Honey Whiskey (Bastards MC #2)

by Carina Adams

  Jessie had straightened herself in her chair, obviously ready for battle. One eyebrow arched perfectly as she smiled. Leaning forward, she moved her head slightly. "Princess!" Her fake excitement made me even more nervous than Cris’s fake happy. "Now that the boys are back, I couldn't be better. How are you?"

  "To be honest, I'm surprised to see you here. I forgot that little job of yours allows you to come and go whenever you want." Cris waved her hand dismissively.

  Jessie laughed. "Oh, that's just one of the many perks of sleeping with my boss." I had to keep my mouth from falling open. "Are you still pretending to work hard at that gym teaching men how to do that thing? What’s it called again? Mai Tai?”

  Cris tensed next to me, the smile never leaving her face as she opened her mouth to respond. “It’s Muay Thai, Barbs. No need to pretend you don’t know the difference. We all know how much you like your booze. But, don’t worry about it. All you need to remember is that you can’t handle either Mai Tai’s or Muay Thai—both will kick your scrawny ass.” I knew we were in for more than an earful because not only was her job as a personal trainer difficult, she co-owned the academy where she taught.

  Rocker picked that moment to practically slam two cups onto the table. As he slid one towards Cris, he glowered at her. It wasn't lost on me that while he had to ask Jessie how she took her coffee, or even if she wanted one, he never asked Cris either question.

  The uncomfortable silence that surrounded us made me realize why I didn't like being around women. It wasn't that I didn't like my gender. I had some of the best friends anyone could have. I loved my girl time with Teagan and her daughters, my lunch dates with Becky, my one-on-ones with Cris, and even looked forward to expanding my friendship with Jessie. In most situations, though, I would take being stuck with a hundred men over being stuck with ten women any day of the week. We were so catty. Everything was a frigging competition.

  I inwardly rolled my eyes at the looks Jessie and Cris were sending each other whenever Rob looked away. Did he not know that they hated each other and were acting this way because of him? If he did know, did he even care? I felt awful for all three of them. It was a messy situation. I could see how uncomfortable he was. I wished could read minds because I wanted to know what he was thinking. Needing to free myself from this mess, I stood up and grabbed my cup and the one Cris was using.

  I ignored her quiet "Hey!" and carried them to the sink, beckoning her to follow me. "We'll catch you guys later, ok?" With that, I bounced down the stairs.

  *****

  We'd not only gotten in some retail therapy, but also some hot boy oogling. After spending the morning shopping for nothing in particular, we'd decided to go to the movies to see Captain America, Winter Soldier. How can any hot-blooded female be stressed after watching Chris Evans look adorable while saving the world? Once back at the apartment, Cris sat at the table while I prepared dinner, and we gushed over the men in the movie and how kick ass Scarlet Johansson was. That woman was more terrifying than half the men I knew. She didn’t have to depend on someone else to save her. I was just a bit envious. I wanted to be that strong—emotionally and physically.

  "It really wouldn't take that long, just some dedication." Cris shook her head when I opened my mouth to argue. "Seriously, you should know how to protect yourself!"

  I smiled as I scrapped the chopped onion into the salad bowl. "I do know how to protect myself, silly. It's called mace and I carry it everywhere. But, I’d love to be just as scary as the black widow." It wasn't the first time I'd said it today, and ever since I mentioned it, Cris had been trying to get me to go to her gym. She claimed her type of kickboxing would be a good sport for me to pick up, and if I didn’t want to learn it, then I should at least take a martial arts class or two. I just wanted to know how to throw a punch and have it hurt my intended target without it hurting me. Being able to defend myself wouldn’t be a bad thing, either.

  "Why don't you come with me tomorrow?"

  "I will, as long as you can promise me that there will be hot men I can stare at."

  "There will be tons! Why do you think I love my job?" She shot me a look that said I was crazy. "Hot, sweaty, beautiful, and kicking the shit out of each other while I yell at them. What more could you want?" The thought was so obnoxious that I couldn’t hold in my laugh and she joined me, shaking her head.

  Rob came into the room, stopping dead. "Yoah cookin' suppah, L.K.? No shit!" He smiled. "Thank God. I couldn’t handle takeout again." He grabbed a beer from the fridge and then pulled a chair from the table, turning it and straddling it as he sat. "What ahh you two hens cackling about?"

  Cris rolled her eyes, trying to look annoyed, and smirked. "I want Jo to come down to the gym tomorrow. I started a new class last week and think she should join us.” She winked over at me. “I think I’m wearing her down.”

  "Not happening."

  I looked up from the tomato I was slicing, sure I'd missed a step. Cris jumped in before I could, the glare in her eyes matching her icy tone. "I'm not gonna put her in the ring against a pro on her first day out, just teach her the basics."

  Rocker took a sip from his bottle and shook his head. "Ovah my dead body."

  “Fuckin’ Christ, Robbie. The girl doesn’t even know a single defensive stance, let alone any of the aim points.” Her eyes narrowed further. “You really don’t think it's a good idea for her learn what to do if someone attacks her?”

  Taking another sip, he swirled his bottle as he listened to her. His eyes rolled as her arms flew through the air in her dramatic fashion, and he leaned forward as he answered. “I said no.”

  I slammed the knife down on the counter, and they both turned to look at me. "I don't remember anyone asking you."

  He shrugged dismissively. "You think I'm gonna let ya go get yoah ass handed to ya and then explain to Mateo why his woman is covered in bruises? I don't fuckin' think so."

  I picked the knife up and pointed at him. "Fine, then you can take me to your gym and teach me."

  A look I didn't recognize crossed his features and he swallowed hard as Cris broke into hysterics. Once she composed herself, she smiled at me. "That won't work, Jo. Rocker doesn't hit girls." Her voice took on an odd tone as she turned to look at him, eyes sparkling. "He refuses to hit anyone that has a pussy, even if they are really, really naughty and begging for it."

  Not backing down like I thought he would, Rob shrugged again. "You knew I wasn't into that shit, that it’s not my thing. I told you if you wanted someone to tie ya up and spank ya, you shoulda been with Hawk, not me."

  Cris answered with a laugh that was sharp and didn’t hold a spec of humor. "And I told you I needed you to do it. I didn’t want Hawk, dammit. I wanted you. But, no! You didn’t trust me enough to even try.” She slammed a small fist onto the table. “Besides, I’m pretty sure I lack what he requires in his partners. Do I look like one of his chubby subbies?"

  Chubby subbies? Good Christ! I would never look at Hawk the same way again, and I let my thoughts wander to a place I didn’t want them to be as I wondered if I was Hawk’s kind of chubby. The thought turned my stomach.

  “Oh, my God! How would you even know that?” I groaned, closing my eyes and trying to fight the embarrassment I felt flooding into my face. "Thank you both for that wonderful image! Unless I can figure out a way to boil my brain, I’m gonna be stuck with it for the rest of my life! Jesus, is nothing private anymore?" Leaning my head onto the counter next to the cutting board, I let the coolness of the marble soothe my warm cheeks. Some things, you just can’t unhear.

  They were both looking at me when I stood and opened my eyes a few seconds later. Rob was trying to hide his amused smile behind his bottle, but Cris was gaping obnoxiously as if I had two heads. “What?” I snapped, harsher than I meant to.

  Cris shook her head and cleared her expression, making her face go almost blank, but I could see a smile threatening to break on her lips. Rocker, on the other hand, gave me a shit-ea
ting grin, his dimples deep. “Hate to break it to ya, kid, but I’ve lived with Mateo in one way or another for ovah half my life. Not all of those places had two bedrooms, and if they did, the walls were pretty fuckin’ thin.” He paused, taking a long swig while I scanned my mind, vaguely worried about what he might have heard. His eyes met mine. “I can promise you, L.K., I know moah about him,” he stole a glance at Cris, “and his…” he cleared his throat, obviously uncomfortable in front of Matty’s sister, “preferred activities than I evah wanted to.”

  I felt the color drain from my face, embarrassment momentarily replaced with shock. Surprisingly, Cris laughed, not looking uncomfortable in the least. “What he means, Joey, is that we all know just how kinky my brother likes to get—at least, we’ve all heard the stories.” Stories? Christ! What was it with these people and their stories? I felt my lips purse in agitation, the knowledge that I didn’t know what she was talking about leaving a sour taste in my mouth. Pausing for a second at my response, Cris smirked and raised an eyebrow. “While I obviously don’t know for sure, I think it’s pretty safe to assume,” she held up her hands in surrender, rushing on, “by the fact you’re still together, that you also like a bit of kink. There’s no need to get embarrassed by a little BDSM talk.”

  “So, I’m guilty by association?” I glowered at her. “And, I’m not embarrassed,” I added childishly.

  She giggled. “The way you’re acting like a sheltered and innocent school girl is a little amusing. In fact, I think it’s fuckin’ hilarious.” She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively and beamed at me.

  Rocker tipped his head, as if trying to work out something she’d said, and spoke before I could form a retort. “No. That’s not what I meant.” He gave her a dirty look, obviously as irritated with her as I was, before turning to me. “It’s moah than that. I don’t evah want you to think that anythin’ in this club is private, because it ain’t. We all know things about the others that they feel they have to hide from the resta the world. That’s how we build trust, how we survive. We may give each otha a hahd time, but we’ll defend each otha to the grave.”

  He sighed and sat back. “There ah some things about us that you’ll learn early on ‘cause no one tries to hide ‘em. Hawk likes to dominate fat women, and his job is to protect the club and its members at all costs. Yet, he hates violence and is always the first to try talk me down. Princess,” he jerked a thumb towards Cris, “wants someone to tie her up and give her the spanking she so obviously deserves, but if a man messes with her any othah time, she’ll fuckin’ wreck him. Dean is a cocky fuck that will screw anythin’ that shows interest ‘cause he’s trying to forget his ol’ lady walked, but he hates it and wants to find a woman to go home to. And me? I’m a miserable fuckin’ prick that won’t hit women,” he looked back at Cris, the corners of his lips quirking in teasing laughter, “even when they’re begging for it, but won't hesitate to throw the first punch any othah time.”

  Emotions warred within me. I didn’t know if I was shocked at how he listed off their eccentricities as if they were normal things everyone talked about all the time, intrigued to know more about these people that meant so much to the man I loved, or if I wanted to laugh because every single thing Rob just said was pretty frigging funny. They may be freaks, but even I had to admit that they were fascinating.

  “So, if I’ll learn all that early on, what juicy tid-bits will I pick up later?” I smiled as I focused my attention back to the vegetables in front of me, picking up a freshly washed green pepper and slicing it down the middle.

  I felt eyes on me and I looked up, surprised to see that Rob’s face had hardened a bit, all trace of humor gone. “Some secrets you may never know, L.K. It isn’t personal, so don’t take it that way. We’re a tight group, most of us have been Bastards since we were kids. With that history comes severe loyalty. Not one of us will tell someone else’s story unless we’re told we can.”

  As he offered me a small smile, I remembered a conversation I’d had with Matty last summer where he’d said almost exactly the same thing. ‘It’s not my story to tell,’ he’d told me of Rob’s time in the youth center. Loyal to the core. These men, hell, this whole group of people, were hard to figure out. They surprised me at every turn. As I started to chop the pepper, I realized that I was relatively certain they would never act how I expected them to.

  Chapter 14

  Jo

  I tried to convince Cris to stay for supper, since that had been the original plan all along, but she swore she was exhausted. I wasn’t convinced. The tension between the she and Rob was so thick it would take more than a knife to cut through it. I don’t know who seemed more relieved as I walked her to the elevator, but they both acted as if a huge weight had been lifted from their shoulders. With a promise of, “I’ll see you tomorrow, wear comfortable, but form fitting, clothes. Work on him tonight, will ya?” just as the doors were closing, Cris was gone and I was alone with my roommate for the first time in days.

  I smiled to myself as I walked back into the kitchen. Rob had taken my place by the stove, searing the chicken cutlets. He didn’t look like a rough and rugged biker, but an off duty chef instead. I walked around the counter, facing him, grinning up at the sight.

  “I’m sorry. When I planned dinner, it was just for Cris and I. If I’d known you would be home, I’d have cooked something else.”

  He looked at me quizzically. “What wouldya have cooked? Meat and potatahs?” I could hear the humor in his voice. “Real men eat salad, L.K.”

  I smiled at him, holding in my laughter. “Oh, really? Is that why I found our crisper bare—you ate all the veggies but left the frozen fries and processed foods for me?”

  He nodded vigorously as he flipped the poultry once more. “That’s exactly what happened.”

  I rolled my eyes in amusement. “Makes complete sense.”

  He smirked. “Hey, I left you beeah.” He reached over the stove, turning the burner off.

  “No you didn’t!” I laughed, “I bought that yesterday!”

  “I don’t know about that,” he laughed back. “How’d ya know what kind I drank?”

  I watched as he transferred two pieces of chicken onto our plates, grabbed forks, and then lifted both up, setting them on the counter in front of me. He then turned to grab a couple bottles of said beer. “Jessie told me.” He paused slightly at the mention of her name, but recovered and took a seat in the stool next to me. “I thought you’d stay with her tonight.”

  He opened my bottle, dropping the cap to the counter, and then did the same to his before taking a sip. He ate a few forkfuls of greenery before answering me. “That’s what she figured, too.” He looked up, staring off into the empty kitchen as he chewed absently. “She take good care of you?”

  I swallowed my bite, followed it with a gulp of ale, and then smiled. “Yeah. Thanks for sending her over. She’s really sweet and very funny.” As I told him about the time I’d spent with Jess, he turned to me, smiling when I got to the funny parts, nodding at others. “I like her,” I finished.

  “She’s great.” He tipped his bottle back, taking three or four swallows before lowering it and meeting my eyes. “I’ve known her since she was a kid. I used to call her Jailbait, ‘cause that’s what she was.” He chuckled at the memory. “She fuckin’ hated that name. She was all of fourteen or fifteen, even though she thought she was a lot oldah, when she decided she was gonna marry me. I was wicked fucked up still, so I didn’t pay any attention, except for the fact that she was Tank’s little sistah. She was just an annoyin’ pain in the ass that wouldn’t go away.” He rubbed a hand over his face, as if struggling with something, and then sighed.

  “Nevah thought she’d end up working for me, or bein’ part of the club. She was too good for this shit. She shoulda stayed away and married some yuppie that would be home every night and give her a normal life.” His voice was full of regret. I didn’t know what to say to that, positive that she'd already told him that
wasn't what she wanted, so instead I focused on something else he’d said.

  “Pretty fucked up? Did you have a motorcycle accident?”

  He shook his head. “Naw.” Finishing off his food, he stood and grabbed my plate, carrying them both to the sink. Realizing the conversation was over, I picked up my bottle, ready to head downstairs, when he walked back to me, two new bottles in his hand. He handed me one and tipped his head toward the living room in silent beckoning. Sitting in the easy chair next to the fireplace, he watched me as I sunk into the comfort of the couch, leaned back onto a pile of pillows, and stretched my legs out onto the cushions.

  “I asked you before, but we were interrupted before you could answer. How much do you know about the Bastards, L.K.?”

  I felt my forehead wrinkle in surprised confusion. “Not much more than I’ve told you. Jessie told me a few things about Matty, but nothing significant.”

  He nodded, a look of determination crossing his rugged face as he lifted one shoulder. “I thought Mateo would tell you eventually. I think you should know who you’ah livin’ with, don’t you? Who you ahh spending your time with. And I don’t want you to heah it from one of my brothahs.” I bit my lip, nodding. I wouldn’t turn down any information he was willing to give me, especially if it helped me solve the mystery of Matty. He and I still needed to have that talk, but maybe with a little perspective, it would go as well as our last chat. I smiled as I thought of him and our fire escape conversation.

  “To undahstand the Bastahds, you need to know my history.” He shifted, leaning his elbows onto his knees. He rolled the bottle between his hands and shook his head. “I was a wicked wild kid. My parents were shanty Irish and didn’t give two shits about what happened to us as long as we stayed outta their way. I was the oldest of four. Katie, Meghan, and little Colin—he was the tiniest five-yeah old I’d evah seen. We were hungry all the time, never warm enough, and if we whined or asked for food, my father would beat us. I’m not talking backhanded beatings. No, if he came aftah ya, you spent the next few days lyin’ on a bare mattress in the corner ‘cause ya couldn’t fuckin’ move. I can’t tell you how many times he went aftah one of the babies only to have me or Katie get in the way. I wanted it to be me he hit, I could take it, but sometimes I wasn’t theah.