by Marie James
“Nope,” I hiss, covering her filthy mouth with my hand. “Hard limit.”
“You can tell me later,” Kai whispers to her.
“You’ll be busy later,” Professor says in a tone that makes me feel sorry for Kai.
“Time to go,” Virus says looking over my shoulder.
With one quick glance, I agree. Mall security is making their way toward us. Their steps falter when Professor hedges around us to stand in front of our group.
“We’re leaving,” he says to them before turning away.
Both guards look relieved when we turn to follow Professor toward the main exit of the mall.
“Molly?”
Even though Professor is ten yards ahead of us, he stops at my name being called and turns back around. In seconds he’s standing right behind me. By the time Owen reaches me, he’s so close I can feel his breath moving my hair. I give Owen props for not scurrying away like everyone else has today.
“You know this fucker, Princess?”
“Drama,” Kai whispers under his breath.
“He’s cute,” Zoe adds as if the man isn’t standing right in front of us.
“Hey, Owen. How have you been?”
“Really?” His eyes dart to the massive man standing at my back before looking down at me again. “You really left us in a lurch this last week.”
“I told you I didn’t think it would work after we—”
Like he’s my dad or some bullshit, Professor growls behind me, and I don’t finish my sentence.
“Kissed? It was a simple kiss, Molly.”
“Mmm,” Kai moans. “He does have divine lips.”
“Enough,” Professor mutter. “Virus, get Kai and Zoe back to the Tahoe.”
“Bye, Mr. Vet.” Kai wiggles his fingers before he walks away.
“Is it because of them? The bikers?”
Owen is looking me directly in the eyes when he says it. He doesn’t seem intimidated with how close Professor is, or that my brother’s friend easily weighs sixty pounds more than him. Some people would find that sexy about him, but to me, it only makes him a fool. These bikers should be feared.
“Are you in trouble?”
My head snaps back at his second question before my spine stiffens with loyalty. “The Ravens Ruin MC is my family. It’s where I belong.”
His face falls.
“Listen, Owen.” I step in closer and thankfully, Professor stays right where he is. “You’re a great guy. Any woman would be lucky to have you, but I’m just not that girl.”
He doesn’t respond, and I really don’t give him a chance. I place a soft kiss on his cheek and turn to leave.
It’s astounding how fast things can turn ugly. Only moments ago all of us were laughing and joking around. A boring trip to this crappy mall had turned into an entertaining day.
“What’s that look mean?” Zoe asks as I walk up to the SUV.
The three of them are standing on the outside rather than inside. I don’t blame them. It’s a beautiful day. Or it was before I just turned into the biggest asshole in the world. Hurting Owen was never my intention. I really wanted to like him. I wanted to distance myself from the club and find someone who helps rather than hurts, someone who actually pays his damn taxes, but I quickly figured out that the clubhouse is exactly where I belong. Oddly, I’m okay with that.
“We need to hit the club.” I smile brightly at them, figuring if I hold my lips up long enough, I’ll actually begin to feel the cheer I hope everyone else sees on my face.
“Not happening tonight,” Professor says as he walks up. Before speaking again, he pulls out his phone and shoots a text to someone.
“Telling on me already?”
He doesn’t answer, merely giving Virus a quick nod before turning his eyes back to mine after his phone vibrates in his hands.
“I’m not even getting in the middle of shit between you and that vet unless you tell me he’s going to be a problem.”
“He’s not a problem.”
Agitated at everyone still dictating my life, I almost walk off to try to find Owen. I cringe and get in the SUV instead. Rejecting him and then running back to him when all I want is a little autonomy rather than him makes me an even bigger asshole. I’m like a damn spoiled brat who wants to throw a fit to get her way.
Everyone else piles into the Tahoe, Professor taking the front seat and Virus in the passenger side.
“We can do Tuesday,” Virus tells Professor.
“You gals can go clubbing on Tuesday night,” Professor says, and I refuse to meet his eyes in the rearview mirror.
“Yay. Tuesday,” I say with obvious fake enthusiasm. “I bet the club is jumping on a Tuesday night.”
“Don’t worry, Princess,” Kai says over my shoulder from the third-row seat. “We can make any night fun.”
“I’ll hold you to that,” I warn as Professor puts the SUV in gear and drives us home.
Chapter 24
Briar
“This is a change of pace,” Lynch says as he climbs off his bike outside of the house we’re making our drop off at.
“You made the right call letting Parker take over this area. He’s really cleaned things up.”
Sitting on the seat of my bike, I take a minute to look around. The newly built home is nothing like most of the places we end up delivering to. The house Lynch had to take control of months ago was on Greenview Avenue, one of the most dangerous areas of the city. Now, situated only a couple of blocks southeast, Parker has built his little empire in the cozy neighborhood of Highland Park.
If anything, two bikers pulling up outside of the two-story brick home will draw unnecessary attention, but Lynch doesn’t seem concerned. Our cuts are safely tucked inside of our saddlebags as to not draw even more scrutiny.
“I thought that state policeman was going to pull us over,” I tell him. “Had my nuts in a twist all the way through Ohio.”
“Sure looked like highway patrol, didn’t it?”
Glaring at him, I shake my head. “It wasn’t?”
“That was a Virus special. He wasn’t tailing us; he was escorting us.”
“And you didn’t think to tell me?”
He shrugs as if having me sweat a fucking cop car for hours was no big deal. I climb off my bike, ready to beat his ass in the middle of this damn ritzy neighborhood.
“You must be the cousins.”
I turn my head to see a man in Dockers and a button-down walking toward us. The tiny dog he has on a thin leash all but smiles and wags its fluffy little tail at the sight of us.
When neither of us responds, he continues. “Parker was telling me about you guys. Wanted to let us know not to be alarmed when your bikes pulled up. I think it’s great you guys ride for charity. I’ve always wanted a motorcycle, but my wife says they’re death machines.”
An eyebrow cocks up as he reaches his hand out toward Lynch, and I wait to see how he plays it.
“Marshall, good to see you.”
Parker is walking toward us with a fake smile plastered on his face.
“I see you’ve met Chad,” he angles his arm in Lynch’s direction before pointing at me. “And Topher.”
I shake Marshall’s hand when it’s offered to me, releasing it as quickly as possible. The nosy neighbor must not feel my reticence about the whole situation because he’s still smiling like an idiot.
“Well, Marshall, let me get these guys inside. I’m sure they’re tired after riding in from St. Louis.”
I almost snort at his play on accuracy. Although Luis Jiménez is no fucking saint, I’m not certain he doesn’t have enough money to buy his way into heaven, or out of hell as it were.
“Want help with your things?” Marshall steps forward, his hands out as if he’s going to touch Lynch’s bike.
“We’re good,” Lynch growls, and Marshall looks uneasy for the first time since arriving. He’s not as stupid as I thought.
“Still on for poker night?” Parker asks to
calm the tension.
“Oh. Of course. See you on Wednesday after church.” Marshall quickly walks away, whereas his little dog isn’t as enthusiastic to be heading back toward the house across the street.
“Topher?” I grit when Parker turns back in our direction. He grins while Lynch chuckles. “I should gut you right now for that bullshit.”
“Grab your shit,” Lynch urges. “Let’s get inside before another person walks up to greet us to the fucking neighborhood.”
We collect our things and follow Parker into his house.
“I don’t know if buying such a place is all that great of an idea,” I say as I walk inside and see the luxury layout of the residence. The marble entryway and elegant curve of the staircase are amazing, just not what you’d expect from a mid-level drug dealer. “Kind of a red flag when you don’t have a real job or legitimate income coming in.”
Parker snorts. “I have a real job, man. I’m a software developer.”
He says the last two words with finger quotes.
“Besides, this house is in my grandmother’s name.” Lynch laughs again. “Follow me, fellas. All the good stuff is downstairs.”
Crossing the threshold between the gourmet kitchen and the stairs to the basement transitions us from upper-middle-class suburbia into a pristine pharmaceutical industry. Unlike the movies I’ve seen where the women are stripped down and completely naked while they package the drugs, the women down here are clothed, but the skin-tight spandex material they’re in leaves nothing to the imagination. For instance, the girl smiling at me from across the room has twin piercings up top and a barbell down below.
“Nice, right?” Parker nudges his shoulder against mine, and it has me questioning his professionalism.
“How far are they cutting it down?” Lynch asks as he walks around the room. He doesn’t give the women a second look as he circles the huge metal table in the center of the room.
“We go down to sixty percent purity,” Parker responds.
“Sixty? It won’t be worth shit by the time it makes it to the street. Your sub-dealers will cut it again—”
“No one under me cuts my shit a second time.” Parker looks up at Lynch. “My people know it’s in their best interest to let my stuff hit the streets exactly how they receive it. I’m getting a buck and a quarter a gram, and even though it’s on the higher end, my clientele always come back for more. They know they’re getting good shit when they get that bag.”
He points to a stack of small baggies with a black four-leaf clover on the front.
I don’t say another word because a hundred and twenty-five dollars a gram is damn good business, better than we’ve ever managed in Detroit before.
“What are you cutting it with?”
“Creatine. It’s cheaper, not as dangerous, and doesn’t draw as much attention as the levamisole the guy before me was using.”
“Smart,” Lynch praises, and Parker just laps it up like a kitten at a bowl of cream. His shit-eating grin irks the hell out of me.
“You can move eight in the next three weeks?” I ask as I step up to an empty spot at the table and pull my kilos out of the duffle.
“Easily,” Parker says. “We could probably manage up to twelve right now, and probably closer to twenty in the next couple of months. We’ve already acquired several smaller enterprises in town, and have four more on the persuasion list.”
Lynch pulls his coke from his bag and deposits it on the table beside mine.
“Let’s let these ladies get back to work. We can talk upstairs.”
Parker and I follow Lynch who is walking across the room as if he owns the place, and I guess, in a way, he does.
When we settle on the plush living room sofas, we both accept Parker’s offer of a drink.
“Any issues I need to know about?” Lynch asks as Parker pours us both a whiskey.
“Nothing I can’t handle.” Parker must sense Lynch’s need for him to expound, because after turning with our drinks in his hand, he continues to speak. “We had a street dealer skimming his returns.”
“And what did you do with him?” I ask.
“I put him to ground,” is Parker’s simple response.
Lynch takes his drink, speaking as Parker settles in a recliner across from him. “If you’re getting a buck and quarter for a gram, what are you doing with the extra money?”
Parker, unaffected, sips his own drink. “Are you asking if I’m taking the extra for myself?”
I have an urge to look around again at the opulence of the sitting room, but my gut tells me to keep my eyes on the dealer.
“Watch it,” I growl. Lynch holds his hand up to silence me like a child, and it’s just one more thing that gets on my last fucking nerve.
“Where are you going?” Lynch growls, finally on edge when Parker, without a word, stands up and crosses the room to a small console table.
His forehead is in the sight of my gun seconds later. Even as much as he pisses me off, I’m off my ass and in front of Lynch blocking any path Parker may have to him.
With one hand in the air, he opens one of the small drawers. “I’m getting the ledgers. Calm down.”
“You need to use your fucking words, kid.” Lynch shoves his arm against my hip to get me to move out from in front of him. “Not just move without explaining yourself.”
See if I ever stand between him and another bullet again.
“As you can see,” Parker says handing the ledger over to Lynch, “all of the extra money is accounted for and being deposited.”
Lynch nods, looking over the information. “Your meticulous accounting will help Boston.”
“I’m in contact with him weekly by phone, and I update the spreadsheet he wanted me to use nightly.”
Fucking kiss ass. What is he going for, Drug Dealer of the Month?
“I want to meet with your employees, and then schedule meetings with their employees,” Lynch says as he hands the documentation back to Parker.
“Okay,” he agrees, setting the book on the table between them. “Will you need a place that’s easy to clean?”
“Meaning?” Confused, Lynch raises an eyebrow.
“Last time you were in town, we had to burn the house down because there was so much blood.”
Lynch chuckles before taking another sip of whiskey and draining the glass.
“This is going to be more of a celebratory type of meeting. Things are going so well here, everyone is getting a raise.”
Ho, ho, fucking ho. It’s Christmas in June, and Lynch is fucking Santa Claus.
Chapter 25
Molly
“Ladies.” Zoe and I both turn toward Virus. He’s in the front seat of the SUV driven by Professor, and not even the club member’s scowling face can ruin our mood. “These are the cards to your rooms.”
Kai reaches over the seat and grabs one of the cards.
“Sorry,” Virus says and yanks the card back out of Kai’s hand and offers him a different one. “This one is yours.”
“No big deal,” Kai says, frowning at the newest MC member. “We would’ve figured it out when that card wouldn’t open my door.”
“That’s the thing,” Virus says as he hands us our appropriate cards. “Ladies, your cards open every door in the clubhouse. Others, including you Kai, have limited access.”
Kai shrugs as if he never expected, or even wanted, access to any room other than his and Professors’, but I have thoughts galore swirling through my head. Access to every door could be a very good thing for me.
“Every door?” Zoe questions.
I’d fucking pinch her if Virus wasn’t still looking back at us.
“Under Lynch’s orders,” Virus confirms before turning back around.
“Why are you wearing pants?” I ask Zoe, returning to the conversation we were having before the interruption.
“Because going naked seemed a little crazy.” She looks at me like I’ve lost my mind.
“We agreed to
wear short skirts and tank tops.”
“I’m not risking Lynch finding out that I went out in public with my ass hanging out.”
“You do it at the clubhouse,” I counter. Hell, she’s been known to let a lot more than that hang out on occasion.
“I do a lot of things at the clubhouse that I would never risk in the outside world.”
She’s got a point, but it doesn’t make me feel any less out of place in my tiny blue jean skirt. She’s talking about her ass hanging out, but my skirt is so damn short, if I bend over, more than my ass would be visible.
“The parking lot is empty,” I complain when Professor pulls up outside a dingy bar. “And this isn’t a damn club.”
“I told the manager to play the music extra loud,” Professor says as he places the SUV in park. “It’ll be exactly the same thing.”
“Professor gets tetchy in crowds,” Kai whispers. “It’s better this way.”
“There isn’t anyone here,” I grumble. “Tonight is going to suck.”
“After a few drinks, you won’t even notice,” Virus says with a quick grin before climbing out.
Professor must have been serious about speaking with the manager because the bass of the music can be heard from the parking lot as we walk up to the tinted front doors of the bar.
“Hey!” Legs shouts as soon as we walk through the door. She’s holding a drink over her head like tonight is going to be the best night of her life.
“She got an early start.” Kai’s minty breath floats over my cheek, and I have a sudden urge for a mojito or twelve.
Beelining to the bar, I belly up and wait for the bartender to notice me.
“What can I get you?”
“Mojito, double rum, please.”
After placing my order, I turn and watch the small crowd of people. I don’t know where they parked, but everyone who’d normally be at the clubhouse on a Friday night is here. Even the hangarounds that I’ve seen on several occasions are gathered in small groups with drinks in their hands and shaking hips.
“Did you order already?” Zoe walks up to me and rests her forearms on the bar.
“This is the clubhouse.”
