Harm's Way: Riot MC Biloxi

by Karen Renee

  He stared at me for a long moment. “And I still think that person is you.”

  I refused to beat a dead horse.

  “But you’ve got a club with money issues and brothers who would be better at handling this shit than me. Consider one of them first.”

  His lips set in a firm line before he clipped out, “Fine. I texted Turk. His gut says he’s being watched, but we can meet them at McElroy’s for dinner before they leave.”

  Epilogue

  Tip for My Dealer

  Stephanie

  THIRTEEN MONTHS LATER...

  Two seats were open at my table. I had laid down the flop for the three players in the hand. A regular who wore his gray hair in a ponytail and guarded his cards with an elaborate custom chip stared at the cards as though willing them to change. The other two players watched him, but one fidgeted with impatience. Finally, the regular shook his head and tapped the table to signal he checked the action. The impatient man shoved his stack forward and I threw out the all-in chip. The third player sighed.

  Two men joined the table. It wasn’t until they sat down I realized it was Brute and Har. Even though we’d been living together for over a year now, a thrill shot through me every time I saw Har.

  I welcomed them and asked for Player cards, though I should have remembered they didn’t have them. For some strange reason they didn’t want their gambling tracked by big brother.

  The third player folded, and the regular glowered at the player who’d pushed all-in. “I can’t do it,” he said, and tossed his cards my way.

  I gathered them up and switched out the deck.

  When I moved the button, the regular ranted. “These chips are bad. I want a refund, Miss Stephanie. It isn’t me, and it isn’t the cards. It’s the chips this casino gave me.”

  I wondered if this old codger had lost it, but smiled. “Well, you’re welcome to take your chips to the cashier’s cage, sir.”

  He grinned at me. “I’m just messin’ with you. It’s the only fun I get to have at this table today.”

  I shook my head and dealt the next hand. Har and Brute had both paid their blinds rather than waiting on the button to pass them. The man who pushed all-in raised pre-flop and Har was the only person to call.

  The flop was a mixed bag of suits with only one face card. Har checked and his opponent bet fifty dollars. In response, Har pushed all-in. The man hesitated and after a few moments he folded.

  Har collected his chips, and it looked like he did something funny before he laid out a chip as a tip to me.

  “A tip for my dealer, in exchange for her hand,” he said with a wide smile.

  I looked down and resting on top of the chip was a rose-gold engagement ring with a huge round diamond. It was a ring unlike any I’d ever seen. When I raised my eyes to his, he smiled huge. My jaw dropped open.

  “You’re proposing to me while I’m at work? And in front of all these people?”

  He chuckled. “Yep. Cards brought us back together, baby. Not big on romance, this is as good a place as any.”

  It took all my control to hide my smile. As it was, my heart was pounding so hard, I figured everyone could hear it.

  We’d visited the beach every chance we could, and recently I suspected he had something on his mind while we were there. I’d expected him to pop the question on one of our sunset outings. Not in my wildest dreams did I expect this.

  Yet, he was right. Cards absolutely brought us back together and it took serious balls to propose in such a public venue.

  Case in point: the other men at the table had stood up as though there were a huge all-in hand playing out. That always drew a crowd. When the men from other tables saw what was really happening, I heard murmurs, which drove more men to our table. The growing attention brought my manager to my back, and he chuckled.

  “You can’t put that in your tip box, Stephanie,” he said.

  I looked over my shoulder. “I know that.”

  Brute said, “You gonna make the man wait all day? He’s on pins and needles here, Steph.”

  My eyes shot to Brute. “He’s not on pins and needles.”

  After all, I’d been wearing his property patch for the past year. My answer was a foregone conclusion.

  I looked at Har. “I don’t even get a bended knee. What’s that?”

  The regular at the table answered, “It’s poker is what it is. I think it’s brilliant. He’s all-in, Miss Stephanie.”

  Har’s eyes twinkled with a hint of humor and a wealth of sincerity. He held the gorgeous ring out to me.

  “You gonna marry me, Stephanie?”

  “Yes,” I whispered, slipping my finger into the ring.

  The men erupted in cheers. When Har came around to kiss me, the catcalls were loud, and so high-pitched my ears hurt, but in a good way.

  When he walked back around the table, Charlie tapped me on my shoulder. “Boss says you get the afternoon off. Grab your tips and get outta here, Stephie.”

  EVEN THOUGH I HAD THE afternoon off, Har demanded we celebrate at a restaurant inside the casino. This meant after I had changed out of my uniform, the two of us and Brute went for a late lunch. We had eaten and our plates had been cleared.

  Brute left to use the restroom, and Har wasted no time making out with me at the table. I didn’t feel comfortable making out in public. Even though we were in a secluded corner, I could see the bar from our table which meant anyone at the bar could see us.

  When Har let me come up for air, I glanced toward the front and my brows furrowed. “Did you invite your sister to witness your ‘brilliant’ proposal?”

  He looked confused, then followed my eyes to where Corinna stood looking through the restaurant.

  “I didn’t. Can’t imagine why she’s here.”

  A hostess showed her to a small table. Moments later Brute sauntered back into the restaurant, noticed Corinna, and sat down opposite her.

  “That’s weird,” I muttered.

  A server approached their table, but Corinna shook her head and the server left. I couldn’t bear to watch any more of their exchange because I suspected it would be difficult for both of them. My eyes wandered to the bar, and I noticed a buxom blonde watching Brute intently. Then she shook her head and turned away.

  “We need to get out of here, baby,” Har said at my ear.

  I shook my head. “Not until Brute comes back.”

  He chuckled. “It’s not our business.”

  From the corner of my eye, I saw Corinna and Brute stand. He gave her a light hug, and she left. Brute gave Har and me a chin lift, then sauntered over to the bar. Not far from the blonde who’d been watching him.

  “He is not,” I muttered.

  “Not what?” Har asked.

  I watched him talking to the woman at the bar, and it didn’t take a lip reader to know she’d asked about his conversation with Corinna. It was oddly fun to watch the two from afar since it reminded me of watching a silent movie. Brute held up a finger and then his face looked like he was pleading. She shook her head a little, but the look on her face said she didn’t mean it.

  I heard Har sigh, but I couldn’t tear my eyes from the bar. “You gotta stop bein’ so nosy, baby. A president’s old lady knows to leave other people’s business alone.”

  “Anybody else, I wouldn’t care, Michael. But, you just proposed to me. Love is in the air! And something about the way that woman watched Sammy makes me want to see what happens.”

  He tucked a lock of hair behind my ear, murmuring, “Again with the name changes.”

  I chuckled. “It’s reflexive.”

  Then my jaw dropped. Brute smiled at the woman who was speaking to him, and while she was still talking he laid a kiss on her that almost made my toes curl.

  Har’s hand turned my face to him. “Okay, that’s more than we need to see. Let’s go.”

  “We haven’t paid,” I protested.

  He grinned. “The waitress can stick Brute with the bill. Like you sai
d, we just got engaged.”

  Even though he pushed against me to move me out of the booth, I held firm. “No way, man. I saw how she watched him talk to Corinna. This could be—”

  “Not your business, Combes.”

  I turned to him and glared. “He’s my stepbrother.”

  He tilted his head back and laughed. It was a sight to see, but this wasn’t funny.

  He righted his head and said, “When using my full name doesn’t work, you’re gonna play the family card. A card that doesn’t play too well, seeing as y’all didn’t keep in touch after your parents divorced.”

  I pursed my lips, then said, “He’s still the only brother I’ve ever had.”

  Before Har could respond, Brute slid into the bench seat opposite us. “You two have to be the only couple I know who can go from laughing to arguing in fifteen seconds flat.”

  I turned angry eyes to Brute. “Are you trying to say we won’t stay married?”

  He held a hand up, but I ignored it.

  “Actually, don’t answer that. Why are you back here? You put quite the kiss on that blonde, you should be with her right now.”

  He gave Har a look, then locked eyes with me. “I should not be with her right now, and that shit isn’t your business. If I had to guess, that’s what y’all were arguing about. But since I know how stubborn you are, I’ll tell you she gave me her number and we’re gonna get together next week.”

  “Really?” I asked, smiling.

  Brute rolled his eyes. “Really.”

  “You should’ve seen the way she was watching you.”

  Har shoved against me again. “On that note, you want me to leave you some cash, brother? Don’t know where that waitress ran off to, but—”

  Brute shook his head. “Forgot to tell you. I settled the bill. Consider it my engagement gift to you, Prez.”

  Har

  HAR AND STEPHANIE SPLIT ways in the parking garage, and he told her he’d meet her back at the house.

  First, he had to drop by his shop. Stephanie had been right last year. He now had a part-time administrative assistant. Taking Stephanie’s advice, he offered his brothers the chance to work with him and Gamble produced his sketch book full of designs. The business was growing, but it wasn’t enough to bring the other brothers on board and certainly not enough to give the club extra revenue.

  When he rode up on the shop, Gamble strolled out of the garage wiping his hands on a rag. “She say yes?” he asked.

  Har swung off his bike, put his helmet on his seat, and grinned. “She did.”

  “Congrats,” Gamble said, shaking Har’s hand.

  “Thanks man. How’re things? You need me to—”

  “Fuck, no. You got better things to do today. Get outta here!”

  Cynic came out of the office, and Har arched a brow. If he didn’t know better, the man had something for Julie, their administrative assistant.

  When Cynic came closer, Har said, “I thought you had plenty to do at the Twisted Talons?”

  After the club exited the drug business, they had a stroke of luck when the city approved the permit for their new bar. Cynic volunteered to manage the business, and with his former years of experience as a bartender, he ran it like a tight ship. They hadn’t seen much of a profit in the first few months, which was to be expected with a new business. But revenues were increasing at a rapid clip, and this month the bar was on pace to out-perform the marijuana income.

  “Whatever, Har. You know I’m determined to make that bar bring us more money than the drugs ever did. I don’t have to be there until—”

  “Brother, I don’t fuckin’ care. I like givin’ you grief.”

  Cynic smiled. “Speaking of grief, your woman say yes to being the ball on your chain?”

  He laughed. “She said yes, but not to being any kind of ball and chain. You need to find a healthy relationship, ’Nic.”

  The sun made Cynic’s grin seem devilish. “Life’s too short for relationships, man. It’s like I always say, I’m not here for a long time, just a good time.”

  Har slapped ’Nic’s bicep. “Whatever you say man, just make sure that good time lasts long enough for the rest of us.”

  Twenty minutes later, Har rode his bike up the drive to his mother’s house. Since his bike was anything but quiet, she opened the front door by the time he strode up the walk.

  “What brings you by, honey?”

  He smiled. “Mom. You got a minute?”

  “Of course,” she said, opening the door wider.

  In the kitchen, he asked, “You talk to Ben lately?”

  Her face went guarded before she lowered her gaze to the floor. “No.”

  “Well, if he should reach out, you can tell him, I’m getting married.”

  Her eyes shot to his. “Are you serious? Stephanie said yes? What am I asking? Of course she did. Honey! This is such good news!”

  Before he could respond, she wrapped her arms around him and he hugged her back. He pulled away. “Mom. I’m gonna call him tomorrow, but he doesn’t always answer. I don’t know if he listens to messages, but I figure he might call you. That’s why I wanted you to know.”

  Tears shimmered in her eyes. “Oh God, honey. You and Stephanie have to come by for dinner tomorrow or whenever you have time.”

  He nodded. “We will. But, I’m gonna try to get Ben to come ’round.”

  She cupped his cheek. “Don’t you worry about that, Michael. I’m just thrilled you’re gonna settle down and your sister is back. I love you kids, and I hated knowing there was something between you.”

  A sly grin curled his lips. “Your new boyfriend doesn’t have anything to do with being thrilled?”

  Her cheeks turned pink. “Michael David! Have respect for your mother.”

  He chuckled. “Got plenty of respect for you, Mom. I’d love to stick around, but I gotta get home.”

  She kissed his cheek. “I’m sure you do. I love you, and I’m dying to see her ring!”

  He mounted his bike grinning. It had been a damn long time since he’d made his mother so happy. God willing and with Stephanie’s help, it would only be the first of many more to come.

  RATHER THAN WALK IN through the garage, Har parked his bike in the drive and entered through the front door. This meant Stephanie didn’t hear him come in, and he shook his head when he saw her loading the washer with laundry. He tip-toed to the kitchen and pulled the bottle of champagne from the back of the refrigerator. He didn’t lie when he said he wasn’t big on romance, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try.

  He just wanted her to think he wouldn’t.

  He’d hidden a bucket under the island, which he retrieved. Before he forgot, he grabbed the strawberries from the fridge and set them next to the bucket.

  He leaned into the hallway leading to their bedroom. “I’m home, Steph!”

  The bed creaked and he knew she was on her way to greet him, so he quickly put the champagne in the bucket and loaded ice around it.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  He turned his head just enough to shoot her a smirk. “Being as romantic as I’ll ever be, baby. You may not dig your proposal, but I got champagne, strawberries, and a determination to give you at least four orgasms tonight.”

  Her expression turned shrewd. “You think you can do that?”

  He chuckled and put the bucket on the island. “Baby, I know I can do that and more.”

  Her brows arched. “‘And more?’”

  He grinned. “Yep. And more, like practice making a baby with you.”

  She smiled. “The baby carriage comes after marriage, Michael. Let’s stick to that, ’kay?”

  He twisted his head as he smiled. “Whatever you say, Miss Priss.”

  Her eyes twinkled. “Then, I say it’s time for strawberries, champagne, and my biker fiancé.”

  The Riot MC Biloxi Series will continue with Brute’s Strength...

  The story of Brute and Kenzie

&nbs
p; Turn the page for a sneak peek!

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  Sneak Peek at Brute's Strength

  Chapter 1

  Number. Now.

  Kenzie

  WOULD IT MAKE ME ONE of those women if I asked for a manager of my lunch date app?

  I shook my head at my foolishness. It didn’t matter. What mattered was that I had wasted another lunch hour trying to ‘put myself out there.’ Being stood up stunk to high heaven, but I had to look at the bright side. At least I hadn’t paid for a babysitter, only to be stood up. That would definitely turn me into the woman who hunted down managers and got in someone’s face.

  The bartender arrived with my basket of food. I thanked him, salted my fries, and glanced over my shoulder. Once it was clear my so-called date wouldn’t make it, I noticed two men and a woman eating lunch in the back corner. The man who caught my eye was clearly the third wheel. That surprised me, which meant it intrigued me. Greatly.

  He was everything my ex-husband was not. Even from across the room, I could see he was bulky with muscle, rough around the edges, and he moved with sheer power. Bonus, his laugh was loud and sincere.

  His dark hair looked like he styled it, but something told me he didn’t. It stood up like each follicle was a soldier standing at attention, ready to battle whatever the day brought. His dark eyes scanned the room regularly, which was why I could only peek at him over my shoulder surreptitiously.

  Yeah. A guy like him wouldn’t know lunch date apps existed. His phone might explode if he tried to download the app.

  I faced forward and bit into my chicken sandwich. A few moments later, the bartender executed an exaggerated chin lift and then my brawny, dark-haired man sauntered out to the concourse. That allowed me a good look at his derriere and the back of his leather vest. It featured three patches. The first read, “Riot MC.” The second and most prominent patch was a fist upon which perched a skull with wings off to the side where the fist and skull met. It was pretty damn cool as biker patches went, not that I’d seen many of them. The last one read “Biloxi, MS.”