Viking (Black Shamrocks MC: First Generation Book 2)

by Kylie Hillman

  “Man, you didn’t see how pissed she was when she received the letter saying she hadn’t made the cut this year. I swear she just about spat fire when she told me.” I steal a glance in Bonnie’s direction. She’s chatting with Shari, completely at ease with her surroundings like she always is. “Nah, that girl has plans, and God save the fucker who tries to get in the way of them.”

  TWO

  Bonnie

  “You need to make a new plan for your life,” I whisper to Shari. “Partying your days away with Brian isn’t going to solve your problems.”

  I snatch away the baggy I can see tucked into her bra before she can stop me. “And neither is snorting coke.”

  “Give it back,” Shari hisses. She tries to grab it out of my hands, but I dance out of reach, and fold it into the pocket of my skirt.

  “Not until the ceremony’s over,” I reply.

  She crosses her arms over her chest and gives me her back. I ignore her huff. I’m doing the right thing. She’s not in the right frame of mind to be messing with drugs—not when she’s using them to hide from the fact that her dance career is over. The hard reality is that it is over, and she needs to work out what she wants to do before she loses herself to her self-pity.

  Guys in Black Shamrocks vests are making the crowd form a circle around Vic and his friends. I let them rearrange me and Shari, then grab Colleen when she’s ushered from behind the bar to join the masses. Shari snorts her annoyance and I ignore her once again. Colleen is our friend whether Shari wants to hold her ridiculous grudge or not.

  “How are you feeling?” I ask with deliberate vagueness.

  Colleen links her hands over her stomach and shrugs. “I don’t know. Scared. Happy. Ready to run away and hide.”

  I pat her hands and nudge her shoulder with mine. “It’ll be fine. Cole’s a great guy. If I was going to get accidentally knocked up by anyone, I’d choose him. You know he’s not going to leave you in the lurch. He’s going to be a great dad.”

  Shari leans forward so she can look past me to Colleen. “You’re pregnant?”

  Colleen nods, hope brightening her eyes at Shari acknowledging her for once. “I am.”

  “God, you’re such a dumbass.” Shari snorts. “Haven’t you heard of condoms or the pill?”

  I elbow Shari back into place. Laying an arm over Colleen’s shoulders, I pull her into my side. “Don’t listen to her. It could happen to anyone.”

  Her shoulders shake, and I’m about to try to calm her down again when the ceremony begins. Colleen pulls herself together and Shari goes back to mutely pouting as the Black Shamrocks President starts talking. He drones on about brotherhood and loyalty. I find it all rather underwhelming, considering the shit the Club has put the boys through over the past few months. You wouldn’t catch me dead skivvying away for a bunch of middle aged men, so I could join a silly Club.

  Looking at the boys—well, if I’m honest, I’m basically seeing them in my peripheral vision since Vic is the only one who interests me—I’m surprised to see that they are taking this whole thing seriously. Even Paddy, the giant dickhead, is standing at attention with rapt concentration and deep respect in his expression.

  “Tonight, we welcome the first generation of sons into the Black Shamrocks MC,” Paddy’s father, Leo, puffs his chest out. A paternal glimmer gleams in his eyes when he takes in the boys with a sweeping gesture. “This is the beginning of a new era. The moment our Club comes of age. Our future is assured. Our turf will only increase. Our reputation as the most feared Club in Queensland will grow stronger.”

  “Poor Lenny,” Colleen mutters. She looks in the direction of Paddy’s older brother, who’s shaking his head while his little brother smirks over his shoulder at him. “It’s like he doesn’t even exist.”

  “And Paddy laps it up like the jerk he is,” I reply as quiet as I can. “God, he needs a good slapping.”

  Colleen and Shari nod at my words, and a couple of the older women standing near us murmur their agreement as well.

  I’ve barely said three words to Lenny over the time I’ve been seeing Vic, but the treatment he’s receiving sets my teeth on edge.

  It’s unfair.

  Paddy is a volatile asshole while Lenny is a quiet achiever.

  Unfortunately, their father can’t see that his blatant favouritism is blinding him to the truth.

  “To acknowledge this occasion properly, we’re going introduce a new tradition.” The President beckons his VP forward to take over.

  Brian’s father steps forward. He motions his pretty blonde daughter to come with him, and I wrack my brain for her name. Alanah, I think it is. And, the other girl who pushes forward with her is Grace, Paddy’s little sister. Her sneer is instantly recognisable—a mirror image of Paddy’s.

  Both girls hold something in their hands. I crane my neck to see better. Alanah holds a set of smaller patches while Grace clutches the larger patches that I know will go on the back of their leather vests.

  “To honour those who come before us,” Brian’s father, Frankie intones. “We will be providing road names for our new patches once they’ve taken the oath. Same as they do back in the mother country.”

  He shoots a glance in Lenny’s direction. The apology in his eyes annoys me more than Paddy’s smugness.

  Why doesn’t someone speak up about how unfair this is?

  “Step forward,” Leo commands. Paddy pushes to the front of the line while the other guys stand next to each other and drape their arms over each other’s shoulders. His father glares at him, a withering look that would chill the blood in anyone else’s veins.

  Paddy just shrugs, then edges Brian, who should have been first, out of view. Once he’s in place, he stares expectantly at the patches in his sister’s arms and shuffles his feet. His impatience is clear for everyone to see. Vic leans closer to him and speaks into his ear. Whatever he says just makes Paddy snort. The rest of the Black Shamrocks appear to agree Leo and Frankie’s annoyance, their disapproval at his behaviour written all over their faces.

  “It’s time to take the oath that will make you our brothers in all ways that count. This is an honour that should not be taken for granted. As easily as it comes, it can be revoked if you prove undeserving.” Frankie stares at Paddy as he says this, and for the first time, the younger man acknowledges that his behaviour is out of order. His face reddens, and he looks at the ground as their President begins to recite the oath for them to repeat.

  “Brotherhood is not just a bible word. It is a way of life. Absolute loyalty. Allegiance until death. Club before blood. Go deo deartháireacha I arm. Forever Brothers in Arms.”

  The four boys speak as one as they deliver the oath, word by word.

  Before, I thought this was the silliest idea I’d ever heard of. Right now, the hairs on my arms and the back of my neck are standing on end. A shiver runs the length of my spine and I shake myself to dispel the feeling.

  I look at Colleen to see if she’s feeling the same. The awed grin she sends my way tells me that she’s having a similar reaction.

  “Welcome to the Black Shamrocks MC,” Leo punches his chest twice—right over his heart.

  The boys mimic his gesture, and reply in unison, “Go deo deartháireacha I arm. Forever Brothers in Arms.”

  Their President steps in front of Paddy, and the other three fathers’ do the same thing with their sons.

  “Quinn, you’re first.” Frankie says. His tone tells me that he’s done this deliberately as to rebuke Paddy for his entitled behaviour.

  Colleen stands on her tip toe, so she can see what’s about to happen.

  The two younger girls pass leather strips Cole’s dad.

  “From tonight, you will be known as Conan. Strong. Reliable. Protector. A man who can take the weight of the world on his shoulders and stay standing.”

  My lips curl into a smile when Cole’s throat works, and he looks around for Colleen. The need for reassurance shines in his gaze, and he must find
it in his girlfriend. He nods his head before he gently takes the patches his father is offering him.

  Alanah passes Cole a small kit and he steps out of the line. He moves to the pool table, shrugs off his leather vest and begins sewing his new patches on.

  “Brian,” Frankie speaks to his son once the girls have given him his leather strips. “You will be known as Butch. Lethal. Bold. Defender. Uncowering when faced with danger. Ready to protect those he loves at any cost.”

  Brian is buzzing off his head. I can tell by the look in his eyes. It’s the same one I see in Shari’s when I look to see if she’s paying attention to what’s happening. Fortunately, he seems to be sobering up quicker than his girlfriend. Shari looks terrible—black rings have formed around her eyes and her lips are drooping like she can no longer control her face.

  “Th-thanks, D-ad,” he stutters. His eyes widen when he realises his mistake. Brian compounds his error by snatching the patches his father with shaky hands and turning his back on them to head over to wear Cole is still sewing.

  Alanah skips after him and presents his own kit.

  Leo clears his throat. The attention of the room moves from Brian’s weirdness back to the two remaining boys.

  “From this day forth, you will be known as Beast. Fearless. Brutal. Monster. A leader who does what needs to be done, untouched by ethics, morals, and laws.” A small snigger flows through the crowd at Leo’s proclamation. Seriously, the man just doesn’t get it. Paddy is an asshole, and he can be unpredictable, but he doesn’t strike fear in anyone—except for any woman dumb enough to chase him for a second round in his bed.

  Paddy’s mouth drops open, and a flicker of anger crosses his face at everyone’s reaction. The stubborn set of his jaw raises my blood pressure. His expression is filled with determination—a stubborn resolve that screams of his need to prove everyone who just laughed at him wrong.

  Dead wrong if need be.

  The apprehension that’s pounding through me is echoed in Vic’s face when I look at him. His concern is palpable. From the pool table, Cole stares at his best friends, his gaze flitting between Vic and Paddy. Worry etched on his face, he nudges Brian, who turns to see what the fuss is all about.

  Brian’s mouth forms a big “O” and the top of my head starts jackhammering. I don’t completely understand what I’ve just witnessed, but I can tell by the boys’ reaction that it’s not good.

  “Jesus wept,” Colleen says in a low voice. “Paddy’s not going to let this go. This is bad.”

  “What do you mean?” I take hold of her shoulders and turn her to face me.

  “Cole’s been worried about Paddy losing what’s left of his humanity to this Club.” I bite my lip to stop from laughing at her melodramatic explanation. Colleen notes my reaction with a lift her eyebrows. She presses her lips into a tight line before continuing. “He’s been acting a little erratic. A bit meaner than usual. Leo’s not the easiest man to please and Paddy’s not one to take humiliation lying down, unlike poor Lenny. Cole thinks this whole patching in thing is a recipe for disaster for Paddy.”

  “I don’t follow,” I say. “What do you—”

  “Victor, my son. It’s your turn.” Vic’s dad interrupts me. He slurs his words, obviously drunk, yet seemingly proud. “From now on you’ll be known as…”

  As he trails off, I take the time to really look him over. I haven’t been able to get his measure yet. Possibly because he’s been either elbow deep in scotch or had his mouth occupied by some random slut every time I’ve met him.

  Amos Kennedy passed his handsome, dark European looks onto his son, although physical similarities aside, I’ve yet to find anything else that links them. While Amos is loud, boorish, and loose with his affections, Vic is self-contained and leaves most people wondering where they stand with him. It’s an intoxicating combination that makes a person feel special when he lets them in.

  Something that Amos couldn’t replicate if he tried.

  “Dad.” Vic prompts his father.

  “Ah, yeah,” Amos says with a wobbly grin when Alanah nudges his arm to remind him to take the patches she’s holding. “Thanks, sweetie.”

  “It’s my honour,” Alanah replies as she lifts her gaze from the drunk man in front of her to look at his son. “Anything for Vic.”

  “Oh, how cute,” Shari says with a large dose of snark in her voice. “Bimbo Barbie has a crush on your man.”

  “Shut up, Shari,” Colleen hisses. “Alanah’s a great girl. She has a heart of gold.”

  I run my gaze over her and dismiss her in the next instant. She’s cute, and she’ll grow into a beauty one day. Today is not that day, though. I’m still the hottest chick in this room, by far. “Isn’t she like twelve?”

  Colleen narrows her eyes at me. She places her hands on her hips and chastises me. “No, she’s nearly fifteen.”

  Angry green eyes spear me and then Shari. I let out a sigh of relief when she has a go at Shari instead of continuing in on me. Colleen can be scary on the rare occasion that she unleashes the full force of her temper. “What’s your problem with Brian’s little sister? I doubt he’d be pleased to hear you talking about her like that?”

  Shari looks at her nails. She huffs on her fingers, then buffs them on the front of her shirt. “Are you threatening me, fatty?”

  Tears fill Colleen’s eyes. I step between her and Shari. “Look this is ridiculous. We’re here for the boys. How about you stop this bickering and go back to ignoring each other?”

  “Fine by me,” Shari snaps. She turns her back on us.

  “Don’t let her under your skin,” I tell Colleen. “She’s not herself lately.”

  “I know, and it’s my fault.”

  I lose the opportunity to set her straight because Vic’s dad finally gets his shit together and gives Vic his road name.

  “From now on, you’ll be known as Viking.” Amos pulls a piece of paper from his vest and reads from it. I see the disappointment in Vic’s expression as it becomes clear that his father hasn’t memorised his part like the other dads did. “Ah. Smart. Loyal. Warrior. A planner who puts the needs of everyone else before his own. No sacrifice is too big. No responsibility is too heavy.”

  Amos almost throws the patches at Vic. He turns his back to his son and makes for the bar. Vic stands there, the sole prospect left in the line. He stands tall. Unbowed by his father’s lack of manners. I want to go to him, to show him he’s not alone, but my feet aren’t quick enough.

  No, a tall blonde gets there first. Alanah pats Vic on the chest. She hands him the final sewing kit with nothing but empathy on her pretty face. It’s exactly what Vic needs, surrounded as he is by a room full of people who are loudly verbalising their sympathy for him. They exchange words, a cloak of mutual understanding draping over them and cocooning them from the pity that’s filling the room.

  My boyfriend—of sorts—lays an arm over her shoulder and gives her a quick kiss on the forehead. It’s brotherly. There’s nothing in it. Yet, the innocent delight that dances in Alanah’s eyes has my palm itching to slap it off her face.

  As quick as the desire overcomes me, I force it down.

  There’s nothing permanent between me and Vic so my reaction is nonsensical. Alanah’s a little girl. Vic would never be interested in someone so vanilla. And, I’m a woman who’s simply wasting a little bit of time with a hot man until it’s time to put my plans into motion.

  There’s nothing to worry about.

  Tell that to my feet. They’re already making a beeline for Vic.

  THREE

  Victor

  “Congratulations,” Alanah says as she passes me the sewing kit I’ll need to fix my new patches onto my cut. “You’ll be a great addition to the Club.”

  I’m about to say thanks when she laughs. It’s a curious sound to hear in the current circumstances, and that’s enough to make me remove my gaze from where it’s drilling heated holes of hatred into the back of my dad’s head to meet her cryst
al-blue eyes.

  Alanah lifts one shoulder and quips with the exact amount wryness required to make me forget how angry I am. “Well, it’s not like the bar’s set all that high for you so I can be pretty confident in my prediction.”

  With the rest of the people who’ve attended our patch-in ceremony still voicing their outrage at my father’s behaviour, Brian’s little sister provides the perfect salve for my wounded pride. Her joke is what I need to hear—a humorous reminder that eclipsing my father isn’t what you’d call a challenge.

  “You’re something else.” I say as I lay my arm across her shoulders and pull her into my side. “Don’t ever change.”

  “Ditto,” Alanah replies without hesitation. Her pretty, blue eyes dance with delight. “And try to remember that you don’t have to be your father’s son.”

  “Right back at ya. You’re nothing like your mother, Lani.”

  I stare at her, unsure whether she’s going to appreciate my use of the nickname from her toddler years. She shows no signs of embarrassment. A slight widening of her eyes is all I get in return and it amuses me. In reality, no one should be this self-possessed at fourteen. It’s not fair to her that she’s missing out on the silly trials and tribulations of being a normal teen. I guess a shitty upbringing affects people in different ways. Some of us become an island, some of us fall into the numbness of drugs, while others become like Alanah.

  Too mature and always eager to help.

  The feeling of kinship created by our similar circumstances is responsible for what I do next. I know it’s wrong, even as I press my lips against her forehead. I brace for a reaction, only to be left hanging. Brian doesn’t launch himself at me for touching his little sister—no matter how innocent my action is—and, Alanah simply reaches up and squeezes my hand.

  I open my mouth to say something—what I don’t know—except the moment is interrupted when Bonnie pushes in between us.