by Avelyn Paige
“That’s enough for today I think,” my brother declares. All of the men stand up, and exit the room, except for Mikey, Ginny’s brother, and V.
“For the time being, Presley, we are going to set you up here in the clubhouse. We’ve got the room to spare, and you’ll be more protected here.”
“You’re kidding, right?” I chide him. He knows how I feel about this place.
“It’s for the best, LeeLee,” he says, using the nickname that I once loved hearing come out of his mouth. “We’ve got the numbers here, and we control the environment.”
“And let me guess, I can’t leave.”
“You got it. Each of you will have someone with you at all times. Ratchet will be with Ginny, and V will be with you,” he says, motioning to the man beside him.
“Prisoner in my old house with someone tailing me. Just what I wanted for a coming home present.”
I roll my eyes, knowing I have to accept my fate. I came here for help, and this is the price I will have to pay. My freedom now lies in the hands of the club that broke my family apart.
As soon as the meeting adjourns, Ratchet whisks Ginny away and disappears into the living quarters. Presley sits in her chair for a few minutes looking like she just lost a battle, before she finally gets up and exits the room. It’s plain to see that she’s out of her comfort zone here. It’s a sentiment that I understand completely. She’s a stranger in her old home and on the run. Nothing about that is easy to deal with.
I scribble down a few more notes that cross my mind from the meeting, as Raze moves to stand next to me. I can feel his eyes scanning the pages, before I lay down my pen and close the pad of paper. Shoving it into my back pocket, I slide from my chair and head towards the door without saying a word to him. My brain is firing on all cylinders as I process the information given to me today. The angles of attack are endless possibilities to find the right path. I just had to choose the right avenue to pursue.
“You know what to do, V,” Raze declares, stopping me in my tracks. “Protect her with your life.”
I swallow hard knowing that if I screw up that my club will kick my ass. I had to keep my mind on the prize and not let myself get distracted by Presley. I had to protect her despite the flourishing feelings that were growing inside of me.
I spin on my heels looking back towards him. Raze’s face is hard and serious.
“Yeah,” I offer up because it’s the only thing that I can say that won’t end with my head on a pike outside of his office. I doubt spilling my secret as an excuse for keeping her safe would do the trick right now. “You want the works?”
Raze thinks for a few seconds, before answering me back. Every decision will require careful consideration because this is the first time that we’re going into the fight as the underdog. The Zezza’s have more people, connections, and likely better tech than I could ever dream of. I almost lick my lips just thinking about getting my hands on some of their sick new toys, if we make it out alive.
Not the time, asshole. Bros before toys.
“I definitely want cameras on the entire clubhouse, real time access via my phone and computer, and breach sensors on all the doors and windows.”
“You got it, boss,” I concur, while ticking away at my mental shopping checklist. While I would normally go to my supplier on my own, someone else is going to have to take over picking up my order. Slider perhaps. Making him a little errand boy and getting him away from Presley sounds pretty fucking good right now.
“Money is not an option, V. Top of the line all the way. Should have done it a long time ago to be honest,” he replies, with regret dripping from his voice.
“You could have never guessed this was coming to our doorstep, and that your sister or Ratchet’s would be the harbingers, Prez,” I offer, placing my hand on his shoulders.
“Had things been different years ago, I doubt this would have ever happened.”
Pain is clear across Raze’s face, and I know he’s internally blaming himself for his father’s demented issues. Though I wasn’t around back then, the history his father left tainted everything in this clubhouse. The stories of the members long gone were carved into the foundation, and it was never something any member new or old could forget. The only thing we can do is go forward and not go back to the way things were.
“You calling up guys from down south?” I ask.
“Not until we have a full assessment. Thor knows a couple of guys that would be interested in helping, since he’s still recovering if we need them.”
Thor recently found himself smack dab in the middle of a scuffle with Rex, after he nabbed another club member’s girl. He ended up injured in the firefight, and he has been on light duty since. Not that he’s complaining, since the new girl is nursing him back to good health. She’s a pretty little thing, but she really needs to work on her people skills, since two of our club girls are now gone for fucking with her. Thick skin is almost a requirement around here, and some girls just can’t hack it with club whores around all the time.
Would Presley fit that same mold or would she be different, since she’s seen it first hand before?
My mind wanders for a split second, before I snap back to the current conversation and not the internal one continuously going on in my head.
“He’s a good fit around here. I hope he stays on permanently.”
“Me too. He’s the kind of guy we need with some of the upcoming security work that is being negotiated.”
“His big ass better be good for something, after eating us out of house and home the last few weeks.”
Raze laughs just as Presley’s voice reverberates from the clubhouse main room. We both look to each other and run towards the sound. Has shit hit the fan already?
I skid around the corner and screech to an abrupt halt. Raze and I stand in awe, as we find Presley and one of the club girls nose to nose. For fucks sake, it’s day one and she’s already riling up the natives. Just what I need on top of everything else. I start toward the ensuing chaos, but Raze throws his arm out and stops me. He just shakes his head no, when I look up at him.
“Let it play out.”
“Past issue?”
“Oh yeah,” Raze reveals, with a telling look on his face.
“North and South Korea, bad?”
“Worse.”
Great. She’s got a crime family after her and beef with a club whore. She is really going to make this bodyguard thing interesting without adding in the whole online relationship aspect. What have I done to piss off someone upstairs to deserve this? Maybe my head on a pike would be easier at this point after all.
Raze refocuses back to the two women locked in a heated battle of words and possibly a battle of wills. Presley’s body tenses to counter Ruby’s defensive stance. I have to hand it to Ruby. She’s willing to take someone on who not only is bigger than her, but is also pretty much the princess of this club.
“I distinctly remember that club whores don’t run the place. Now move, Ruby,” Presley orders, as her brother would.
Ruby’s fists ball at her hips. We’re about to be in def-con one if this continues, and my body is itching to defuse the situation, before it gets there. A catfight would normally peak attention both above and below the belt, but this is different. This isn’t the time for this. Maybe Raze is right to let this just play out. We might be better for it in the long run, if they can clear the air now rather than later.
“I don’t have to do shit, your highness. The last time I checked your pull around here died, when you left. You being here means absolutely nothing to anyone, especially me.”
“I get it. I left. I left the perfect little club that you idolize for saving your life, but it ruined mine,” Presley starts to yell. “That is something that you’ll never understand.”
Ruby starts to say something else just as Darcy comes into the room with Roxie on her hip.
“Are you ready to meet your Aunt Presley, baby?” she coos, without looking up
at the scene playing out in front of her. Her eyes look away from Roxie and her smile fades. She flicks her gaze between the two women about to face off in the main room, and she stops dead in her tracks.
“What in the actual fudge are you doing?” she yells. “Ruby, back down. Now!”
Darcy starts towards them, baby still in tow, and shoves her way between the two of them.
“I’ll stop when she fucking leaves,” Ruby demands.
“Language around the baby, Ruby.”
She winces, as she offers up an apology. After Roxie repeated a few choice words, Darcy enacted a no swearing rule, when she is at the clubhouse. The amount of fudges, flippings, and freakings that have come out of my brother’s mouths since could land us on our own reality show. I even have a title for it. The Nucking Futs MC Show. Pretty catchy, if I say so myself.
“I−,” she stutters, before Darcy hushes her again.
“You two obviously have history, but it’s just that. Move on.”
Presley looks on, pleased with herself that she’s winning the argument. I have to admit that smug is not a good look on her.
Roxie babbles on her hip, throwing in the few random words she knows, including the word fucker that makes her mother wince and me smile. Darcy’s fight against her learning bad words is already failing miserably. Roxie is the daughter of one of the greatest men I have ever known, and he had the dirtiest damn mouth on the planet. Jagger’s genes paired with her adoptive father’s own mouth has doomed her. She’ll be swearing like a sailor in no time.
Raze slides from his spot, and I follow along behind him.
“Dah,” Roxie screams, when she sees him and outstretches her little arms out for him. Raze smiles, as he takes her from Darcy and kisses her little cheek, causing her to giggle.
“Hey baby girl,” he tells her, and I swear I hear just about every pair of ovaries cry out in the room. Why these damn women melt over a man with a baby is lost on me. The only thing that I can compare it to is, when I hold a new iPhone for the first time. It just doesn’t get a collective aw from the peanut gallery in response. Their loss.
Presley watches the scene in front of her, but says nothing. A flash of shock crosses her face, before she returns to the task at hand.
“Mikey, why is she still here?” she starts, before Raze cuts her off.
“Just stop, Presley. You don’t like her. I know,” he tells her. “Say hello to your niece, Roxie.”
Presley softens, as Raze passes Roxie to her. Her tiny little bottom lip wavers once, as she looks with wide eyes at her aunt. It might not have been Raze’s most brilliant move to hand over the baby to a complete stranger.
“Hi Roxie,” Presley softly says, as the water works begin to pour from Roxie’s eyes. Presley tries to soothe her, but ends up just passing her back to Raze. Even I know it was too soon, and I don’t have any kids. Smooth move, Prez.
“She’ll get used to you,” Darcy says noticing the hurt in Presley’s face. “In the meantime, let’s get you settled into your room.”
Presley nods, and looks back to Raze and Roxie, before following Darcy back to the guest rooms near the back of the clubhouse. I start to go after them, but a sharp look from Raze tells me otherwise. Like Roxie, Presley needs time to acclimate, and maybe get to know her future sister-in-law in the process. It’s been a trying day for sure, and the dust definitely needs to settle.
Raze stalks away from me and towards one of the couches, and I turn heading back to my office.
I work for a few hours getting the list of things I need for the security overhaul, and send Slider on his merry little way to fetch them for me. To say he was thrilled was an understatement. His attitude was in serious need of adjusting.
He reappears in my office an hour later with the supplies. I take each one of them out of their box, inspecting that they are all intact and function properly. Gathering the few things that I need for Presley’s room, I tuck the box and my tools under my arm, before heading her way.
Each step closer to her room seems like an eternity. This will be the first time that I have been alone with her, and I’m fucking terrified I’ll spill my guts in a verbal word vomit. I’m usually the guy that is calm, cool, and cracking jokes during the bad shit. Not today, and definitely not around her. My feet stop just outside of the guest room door like they are stuck in quick sand. My hand quivers, as I reach up to her door and rap a few times. The room remains silent.
Be cool, fucker. Don’t screw this up. First impressions are the most important, even if this technically isn’t the first time you’ve met.
“Come in,” her voice calls out through the door. I take one last breath and open it, entering into her new domain and my new living hell of battered emotions.
If I were a praying man, I might have just asked for some patron saint of dumbasses to give me strength, but even I know no one would answer them.
Much like the outside, my brother had invested money in renovations on the inside of the clubhouse. What once would have been a simple room with just a bed and a nightstand is now nearly a full suite. I was shocked, when I discovered that he’d even had a private bathroom and a flat screen television installed in the guest room. I could see him doing it in the brother’s rooms’ maybe, but definitely not a guest room. Those were usually reserved for someone who probably wasn’t going to walk out of the place alive, got themselves into a bit of trouble, or a visiting club member. It wasn’t extravagant by any means, yet it was comfortable. Settling in took mere seconds, since I had nothing to my name, except for what I was wearing. Darcy stood awkwardly in the room with me for a few minutes, making small talk. Days without sleep had worn my body out beyond normal functionality. I owe her an apology later, since I know that I likely came off as a bitch to her. She is my future sister-in-law, and I need to get to know her better. Apologetic niceties would be reserved for tomorrow. All I wanted was a hot shower, new clothes, and the longest night of sleep in my life.
Just as I was about to get started with my trifecta of relaxation, I hear a knock at the door.
Fucking great. What now.
“Come in.” I call out to the person on the other side, and the door swings wide. The man who was ferociously taking notes during the earlier meeting steps through the threshold. His eyes are wide, when he sees me curled up on the small couch in the room and quickly diverts them away. I look down to what I’m wearing. Nothing about the clothes I have on screams indecently appareled, so I have no clue why he refuses to make eye contact.
“I take it that you are the bodyguard?” I ask the man, who has darkened my doorstep with a box tucked under his arm.
“Yeah,” he murmurs, while fumbling the box free and trying to outstretch his hand.
The patch on the back of his vest clearly indicates that he’s a full member, but his uneasy demeanor is that of a prospect. Is it him or me? It could possibly be my relationship to his president or the fact that he’s the sole person in charge of me. Maybe this is his first solo assignment. He doesn’t look young enough to have just patched in, but it’s so hard to judge anymore. This man could be twenty-one, and I would be none the wiser to it without checking his I.D.
I have to admit that his nervousness intrigues me, since usually the caliber of men in this club are nothing more than a walking hard on, meatheads, or grunting instead of talking. Maybe he’s just a man of few words. God, I hope he was because living with him as my shadow for the next few weeks or even years was going to wear on me. I love my privacy, and having to invite a complete stranger in, goes against every one of my life rules.
He fumbles the rattling box twice more, before finally setting it down and approaching me. His long, lean fingers brush against mine in an awkward handshake.
“I’m Voodoo, but you can call me V,” he rattles off. He stiffens at my touch, and I see a slight smile crack on his face. My eyes connect with his nearly silver-blue pools, and a rush of familiarity hits me, when his hand fully engulfs mine. His eyes suck
me in, but it’s his touch that’s intoxicating. My skin buzzes as the connection between us continues, like little ripples of electric currents zipping from hair to hair.
Did he feel that too?
He jerks his hand away a little too quickly, and turns his focus back to the box on the table.
Yeah, he definitely felt that.
Have I met this man before? What if he’s a legacy patch member of someone I knew once? If I had met him before, then he was a void in my mind, and those were the most dangerous kinds of lack of recognition.
As he fumbles around inside the box, I notice wires peeking out of it.
Lord. This is the guy my brother thinks is going to protect me? He’s a nervous wreck. How is he going to handle a firefight? I think I might have a better chance protecting myself at this point.
“I didn’t know the club hired blue collar guys these days,” I remark. “I guess skill sets of all kinds are useful around here, when you have to keep everything in house.” His confused look in return almost makes me laugh.
“The wires,” I say pointing at them.
“Oh,” he chuckles. “Raze, I mean your brother, wanted me to upgrade the security in the clubhouse.”
“I see.”
I watch silently, as he pulls a few small cameras from the box and sets them down on the table in a systematic approach. He checks each one carefully, before turning around again and noticing that I’m watching him. This man definitely has a mild form of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.
Stop analyzing him. His mental health isn’t any of your concern, as long as he’s stable enough to keep you safe.
“Cameras?”
“For your protection. These will detect changes in temperature, motion, and sound over a certain decibel range.”
“Like screams for help?” I inquire, with a knowing look on my face.
“Or for pleasure.”
I cock an eyebrow at him, and his face quickly flushes because he realizes what he just said, and where my mind just went.
“Oh shit. Did I really just say that?” he back peddles. “Sorry. Not exactly used to having a lady around here.”
