by Addison Jane
“You don’t want to do this,” I heard Caleb warn.
Ham chuckled, but the sound was one I hadn’t heard very often and sent chills down my spine. I hung around the clubhouse often, but when it came to actual MC business, I was always kept at a distance. Meyah said it was better that way, and I agreed, especially given that I came from a family of police officers.
But I’d slowly begun to realize why people tended to walk the other way when they saw a club member coming down the street.
“You got a problem with it, you can speak with Huntsman when he rides in tomorrow. He’s the owner of this place and President of the Exiled Eight MC in Vegas. But I’m sure you already knew that, didn’t you?” Ham added, and even though I couldn’t see him any longer, I could hear the smile in his voice. “I’m sure he’ll be only too happy to hear about how you were acting toward his daughter’s best friend.”
The room was silent.
The air was thick and still and hard to breathe.
“Maybe I’ll do just that,” Caleb hissed, but after a few moments I looked up to see him walking past catching his eyes as he passed the three club members who were standing between us. The corner of his mouth turned up in a smirk, and he winked, pursing his lips into a kissy face as he walked by.
It made me shudder, but I tried to hold my body as still as possible so he couldn’t see.
The entire bachelor party was gone within a minute, and the three men guarding us finally stepped away as Ham and Shotgun approached.
“You all right?” Shotgun asked, his eyes roaming up and down my body as if checking for injuries.
I swallowed the nervous lump in my throat and pressed my shoulders back, forcing myself to stand a little taller. I didn’t want these guys to think that I was rattled.
I was.
But I didn’t need them looking at me like I was a child.
“I’m fine. So, what kind of shit did I just start?” I asked, breathing deeply and pulling my hair away from my face. Sweat was lining my hairline, and I desperately needed some fresh air to gather my wits again.
Ham shook his head. “You didn’t start shit, he did. It’s fine, we’ll have a chat with Huntsman, and he’ll sort it. This isn’t on you.” The usually laid-back look on Ham’s face had been replaced with a deep creased frown, so I knew he was just trying to make me feel better.
“Men are fucking psycho,” I tried to joke, pointing at all the buff, tattooed, intimidating looking brothers in the room. “Y’all are psycho.”
“Come on…” Meyah laughed, taking my hand in hers and pulling me toward the door. She dipped her head so her mouth was next to my ear. “Let’s have a couple shots before these assholes see how much your hands are shaking and try to send you home.”
I swallowed back the lump in my throat and nodded my head.
This was why Meyah was my best friend.
She saw through the front.
And thank God because I was going to need something strong to get through the next few hours.
RIPLEY
I pulled into the compound with a loud roar, not giving a flying fuck if I woke up every asshole inside.
Texas rumbled in behind me, pulling his bike in directly beside mine. Tex was a huge guy, and he had a huge ride to match—custom made to fit his stature. His personality though, it was completely opposite to what one would expect, which was why I had to fight the urge to clock him on his stupid grinning face as we both backed our rides into their spaces.
I turned off the engine and ripped off my helmet. “Wipe that shit-eating grin off your face before I do it for you,” I ordered as I climbed off my ride and hung my helmet on the handlebars. I swept my fingers through my hair, shaking it out before pressing a couple of fingers to the corner of my mouth.
It stung, but it was pretty minor.
In this case, the ‘you should see the other guy’ saying was pretty on point.
The club had their hands in a few different things. While a lot of the members worked for the construction company during the day, a fair few of them also traded that out for night work at some of the huge casinos on the strip.
The owners employed us for big events or busy nights as extra security.
A lot of the patrons didn’t actually know that was why we were there wandering around, which made it easier for us to catch the idiots being fucking morons.
And low and behold, I walked past some big bastard manhandling one of the waitresses.
“Brother, you didn’t see his face. He hit you, you barely moved,” Tex recalled with a deep throaty chuckle. “You hit him, and it was like watching a building being blown up. He just sank straight down.”
“Maybe he’ll think next time before he tries to grab one of our girl’s boobs,” I snorted as I headed for the front door of the clubhouse in search of a cigarette and some fucking coffee.
Tex snorted. “Unlikely.”
He was right, bastards like that would never learn. They think they have the right to do whatever the hell they want because they’re bigger, or older, or richer, or fucking famous. They think they are owed women falling at their feet. They were fucking wrong, they were owed their dicks tied into knots so they couldn’t reproduce. I wasn’t trying to say I was an angel, but any girl that I’m going to fuck will always approach me first. I don’t need to go grabbing their asses or their tits to let them know I’m down to fuck them.
There was a light already on in the kitchen telling me that at least one other asshole was up already. Stepping into the industrial-sized kitchen, Diddit’s Old Lady, Mouse, pressed her hand to her heart and gasped. “Holy shit, Rip,” she cursed, then grabbed a paper towel and started to wipe up the coffee that had spilled over the side of her cup. “What the hell are you doing up? It’s 4:00 a.m.”
“Just got in from a shift in town,” I grumbled, moving past her to grab a mug and shoving it under the coffee maker. “You coming or going?”
Mouse was a nurse, she did shift work and was often coming and going at strange fucking hours. She was one of the only old ladies in this whole damn place—her and Diddit being married for almost four years now. With him at twenty-six and her thirty-one, she was five years his senior. And the kid was loyal as fuck to his Old Lady too.
“Going,” she answered with a sigh, followed by a large sip of her coffee—like it was her lifeline. “My shift starts at five. Diddit didn’t get in until two.” She lifted her mug trying to hide a tired but satisfied smile.
“That’ll teach ya for spending two hours fucking and not catching up on sleep,” I snorted as I pulled my now full cup out and held the hot liquid in my hands.
She rolled her eyes, leaning back on the counter and rotating her hips as I walked to the door. “I regret nothing.”
I headed for the main room, tugging my smokes from my pocket and flipping the packet open. I pulled one out with my mouth before digging around in the pocket of my hoodie for my lighter. A cool breeze hit my face, and I looked up with a frown finding the ten-foot roller door to the back patio already open.
Does nobody sleep in this fucking place?
“Those are gonna kill you.”
I scoffed as my brother, Drake, stepped out of the shadows shaking his head. With his typical business attire nowhere to be seen, and his tatts on show—the same ones he tried hard to disguise when he was doing business away from the MC—he was actually looking a little like he fucking belonged here.
“Gotta die of something.” The cigarette in my mouth stopped bouncing around as I spoke, and I lit the end. “The fuck aren’t you sleeping?” I stepped out into the cool early morning air, inhaling deeply. It was still pitch black out, the sun yet to even make a peek on the horizon.
Drake had been over in Dubai securing business deals for the construction company which the club owned. He’d been gone at least three weeks, and I missed having him around. We were close growing up. He was only a couple years older than me, but he’d had to grow up faster than most kids.
Dad ha
d huge responsibilities within the club, so while he tried his best to be around for us after Mom died, Drake took it upon himself to look out for me when Dad wasn’t around. He did a pretty good job I guess, but the one thing he couldn’t stop was the nightmares and the devilish guilt that came with them.
Night after fucking night.
“Jetlag is a fucking bitch.” He reached over and snatched the pack of cigarettes from my hand and took one out.
“You’ve been back for like two days,” I snorted. “Must be old age getting to you. Heard it takes longer to get over these things as you ge—”
Before I could get my ding moment in, he tossed the packet of smokes back. I jerked forward to catch it, my coffee spilling over the side of my cup and burning my hand. I cringed and pursed my lips together to keep from letting loose a plethora of expletives at my older brother. “You’re a cunt,” I managed to condense it down to just the one. In response, he lit his smoke and smiled. “You need to go get laid or something.”
“Just taking a break, little brother.” He smirked before taking a deep inhale. “I heard Lauren’s back.”
I rolled my shoulders. Lauren was the daughter of one of the older members in the club, now retired. We’d grown up together, and she was one of the few people I guess I would call a friend. She’d put up with my need to be a broody fucking bastard so I could hide my pain. She didn’t care that she wasn’t one of the popular kids at school, even though she could have been given she was a cheerleader and on the honor roll.
Instead, she chose to hang out with us club kids.
The weirdos and the outcasts.
The kids that other kids whispered about behind their hands and were too afraid to make eye contact with in case we made them burst into flames or some bullshit.
Unlike us though, Lauren was always talking about college. She wanted to work with animals and loved learning about how they could be used to help people. She disappeared for a few years to get her college degree, only coming back a couple of times a year for big club events and holidays, and then a couple weeks ago, she finally graduated and came home for good.
For a minute, I thought she was the same person who’d left. Sweet, energetic, laid back. I was waiting to hang out with the friend I’d talked to about my nightmares. The girl I’d confided in about how often they haunted me. The chick who’d have my back in a fight, no matter who was fucking standing on the other side.
But things were different.
She was different.
“She is,” I answered Drake simply. He raised his eyebrow, waiting for more, not about to let me slide my way out of this one. “Not the same girl who left. I don’t know this Lauren.”
“Hmm… I thought things between the two of you were good when she came home for Christmas?”
I nodded. “They were, I guess. She kept making comments about how she’d be home soon… hints.”
I could see the moment that it clicked for him.
“She’s thinking now she’s back that the two of you will get together.”
My entire body cringed, and I quickly sucked back some serious nicotine, holding it in my lungs for as long as possible before releasing it.
Things had never been that way between us—at least, it never had been that way for me. Others used to comment all the time about how we would make a great couple—me being in line to take over one day and her being a club member’s daughter. I’d laughed it off so many times that they just stopped talking about it. There was never even an inkling of anything romantic or sexual, and she knew exactly how I fucking felt on the subject, she knew that was never something I was looking for.
Not just with her.
With anyone.
“The second she got back, things went south,” I explained, shaking my head. “And fucking quickly. She’s been acting like a complete fucking bitch and not the kind I like.”
If she’d been anyone else, I would have told her to get the fuck out, childhood friend or not. But because she was Pound’s daughter, the only place that would get me was a fucking round in the ring with him and probably a broken nose.
“You need to set her straight,” Drake said, a dark look appearing on his face. I thought he would have found this shit amusing, but instead, he seemed concerned. “You make sure she knows where she stands.”
“Good, you’re already back,” my father’s deep gravel voice said as he made his way out of the clubhouse toward us still shrugging his club cut on over his shoulders.
With that, the conversation was done, but it was still playing in the back of my mind. I knew my dad had problems sleeping as well, but his issues were for different reasons than mine.
Huntsman had spent years in the Navy SEALS before he came back and took his place in the MC.
It was the reason for his club name.
Dad was the man they sent to find people who didn’t want to be found. And he was fucking good at his job.
“You need me?” I asked, leaning back against the building trying to decide what I needed more, my caffeine or my nicotine.
“Been waiting for you to get in,” Dad replied making me raise my eyebrows in question, urging him to continue. “Round the boys up, I want everyone’s asses in church in thirty minutes."
“It’s 4:00 a.m.,” Drake noted, looking at Dad like the old man had finally lost his shit.
He stared back at Drake, his lips pressed in a hard line, and the crease between his eyes a permanent frown. “This is my caring face, can’t you fucking tell?” Then he turned on his heels and walked away, calling over his shoulder, “Get the fuckers up and in church.”
“He’s gone senile,” I grumbled under my breath to my brother, thinking I’d kept pretty quiet, but realizing I hadn’t when Dad stopped and looked back at the both of us.
“You wanna be a smart ass? You ain’t too old for me to take my belt off and wrap it around your punk ass,” he growled, tapping his belt buckle before walking off again, toward the kitchen.
Drake flicked his smoke out onto the concrete, the tip still glowing orange in the darkness before grinning and patting me on the shoulder as he walked back inside.
Dad had been giving me a lot more responsibilities lately. He was preparing me, letting me step in and take some responsibilities and show the rest of the club what I was made of. I already had the respect of the men, and I wasn’t afraid to give these fuckers a kick up the ass when they needed it. But in saying that, there was also two things you shouldn’t do if you enjoy the way your face looks…
Interrupt a brother when he’s six inches deep inside a tight pussy.
And wake up a brother at 5:00 a.m. when they’re meant to be having a day off.
And I was about to do at least one of those.
Fucking awesome.
The room where we held church was something to be admired. It held a lot of history, and just stepping inside made you acutely aware of what you were a part of, and just how important our brotherhood was.
The eight club cuts that hung proudly on the wall behind the head of the table were a reminder of how we got to where we were today, and the road our families and brothers had been through. My great-grandfather was one of those men—the original eight men who started the club—he was the Vice President nonetheless.
“Seats, now,” Dad ordered as each member dragged their asses through the doors and into the room, some awake and ready to hear what was going on, others barely even aware of the fact that they weren’t sleeping anymore.
We each took a seat at the table, all twenty-five of us. The room was starting to get a lot smaller with the more members we added. We’d already had to put an extension on the table because my dad didn’t believe in any member not being able to sit at it and have their say or their vote. We were a brotherhood, and when we voted or discussed things to do with the club, each member’s word was as strong as any other man in that room.
The Exiled Eight may have originally begun as a group of outcasts—laughed at and r
idiculed because their beliefs and values weren’t the same as others—but they refused to lay back and be treated like they were fucking less than. Hell no. We didn’t get to become one of the most notorious gangs in Nevada by being pushovers.
We fought hard, we worked harder, and we stood our ground.
This club wasn’t for men looking for a free ride. This club was for men who were looking to make lives for themselves, for their families and prove that they were more than what fucking society or anyone else believed them to be.
Dad banged the gavel on the large table, the sound of wood hitting wood echoed in the vast space, drawing all the attention straight to him. The table rumbled below my hands, the varnished and patterned wood so fucking shiny I could see my reflection in it.
My dad had earned the level of respect that a lot of men search for their entire lives.
“There were some issues at Empire last night,” Dad explained, forcing me to sit a little straighter, my ears perking up just a bit. “Shake didn’t give me all the details but some asshole tried on some shit with Dakota, and she pulled a gun on him.”
My fingers twitched, they wanted to reach for a cigarette, but my grandad banned smoking inside church many fucking years ago.
Damn it.
I clenched my fists, trying to calm my muscles which had already tightened as if preparing for a fight. “Who is he?”
I didn’t miss the look both my father and my older brother gave me, obviously hearing a little more than curiosity in my tone. But the last thing I needed right now was to have another argument with either of them about how Dakota and I were not, and would not, be a fucking thing.
I was silently thankful when he continued, “That’s the problem,” Dad drawled, running his hand over his beard thoughtfully. “Shake said they took his license details for the VIP booking. So, they looked him up after the incident, and it sounds like the information and ID were fake. Shake told the asshole that I’d be there tonight, so I’m gonna be there.”
I could already see the faces in the room begin to light up at the sinister sound of my dad’s voice, one that told every motherfucker within a hundred mile radius to grab hold of their balls because there was a high chance they’d be chopped off if they didn’t.
