“Not my problem.” This was a reason I had closed off to people around me, only letting a small few into my tight-knit circle. I had heard so many sob stories over the past seven years running Sirens that not much penetrated the thick wall around me.
“Trix, I’ll pay you back every penny with interest. Please. You’re my last hope. My dad has lung cancer, and it’s progressing quickly. All my money goes to his treatments, and I got behind on the mortgage. I just need an advance on my checks. I’ll work extra shifts, come in whenever you want.” Her words strung together like a melody, and fuck me, I was feeling for her panic.
She continued, “He has no insurance, so I’m paying for everything out of my pocket, and it’s bleeding me dry. I don’t know what else to do.” Tears rolled down her face. Judging from her body language—I had learned from the best how to hone in on it—the bitch was telling the truth.
Fucking hell. I didn’t want to feel it. I tried to push it back. The businesswoman inside of me screamed, No fucking way! while the woman inside of me was almost proud of how Nanette took care of her father. Was I really going to do this? Shit.
“Twenty-five percent interest to be paid in full six months from now.”
Nannette’s eyes lit up. “Really?”
“That’s six thousand two hundred fifty dollars in my hand six months from this date. A fucking day late and I’ll make your life a living hell.” I would, too. I would find every way possible to do so.
“Okay,” she said, swiping away the remnants of her tears.
I folded my hands, placing them in front of me. “I’m not fucking around, Nannette. These are the terms.” I pulled out the gun from the holster attached under my desktop and set it on the desk. Her eyes widened. “Every last penny, six months,” I reminded her. “You sure you want to do that?” I gave her an out, and it would be the only one she would get if she agreed.
She nodded her head then said, “I understand. Six months, sixty-two fifty in your hand.”
I put the gun back in its holster, my warning as clear as I could make it.
“Out. I’ll have the money for you at the end of your shift.”
My damn pride was too great to let this go. The bitch owed me way too much money, and I wanted it back. I wanted her. If that meant I had to go on unfamiliar territory with a guy I did not like, so be it.
My breath hitched at the monstrosity in front of me—huge cinder blocks stacked one on top of the other, higher than my two-story house. The ends looked like princess parapets with sharp points at the roof and windows all around them, giving a view in every direction. Upon closer inspection, I saw men stood inside them, their eyes trained on me. It was if I were going into a war zone instead of a motorcycle club.
I rolled up and stopped the SUV at the closed gate to the entrance.
Unease whispered around me due to the heavy security. Who in the hell were they protecting in there, the fucking president?
A large man built like a stubby Mack truck with a goatee and light brown hair came walking to my window, his eyes covered in black glasses. I hit the automatic button to lower my window and waited for it to clear all the way down.
“What can I do for ya?” he asked, bending into the window with a smirk on his face. He made no qualms about looking down the front of my shirt to my ample cleavage. I hadn’t worn this shirt for that purpose, but I had very few shirts that didn’t show off the girls.
I snapped my fingers three times in quick succession, bringing his eyes back to mine. “My eyes are up here.”
“But down there is just as fucking good.” He licked his lips as lust blazed off him.
Men, they were all the same, wanting booze, bitches, and boobs.
“I’m here to see Cade.” Dammit, I needed to stop that. It wasn’t his damn name anymore, but it was hard to distinguish the two. “I mean, Spook. He’s expecting me.”
“Fuck, boss man always gets the prime pussy,” he groaned as if this were a regular occurrence, which I was pushing out of my head.
I arched my brow, instead.
“No one gets my pussy but me,” I combated, tilting my head just a touch.
I had a bit of a sassy mouth, or bitch mouth, whatever you wanted to call it. I told things straight like they were and didn’t back down from a fight or a challenge. That being said, I had also learned how to cut my losses and get the hell out of a bad situation. I was not going to let burly man here intimidate me.
“Doubt that one.” He nodded to one of the guys in the tall tower, and the steel gate slowly started to open with a loud creak in front of me. “Have a good time, and when you’re done, come find me.”
“No, thanks,” I murmured, driving away from him with no intention of searching him out ever.
The area was wide and vast, almost like a whole city block. I had lived in Tennessee all my life, so of course I knew of the Vipers Creed. Everyone did. To actually see it and be in their space was a bit unnerving, though. There was an aura of power that I felt to my bones.
I held back a shiver.
Vipers Creed MC had bought an old, army compound many years ago. The structure on the outside reminded me of the classic war movies I had passed by on television. Inside the gates, however, looked nothing like the starkness of the outside.
Several buildings outlined the space. One was enormous; it looked like it had two maybe three levels to it. I assumed that was the main building because several smaller concrete structures surrounded an enormous courtyard with bright green grass and a fire pit off to the side. Some actually looked as if they were homes with plants and flowers around them. It was homey, comfortable in a way, like a family lived there and took care of it.
Off to the far left was Creed’s Automotive, several hot rods and a few bikes lining its parking lot.
A spot near the larger building came into view, and I parked my car then turned off the ignition. I sat back in my seat, giving myself a moment. I did this before every business meeting just to make sure my head was on straight. Too bad this meeting was with Cade, but he was the president here if the two guys I had talked to and their boss man bullshit were anything to go by.
People changed a lot over time, going different paths. Some were good and some not so good. I wasn’t a judge, jury, or executioner in this scenario, but I had to wonder, with all the security, exactly how much Cade had changed from the boy I had known all those years ago. Was his life so dangerous that he had to be behind cement walls with guys guarding them? And if it was that dangerous, then why would he choose this life?
I wanted to bang my head on the steering wheel. It didn’t matter. I was here for one reason and one reason only. Knowing any of that changed nothing.
With a heavy sigh, I opened the SUV door and hopped down to the blacktop. I pulled my shirt down, readjusting myself and making sure I was covered. For clothes, I had gone simple: worn, ripped jeans; a V-neck, blue top; and flats. I had loaded myself up with silver at my wrists and a couple chains around my neck. What could I say? I loved it and wore it every day. I didn’t do much with my hair besides brush through it, but I liked having my chestnut tresses fall in thick waves down my back.
“Hey, mouse,” a man with a bald head and tailored beard said from my left. He wore black sunglasses covering his eyes, but his lips were in a sexy smirk. He had on a leather vest that had the patch of secretary over a dark blue T-shirt. He was attractive in his own, unique way.
Mouse was a strange greeting, but I went with it.
“Hi, I’m here to see Ca—Spook,” I told him, lifting my hand to block the penetrating sun that my sunglasses had no chance of hindering.
“I bet you are.” He chuckled, running his hand over his beard as he appraised me.
I should have felt heat from the intense stare, but I didn’t. Okay, maybe a flicker if I were honest with myself. I knew how I looked, considering I saw myself in the mirror every morning.
My body drove some guys crazy
because I had an abundance of tits and ass. I understood it. It was even flattering that men thought I was an attractive woman. At the moment, though, I didn’t need his appraisal. I just wanted to get this shit over with. In and out. Wipe my hands clean of Cade again.
“Can you tell me where he is?”
The bald man walked closer and held out his arm with a crooked elbow like an usher would do at a wedding. I smiled. It was cute.
I placed my hand in the bend of his firm arm.
“Let me show you to him.”
We began to walk, and the heads of the guys sitting in the courtyard area turned before they started whistling. I ignored them and fell into step with the man.
“Thanks,” I told him with a pat on the arm.
“Anything for the boss man.”
While I didn’t know Cade’s life, I had lots of assumptions. I watched the television shows about men in motorcycle clubs and all the havoc they raised. I didn’t know if that were actually true, but at least I wasn’t going in completely blind. I knew there was a hierarchy, and the men had to ride Harleys. Other than that, I only knew what the TV show told me.
Who was I kidding? I was pretty much clueless.
The man chuckled. “And what’s a hot piece like you coming here for?”
When he asked the question, I looked up at him. Lines were sprinkled around his eyes and lips like he had ridden his bike in the sun for hours and hours. The top of his head was as tan as the rest of his face. It wasn’t a look; it was him. It was the small grin playing on his lips that caught my attention. I didn’t know if he already knew the answer and was just playing me or if he was actually inquisitive. Once again, I rolled with it.
“I have word one of my girls is here with you. She owes me money, and I want it.”
He opened a solid, steel door, and we walked into darkness. I ripped my sunglasses from my face as the hum of the lights illuminated the entire room. The scents of stale booze, cigarettes, and sex penetrated the air like a thick haze. I knew those three smells by heart because I smelled them every day. They were my livelihood, the reason I was here in the first place.
“This way,” he said, pulling my arm.
I followed him into a wide open space. Tables were scattered throughout with chairs at them. A long bar was set on the other side of the room with loads of liquor, looking like it could give me a run for my money in comparison to the one I had at Sirens.
I felt kind of strange holding this guys arm without knowing his name, so I asked.
He lifted his shades to the top of his head and stared down at me with eyes the color of the ocean. They weren’t blue; they weren’t green. They were both, and they were breathtaking. I got sucked into them momentarily.
“Stiff.”
“Stiff?” I questioned as he walked me through the space and down a long hallway. What in the hell kind of name was Stiff?
Pictures hung on the wooden planked walls, but at the pace we were going, there was no time to look without me stumbling on my feet.
He chuckled. “Yeah, mouse. You stick around, and I’m sure you’ll find out why.” He winked then stopped us in front of a wooden door.
With his fist, he banged loudly three times, shaking the pictures on the wall next to the door.
“What?” barked a voice from the past on the opposite side. Even with the door between us and only that one word, I felt my body instantly awaken. I wanted to pull toward the sound.
“Someone here to see ya,” Stiff yelled back.
“Nice intercom you have here,” I murmured, and Stiff chuckled.
Little did I know that this would change my life forever.
The story continues in Challenged (Vipers Creed MC#1)
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The Realist
By
Abbie Zanders
Copyright ©2014 Abbie Zanders
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted
in any form or by any means without written permission from the author.
Better alone than in bad company.
That’s Clarissa Sullivan’s new philosophy. No more bad relationships. No more dead-end jobs. No more depending on anyone for anything. The rustic mountain cabin in the middle of nowhere is the perfect place to start over and simplify.
Adopting a mongrel stray is not part of the plan. Neither is guarding her heart against her sexy, survivalist neighbor.
Ex-marine Travis Maxwell is totally onboard with that. He sought out the seclusion of the mountains to get away from betraying fiancés and back-stabbing best friends. The last thing he needs – or wants – is to get close to anyone ever again.
Worrying about his prickly, sexy little neighbor is not part of the plan. And any kind of relationship is definitely out of the question.
But in the unforgiving wilderness, it just makes sense to have each other’s back, right?
Excerpt:
~Clarissa~
I watched Travis as he stalked across the grass to the barn, a symphony of male movement my body wanted to dance to. What remained of the pack of shingles was slung casually over one shoulder, even though I knew how heavy those things were. A hammer and a small crowbar dangled from the tool belt slung low on his hips, swaying with the movement of each confident step. A light sheen of sweat glistened over his bronzed, bared back and shoulders, making it impossible to turn away.
Travis Maxwell was a man who owned his body. He was comfortable in his own skin. I envied him that.
It was something I couldn’t relate to. I’d never been particularly happy with my body. I’d always been too short. Too fluffy. My boobs were too big, my hips too wide for my diminished height. These days, I wish I’d spent less time worrying about that and more time appreciating the fact that at least everything had worked pretty well. Since the accident, I tried not to take anything for granted anymore.
Even simple things – standing for long periods of time, walking too far – could be difficult. Other things, like climbing or running, were next to impossible. Rather than feel sorry for myself, though, I said a prayer of thanks every night, because a bum leg was better than no leg, and I’d come damn close to losing it.
Like most life-changing events, it wasn’t directly my fault. I was on my way home from my weekly trip to the local farmer’s market, a canvas bag in each hand filled with fresh produce. The market was only a couple of blocks from our house, and it had been such a beautiful day that I’d left the car in the garage and decided to walk instead. I was thinking about the recipe for herbed, roasted vegetables I wanted to try that night.
A car ran a red light while I was in the middle of the crosswalk. I never saw it coming.
I woke up in the hospital a couple of days later and found out what happened. Bottom line: the guy was drunk. Nearly eighty years old, he was already soused at ten o’clock in the morning. Wasn’t his first time, either. He’d had his license revoked and had seven prior “incidents”.
As part of his “punishment”, he came to see me in the hospital. The kicker? He was one of the nicest old men I’d ever met.
He was also the only visitor I had, except for the obligatory ones from my ex, Mark. Mark used the evening visiting hours wisely, though. While I stared dead-eyed at the tiny little television, he pulled out his laptop and caught up on the work he was missing “because of me”. I never quite figured that one out, since he hadn’t taken a single day off that I knew of. Or if he had, he sure as hell hadn’t spent it with me.
The nurses and doctors kept telling me I was lucky to be alive. The thing is, I didn’t feel so lucky. It seems weird to say so, but the thought of “getting back to normal” wasn’t appealing in the least. I was in an unhappy relationship. I hated my job as a financial analyst for the international monstrosity that had bulldozed its w
ay over several smaller, locally-based niche IT companies. I had a couple of people I was friendly with, but no real friends.
I had the shocking revelation that, except for fifty years and a difference of gender, my life was an exact parallel of the old man’s who had run me over. His miserable life, he confided to me as he sipped from the flask he’d snuck into my room, was why he drank so much. The only time anyone noticed (or cared) was when he hurt somebody else.
I thought about the nightly brandy habit I’d already developed. It wasn’t much, just a shot or two before bedtime. I liked the pleasant warmth and the way it relaxed me enough so that I wouldn’t lie awake in bed alone, thinking too much.
Would I be that man in another fifty years?
With two weeks of nothing but rehab and time to think, I did a lot of soul-searching. I came up with some hard truths. Despite the fact that I’d followed the formula and done everything “right”, I wasn’t happy. I didn’t like anything about my life. Sharing a place with Mark and my job were slowly killing me. I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life that way. And I didn’t want anyone to ever get hurt because of me.
I tried to talk with Mark. He insisted we were fine, everything was fine.
It wasn’t. And it would never be, I realized, unless I did something about it. ’Tis better to light a single candle than curse the darkness. I don’t know who first said that, but whoever it was, was pretty smart.
“Earth to Rissa.” Travis’ deep voice rolled through me like a wave, tugging me away from my reflections. His shortened address felt warm, intimate. No one had ever called me that before. “If you’re finished ogling me, I’m going to head back to my place.”
I felt the heat rise in my face. Yes, I had been ogling him, but I’d zoned out for the last couple of minutes. I don’t know what bothered me more – the fact that he’d caught me in the act or that I’d wasted several minutes of prime ogling time.
“I’m done,” I said casually, waving my hand in a shooing gesture. “You can go now.”
Hammer (Regulators MC Book 2) Page 23
