Reese cringed. Everyone at the table shifted in their seats and casually checked between their legs, thankful that Jason wasn’t crushing their manhood.
“Hawk?” Levi asked.
“Talks with the runners are as planned,” he said. “D.O. is looking forward to another run. He fully understands what’s been happening to the other charters. I made it seem like it was a bullshit situation on their end. Stupid mistake. Just to keep tension from forming.”
“Good,” Levi said. “Everyone’s done talking. Now get a drink and find yourself a reliever.” Levi cracked the gavel on the table and everyone stood up.
Conversations instantly broke out as Reese waited for the guys to clear the room.
“You should join them,” Levi said. “There’s plenty of action out there.”
The relievers were women who hung around the club looking to get claimed by one of the guys. That meant doing what you were told, no matter what. If you were claimed by a patched in member, it was instant protection from anything you were dealing with in life. They were, most of the time, good women out there. Honest and hardworking, just trying to find a way out of a bad situation. Others were lost, and would forever remain lost, unable to put down the bottle or stay away from drugs, meaning they needed the club to protect them from a certain kind of hell that only an outlaw could save them from.
Either way, there were times when a reliever was useful. Sharing a bed for a night was needed to keep things in check.
“I don’t need any of that,” Reese said. “Too much on my mind.”
“They’ll take care of that for you. You’re the VP, brother. That means take two, three, four. Drown in tits and pussy until that mind of yours settles.”
Reese raised an eyebrow. “My mind isn’t going to settle here. We have to keep our guard up, Levi.”
“I know that,” Levi said. He put a hand to Reese’s shoulder. “You can’t let on to the guys too much and too hard. They’ll panic. They’re outlaws, Reese. They fight to the end. To the death. They don’t care about the destruction around them. We’ve worked hard to keep this town clean. To keep it as safe as we can. Our balance of power and respect is always in question. Not that I give a shit what anyone thinks of us, but it’s good to have enemies act like friends.”
“Pushing guns through is risky right now,” Reese said. “And we know there’s a supply of junk in this town too.”
“We voted on and said no to that business,” Levi said. “That could be our junk.”
“Protect everyone and feed them junk?” Reese asked.
“Not the best, but better than what we have now.”
“If that junk brings in heat that puts attention on us…”
“We know where it’s coming from. Sledge and his dogs don’t give a damn about that, Reese.”
“Then it’s time we take them to the pound, Prez,” Reese said with a cocky grin.
Levi laughed. “Meeting’s over. Go get a drink. Have someone relieve a little of that tension.”
“You worrying about my dick that much makes me wonder if there’s something wrong with yours,” Reese said.
“I’m doing just fine here,” Levi said.
He pointed to the door and they both walked in silence.
When Reese opened the door, he saw that all the guys were surrounding one of the pool tables in the clubhouse. They were all cheering and making grossed out noises.
“What the hell is this?” Levi asked.
Reese figured it had something to do with Hawk. Maybe he had a woman on the table and was demonstrating his fingers trick he had been talking about at the table. Reese pushed through the guys and finally saw what was happening. It was Hawk, but it wasn’t what he expected. To put it lightly, Hawk was making sure that Richie kept up with his orders of where to put that shot glass. And it was happening right on display.
“Hey, VP, check it out,” Hawk said.
“You all have issues,” Reese said. “And when he’s done here, throw that fucking glass out. Then give our prospect here a stiff drink and a little attention from one of the relievers.”
“I was hoping for a bullet to the head,” Brett said.
“No! Please no!” Richie cried out, bent over the pool table.
“Nah,” Reese said. “See if he can survive this and still get it up and enjoy himself. Either way, he’s not going to make the cut.”
“Please! Reese! VP!” Richie cried out.
“You don’t get to call him that, asshole,” Hawk said.
Reese waved at Hawk to shut up and he stepped forward and put his boot right to Richie’s ass. He gave a hard kick forward, knowing it had to damn well hurt the prospect. That shot glass was going to no longer be seen.
As Richie toppled to the floor in pain, starting to get sick on the floor, Reese looked to a couple of other prospects.
“Clean the floor and take him to the hospital,” Reese said. “Liquor him up and tell the doc he got drunk and curious about his body.”
“Damn,” Hawk said. “You’re vicious, VP.”
“Remember that,” Reese said.
He pushed back through the guys and went to the bar for a drink. With a fresh beer in hand, he walked away from all the action.
When he got to his room, he sat down on the corner of his bed and took a big drink. He didn’t need the obituary to know what it said. He had read that thing a million times and had it memorized by heart. Word for word. He’d lived through it. He’d watched it all happen. It should have been a wakeup call to leave the MC life, but it only shoved him deeper into it. Then again, it was the wakeup call for someone else to leave the MC life.
Reese gritted his teeth and heard the creak of a door behind him.
He reached for his gun, stood, turned, and watched someone emerge from the bathroom.
A woman was standing in one of Reese’s flannels, her long legs showing, her dark hair pulled back.
“Jesus, woman,” Reese said.
“Is this okay?” she asked.
“You tell me, sweetheart.”
The woman opened the flannel and slid it down her arms. She was naked and slowly walked toward Reese. He released his hold on his gun and took another drink from his beer bottle.
She walked right up to him and touched his face. Her hands eased down his leather cut and moved to the inside of it, touching his chest. She kept going down, finding the zipper of his jeans before lowering herself down.
Reese took a deep breath and shut his eyes.
They were called relievers for a reason, even if the relief was only temporary.
Chapter Three
The first alarm that went off didn’t actually wake Josie up. That wasn’t her style. She was the type to hit the snooze button seven times and wish she had done it eight. When she finally emerged from bed, she threw on a long t-shirt that definitely wasn’t hers; one that she told anyone who asked that she didn’t know where she’d got it from, but she knew where the shirt came from. That meant nothing though as she hurried to the kitchen to turn on the coffee and think about food. It was already close to noon, which came with the life. She worked as the club manager at the strip club, which came with its own set of judgements. But it was at least a step up from taking her clothes off for money, something she never had to do.
Then again, she wondered if it came down to that, that would definitely get her some serious attention. Probably not in a good way though. She could already see Reese busting through the doors, seeing her on stage, taking cash from some guy wanting to see more. He would probably knock the guy clean out, carry her off stage, and then find a way to shut the club down. Better yet, he would take her backstage and throw her against one of the tables and get pissed at her. He’d probably yell, all the while touching her, until they finally just succumbed to everything that had been building and lingering between them all these years.
Josie took a deep breath and shook her head. Those kinds of thoughts were better off saved for when she was back in bed. N
ot that she hadn’t been down that road before with Reese. Hell, for all the time she’d spent tied into Back Down Devil MC, she could probably wear the patch and fit right in.
That was a lifetime ago though. That was when youth and innocence felt like forever and the future was just a hope for more. Life had a funny way of twisting and changing whenever it wanted, whether you were ready or not.
Josie poured herself a cup of coffee and got out some eggs.
She walked to the living room and kicked the couch, waking up Starla. She was in a green bra and black panties. She stirred and jumped up, gasping for air.
“Good morning,” Josie said.
“What the hell?… holy shit. My heart…”
“How’s your head?”
“My head…” Starla touched her head. It wasn’t until she sat up did she feel the effects of the night before. That’s when she groaned.
“Yeah,” Josie said. “Take this.” She gave Starla the mug of coffee. “I’ll go find you some pills for that headache.”
“What happened last night?”
“You got too close, Starla. Throwing back doubles from that salesman. He thought he was taking you back to his hotel.”
“I would’ve gone,” she said.
“He’s married. Two kids. Back in Austin, Texas. I made a judgment call.”
“I don’t need you to protect me,” Starla said.
“I know,” Josie said. “Oh, where’s your money from last night?”
Starla sipped her coffee and her eyes went wide. “Shit. Where are my clothes?”
Josie pointed to her clothes on a chair. Neatly folded. Because that was Josie’s life. Getting a half dead-drunk dancer back to her place without getting puked on. Getting her on the couch and asleep, making sure she wasn’t going to end up hurting herself. Then neatly folding her clothes and putting them on the chair. If that wasn’t enough, Josie found some baggies in one of Starla’s pockets. Not good at all.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Starla whispered as she put the coffee mug down and hurried to check her clothes.
Josie stood there and watched as Starla dug through the pockets. She finally just threw the clothes across the living room. Grabbing her hair, she turned and looked at Josie, almost ready to break down in tears.
“What did I do?”
“That’s why I didn’t want you to go with him,” Josie said. “He looked as shady as anything. But he tipped well and enjoyed the night. The second he wanted to take you back to his hotel, I stopped it. I could smell his intention.”
“Well, if he was going to rob me, I should have let him fuck me,” Starla said.
“He didn’t rob you,” Josie said.
She walked to the kitchen and got herself a coffee mug first. She poured the coffee and waited for Starla to shuffle her way into the kitchen. Josie could see the hangover written across her forehead and almost felt bad for her. In some stupid way, Josie was a tiny bit jealous of Starla because of her figure and breasts. They were huge, full, and attracted a ton of attention. Starla probably made in a week what Josie made in a month. But Josie promised herself she was going to put her business degree to some kind of good use. Even if it was managing a strip club. It went well beyond the notion of women taking off their clothes. In some sense, they were all a family. Almost like the MC, which was a weird comparison, but it was the truth.
Josie opened the drawer in front of her and took out a stack of cash. She turned and held it out.
“What is that?” Starla asked.
“Your money,” Josie said. “I saw you drinking the way you were, and I snuck to take it all from you before anything happened.”
Starla put her coffee on the table and hurried toward Josie. “Are you kidding me?”
“Nope. All yours. I’ll be honest, I was thinking about letting it go on for a little while longer just to mess with you.”
“Bitch.”
“Please,” Josie said with a grin. “I saved your ass last night. You’re lucky Jefferson didn’t see you.”
“Fuck him,” Starla said.
“He owns the club.”
“He’s a pig.”
“Of course he’s a pig.”
“If he saw me that way he would have found a way to milk it. Some way to make money off me.”
“I know,” Josie said. “That’s why I faked that you threw up to gross that guy out, then I got you home. Well, here. I didn’t want you alone overnight.”
“Damn, you’re a good friend.”
“Boss.”
“Oh. Right. Boss.” Starla took the money. Then she swallowed hard. “Am I in trouble here?”
“Drinking? Maybe. Looking like you did in front of a customer? Probably. Losing your money? That’s not my problem. My bigger worry is what else I found on you.”
Starla’s face turned white. “Oh.”
“I’m not going to judge anyone for what they do in life. But you know that stuff like that isn’t allowed in this town.”
“Allowed? I’m not afraid of the cops.”
“I’m not talking about the cops, Starla.”
“Oh,” she said again, looking nervous. “You mean…”
“Yeah,” Josie said.
“The motorcycle club,” Starla said. “They hang around the club a lot.”
“I know they do,” Josie said. Oh, she knew it. Her heart felt it each time she had to watch Reese walk through those doors and all the attention he got. The way the ladies flocked to him, already with a leg up on Josie by being topless. Knowing damn well every single one of them would do anything to and for Reese, even though Josie kept it close to her chest that she had already experienced everything they all dreamed of.
But again, that was a long time ago.
“I’m not… I mean… you know…”
“I’m not your mother,” Josie said.
“I’m not telling you who else does anything,” Starla said. “Sorry. I’m not going to be twisted up.”
“Well, actually, I think you are,” Josie said. “I can breathe one word to Jefferson and he’ll have everyone drug tested.”
“Don’t be like that.”
“Be like what? Correct me if I’m wrong here, but you were almost blackout drunk last night, ready to go to a hotel with a random guy, with, what, five hundred dollars in your pocket, plus some junk? Are you fucking crazy?”
“I don’t have to answer to you,” Starla said.
“No, you don’t. I’m standing here as your friend right now. But when we get to the club, I’m your boss. I don’t want this shit. Ever. This can ruin you, the other girls, and the business.”
Starla rolled her eyes.
That’s when Josie suddenly felt like she was a mother. No, she felt like her father. The tough guy cop who could never show a soft side, fearing weakness showing through. No matter though, he always provided a house and a stable enough life.
“Are you done?” Starla asked.
“No, I’m not done. Do you even care, Starla? I mean, how the hell do you live like that? You just wake up on some person’s couch… and what? Stumble around to find your clothes? Hoping to sneak out so there’s no strange interaction with some guy you fucked?”
Starla laughed. “You’re just jealous because you haven’t had a dick inside you in years. You probably don’t even remember how to fuck.”
“Great,” Josie said. “Go on the defensive now. You know what? I don’t care. You’re safe. You have your money. I flushed the junk. If I see that shit again in the club, heads will roll. I’m telling you and if you want to help the others, tell them the same thing. I’m not going to have the MC coming after me.”
“We really live in a town where a motorcycle club has more power than the police?”
Josie ignored the question and pointed to Starla’s coffee mug. “Finish your coffee. I’m going to make us some eggs and-”
A horrible sound echoed from the bathroom down the hallway.
“What the hell was that?” Starla asked.<
br />
Josie reached for her coffee mug off the counter and sighed.
Looks like it’s time to tend to another hangover issue…
Josie tried to balance her coffee mug on the sink, but it quickly fell into the sink, tipping over, all that beautiful coffee wasting down the drain. She hurried to grab Steph’s hair, pulling it back to keep her from getting it all messed up with vomit. She was in a strange position, standing there with one hand holding her hair, the other touching her shoulder, basically straddling Steph as she got sick again.
The sound she made was worse than the vomit. It was as though she were dying, screaming as loud as she could. Coughing. Gagging. Finally gasping for air and groaning. She put her head sideways on the toilet and had her eyes half shut.
“Long night?” Josie asked.
“Shut up,” Steph whispered. “You don’t even know…”
“Know what? That you were partying and somehow got home and now you’re sick. You should have thrown up last night. You’d feel better this morning. Like Starla.”
“Starla’s here?”
“Oh yeah. I’m just living the dream, Steph. Call it Josie’s House of Drunk Ass Bitches…”
Steph smiled. “You’re so dramatic.”
“I’m dramatic? You sound…”
Before Josie could finish, Steph turned her head and got sick again. By this point, it was merely just retching, dry heaves and nothing coming up.
“Case in point,” Josie whispered.
When Steph stopped again, Josie crouched next to her.
She looked into Steph’s blue eyes and shook her head.
In some way, Josie was stuck with Steph. She was her cousin. She turned eighteen six months ago and thought that being an adult meant life was easy and free. Josie was far older than she was and had tried many times to talk about life with her, but she wasn’t interested. She liked to buy cigarettes legally and still liked to drink illegally. Go figure.
Josie let her sleep at her apartment because it was better than her couch hopping and going deeper into a dark spiral. She had to give Steph credit though. She had a job and never missed work. That was about it though. Josie didn’t see any money from said job to help with the bills, but that was going to change soon.
The Devil's Curve: a Back Down Devil MC romance novel Page 3
