“The first night was touch and go. They pumped her stomach and she spent the night in the cardiac ICU. One of the side effects of the drug is heart arrhythmia. I stayed with her. There was no need to upset you until we knew the outcome of her situation.”
“ ‘We’?” she repeated. “Meaning you and Miranda?”
“Of course not,” he said, raising his voice, obviously offended. “I’m not the heartless bastard you make me out to be, Lilliana.”
“No?” She wholly disagreed. “If you honored your marriage vows, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
“You’re right,” he said. “But I can’t change the past. You’re on the approved list of contacts at the hospital. Call anytime for updates. Mom can write letters to you. Otherwise, we’re in the same situation, dependent on the medical staff for progress reports. I’ll call you if anything changes.” He disconnected before she could respond.
Fuck. Lily threw her cell against the wall. She wanted to wring her father’s neck. And Miranda’s—the likely catalyst for the overdose. The bitch had gone over to her mother’s house to show off her engagement ring.
Lily dropped to her knees.
“Lily?” Lang hugged her from behind, his body heat small comfort.
When had he come into her bedroom? She didn’t care—having him here was a blessing. She needed someone to lean on.
“Who called, baby?”
Racked by waves of violent sobs, she could barely lift her head, much less find the strength to answer. But somehow she did. “My father,” she choked out. “Mom OD’d on sleeping pills. She’s in the hospital.”
The deep ache that had plagued her heart night and day since her parents split up had now become a searing pain. Lang gathered her in his arms, then carried her to the bed. She curled into a tight little ball, knees tucked into her chest. Tired of being the strong one, Lily accepted what comfort Lang offered. He wrapped himself around her like a defensive wall.
“Sleep, Lily,” he whispered near her ear. “In the morning we’ll talk again.”
That meant he was staying. Lily needed him right now, as much as oxygen to breathe. She clutched his hand to her cheek. “Thank you.”
“Anytime.”
She knew he meant it, even as she faded to sleep.
Chapter 20
Vincent’s twenty-eighth birthday party was going to be a blowout. Lang stopped by Salinas Catering to drop off a check. Instead of relying on the old ladies to do all the cooking, he’d chosen his favorite company to provide carne guisada, pork tamales, beef and chicken fajitas, fresh tortillas, stuffed peppers, rice, and beans. The highlight of the evening—Troublemaker featuring Kat James—was booked at Valhalla. His best friend practically worshiped the lead singer and her Janis Joplin–style vocals.
Although the party was by invitation only, he’d decided to include some VIPs from the bar, setting up a temporary dance floor and tent in the back of the property. The clubhouse was overstocked with donated kegs of beer, cases of wine, and top-shelf liquor. Even the local Budweiser distributor had provided door prizes—a gas BBQ grill, a four-pack trip to San Antonio for a Spurs basketball game and dinner on the River Walk, and a six-month membership at Gold’s Gym. As long as no one started shit, he’d let customers drift in and out of the private areas. Security guards were doubled for the night.
And best of all, Lily had accepted his invitation. After spending their first amazing night together three days ago and bonding with her over her pain at her mother’s attempted suicide, and the way she confided in him the next morning, her heart bleeding with regret and guilt over leaving Philadelphia, Lang had decided to step up the relationship.
No doubt animal chemistry had drawn them to each other, but what kept him coming back ran deeper. Her unfettered devotion to the kids she worked with, especially Maya, set her in a class all her own: she was a saint in his crude world. She’d defended Maya at the school meeting the other day, even after Melissa’s mother made some pretty damning accusations about Maya’s home life, blaming him for his sister’s emotionally disturbed behavior, never accepting responsibility for her own daughter’s piss-poor attitude.
The end result: both girls received a month of community service designated by Dr. Henley on Friday afternoons and Saturdays. The outbuildings near the gym already had a fresh coat of paint.
He climbed on his motorcycle and his cell vibrated in his vest pocket. He fished it out and answered. “Good morning, baby.”
“Morning?” Lily asked. “It’s noon.”
“I slept in—my day just started.”
“Lazybones,” she teased, then cleared her throat. “Can I ask you a question?”
He smiled. Lily had a funny way of approaching certain topics if she thought it might be classified. “Of course.”
“Is Vincent single?”
She was too freaking cute sometimes. “Tired of me already?” He knew the answer; she’d kissed and licked his dick yesterday like she’d never see him again. No chance of her losing interest yet. “Let me guess—Tina.”
“I think she has a crush on him.”
“Should I share that information?”
“God, no, she’d kill me for saying anything. Does he have a date for the party?”
“No.”
“Then I’ll encourage her to wear something naughty.”
“Can I do the same?” he asked, envisioning her naked.
“I already have something special picked out. After all, I only get one introduction to all your Brothers, right?”
Not only had he committed to dating Lily exclusively, he also wanted to formally introduce her to his Brothers. An important step, one he’d never taken before. “You sound more and more like a southern girl every day—a little Sons of Odin debutante.”
She laughed, sounding happier than she had in days. “See you at seven?”
“Perfect,” he agreed. “Bring an overnight bag, I’m not letting you leave tonight.”
He started his bike and drove to the clubhouse.
Several old ladies were busy in the kitchen and smiled as he walked by.
“Lang?” Suzanne called as she wiped flour off her cheek. “We’ve been arguing about the expected number of guests. Did you say a hundred or more?”
Married to one of the senior members, Suzanne had been his mother’s best friend. “Closer to a hundred and fifty,” he told her.
“Shit.”
“What?”
“We need extra soft drinks and orange juice.”
Lang pulled his wallet out. “Here, use the club credit card. Just make sure I get it back.”
“Thanks.” She walked around the long counter and took it from him, then gave him a bear hug. “Might pick up some extra chips and salsa too.”
He shrugged. “I trust you, baby.”
She grinned. “And what’s this I hear about a new girlfriend?”
So much for his Brothers keeping secrets. Honestly, the old ladies had a right to wonder about what kind of woman he’d date. “Lily Gallo,” he said. “Maya’s school counselor.”
“Ha!” she snorted.
Not the reaction he’d expected. “What?”
“I knew it—an ordinary girl couldn’t possibly hold your interest. We have an old-lady pool going, bets on what kind of woman you’ll marry.”
He put his hands up. “Nowhere close to that.” He grinned like a teenager, enjoying how it felt to be teased.
“If it’s not serious,” she said, “why are you smiling like a mindless sap?”
He felt his face. “So I am.”
She smacked his shoulder playfully. “Can’t wait to meet her.”
And Lang couldn’t wait to see Lily again.
He headed to the meeting room, where the club officers were waiting for him. Decorated like any conference room, it had a long oak table that could accommodate up to twenty-five members situated in the center of the room, with three smaller tables set up along the perimeter. The walls were
soundproof and there were no windows. Only members were permitted here, and he locked the reinforced steel doors after he stepped inside.
Four gun safes were located on the north side of the room, and a mural of the club insignia was painted on the south wall. SONS OF ODIN arched over the illustration in bold black letters. He smiled in deep appreciation. “Going to church”—attending the club meetings—meant everything to him. He loved the camaraderie, and feeling the surge of pride in his chest as he claimed the high-back leather chair at the head of the table reserved for the president.
The current sergeant-at-arms, Jonathan “Canyon” Walker, officially called the meeting to order.
“We have several important issues on the agenda today,” Lang started, his gaze sweeping over the officers. Vincent sat across from him. “I’ve received intel from our contacts in the Corpus Christi Police Department that the FBI and state police are convening a joint task force to shut down the local meth labs.”
Arni Vetero, the vice president, frowned. “Why is the PD reporting to you? We don’t push meth. That’s for the little thugs to peddle on Leopard Street or in the Cut.”
“Good fucking question,” Vincent said, his face shadowed with disgust. “Maybe you can explain what’s going on, Sampson.”
Lang refused to overlook Sampson’s involvement with Moco and the cartel. As the warlord for the club, Sampson was expected to set an example for his Brothers, not lead them down a path of reckless temptation.
“Goddammit.” Sampson slammed his hands on the table. “You know?” He stared at Lang.
“Everything,” he answered.
“Fuck.” Sampson shot up from his seat. “I’m sorry, Brother, it started as a personal favor, ballooned into something else. Fuck.”
“Should I accept that bullshit excuse?” Lang asked.
“No.”
“Do you want out?” Lang opened the folder sitting on the table in front of him. He pulled out the condensed version of the charter bylaws and handed it to the vice. “Give this to Sampson.”
Sampson accepted the paper and gaped at Lang. “What do you want me to do with this?”
Shove it up your ass. “Read it out loud.”
He didn’t hesitate. “Rules are strictly enforced. If broken, immediate action will be taken by the president and/or officers. Severity of punishment is dependent on the offense.
“Best way to avoid punishment: don’t fuck up.
“One. Members cannot belong to another club.
“Two. Annual dues will be paid on time (one thousand dollars).
“Three. Recreational drug use is allowed, but serious addiction will not be tolerated.
“Four. Drug sales are frowned upon. But if a Brother chooses to do so on his own time, no affiliation or representation of the club is to be made under any circumstances (Colors included).
“Five. No stealing.
“Six. If a patch holder or Prospect disrespects his Colors, automatic dismissal from the club is the only punishment.
“Seven. Members protect Brothers under any circumstances. Cowardice is treason.
“Eight. Club property will be respected.
“Nine. Officers are appointed by the president annually. Members will respect the chain of command. Failure to do so requires immediate dismissal.
“Ten. Members are required to attend club meetings.
“Eleven. If a Brother fights another Brother, no weapons are allowed.
“Twelve. Members will stay together during club functions.
“Thirteen. All Prospects require a unanimous vote from all active members to patch out.
“Fourteen. No talking about club business to people outside the charter (includes over the phone, texting, and social media).”
A moment of silence followed, and Lang knew what his officers were thinking, even Sampson. Sometimes refreshing one’s memory served a powerful purpose. Everything had been laid out in black and white decades ago. The Sons of Odin partied hard, fucked women, gambled, and were fearless gunrunners. Selling dope to teenagers was another beast altogether. A cardinal sin in Lang’s eyes. Whether the Brother was dealing directly or carrying it over the border didn’t matter to him. Shit always rolled downhill. And Sampson had just landed in a big soggy pile of it.
“Do you want out?” Lang asked him again, regretting the mess he’d inherited from Jess. The guiltiest of them all. The man he’d respected nearly as much as his own father. The Brother and president who chose him as his vice. That’s who he saw when he narrowed his eyes at Sampson. “Answer me.”
“No—this is what I live for.”
“Then your life depends on how generous I’m feeling today,” Lang replied stonily. “You no longer deserve to wear that officer’s patch. Give it to Canyon, now.” Lang slid a metal letter opener across the table.
Sampson used the sharp end to cut the stitches that held the warlord insignia in place on his vest. After he finished, he placed the opener on the table and closed his hand over the patch. “Is there no alternative?”
“I believe the prez already offered to let you walk,” Canyon answered.
“In one fucking piece,” Arni added.
Sampson drew in a ragged breath and offered up his patch to the sergeant-at-arms.
“Good,” Lang said. “Pay a two-thousand-dollar fine to Vincent by next week. And if I ever find out you’re selling so much as an ounce of weed on the street corner, I’ll confiscate everything club related from you, including the fucking ink on your back. Understood?”
Sampson nodded.
“Leave the room,” Lang said. “Send Stefan in.”
He’d already chosen Sampson’s replacement. A warlord needed to be loyal and trustworthy. He acted as the go-between with other MCs, organized the club runs, arranged backup security for the officers, and provided oversight for the Prospects. Stefan entered the room a few minutes later.
“You wanted to see me?”
Lang stood and walked around the table. “We’ve had our eyes on you for a while now. And after careful consideration and approval from the officers, I’d like to make you my warlord.” He held out Sampson’s old patch.
“It’s your lucky day.” Arni grinned from across the table.
“Congratulations,” Canyon and Vincent said in unison.
“I accept.” Stefan took the patch, a shit-eating grin on his face.
“Good.” Lang shook his hand, then slapped him on the back. “Have your old lady sew that on the front of your cut before the party. Grab the chair over there.” Lang pointed to the empty spot next to Vincent. “Let’s discuss the patio expansion on Valhalla….”
Lang knew he’d have to deal with Moco soon. That son of a bitch deserved no leniency. What he needed was a permanent spot six feet under. But it had been years since a Brother had been killed. And with Jess’s court date looming, the last thing the club needed was the sudden disappearance of a longtime member. No. Moco would take the walk of shame soon—a punishment sometimes considered worse than a bullet to the back of the head.
Chapter 21
“That dress screams ‘fucked by a biker,’ ” Tina observed with an amused tone.
“If the shoe fits…”
“Okay,” Tina started, stepping behind Lily, staring at her reflection in the mirror. “What did you do with my conservative corncob-up-the-ass friend?”
“Maybe she finally took your advice and relaxed a little.” Lily admired herself—the sleeveless black leather minidress ended midthigh, but it was the zipper that ran the length of the front of the fitted garment that made it so sexy. And the black ankle boots and her choice in accessories—thick silver chain bracelets on both wrists and a matching choker. “I spent way too much money on this.”
“I love your hair.” Tina fingered the tinted burgundy strands. “Pretty sure Lang won’t let you out of his sight.”
Lily twisted around, a big smile on her face. “Enough about me. Vincent won’t be able to resist those yoga pants.”
Painted on like a second skin, Tina’s hot pink bottoms and matching halter top flaunted every curve the girl had. “Ready to go?”
“The cab is waiting outside.”
Both grabbed their purses and Lily flung her backpack over her shoulder. She’d taken Lang’s advice and prepped for an overnight stay. On a three-day weekend, she had no pressing business and looked forward to a few days of mindless recreation. “If I forget to hug you tonight, remind me to tell you what a great friend you are in the morning.”
It took half an hour to get to Valhalla in Flour Bluff. The extensive parking lot was full; cars even lined the street. The cab pulled up to the entrance, and the driver disembarked and opened the back passenger door for them. Lily handed him twenty-five dollars and slid out. The bass from the club speakers reverberated inside her chest. A quarter past seven—she never expected the place to be this packed so early. She looped her arm through Tina’s as they approached the club; a gargantuan bouncer who resembled a giant from a Hollywood movie waited by the doors.
The line of customers slowly shrank, and they finally flashed their IDs. The doorman stamped their hands and waved them inside. Lily could have called Lang, but she knew how busy he’d be and didn’t mind waiting like any other customer. Besides, she wanted to see if he’d find her in the crowd.
She paused just inside to admire the shiny red Panhead in the showcase, fondly remembering the night Lang told her about it. Now that she’d ridden on the back of his regular Harley, she wanted more than ever to sit on this one. For all the safety-conscious preaching she did with her kids, taking that ride had been one of the wildest things she’d ever done. Her heart fluttered at the thought of seeing Lang again.
“You’re addicted,” Tina said, her face planted next to Lily’s now, eyeing the classic machine through the glass. “I bet Vincent needs something like that to accommodate his big ass.”
“Tina!” Lily grinned and slapped her arm. “Vincent doesn’t have a big ass.”
“Beefy?”
“More than a handful isn’t a waste after all,” Lily teased, thinking of Lang’s muscled physique and something more substantive between his legs. “Let’s grab a drink.” She led the way through the horde, keeping her bag close to her body so no one would snatch it.
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