on a weekday again this year and traffic to and from would be brutal.

  “You’re welcome to join us, too, Jess,” Link said.

  “Thanks, but I have to work the next day. I’d rather just stay here, if that’s okay.”

  “Of course, it is. Just be sure to keep the place locked up.”

  “Who’s in charge of bringing up the food and beer?” Eagle asked.

  Grateful that the attention was off me, I took another bite. These were clearly close friends, and I felt like an outsider, intruding on their conversation. I wanted to take my plate up to my room, but didn’t want to appear rude or ungrateful. I gobbled down half of everything before I couldn’t take it anymore.

  Besides, Spade had promised he wouldn’t be gone long, and I wanted to freshen up before he returned.

  Standing, I collected my plate and silverware. “Thank you so much for dinner. Margo, this chicken is fantastic. I’m really tired, so I’d like to take the rest up to my room, if that’s okay?”

  “Yeah.” Link waved me off. “Make yourself at home.”

  Carly stood with me. “I have to head to work soon, or I’d offer to come hang out with you.”

  “No, it’s fine. I really am tired.” I said my goodbyes and took the rest of my dinner upstairs. Truthfully, I was saving it for Spade. He had to be hungry as well, and I wanted to make sure he had the energy for rounds two, three, and whatever else he had planned. Just thinking about it had me hurrying up the stairs and down the hall. Slipping into my room, I locked the door behind me and leaned against it.

  I hadn’t had much of an opportunity to look over my room earlier, so I took the time to check it out now. The space was sparse with a wooden dresser, a metal bed, and an apartment-sized closet. Basically a value motel room without the television or private bathroom, it wasn’t much, but it was clean and secure. Grateful for the refuge, I set my plate on the dresser and started unpacking. Since I planned to stay until I could go back to my apartment, I utilized the closet and dresser space, keeping only my toiletries packed away since it would be easier to wheel my suitcase down to the bathroom every morning than it would be to carry them all.

  I’d always been a planner, so the uncertainty of my situation made me anxious. I wondered how long it would take for my door to get fixed and my bedroom carpet to be replaced. Carly and Wasp’s relationship seemed to be advancing, and I doubted she’d be moving back in with me, which meant I’d have to start looking for a new roommate.

  Oh joy.

  My mind drifted back to my apartment. Memories of Nate brought back the feeling of having his gun pressed into my side. I could almost smell his sour breath as fear crept in.

  He’s dead. He can’t hurt me.

  The reminder did nothing to reassure me. Instead, images of Nate bleeding out attacked my mind. He died on my bedroom floor. How could I ever sleep in that room again? I’d like to move, but moving was expensive, and I had a lease that kept my rent controlled.

  But a man died in my room.

  I couldn’t stand to think about what had happened. It felt like a wound I’d have to tend to sooner or later, but if I took the bandage off now, I’d bleed out. Shaking the dark thoughts from my mind, I tried to focus on Spade. Wondering what sort of supplies he was picking up, I ran down the hall to the women’s bathroom to shower and freshen up my makeup.

  When I returned, I took another look around my room, wishing for candles or mood music or something to set the tone. No luck. I’d have to be sexy enough to make up for it. I slipped into a sheer black nightgown that came barely past my butt and twirled around. I needed a mirror to see how I looked, but didn’t want to go back to the bathroom and chance running into someone.

  With nothing left to do, I sat on the bed to try it out. It was comfortable, so I bounced, trying to imagine the kind of workout it was about to get. Knowing Spade would arrive soon, I tried to plan out my pose. Would I sit on the edge, thrusting my breasts out provocatively? I tried it, but the pose felt so unnatural it made me laugh. Maybe lie on my side with my nightgown creeping up to reveal my hip? Was that cellulite? The overhead light was awful, exposing everything in glaring detail when I preferred muted sexiness. I would have turned it off, but I didn’t want him to think I’d fallen asleep. I removed my glasses, and then remembered he liked them and immediately put them back on.

  Still no Spade.

  Wondering if he’d stopped by while I was in the shower, I put my coat back on and tiptoed across the hall to knock on his door. No answer. I tried the doorknob, but it was locked and there were no sounds coming from within.

  I went back to my room, pulled out my cell phone, and opened his contact information, wondering if I should call him. Maybe something had happened, and he needed help? Bikes were dangerous. What if someone had run him off the road and he was lying in a ditch somewhere? My thumb hovered over the dial button, but I chickened out. What would I say?

  Where are you?

  I’m all hot and bothered and waiting…

  Anything I typed would make me sound desperate, and I refused to go there. I was a strong, independent woman just trying to be more open and free with my sexuality.

  Maybe he changed his mind?

  The thought made me sad and a little self-conscious, so I pushed it away, plugged my phone into my charge
r, and selected a book from my stash. Spade might not be coming back, but at least my book boyfriends wouldn’t let me down.

  Jessica

  MY MORNING ALARM woke me. I opened my eyes to find the overhead light still on and morning light streaming in the window. A book lay open beside me on the bed. The faint smell of fried food drew my attention to the plate I’d brought up for Spade. Still positioned on top of the dresser, it hadn’t been touched.

  Unfortunately, neither had I.

  My brain scrambled to remember what all had happened yesterday. I still wasn’t ready to think about the shooting, so I grazed over those memories to focus on everything that came after. The police station, the ride on the back of Spade’s bike, him flirting with me in my apartment, a toe-curling orgasm, hot, passionate kisses and promises of more…

  And then nothing.

  He didn’t show.

  Spade didn’t seem like the type to stand a girl up, so I grabbed my phone off the charger and pulled up his number. After composing at least twenty messages, I finally settled on one and hit send.

  Me: This is Jessica. Just wanted to check in and make sure you’re okay.

  I stared at the message, hoping it sounded concerned and not desperate or upset. Keeping one eye on my phone, I removed the sexy black nightie I’d worn for him and stuffed it into the back of a dresser drawer. What had I been thinking? Shaking myself, I dressed and got ready for work. There was still no response from Spade as I headed downstairs and made my way into the dining room in search of caffeine.

  The heavenly scent of coffee and sausage greeted me first, followed immediately by the club president. Link was sitting at the table, talking to a few of the guys I’d met last night, and a couple more I didn’t recognize. “Mornin’, Jessica,” he said with a nod, his gaze dropping to the plate of last night’s leftovers in my hand. “You can just put that in the kitchen. There’s all kinds of shit in there for breakfast. Shari cooked up some eggs and sausage and put them in the warmer on the counter. The pantry’s stocked with protein bars and drinks, that kind of bullshit. It all tastes like chalk to me, but a couple of the brothers are on health kicks.”

  “Buddha’s fat ass has to watch his blood pressure,” one of the bikers said.

  “Just tryin’ to get into shape for your mom, Rabbit,” Buddha replied, patting his round belly.

  Rabbit’s eyes narrowed. “Come near my mom, and I’ll bust your head open.”

  “Aw, you sound just like her when you talk like that.”

  The guys all laughed.

  “I’m Shari,” a gorgeous blonde woman said, standing and offering me her hand. “We were introduced yesterday, but things were kinda crazy, so I don’t expect you to remember.”

  Shari was probably in her mid-thirties. She wore skinny jeans and a tight, v-neck T-shirt that dipped down to showcase the cleavage between her obviously enhanced breasts. I tried not to look, but her stiletto heels put her boobs right in my face.

  Forcing my gaze up to meet hers, I shook her hand. “Jessica.” Then I felt like an idiot. “But you already knew that.” My cheeks heated. “Sorry, I… I can’t do words until after my second cup of coffee.”

  She laughed. “I understand completely. Come on. I’ll show you around the kitchen.”

  I followed Shari past swinging double doors into an industrial kitchen that smelled like breakfast and industrial cleaner. Taking my plate, she dumped last night’s leftovers in the trash and slipped the flatware into the dishwasher. Then she walked me through the giant pantry and gave me the rundown on the two restaurant-sized refrigerators before explaining where everything was in the cupboards.

  I tried to pay attention to her words, but my curiosity finally got the best of me. “Are you someone’s ol’ lady?” I asked.

  She stared at me.

  “I’m sorry if it’s none of my business, or some sort of derogatory term, but I couldn’t help but notice that when Wasp was introducing the women last night, he referred to a lot of them as ol’ ladies, but you—”

  “No,” she interrupted me. “It’s not offensive. It’s a term of endearment that a biker gives to the woman he wants to claim… to be exclusive with. I’m no one’s ol’ lady; I’m a club whore.”

  Her tone was so matter of fact she caught me completely off guard. Feeling my eyes grow wide, I struggled to find the words to ask how she could claim such a demeaning term, but came up blank. “I think I need coffee now.”

  Taking in my expression, she barked out a laugh. “Oh, Jessica, you are a breath of fresh air around here. Don’t you dare be scandalized on my behalf. I put myself in this position, and I’m right where I want to be.” She grabbed me down a coffee cup and pointed to a condiments tray. “Cream is in the first fridge.”

  “But…” My brain wouldn’t stop spinning. Retrieving the cream, I prepared my cup as I thought over her admission. “I have so many questions.”

  She grinned. “Ask away.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Absolutely. I’d much rather you ask and get the truth than have you make judgements.”

  “Oh, I’m not judging you.” I took a sip of my coffee. “I’m just curious about how this all works.”

  “That’s easy. I have sex with the bikers of this club,” she replied.

  “All of them?” I asked.

  She laughed. “No. Only the ones who aren’t attached and who want to fuck me. I mean, I don’t force anyone. Well, that’s not entirely true. One of the guys does kind of get off on me tying him up and sitting on his face.”

  I was taking another sip of my coffee and choked on it. She poured me a glass of water and waited for me to recover.

  “So, you… sleep with the guys?”

  “Absolutely not. I fuck ’em, but I sure as hell don’t sleep in their beds. I can’t have any of them getting the wrong idea and tryin’ to claim me.”

  Nothing she said made sense. “But you said ol’ lady was a term of endearment—that it meant they were exclusive—don’t you want a relationship?”

  “Nope. Been there, done that.” She raised her left hand, showing off the diamond solitaire on her ring finger. “Have the scars to prove it.”

  This kept getting curiouser and curiouser. “You’re married?”

  “Widowed.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. Paul was a good man; couldn’t have asked for better. I got to spend fourteen years with him, and they were the best years of my life.”

  My heart went out to her. “Can I ask what happened?”

  She gave me a sad smile. “Type one diabetes. He’d had it since third grade and we did everything we could to monitor it, but it finally got him in his sleep. One morning, I woke up and he was gone.”

  “That’s awful.”

  “We were lucky.” She pulled down a plate, setting it in front of me. “That man was my everything, and I loved him with my whole heart. Most people never get to experience the kind of happiness we shared.”

  It was so tragic. “Yeah, but—”

  “We had a once-in-a-lifetime love. I know I won’t get that lucky again, which is why I’m here. Why I chose this lifestyle. I love sex, Jessica. I’ll never love anyone like I loved Paul, but that doesn’t mean I want to give up fuckin’. I tried vibrators and clit stimulators and shit, but they’re just not the same. I even checked out one of those dating apps and went to some speed dating event, but I don’t want to date. No relationship will ever come close to what I had with Paul, and I know myself. I’ll spend the whole time comparing any man to him, and none of them will measure up.”

  She’d made up her mind, and didn’t even want to try.

  “Besides, most of the men lookin’ for a casual hook up are shady as fuck, and I don’t want to be raped or murdered or someone’s side piece. I’m not a goddamn homewrecker. The Dead Presidents are good guys who respect women and I’m safe here.” Her gaze drifted toward the swinging doors and warmth flooded her expression. “They welcomed me with
open arms—and open zippers, I might add—and I enjoy taking care of them. Here, I can have all the sex I want without fear of death, dismemberment, or heartbreak.”

  Everything she said made sense, in a sad, depressing, hopeless sort of way. I couldn’t help but ache for what she’d lost. I thought of my parents who were perfect together. If something happened to my dad, I didn’t think my mom would become a club whore or anything, but she probably wouldn’t ever recover, either.

  “You can wipe that pity right off your face,” Shari said, drawing me out of my thoughts.

  I dropped my gaze. “Sorry. My heart’s just a little broken for you, and my face usually tattles on my emotions. I was unfortunately born without whatever inner witchcraft or voodoo it requires to fake my feelings.” Which, now that I thought about it, probably had a lot to do with why I hadn’t been promoted at work. I needed to work on guarding my reactions.

  “Your concern is sweet, but I have no regrets. I love my life,” she assured me, removing the cover from the warmer on the counter. “You like eggs and sausage, right?”

  At my nod, she filled my plate while I poured myself another cup of coffee. I followed her back into the dining room as Flint, the manager of the Copper Penny, sat beside Link.

  “Spade won’t be in this week,” Link told Flint, making my ears perk up.

  “Everything okay?” Flint asked.

  Link shrugged. “Seems to be. He called late last night and sounded fine. Said he’d explain everything when he calls in later today.”

  Flint nodded. “Thanks for the heads up. I’ll talk to Stocks, see if he can fill in again.”

  An unexpected stab of pain sliced through my chest. Spade wasn’t in a ditch somewhere. Something had come up and he’d be gone for a week. An annoying little voice in the back of my head pointed out that I’d be gone before he came back. I didn’t want to take his absence personally, but it felt a lot like Spade had blown me off and was now avoiding me. Hoping I was wrong, I pulled my phone out of my purse and checked for a response from him. Still nothing.

  Of course, Spade lived here, surrounded by sexy, experienced women like Shari. What would he want with me? I suddenly felt like an idiot for believing he’d come back last night.