by Nicole Snow
I walked in and took my place at the head of the table, pretending the room wasn't a powder keg, ready to blow my face clean off.
Drama aside, we had business. I ran through the deal I'd struck this morning with Blackjack, Prez of the massive Grizzlies MC West of the Dakotas, and his allies a little further east, the Prairie Devils. Our reckoning with the Deads was coming damned soon, and when it did, the club would be making a whole lot more on the gun trade.
When I finally came to Firefly, I had one question.
“How soon can we be ready?” I growled, refusing to let yesterday come between me and my Enforcer. “Blackjack said he can get some men out here by next week. They'll be ready as soon as they're in, itching for action after the cartel wars ended out west. I want everything square in five days. Earlier, if we can swing it.”
“Five days,” he said, looking at me with payback on his mind for the blow to the guts. “Doesn't leave much time to train any of the brothers on the heavier shit. We've been getting more of it in and our range ain't great for this stuff.”
“Fuck the big guns,” I said. “We'll have manpower on our side. The Grizzlies are bringing a few of their newer toys, too. It'll balance out.”
“Before we do this, there's something else,” Joker interrupted us, sitting up in his chair. “That girl, Summer, who some of you boys saw the other day. She's got news on the Deads...”
Everybody's ears perked up. We all listened, wondering what kind of intel he'd gotten from that little stray who kept showing up at the clubhouse, needling him when he wanted nothing to do with her.
Then the motherfucker dropped the biggest bomb on our heads in months. That girl who'd been screwing around with him, Summer, she wasn't just a crush after the craziest bastard wearing our ink.
She was his old flame. His baby mama. Worse, she was in deep shit.
Christ. As if this fuckery wasn't complicated enough.
When Joker was done with his confession, Sixty made his usual smartass wise cracks, and we hashed out the details. Took a vote on how we'd move against the Deads, kill their leader, Hatch, and protect the woman and son nobody knew Joker had 'til five minutes ago.
I watched the Ayes roll in, one brother at a time. Unanimous.
At least the club could still agree on something. When I slammed my gavel down, everybody filed out, except for the Veep, who I grabbed, and kept hanging back with me.
When the room was clear, I gave him a stern talking to. Told his crazy ass he'd better keep a lid on it just a little while longer, even though the stakes had just gotten as high for him as they could for any man after revenge, who'd suddenly had a family dumped in his lap.
I watched him walk out shaken, his dead brother heavy on his mind, along with the new family he had a responsibility to protect. Fuck.
I'd asked him about Firefly, too. He told me the obvious. This thing with me and Hannah – this thing that hadn't gotten fuckin' started – wasn't gonna die. Not unless him and I had a face-to-face sit down to hash it out.
Didn't help that the entire club believed we were fucking by now. I walked into my office, poured myself a shot, and fiddled with my great great granddaddy's antique pistol in the drawer.
I needed the alone time. Had to sit there so I could hear myself think. Wondered how the hell I'd bought myself so much grief without really getting any pussy outta it.
The stakes kept going up, too. One wrong move could ignite this thing in the middle of our war with the Deads, and blow everybody to kingdom come several times over.
Several shots in, I saw somebody else standing in the room with me. My old man, Early, back to taunt me again.
Should've stayed outta the Navy, boy. If you'd done your job at my side growing up, learned to keep your fool mouth shut, and kept my fuckin' drug trade going, we wouldn't be in this mess.
“Fuck you,” I growled, knowing I'd gone crazy. “I'm putting this club back on track. There's gonna be a lot of chop along the way, but we'll all come out better for it.”
Better? He snorted. Come the fuck on. Tell me you don't really believe that shit.
I did. Believed it so fuckin' badly I pointed the antique revolver at the ghost in front of me, and fired.
Unloaded, thank fuck. The loud, jarring snap of metal was enough to shake my stupor.
So was the loud knock at the door.
Standing up, I shuffled over, realizing how drunk I'd gotten when I could barely grip the doorknob. Skin busted in, sliding past me, kicking the door shut and catching my shoulders with both hands.
“What the fuck's going on in here, Prez? You look awful.”
“Nothing, Skinny boy,” I said. “Ain't none of your concern.”
The brother wasn't stupid. His eyes flicked past me, saw the half-drained bottle of Jack on my desk, and inhaled the chemical stink on my breath.
“No, Prez, I think it's my concern if the man who's supposed to be leading us winds up so blitzed he can't hold the gavel. Come on, let's get you outta here.”
I grumbled and gave him a half-assed shove. He had a better grip, holding me steady with one arm, leading me out to the garages, passing our bikes.
Next thing I knew, he had me in his truck. We rolled through the clubhouse's gate, leaving my poor abandoned bottle and family heirloom behind with my bastard father's ghost.
“Where you taking me?” I growled, staring across the sunset slipping behind the Smokies.
“Ruby Heel so you can sober the fuck up. You said you'd be by the place soon anyway to see how biz is running. I think it's time we took care of that.”
I stared out the window like a damned kid on a field trip to the math museum – fuck, did they even have those? Now, I knew something was really wrong, when going to inspect the finest pussy this club had felt like a chore.
What had Hannah done to me? I thought about yesterday, remembering how close we'd been to driving it home.
I was almost in her. Still wanted to be.
Still tasted her on my lips, hot and eager, calling my cock to stir every time I thought about her little tongue moving on mine.
Thirty more seconds. All I would've needed if that fuck, Firefly, hadn't barged in at the worst time. I would've had her coming in her pants from my lips alone, and then it would've been a cakewalk getting everything off and slamming her down on the nearest surface, ready for my cock.
My head bobbed like a fishing lure by the time we pulled into the Heel. New sign looked nice, a glowing ruby slipper shining neon red hung above every entrance.
Skin and I walked inside, heading through the throngs of horny, loud drunks who'd gathered for another evening to forget their woes. A few months ago, I might've joined them, happy to plant myself in front of the stage with a drink and watch the night's prime tits and ass shake themselves a little richer.
We found Meg hanging out in her office, perched over a magazine, her PROPERTY OF SKIN cut constantly draped over her shoulders. When she saw me with her man, she looked up, startled, slamming the flimsy tabloid shut.
“Oh, Dust! I didn't know you were coming by tonight,” she said, flashing Skin a why didn't you tell me look.
Next to me, Skinny boy signaled it wasn't nothing serious. I was too fucked up to care they were talking about me underneath my nose in goddamned signs.
“Relax. I'm just here to check in, see how things are running, have you and Skin break down the cash flow.” I looked at my Treasurer, and saw his expression sour.
If he wanted to drag me out of my own fuckin' clubhouse for business, then we'd sit the hell down and talk business for real.
Something about the bright, flashy purple cover of that tabloid laying on her desk caught my eye. I reached over, picked it up, and held it up to take a look.
“King Silas – playboy to papa! Europe's biggest rogue tells the world he's never been happier, and more in love with his wife, with royal baby nearing.” I finished reading the headline and slammed that shit down. “Really, babe? Is this the shit you gi
rls read when the boys ain't looking? Or are you trying to tell Skinny here something about a new bundle of joy?”
Meg flushed siren red beneath her soft blonde locks. Skin went a little white, clenching his teeth, probably regretting the fact that he hadn't let Firefly go for my throat at church today.
“It's just a little harmless gossip,” she said. “Should I print off the reports now so you can look them over?”
“Please.” I grinned, reaching for Skin's arm and pulling him down into the seat next to me. I'd had my fill of busting his balls for now.
I sat still for the next half hour, listening to their briefing on the club's financials. Business was looking good. Far better than what we'd had with a couple beat up garages under my old man.
We'd turned the Heel into one of the most popular places around, even though we had to keep kickbacks to the city and the county going to avoid any bullshit.
When we were done, Cora came in for Meg, her belly bump growing by the day. The two old ladies disappeared to check in with the dancers for the evening acts. We'd kept our noses as clean as we could since day one – no whoring, no druggies, and no two timing bitches.
“Prez, just tell me one thing,” Skin said after awhile. “Are you and Hannah really fucking?”
Fuck no, I wanted to say. That's the real tragedy.
I'd already landed the club in a world of shit for no good reason, so what was one more lie? Smiling, I put my hands on the desk and leaned in.
“Just between you and me, yeah, we are. Firefly's got every reason in the world to be pissed because she's the first one in a year I had more than once. Every fuckin' night, Skinny boy. Every damned morning. I'd take that woman on a silver platter, and I don't just mean cause she's rich. Hannah's goddamned fine. Brains, beauty, sass, and legs that go the whole nine yards. Shame she's gotta share blood with a brother, and my Enforcer, no less.”
“Don't need the gritty details. I just wanted to hear it from the source to clear things up. Fuck.” He buried his face in his hands, smoothing them back through his short hair, that scar along his cheek glistening as his lip curled. “Be careful, brother. We can't let these tensions chew us the fuck up when we're about to hit the Deads.”
“Tell me something I don't know, boy. Ain't just my habits screwing us up, though mine are in the spotlight.”
“I know. I'm worried about Joker, Prez. The last thing that crazy sonofabitch needed was a girl and a kid to worry about. He hasn't been the same since his brother bit it in that accident. This might push his sorry ass over the edge.”
Accident? Fuck me.
I tried not to snort. Sometimes, I forgot the big lie I'd laid on the club, and had to catch myself.
If only they knew the truth. Joker's brother, Piece, had been hacked to pieces and burned. Everything except his head, propped up in their grandaddy's house, ready to look lifelessly at his twin brother the second Joker walked in.
Tore my fuckin' heart out, doing what was best for the club. One thing was for sure – he was right about Joker coming dangerously close to the edge.
If he ever leapt off it, and took my ass with him, exposing my dirty lie...it'd probably mean my gavel. Maybe my own fuckin' patch.
“You're worrying too much, Skin,” I growled, grabbing him by the wrist and giving it a squeeze. “Let me take care of this shit. That's my job, long as I'm wearing this thing.” I thumped my chest with one fist, just over my PRESIDENT patch.
Long as I kept wearing it, which wouldn't be forever if shit really spun away from me.
“You're right, Dust. Ain't the first time we've had our issues in this MC. Firefly's a fucking hot head, but he'll see reason soon enough. Long as you don't leave his sis' heart in shambles, we'll get through this, and back to everything we really ought to focus on.”
“That's what I want to hear, Skinny boy,” I said, standing up and lighting my pipe for a quick puff. “Get your ass out of here at a decent time tonight, and bring Meg's, too. Your wedding's coming up in a few more weeks, and you both need the rest. Don't fight me on it.”
“Okay,” he said, smiling, his dark eyes warming. “Should I round up a prospect for your ride home?”
“I'll do that myself. You relax.” Telling him to take a load off wasn't much consolation, since I'd just lied several times over.
I stood behind the clubhouse, waiting for my ride. By the time we got back, I'd be sober enough to ride. Good thing, too, because I'd gotten sick and fuckin' tired of all these lies.
When a man bullshits enough, it sticks in his throat, rots his heart from the inside-out like a slow moving cancer.
My teeth clenched, and I practically heard my wicked old man whispering in my ear. Everybody's gonna find out sooner or later, Dusty. Least when you're thrown out of your own club like the lying fuckin' prick you are, we'll have something in common.
We'll both be dead to everybody who ever mattered.
I shook my head, wondering how much more I'd have to drink tonight to make him shut the fuck up. Goddamn, this stress. Made me almost as psycho as Joker, one evil day at a time.
Early lied to me and plenty of other brothers during the old days in the club. He'd skimmed extra money for himself, and bullshitted every man who'd been Treasurer before Skin about new money coming into the coffers. He'd gone to his grave, knowing we were running dry, and the entire MC would be up shit creek soon.
Fuck him, and fuck this.
My lie was meant to save their lives. Wasn't just there to keep things easy, or keep my free supply of perfect pussy flowing.
That meant something, didn't it?
Who the hell knew anymore. When the prospect motioned me over to his truck, a new guy named Barb, I got in and didn't say a word.
No more booze tonight. It'd only leave me with a hangover, and wouldn't repel my old man's pissed off ghost forever. Never had, and I should've figured it out a long time ago.
Luckily, I had something better in mind to steal a little truth. I'd make one of the lies I told real, or I'd lose my balls trying.
7
Down Time (Hannah)
I sat at the counter with my laptop and a thermos of sweet tea, ready to pour it across the keyboard and then chuck the fucking thing out the window.
My latest attempt at patching the app wasn't working. Of course, that meant the Sicilian's had their dicks hanging out. Ready for anyone with too much curiosity and a computer science degree to stumble upon. And if Dom and his bastards had their pants down, then so did I, in more ways than one.
Closing my eyes, I pressed my face into my hands, trying to stop the raw headache banging my temples numb. I'd barely processed what a complete disaster the last twenty-four hours had been.
So, when the doorbell rang, patching me through to the intercom at the gate, I nearly screamed into it. If it was some door-to-door marketer, I swore I'd...
“Hannah? Let me in.” No, Dusty's voice told me a simple marketer would've been far too easy.
“What do you want?” I asked, punching the button for the kitchen intercom. “Can't believe you're here after what went down yesterday.”
“Believe it, darlin'. I want to talk.”
I looked over my shoulder, staring sadly at the work I didn't know how to finish. My rebellious fingers hit the gate's button, letting him in. I walked outside just in time to hear his loud, familiar engine rumbling toward me.
Dusty never failed to make a good impression. Even when he was the last person I wanted to see, save Dom, the bastard looked magnificent. He switched off his bike, jerking his helmet away, throwing one leg over the Harley to come meet me.
I let myself take a good, long look – the last pleasure I was bound to have before he dropped more problems in my lap.
Mister Bad Boy Give-No-Fucks incarnate.
The man I'd nearly given up my V-card to yesterday, and still wanted at some strange primal level. The beauty, the beast, the grey eyed devil who painted my skin bright red whenever he got too close, or drill
ed his gaze into mine.
I leaned on the door frame, squeezing my legs together. “You'd better tell me what's up, Dust. I'm not in the mood for any games.”
“Ain't just Firefly who found out about us yesterday,” he growled. His hand flew up above mine and slapped the wall, his huge body towering over me, eclipsing us in his shadow. “The whole club thinks we're fuckin', Hannah.”
The whole club?
Sweet baby Jesus. My heart nosedived into my belly, scattering the butterflies he'd summoned as soon as his bike pulled up.
“God. Are they angry like Firefly? I tried to call, late last night, but he wouldn't answer. Cora told me his phone was shut off, and he'd need some time to cool down.”
“That's exactly what I'm giving everybody. Time. Me and him, we'll settle soon, face-to-fuckin'-face. As for everybody else, no, nobody gives a damn. Trouble is, this thing between us, whatever the fuck it is...just caused me to lie to my boys. If there's one thing I've been doing lately that turns my stomach, it's that.”
I shook my head, trying to follow him. “And so...what? You want me to lie to them too? Put on one of those PROPERTY OF DUST jackets like all the old ladies wear for their men, and pretend we're something we aren't?”
His face tensed, as if he was actually pondering it. That scared me more than anything else.
“Dusty!” I gently slapped his chest, bringing my hand back, wondering how hitting a human being could feel so much like driving my palm into a smooth, warm, immovable wall.
“I'm fuckin' with you, darlin'.” Taking me by the hand I'd just slapped him with, he led me inside, and we both sat down on the little love seat in the front room. “I'll be straight with you so we both know why I'm here, even though it's nuts.”
Great. More crazy.
I tilted my head, looking at him uncertainly, one eyebrow raised. “Just tell me. Enough with this drama. I know it tears you up, lying to your brothers. You don't need to do that with me.”
“I'm tired of mincing words, Hannah. Tired of sputtering around 'cause I've got no rudder. Shit, after everything we've been through the past couple months, it's probably more than just the club who thinks we're something else. I'm done lying to the world, bullshitting my brothers, and I think you are too.”
