by Lane Hart
“Right,” I agree. “For better or for worse. I’m ready.”
“Good,” he says with what sounds like relief.
His hands come up to wrap around my waist, pulling me to him to plant a deep kiss on my lips, one that is slightly inappropriate for bystanders. But when I sneak a glance around him, the women don’t look the least bit offended. A few of the guys on their way out the door let loose a whistle, though.
“Love you, Cherry Pie,” he whispers into my hair before he lets me go.
“Love you too,” I tell him, and he gives me a rare full-on smile.
Brushing a lock of my hair back behind my ear, Nolan says, “I should’ve told you that before, years ago. That morning you were leaving for work I started to but didn’t. If I had, then maybe you wouldn’t have given up on me so fast.”
I nod my agreement, wishing he had told me how he felt. I had thought he loved me then, but I wasn’t sure if he just loved our time together in bed when we were naked or if he enjoyed the nights I was too exhausted to move and he would just hold me.
“Jake! Lucas!” he calls out to the prospects, who scramble off their barstools to come over and stand at attention next to the door.
“You two are staying here and going with the women, taking them wherever they want to go, but you better not take your eyes off them for even an instant. If even one strand of her strawberry blonde hair is hurt, I’ll have your balls. You hear me?” Nolan asks them.
Both reply quickly with a, “Yes, sir,” while Jake adds four words, “Loud and fucking clear.”
“Good,” my fierce protector says. He grabs my left hand, giving it a squeeze. “We’re going to need rings for this finger. I’ll handle them and everything else.”
“Okay,” I agree with a smile, and then he lets go and walks out the door. All the motorcycles loudly rumble a moment later, and then they’re gone.
“Where are they going?” I ask the women and prospects when we’re the only ones left in the bar other than Leo, the bartender.
“No clue,” Jake answers.
“Roman didn’t say,” Charlotte says.
“Neither did Cannon,” Madison replies. “You’ll get used to it. Most of the time it’s better to not even ask. They’re big boys. They can take care of themselves.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” I agree. “So, do you two really want to go dress shopping with me, or did Nolan just think I needed more escorts?”
“Why would you need an escort?” Madison asks as she narrows her eyes at the prospects.
“There’s a gigantic fucker who wants to snatch her and carry her up his beanstalk,” Lucas supplies.
The women smile like it’s a joke, but I tell them, “That’s not all that far from the truth.”
Charlotte laughs. “Okay, so we’ll make sure to avoid giants. Shouldn’t be a problem. Men stay away from bridal stores like they think they’re cursed.”
“No kidding,” Madison agrees. “I don’t even use the M word around Cannon, because I’m afraid he’ll break out in hives and bolt like a nervous filly.”
“He’ll come around to the idea,” Charlotte assures the otherwise confident-looking woman.
“I’m not so sure,” Madison responds as we head out the door to the parking lot. “You don’t know Cannon. I’m only his second girlfriend. He’s not the type to put a ring on it.”
“How long have you two been together?” I ask her.
“A few months,” Madison answers. “And we do live together…”
“That’s a great start,” Charlotte says, and I voice my agreement.
And while I just met the two women, I can already tell that we’re going to get along just fine.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Nolan
Bribing a dancer with hundred-dollar bills when we caught her in the parking lot on her way inside the club was all it took to confirm what I was afraid of. Now it’s time to make some bastards pay.
“Sorry, man,” Abel says, looking a little pale after our question-and-answer session with the stripper. “I take back every shitty thing I ever said about Rita.”
“Me too,” Hugo admits. “I had no clue women were treated so awful at these places…”
“Not all strip clubs, but I’m guessing most,” I grumble as I slip on a pair of black leather gloves and the other men do the same. “Let’s get inside before more employees show up or the Rebel Henchman show up to run security.”
“I’m kind of surprised there aren’t any bikes out here,” Hugo remarks.
“Me too,” I agree. “Maybe we got lucky coming this early.”
We also gave the woman a grand to leave the back door cracked open with a rock so we could sneak in. If she knew what we intended to do, she probably wouldn’t have done it. I told her I was just going to kick her manager’s ass for how he runs the place.
Once we all pull black ski masks over our faces in case there are cameras, we make our way to the back door.
“You don’t think she’ll snitch, do you?” Abel asks as we move closer.
“Hell no,” Hugo answers before I can. “If she does, she’ll only implicate herself.”
“Yeah, I think she’ll keep her mouth shut,” I agree. Reaching for my gun at the back of my waistband, the silencer already screwed onto the front, I pull open the door and slip inside first.
It opens into the back storage area of the kitchen, so it takes a minute to get to the front of the place and bust right into the manager’s office. The man with his brown hair slicked back looks up from behind the desk where he’s counting his money.
When his hand disappears, there’s no doubt what he’s going for. “Nuh-uh! Hands in the air now, or we’ll blow your head off!”
Once he sees it’s the three of us, all with guns pointed and aimed at him, he lifts both of his palms in defeat. Guess it was a good thing Abel and Hugo insisted on coming inside the club with me. If not, well, I probably could have taken him out before he managed to get a bullet in me too; but on the other hand, he could be one hell of a marksman.
“Take the money and get the fuck out of my club!” he grits out, jerking his chin toward the stack of bills laid out in neat piles in front of him.
“We’re not here for the cash,” I explain.
“Then what do you want? Coke? Meth? I can get you boys both.”
“We don’t want any of that nasty shit,” Hugo responds with a scoff as he shuts the door softly behind him and turns the lock.
“Where’s your cell phone?” I ask the manager.
“Right there,” he says, glancing at it on top of the desk, a little over to his right side.
“Here’s what I’m going to do,” I say as I go around the desk, placing the front of the silencer against the side of his head. “I’m going to call your contact at the Rebel Henchman, whoever is in charge, and put him on speaker. You’re going to tell him to send all their men here because the place is getting robbed and that they need to move their asses. Got that? Say anything else and I’ll pull the trigger.”
“O-okay,” he agrees. “In my contact…look for the name Dubois. He’s the president.”
“All right then,” I say as I pick up the phone and hold it in front of the man’s face to unlock it. I scroll through his recent calls, not having to go far to find Dubois, which I’m guessing is a last name.
I tap the contact, and it starts ringing softly before I select the speaker option so I can sit it down and hold the gun in a two-handed grip.
“The person you’re trying to reach is not available,” the robotic voice comes over the speaker. “Please leave a message after the tone.”
There’s a beep, and I press the gun tighter to the manager’s head to get him speaking. “Du-Dubois, it’s Brian. I’m getting robbed! Send your men, all of them!”
I nod, and then end the call before glancing at my boys.
“Now what?” Abel asks, knowing my plan hinged on the asshole answering and coming over before customers.<
br />
“I’ll call him again. You better hope he fucking answers this time,” I warn the asshole.
The call rings and rings before switching over to the same voicemail message. I end it instead of having Brian leave another message.
“Well?” Hugo asks with a sigh.
Fuck! Of course these bastards couldn’t make this easy.
“Call our prez. Ask him to send a group to their clubhouse and see if anyone’s there.”
“On it,” Hugo agrees, keeping his gun steady while using the phone with one hand. “We’ve hit a snag,” he says. “Need you to send a crew to check out the MC’s home base. Their president didn’t answer the phone, which is what our man was counting on,” he says, being careful to not use any names. Not that I plan on letting the manager live. No, he’s going to die one way or another for knowing what the MC assholes were doing and not stopping them. In fact, the stripper told us he got a discount on his cut for protection when he agreed to let the club fuck any of his employees they wanted.
Now I want nothing more than to slam his fucking face into the desk and then take my time torturing him, drawing it out slowly and painfully. But I can’t risk it. The plan was to set this up like a partnership gone bad. When the MC busted into the office, the guys and I were going to gun them down, then shoot the manager behind the desk, to make it look like they killed each other. Now, well, I’m not so sure what the fuck we’ll do.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Rita
“These dresses are all so gorgeous,” Madison says as the three of us browse the gowns in the bridal shop.
“You should pick a few that you like and try them on,” Charlotte suggests. “Seeing them in the bag is one thing, but you really need to see how they look on you.”
“Okay,” I agree. Going back through the selections, I tell them, “I think I’ll try one A-line lace, one with the full ball gown skirt, and, ah, the satin V-neck slip.”
“Great choices,” Charlotte says. “You’re so tall and modelesque that I bet the slip will look absolutely elegant on you.”
I snort at the word “modelesque” and ask one of the sales ladies to open a dressing room. Unlike a normal clothing store, these “changing rooms” are gigantic with a curtained off area and several comfortable-looking chairs for ladies to wait, which makes it easy to keep talking to the women as I change.
“So, how long have you known Nolan?” Madison asks.
“We first met about five years ago,” I say while stepping into the first dress, the slip one. “Until recently, I was a waitress at a strip club. Before you judge, I also worked thirty-nine hours a week as an office assistant. The strip club is the only thing open at night, other than the regular roadside diners, and the club’s tips are three times what they would be at a restaurant.”
“You won’t get any judgment from us, girl,” Charlotte says. “But just hearing about you working two jobs like that sounds exhausting.”
“It was,” I agree as I slip my arms through the spaghetti straps. “So, Nolan, Abel and Hugo came in one night while they were still nomads. Then they kept coming back every night so Nolan could strike out with me.” I smile at the memory. “But the last night before he had to go out of town, he was waiting for me in the parking lot after he took out two would-be robbers. I was impressed, so I kissed him and told him I would date him when he came back to town.”
“So, you’ve been dating five years?” Charlotte asks.
“Ah, no. My brother got into trouble, brought evidence of a B&E and larceny back to my apartment. Nolan was there the morning the police served the search warrant. He told them he was responsible, and they arrested him. Nolan spent two years in prison for something he didn’t do, and I never knew it because my brother kept it from me.”
“Jeez,” Madison mutters. “That’s awful.”
“I thought Nolan was a jerk who got tired of me and moved on, when in reality he cared about me so much he gave up his freedom to keep my sixteen-year-old brother and me out of trouble.”
“Wow. That’s…so sweet,” Charlotte says as I reach behind me to zip up the dress as much as I can before pulling the curtain back.
I step up on the platform to look at the different angles in the mirrors while waiting for the women to offer an opinion. When neither of them say anything, I spin around to face them. Both have tears in their eyes and smiles on their faces.
“It’s perfect, just like I knew it would be!” Charlotte says.
“It really is,” Madison adds. “Rita, you can try on the other dresses, but this one looks like it was made for you. Even the length is perfect with your height.”
“This dress is magnificent on you, love,” one of the sales ladies says as she comes up on the platform with a big clip that she uses on the back to take it in a little, making my waist look leaner. “Just a quick alteration to take it in on the sides, and it could be ready today.”
We had told her that I needed to find something fast and she had been less than optimistic I could find a dress ready to go since most of their dresses had to be ordered, shipped, and then altered.
“Then I think this is the one. That was easy,” I say with a smile stretching my face as I turn back to face the mirrors.
For so long, I wasn’t sure if I would ever meet a man who would want me for more than a few nights, especially after Nolan up and disappeared. Now, I get to marry him. And I couldn’t be happier.
Nolan
Finally, after what feels like a lifetime waiting in the fucker’s office at the strip club but is probably only about fifteen minutes, Hugo’s phone rings. Hopefully Roman has some news for us.
“Talk to me,” Hugo answers. “You’re fucking kidding!” His eyes widen and even his mouth falls open comically which is unlike the normally calm, unfazed man. “How many? Shit, that’s all but one…”
“What?” I snap at him since the suspense is killing me.
“They’re dead,” Hugo says, keeping the phone to his ear.
“Our guys took them out?” I ask in confusion.
“No, they were all lying around in their own blood when they checked it out,” he says. “Looks fresh, maybe as old as last night, and gory as fuck, like someone tore them apart…”
“Oh shit,” I mutter. “Leroy?”
Hugo shakes his head. “He’s the only one unaccounted for.”
“Yeah, because he was probably the one who killed them,” Abel guesses, which is exactly what I’m thinking.
“But why?” Hugo asks, still on the call. “What would set that crazy son of a bitch off all of a sudden besides his woman being gone?”
“Maybe he’s pissed they didn’t try and take us out to help him?” I offer before another idea suddenly hits me. Turning my attention back to the manager, I growl out, “How many of them forced themselves on Rita?” When he doesn’t answer right away, I smack the shit out of the top of his head with the gun. “Answer me, asshole!”
“I…I don’t know.”
“Then take a wild fucking guess!”
“A-all of them, maybe?”
“Jesus Christ,” Hugo mutters.
“Leroy didn’t know?” I ask the manager.
“From what I heard, he thought she was married and was waiting…”
“He killed them,” I say aloud. “All of them. Someone, maybe the president, must have told the big boy she wasn’t worth it, that they had all had her, and he lost his shit pretty much the way I did.”
I vaguely hear Hugo relay the same message to Roman and the guys, telling them to fall back while the floor seems to tilt under my boots.
All of them.
All of them but the giant hurt Rita because of my fucking pride. My pride is what kept me away from her after I got out of prison.
“How long?” I ask aloud, then realize I should probably be more specific. “How long did the MC provide you with protection?” I ask the manager.
“Almost a year? Why?” he asks as I start walking to the door.<
br />
He exhales like he thinks we’re just going to leave when really what I’m doing is lining up my shot, lifting my gun higher, like a nearly seven-foot man would be aiming before I pull the trigger not once, but until the fucking clip runs out.
My hearing doesn’t come back from firing in such close range until we get outside to our bikes. And if I could, I would gladly have preferred to be deaf earlier instead of hearing the truth of what Rita’s been through, all the years busting her ass to raise her brother and now this shit for the past year.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Rita
While we wait for the alterations on the dress, the women and I decide to walk down to the deli at the end of the block, the prospects trailing us like silent sentries. I nearly forget they are there when we order and sit down on one of the outdoor patio tables to eat.
Madison and Charlotte tell me all about how they met their bikers while we devour our sandwiches and then sip our lemonade.
“You won’t find a better group of men,” Charlotte says.
Madison nods. “I agree. I thought they were just a bunch of out-of-control vigilantes, but they’re truly good guys. It took me a while to see that and to appreciate their more…vicious side.”
My phone rings, interrupting our conversation.
Pulling it from my purse sitting by my feet, I look at the screen. “It’s Nolan,” I inform them before answering.
“Hey, is your secret job all finished?” I ask when I answer.
“Yeah, Cherry Pie, it is. We’re on our way back now,” he says, which is a huge relief.
