“The nightclub is called High Lights,” Hardy elucidated as he placed his elbows on the table and laced his fingers together. “Not only does the place have a separate restaurant but it has a bar and club area too. There’s outdoor seating and a special cigar section where guests can light up and enjoy their wares. Hard drugs are sold on the premises but it’s all very discreet and the cartel controls it. Since it’s at the top of one of those high-rise buildings in the area, security is top notch. This isn’t some crack den, brothers, therefore we’ve got to dress to impress.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” Cricket shrugged his shoulders in apathy. “I’m not wearin’ some fancy fuckin’ suit to get into some shitty fuckin’ club I don’t wanna go to.”
“You don’t have a choice,” Ronan replied. “We never said anything about suits but we have to look presentable—like we belong. That means expensive jeans or leathers, designer shirts, and you can have every tat you have hangin’ out and a motherfuckin’ beard but they will let you in.”
“Tell me somethin’, why the hell did Carlito choose this place to have the meet?” Cillian looked around the table before his blue eyes settled on Hardy’s again.
“All I can guess is the man’s not stupid. He has a feelin’ we know about the meth-laced coke and he’ll have a whole army there to protect him and your sister, Cricket. Lacey never goes anywhere without him. It’s a problem ’cause he knows we won’t try to take him out if she’s there,” Hardy explained in a no-nonsense fashion.
“And him bein’ our blood had nothin’ to do with you not takin’ a shot before?” Trey inquired, his voice neutral.
“Maureen’s son or not, he’s goin’ down, brother.” Hardy scoffed as he looked around the table before he sat back and laced his arms against his chest. “I don’t know how it is for you Yanks, yeah? But family or not, that doesn’t mean this geezer gets a free fuckin’ ride on our dime. I got dozens of nieces and nephews—that asshole made his own bed. He doesn’t give a damn about us bein’ his family so why the holy fuck should we give a shite about him bein’ related to us? I don’t know the man, never met him before I came to the States, so he might as well be a stranger.”
Cillian shook his head slowly. “We don’t have that kind of power, brother. Dizzy wants Emilio to handle his son—a gentlemen’s agreement, so to speak. Personally, I think the Prez is scared if we put Carlito in the ground then the cartel will come after me. Makes sense though since they’re all in with that ‘blood for blood’ shit. They would take out someone vulnerable to us—my sister, for instance—and still come back to put a bullet in my brain.”
“Business is business, Killer. I understand the position Dizzy’s in but they’re makin’ me look fuckin’ soft, not my brother. If I don’t put this bastard in the ground now, there won’t be a Glendale chapter. The cartels are killin’ us faster than we can bring guys in to this fuckin’ charter. Half my guys here are nomads so I don’t have any real power.”
“What’s goin’ on with the club?” Kink asked.
“Lots of the brothers here were loyal to the old Prez and VP,” Ronan responded coldly. “They went nomad. It was a small charter to begin with but now, it’s even smaller. We have seven guys here who are still a part of our charter, a couple prospects, and that’s it. Neither Hardy nor I trust anyone ’cause we don’t know ’em so we tend to handle all the major business ourselves and Carlito knows this. He’s been swingin’ his dick around since we got here—actin’ like he’s own little motherfuckin’ Napoleon.”
Cillian sighed out loud. “Dizzy know about this?”
“Yeah, brother, but what’s he gonna do?” Hardy looked around with hard, crystal blue eyes. “I know he meant no disrespect but I had a chapter that had over forty men in London. I helped him arrange for the closure of the Belfast chapter when mine folded and that was no easy feat.
“Most of the brothers had old ladies and kids—a shitload of people wanted to come here to the States. I took care of their immigration paperwork and made it happen. This chapter is fuckin’ joke. When Ronan and I came down here, there were over twenty guys. Most have left—either they went to another chapter or they’ve gone nomad. I got no one to give orders to! And that motherfucker, Carlito—family or not—he’s a dead man walkin’.”
Cillian grabbed his chin and massaged it. “What about the Vegas chapter? I heard Thorne wants to retire or at least operate a chapter with a little less action. I can talk to Da and maybe you and Ronan can do a switch-up. You two go to Vegas while Thorne and Walker come here. They can put their old ladies out to pasture in Orange County and maybe bring some sort of… brotherhood back to this club.”
“Sounds like a plan but…we were sent here with Linx and Trista.” Ronan stared at Cillian. “Our primary job is to have their back and we can’t leave them here.”
Trey smiled slightly. “Maybe all you’re waitin’ on is…a force majeure.”
Cricket chuckled as he shook his head. “There you go with the fuckin’ French. Speak motherfuckin’ English!”
“It is English, asshole,” Kink sneered. “And I agree with Trey. Didn’t Scarlet Fever take a contract to go to Vegas? It’s gonna look pretty tempting for Winter’s Regret to do the same. Talia’s still fightin’ with Jaden about their kid and no way is he gonna stand for her to be holed up here. I predict the group will take a deal in the next year or so.”
“So, this act of God is gonna happen in a year. Okay, let’s say it does happen, what the hell do we do about Carlito for the time being? Play nice while he keeps kickin’ us in the balls?” Ronan lit a cigarette out of frustration.
Trey shook his head. “No, you don’t. We do this last deal…let ’em know Dizzy is expectin’ compensation. None of us will have anythin’ to do with that because it’ll be between Dizzy and Emilio. You guys sit back and wait for the next move. Chances are we’re gonna be buying a whole bunch of meth from the Knights. You guys can pass it on for profit or get into an operation that we’re slowly talkin’ about launchin’. It’s profitable and the cartels are out. With the few guys you have around here, to be honest, drugs aren’t a good fit for this particular chapter.”
Cillian glanced at Trey and nodded approvingly. “In the meantime, we do this deal tonight. We all get out alive and live to see another day. No cheap shots, Hardy.”
The chapter Prez nodded his head resolutely. “Fine. I’ll do this whole look-see bullshit, but only for a while. If somethin’ don’t change soon, that motherfucker’s dead. No warning, no small talk—just a fuckin’ bullet to the back of his head when he least expects it.”
“I don’t like it but…as future Prez of the parent chapter, you have my blessing,” Cillian said as he glanced at Hardy. “What’s said here never leaves this room but Carlito is bad blood. Emilio will eventually leave the cartel and the MC to that bastard and he’s a whole other beast. He doesn’t give a damn about any of us and his blood lust is legendary. I’d rather he was dead than try to run a club with him around. That’s the honest to goodness truth.”
“Amen, brother.” Hardy slammed the gavel down and everyone stood to leave.
Trey was one of the last to go. Cillian slapped him on the back as they walked out together. “Prepare Kyra for tonight, let her know what she’ll be expectin’. The more I look at the situation, I just don’t see how we can sustain it. When we get back to Birch Tree, I’m gonna talk to my dad. The Saints, Bastards, and Knights can’t fight each other anymore. We need to band together. Our alliance with the Russians can be negotiated…we’ll be stronger if we can bring on board Raymond Jackson and the Abandonato family. The cartels have to be shut down or at least kept outta our neck of the woods.”
“What are you tryin’ to say?” Trey questioned him, keeping his voice low.
“Aztecas Infierno has to be eliminated. By. Any. Means. Necessary.”
His hazel-green eyes met the determined crystal blue eyes of his brother before he finally nodded his head in agreement.
They walked their separate ways but as far as Trey was concerned, the die had been cast. He would never give up his own club but he didn’t mind ratting out another they were severing ties with and no longer had any loyalty to protect.
Aztecas Infierno—both the cartel and the MC—were dead organizations walking, and he would happily turn over any Intel he had on them if it meant keeping the Feds away from his club.
Chapter Eight
Kyra
Gisela and I talked for a while once we were stashed in our respective rooms and the men left to have their meeting in chapel.
She stretched out on the bed, her bump pronounced but still small enough she could dress in lightweight clothes and do a pretty good job at hiding it when necessary.
I had to admit I was jealous of her. Her olive skin glowed and she looked healthy, her amber eyes bright.
“So, do you plan to tell me what’s going on between you and Trey? You hinted at this being serious but I’m wondering when you plan to let your dad know?”
I sat beside her and rolled my eyes. “My dad is going to crucify me, Sela. You know that.”
“Mmm hmm, as if my dad took the news of me getting back together with Cillian so well. I remember him breaking some very expensive Baccarat vases that belonged to my mother.” Her eyes narrowed on me. “Mother was more pissed at me for what my dad did to her precious vases than she was about my love interest.”
“Yeah but your dad is sexy and suave. He might disapprove but he’s not gonna shoot the man you love—”
“Wanna bet?” Gisela smiled wryly. “The only reason Cillian is breathing is because he stepped up to my dad and took responsibility for what he did. My dad could’ve murdered him then and there but he manned up. Don’t you dare tell me Trey wouldn’t do the same for you because I know he would.”
I nodded before laying my head on my best friend’s belly and pressing my hands to the side of her growing bump. “Trey would do anything for me but…until we get this situation with his mother sorted out, I don’t want to put any pressure on him. The man’s life has been thrown for a loop: abandoned by the only club he knew, swearing allegiance to a new club because he shares the same blood as the club President. I’m worried about him, Sela. He’s very despondent and I don’t want to pressure him into anything. Not right now.”
Gisela stroked my hair softly. “Sweetie, when aren’t the guys crazy and worried out of their minds about one thing or another? Listen, we didn’t choose to have relationships with men who make it easy on us. The way they live—the constant investigations by the Feds and the rivalries between the clubs—is part and parcel when we decided we wanted to be their old ladies.”
“Speak for yourself,” I replied in mock-defense. “Trey and I haven’t talked that much about the future but we’ll get around to it. Like you, he’s waiting on me to inform my old man. I’ll bite the bullet when we get home—what other choice do I have?”
“None, really, if being with him is what you truly want.”
A comfortable silence settled between us. There was a reason besides going to the same school we’d ended up best friends. We innately understood one another and, although we didn’t talk as much as we used to, we were still as close as we’d always been. I cherished Gisela because she got me and that couldn’t be bought, not for any amount of money in the world.
My eyelids started growing heavy and I wanted to do nothing more than rest for a few hours on a nice warm bed.
“Sweetie, I’m going back to my room but we’ll catch up later, okay?” I sat up and stood while my best friend continued to lay back with her eyes closed.
“Sounds good to me. I hope this meet won’t take place at a club. It sucks I can’t drink.”
I chuckled and left the room, closing the door behind me. The room I shared with Trey was next door to Cillian and Gisela’s. I walked inside, turned on the light, and looked around. It was decent, clean, and the bed looked comfortable enough. I couldn’t claim to be too discerning when I was so tired, it was hard to keep my eyes open.
Slowly, I sat down on the bed before I lay back and turned onto my side. The moment I closed my eyes, sleep eluded me. I simply couldn’t understand how I could be so tired and not be able to rest.
On the edge of sleep, my phone rang. I dug through my purse just to halt the maudlin tune of “Paradise Circus,” the ring tone I’d chosen, ironically, for Eve Kerrigan.
I grudgingly pressed the answer button. “Hello.”
“Ms. Hughes, you sound exhausted. I take it the ride from Northern Nevada to Glendale wasn’t up to your usual standards. Mmm, I wonder, is Trey treating you all right? I’d hope he’d end up with more of my finesse and discretion but, alas, he’s just like his father,” she explained in a calculated voice.
I chuckled, much to my chagrin. “Trey is treating me just fine, Ms. Kerrigan. Is that why you called me? To find out what our relationship is like?”
“Not really, especially since you two don’t really have a relationship, do you? He’s never had what I would consider great taste in the ladies department unless you consider porn stars and tore-back biker sluts ‘quality women.’” Her tone was utterly dismissive and pretentious.
I scoffed out loud. “Are you trying to imply I’m a biker slut? I may be considered a lot of things, but I am not a club whore, Miss Kerrigan, and I resent the implication.”
“Well, you could have fooled me with your choice of men.” She paused before continuing, “I don’t really care what you and Trey are doing in your non-relationship but I do need you two to meet me in El Segundo. There is a very large Whole Foods Market and across from the strip mall is a Starbucks. I will be there in approximately two hours. If you two can’t make it from Glendale by then, it’ll be too bad for both of you.”
“No, wait! We’ll be there,” I replied quickly.
“Good. I expect you two to show up alone. If I see any of that biker trash around, not only will the meeting be terminated, but I will also make it my personal goal to have you disbarred. If you don’t care about your own career, consider your father’s motorcycle club. Do you care about the Demon’s Bastards? If you don’t, I hope you won’t mind if we decide to pursue RICO with your father’s club. After all, he has ties with the Abandonato crime family and Raymond Jackson.”
“You have nothing on Raymond Jackson—”
“Of course we don’t, my dear… but we do have other evidence against your father. You see, you may have thought I was after Trey alone, but I would like to rectify any misunderstandings. You have blood all over your hands—you’re these thugs’ attorney for Christ’s sake. If Trey can’t give me anything concrete, I will be coming after you next. And believe me, Ms. Hughes, I will win.”
The call abruptly ended and I threw the phone on the bed as I held my hair away from my face. My stomach lurched in protest and I scrambled to the bathroom, just in time, before I emptied the contents in the toilet. A cold sheen of sweat formed all over my body, my heart thundered in my chest, and my head pounded, the beginnings of a migraine forming.
I stood on shaky legs, flushed the toilet and cleaned myself up.
My whole life—as I knew it—was starting to fall apart.
If Trey had no information to give his cunt mother, she would come after me next, followed by my father’s club. That was unacceptable - there was nothing I wouldn’t do to protect my father’s club—my club—or his honor. If that bitch thought she could just come into my life and turn everything upset down because she needed to make a case for her fucking career, she had another think coming.
I wouldn’t allow the man I loved or my family to be a stepping-stone for this shrewd, calculating bitch. We wouldn’t just be some sort of career-making case so she could continue to live her holier-than-thou lifestyle of protecting the rich and powerful by going after the “trash” of society.
The door to the room opened and closed. I quickly did a once over in the mirror. My pale skin looked waxy and I had d
ark circles under my eyes that I’d have to cover with makeup, but I looked passable.
“Babe, what’s goin’ on?”
I turned around to face Trey. He looked exhausted too but he still was the most gorgeous man I’d ever seen. The fact that his heart was bigger than his cock was definitely a plus. Who the hell was I kidding? I loved the man before we started sleeping together but I knew I was in love with him now.
Not just kind of instalust love.
I was whole-heartedly, lovin’-him-should-be-a-crime, couldn’t-live-without-him, drunk-crazy-stupid, Bonnie-and-Clyde-‘14, would-rather-die-with-him-than-be-apart, damn-my-father-and-brother, bad-guy-goes-good, clichés-in-a-dark-past kind of love. I wanted to protect him just as much as I wanted to protect us because if everything went to hell in a hand basket, I was perfectly fine with Trey becoming my only family.
I shook my head. “We have two hours to meet your mother. She wants us in El Segundo and if we aren’t there then all hell’s gonna break loose.”
“Say no more.” Trey strode to me and pulled me into his arms before he kissed my lips. “We’ll make it. Let me talk to Ronan about usin’ a bike. We’ll get there in time, baby. Don’t you worry about that, okay?”
As we separated, I smiled at him, nodded, and paced the floor space in front of the bed. No matter what happened, it was going to be a very long and exhausting day.
Trey and I miraculously made it to El Segundo with plenty of time to spare. The Whole Foods strip mall with a Barnes & Noble and a conveniently placed Starbucks was easy enough to find.
The morning was sunny with scattered clouds and mild temperatures. Still, Trey and I tried to be as inconspicuous as possible. We both wore jeans and short-sleeved t-shirts with leather jackets. He’d left his cut back at the clubhouse since many police departments considered cuts to be in the same category as gang colors. We couldn’t afford to be stopped by any peace officers, and thought it would be better safe than sorry.
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