by Wilder, L.
Shotgun gave Viper a nod, then said, “As you all know, McKinney was very forthcoming from the start. He’d had his issues with the Punishers and wanted to walk away, but that couldn’t happen until we came into the picture. Like Viper mentioned, he gave us the intel on the warehouse and the Widow Maker, and because of that, we were able to take out the Punishers. Last night, he handed us one last piece of intel that has me concerned.”
“Concerned about what?”
“Not what. Who?” Shotgun corrected. “McKinney had already told me about Scar. He didn’t know much about him, just that he was the man behind the scenes, but on the way to the airport, he made a point to bring up the guy again. Said we needed to watch our backs and be prepared for a war like we’ve never seen before.”
“Damn. With our fucking luck, this guy is the head of some cartel or some bullshit like that.” Country shook his head and grumbled, “He’s liable to bend us over and fuck us in the goddamn ass and won’t even think about using fucking lube.”
“Nobody is gonna fuck us in the ass. Not now. Not ever,” Axel growled. “Furthermore, there’s no evidence that connects us to the Punishers or to that fucking Mathews. Billy made sure of it.”
“Yeah, I know Billy is the best at what he does, but a man like Scar is gonna have connections—the kind of connections that could have him easily putting two and two together. If that happens, we’ll have trouble knocking at our door.”
“So, what the fuck are we going to do about it?”
“For now, we’re going to tighten the reins,” Viper answered sternly. “Watch your back. Don’t take any unnecessary chances, and the girls will need to limit their sales to clients they know they can trust. No new buyers.”
Viper had always led with an iron first. He knew what was at stake and never failed to do what was best for the club. If he gave an order, I wouldn’t think twice about questioning him. Our VP, on the other hand, was there to make sure he was making the right call, so I wasn’t surprised when he asked, “You really think all that’s necessary?”
“Wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t.” Viper looked to Axel as he continued, “I know it’s asking a lot. I know we’re gonna lose a shit-ton of revenue over this, but Menace is looking into this guy. As soon as we know more about what we’re dealing with, then we can consider reevaluating the situation.”
Hawk’s eyes narrowed. “But how’s Menace gonna find this guy when we don’t know anything about him? It’s like he’s a fucking ghost.”
“You’re right, he is. But McKinney mentioned a guy named James Schommer,” Shotgun replied. “McKinney said he’s our direct line to Scar.”
“Who the fuck is James Schommer?”
“Don’t know much, just that he’s some math professor or some shit like that.” Shotgun’s expression was filled with frustration as he shrugged. “Apparently, he’s the brains behind their operation and is in direct contact with Scar. When we find Schommer, we find Scar.”
“Menace will track him down. Until he does, we do like I said. Buckle down and play it safe.”
I gave him a nod of assurance. “We’ll do whatever needs to be done.”
Viper stood as he ordered, “I want extra eyes on the girls at the club. You boys work it out among yourselves, but someone needs to be on the premises for every shift.”
“Understood.”
With that, he slammed the gavel down on the table and ended church. The guys slowly started to disperse from the conference room, and one by one we filed into the bar- a place where we could talk freely about things without worrying about any civilians overhearing. I could tell by my brothers’ expressions they weren’t happy about the bomb Shotgun had dropped on us. Hell, I wasn’t thrilled about that shit either. We’d just spent the night before celebrating the fact we’d taken down the Punishers, so it was extremely disappointing to discover more trouble could be on its way. Widow was the first to voice his opinion on the matter.
He picked up an empty beer bottle and hurled it into the trash, the glass shattering against the metal container as he grumbled, “Guess there are worse things than hanging out in a strip club all the fucking time.”
“No doubt,” Country agreed. “Gotta love all the ass and titties, but it’d be even better if I was getting my dick wet while I was at it. But … hey, no man can have it all.”
“Fuck, the last thing you need to be worried about is gettin’ your dick wet,” Hawk bickered. “Hell, the way you’re always going at it, I’m surprised your shit hasn’t rotted the fuck off.”
“Raincoats, brother.” Country reached down and grabbed his junk. “Never take a dip without one.”
“Enough about Country and his fucking dick. We got real shit to discuss,” Shotgun barked. “Gotta figure out the schedule for the next couple of weeks. We’ve got ten hours to cover each night at both clubs, so we can either divide that shit up into shifts or take a full night. Need at least three of us there at all times. Four on the weekends.”
“I’m up for whatever,” Widow quickly replied. “Just tell me when to be there.”
“Same for me,” Hawk added.
“Good. I’ll make up a schedule and get it out to everyone. For now, go home and get some rest.” Shotgun glanced over at Lynch and added, “Looks like some of you could use it.”
It was clear from Shotgun’s expression that his statement wasn’t a suggestion but an order. No one complained; instead, we all left the bar and headed out to our bikes, each knowing the next few weeks were going to be long and brutal. We had no idea just how brutal, but we were about to find out.
Chapter 2
Marlowe
We all know those girls who have perfect hour-glass figures, flawless skin, and naturally-thick, beautiful hair that women spend hundreds of dollars trying to replicate. With just a quick flicker of their long eyelashes and a feigned smile, everyone fawns all over them. Well, one of those girls would be my younger sister, Kate, in a nutshell.
From the moment Kate was born, she was a shining star. Everyone adored her, especially my parents. It didn’t matter what it was—clothes, toys, even jewelry—if she wanted it, she got it. If that wasn’t enough, it seemed she could do no wrong. Kate had perfect grades, wonderful friends, and even when she slipped up and made a mistake, there always seemed to be a valid reason why it was someone else’s fault—mainly mine.
I, on the other hand, was nothing like my sister. I had two left feet, curves in all the wrong places, and don’t get me started on my hair or skin. I wasn’t a complete troll, but I didn’t hold a candle to my sister. How could I? She was the one with all the expensive clothes and trendy, new hairstyles. My parents made sure of that. They also made sure she had cheer lessons, dance lessons, and everything in between. None of which was allowed for me. I tried not to let it bother me how I was always left in her shadow. After all, it wasn’t her fault she was God’s gift to humanity and the apple of my parents’ eyes. She couldn’t help the fact my parents never seemed to think about me unless there was something I could do for their precious Kate.
I did my best to swallow the hurt, but as the years went by, I grew tired of always being second best. I’d hoped going off to college would help, but my parents would only support my attending a nearby community college. I quickly learned why. They wanted me to be close so I could help out whenever they needed me. After years of pure and utter neglect, I’d had enough. I was done catering to Kate’s every whim, so I packed up my things and left San Antonio. I set off to Tennessee in hopes of making a life of my own and never looked back.
I’d like to say my big move went off without a hitch, but that was far from the truth. I left home with very little money, two years into a business degree, and absolutely no job prospects whatsoever. All I had was my unbreakable will and determination, but sadly, that just wasn’t enough. No one wanted to hire someone with no experience, so I got turned down for one job after the next. There were days when I worried I wouldn’t make it, but I finally ca
ught a break when I found Crockett’s.
I didn’t have money for a place, so I’d spent the night in my car. When I woke up, I found a flyer for the small bar plastered across my windshield. I figured it wouldn’t hurt to see if they might be hiring. My clothes were a little disheveled, but I pulled my hair up in a ponytail, put on my best smile, and headed inside. Crockett’s was small and a bit on the rustic side with just a few booths along the wall and a couple of tables scattered about. The décor was lackluster at best, but the place was hopping. There wasn’t an empty seat in sight as I made my way through the crowd. When I reached the bar, I spotted an elderly lady with short gray hair and dark, round glasses. She was wearing a plaid shirt with baggy jeans and boots and didn’t seem to be in any hurry as she shuffled from one end of the bar to the other.
As soon as she looked in my direction, I waved and asked, “Hey, is the owner around?”
“You’re looking at her.” She stepped a little closer and asked, “Whatcha need, hun?”
“Hi. My name is Marlowe Davenport, and I was just stopping by to see if you might be hiring?” I asked, trying my best not to sound too desperate. “I’m new to the area, and I could really use a job.”
“Hmm.” She straightened her back and leaned to the side, trying to get a better look at me, then said, “You ever work in a bar before?”
“No, ma’am, but I’m a quick learner. Just tell me what you need me to do, and I’ll do it.” Worried she was about to send me packing, I smiled and said, “If you give me a chance, I promise you won’t regret it.”
“When can you start?”
“Anytime,” I answered excitedly.
“All right, then. We’ll give it a try and see if you can keep up.” As she reached into the cooler for another beer, she motioned her head to the doorway behind her. “There’s an apron in back. Grab it and start clearing the tables.”
“Yes, ma’am. Thank you!”
I couldn’t believe it. She hadn’t even asked me my name, much less my age, but she’d actually hired me. Before she had a chance to change her mind, I darted to the back and grabbed an apron. I’d just started to wrap it around my waist when the sound of a man’s voice caught me by surprise. “Can I help ya with somethin’, darlin’?”
I spun around and was surprised to find a tall, handsome stranger leaning against the sink with a sandwich in his hand. He was wearing jeans with a black leather jacket, and behind his thick beard, he was sporting a sexy smirk. I could feel the heat of his stare as he stood there ogling me like a I was his next big conquest. I had no idea who the guy was, so I decided it was best not to respond with the smartass comment that was sitting on the tip of my tongue. I quickly swallowed my words back, then smiled and said, “No, I was, ah ... I was just grabbing an apron.”
“An apron? What for?”
“So, I can get to work,” I answered, sounding snippier than I’d intended. “The owner just hired me as a waitress...I think?”
“No shit?”
“You sound surprised.”
“’Cause I am.”
“Why?” The guy didn’t even know me, so it was difficult not to take offense to his tone. “You don’t think I can handle it?”
“No, not saying that at all.” He took another bite of his sandwich, then tossed the remains in the sink. As he took a step over to me, he shrugged and said, “Just surprised Gran actually hired someone to help her around here. Stubborn ass likes to think she can handle it all on her own, but that crowd out there shows otherwise. Hell, she’s barely able to keep up.”
“Wait, she’s your grandmother?”
“Yeah, but let’s keep that between us.” He chuckled under his breath. “She doesn’t want me or my brothers scaring off her clientele.”
I glanced over my shoulder to take a quick look at the wide variety of roughnecks that filled the bar and smiled. “I don’t think she has anything to worry about.”
“You might be surprised.” His smile returned as he looked down at me and asked, “You got a name?”
“Marlowe.”
“I’m Country.”
“Hi, Country. Nice to meet ya.”
“Nice to meet you, too, doll. Would be even nicer if we could spend a little quality time together. Maybe over a couple of beers at my place.” His eyes slowly skirted over me. “What do you say?”
Even though he was unbelievably hot, there was no way I could get involved with the boss’s grandson—not when she was the only one around who’d even considered giving me a job. There was just too much at stake. I had no other choice but to turn him down. I just had no idea how. I could tell he wasn’t the kind of man who took no for answer, so my response had to be a good one. Before I had a chance to really think it through, I answered, “Sorry. I have plans with my girlfriend tonight.”
“Your girlfriend?” His brows furrowed with disbelief. “You mean with one of your gal pals or your legit girlfriend?”
It might’ve been wrong to mislead him, but I had to make sure he wouldn’t try asking me again in the future. Not wanting to lie any more than I already had, I cocked my eyebrow and just glared back at him. Taking my lack of response as an answer, he crossed his arms and huffed. “No shit.” He shook his head and smiled. “Sure didn’t see that one coming.”
“Thanks for the offer, though. It was really sweet of you.”
“Nothing sweet about me or my invitation.” He gave me a wink, then turned for the back door. “Good luck, kid. You’re gonna need it.”
As he disappeared out the back door, I noticed the words Ruthless Sinners MC were embroidered on the back of his leather jacket. It wasn’t until that moment I realized what he’d meant by brothers. I’d later find out Country’s particular MC was one of the most dangerous in the South, but for the time being, he was just the owner’s grandson, and I was her employee.
When I finally made it back out to the bar, the owner gave me a disapproving look as she said, “Was beginning to think you got lost back there.”
“No, ma’am. I was just talking to your ...” Remembering Country’s warning about calling him her grandson, I cut myself off short. “I…uh...I got sidetracked with Country.”
“Hmph. Best watch yourself with him.” When she noticed the surprised look on my face, she shook her head and said, “You’ll find out soon enough.”
I didn’t know how to respond, so I simply smiled and said, “Yes, ma’am.”
“None of that ‘ma’am’ stuff. Everyone ’round here calls me Gladys.” She grabbed a cleaning rag from the sink and offered it to me. “Those tables aren’t gonna clean themselves.”
“On it.”
I rushed over and quickly started cleaning off one table after the next, trying my best to make a good first impression. Apparently, Gladys was impressed with my initiative, and after a couple of days, she hired me full-time. It didn’t take long for me to make enough money to get a place of my own and even buy a little furniture. It was just a small, one-bedroom apartment downtown, but it was mine—and mine alone. For the first time in my life, I didn’t have to worry about Kate or my parents. I could just live for myself, and I couldn’t have been happier.
I owed a great deal of that happiness to Gladys and Country. From day one, Gladys had taken me under her wing and taught me everything there was to know about running a bar—from keeping inventory to managing the books. She was always looking out for me and gave me advice even when I didn’t ask for it. Country did the same. He was just a little more subtle about it. Whenever he came by to check in on Gladys, he’d be sure to ask how I was doing and would jump at the chance to give his two cents whenever possible. Just like he’d done tonight.
I was wiping down the tables before closing when Country came sauntering in the front doors with some blonde bombshell in a tight miniskirt and halter top. She was practically glued to his side as he walked over to the front counter and sat down. Country took a quick glance around the room, checking out the remaining customers. When he spo
tted me coming in his direction, he gave me a quick chin-up and said, “Thought you were heading out early tonight.”
“What made you think that?” I asked, knowing full well he’d made it clear he didn’t like me leaving alone so late at night. He’d had the same concerns about Gladys, but her place was just upstairs. Country’s eyes grew fierce when I said, “Just because you tell me to do something doesn’t mean I’m gonna do it. Besides, I can’t leave Gladys here alone.”
“Before you start fussing, I’m about to close.” Gladys went over to Ford—one of our regulars who’d had one too many, and said, “Time for you to call it a night.”
“Come on, Gladie,” he slurred, barely able to keep his eyes open. “Just one more.”
“Not gonna happen.” She picked up his empty beer bottle and tossed it in the trash. “I’m calling you a cab.”
We all knew Ford was a good guy who’d had a rough go of it lately. He was in his early seventies and had just lost his wife. He hated the idea of going home to an empty house, so he started to spend more and more time at Crockett’s. And like tonight, he often became argumentative whenever it came time to close. “What you need to do is get me another beer.”
“You best watch your fucking mouth,” Country roared as he stood and started charging towards Ford.
“I’ve got it, Country.” I held up my hand, stopping Country in his tracks. “I’ve got this.”
“We’ll see about that.”
Ignoring his curt tone, I rushed over to Ford and placed my hand on his back, patting him softly. “Come on, Ford. It’s been a long night. You know it’s time to call it quits.”
