“Agreed, Prez. Whatever we have to do. I think it's time to get them home before she destroys Zoey and Noah. They've both told me they want to come back,” Karma commented.
“Hmm, gotta ask you, Brother, you willing to do anything to get them here?”
“Yeah.”
“Even if it means we have to plant something on her?”
“Yeah, Prez. Since she left, she’s changed. It would be different if she was still a good mom, but she's fucking not. The kids say she's not even home half the time and that the times she is at home she's either drunk or high, plus she's been bringing men home and Zoey said a couple have scared her. Fuck, I should have already tried court, but with being in the MC, I figured if I got the wrong judge, I'd be screwed.”
“Probably so, Brother,” I told him as I picked up my phone and called Rebel.
“Yeah, Prez, whatcha need?” he asked as he answered the phone.
“You in the Clubhouse?”
“Yes, sir. I am.”
“Pred with you?”
“Yeah, Prez, he is.”
“Need y'all in my office now.”
“On our way.”
It didn't take the boys a minute and they were at the door. I motioned them inside.
“Got something I need you to do. Would ask Streak and Axel since they know the area well, but they would be known to the person I need you to watch. We are gonna get Karma's younger kids back. Need you to go keep a watch on their mother, Jade. As bad as I hate to tell you this, think you need to leave off your Prospect cuts. I don't want her to have any idea she is being followed by the MC. Get with Karma for the info on where she's living. Keep your heads up for anything, got me?” I said to them as I laid out what I needed from them.
“Gotcha, Prez.”
I nodded at Karma then he got up and followed the boys out to give them all the pertinent information that they would need.
~***~
Chapter 3
There is no medicine like hope, no incentive so great, and no tonic so powerful as expectation of something tomorrow.
~Orison Swett Marden~
Ava
May 28th, 1998
I looked around the dingy trailer I was calling home this month and grimaced. I'd been here for two weeks now and already wanted to move. I decided when I came back to Rogers that I wouldn't stay in any one place more than a month at a time. My hope being this tactic would make it harder to find me, if anyone decided to look for me, that is.
I'd been back a little over two months now and was getting frustrated. I hadn't learned anything new about Mr. Miller. My problem was I didn't have a clue how to go about finding any information on him. What little bit I found out about him on the internet hadn’t helped me in the least. I also wasn't any closer to finding my biker hero.
I had managed to get a job bartending at a bar called The Watering Hole. I’d been told one night when I went out bar hopping, hunting for information on bikers, was that the only bikers around this area usually frequented this bar. Unfortunately, the other bartender, Rick, was as new as I was there. He had moved up from Little Rock and didn't know anything about any MC's around here or if there were even any in this area. I had subtly tried to question Macky, the old man who owned the bar, but he just stared at me hard and walked away. I felt like he knew something, but he wasn't about to tell me what.
Then, just my damn luck, I was off this past Saturday, my first since I had started two months ago, and Rick said a damn biker came in. He'd said the name on the back of the cut said Angel's Rebellion out of Arkansas, but he didn't catch the guy's name. And of course, the waitress, Trish, only worked weekends and wouldn't be in for another day. But at least I did learn one thing, the club was from Arkansas. So hopefully this was the MC I was looking for. At least it was more information than I previously had. All I could do now was pray this was my biker hero's club.
I patted my waist and ankle, double checking that I did have my guns strapped on, grabbed my helmet, my phone, checked my back pocket for my driver's license and money, then headed out the door to work. I got on my baby, a 1983 Harley XR 1000, put the key in and started her up. As I put on my helmet, I thought about how much I fucking loved my bike. I frowned slightly. Brian wouldn't know what to make of me if he could see me today.
For a girl who never use to cuss, my favorite word anymore was fuck. I pulled out onto the road and headed toward work as I briefly thought about my new vocabulary. Yeah, this was one woman who had made a complete one hundred eighty degrees change over the last seven years. The long blonde hair was gone, replaced with short silver colored hair. The fair skin on my arms was now covered in solid sleeve tattoos. My favorite color to wear was black and my shoe of choice were biker boots.
I flew through the gears, riding like a bat out of hell. The feeling of the wind upon me was invigorating and watching the scenery fly by was liberating. I loved the freedom a bike gave me. I felt like I was one with the universe. I'm not sure if there was anything that could give me a greater feeling of peace. When I rode, my troubles seemed to disappear. Rarely had a ride not left me feeling better than before I started.
As I pulled into the bar's parking lot, I noticed there were more vehicles than usual. Hopefully, that would make my ten-hour shift go faster. Not that I didn't like my job, I just really hated slow nights. I started bartending because I felt that was about as far away from a kindergarten teacher as I could get, especially since I wasn't about to strip or be a hooker. I wasn't knocking the women who did those jobs, they just weren't for me. I had thought I would truly hate tending bar, instead I loved it.
I enjoyed talking to people and it's true what they say, people tell bartenders shit they normally wouldn't tell others. Alcohol made a great truth serum. Generally, a drunk person had no filter and would tell you exactly what was on their mind and how they felt about things. Besides all that, some drunks were funny as hell and I've had many good laughs over the years.
What I hated the most though was a mean drunk. That's when I was glad I had my guns strapped to me. I've had to pull one several times, and actually shot once, but it was just through the floor. I told the guy the next shot was going into his leg if he didn't leave, needless to say, he left. I had been afraid he might have stuck around and waited on me to get off work so he could apply a little pay back; but luckily he hadn't, although I kept my gun out when I walked out to my bike, not putting it in its holster until I was ready to ride.
It was three-thirty p.m. when I walked in the door, Rick looked busy. There were about eight customers at the bar and over three quarters of the tables were full. I walked behind the bar and stored my helmet under it, nodded at Rick and made my way down the hall to let Macky know I was here.
I stuck my head around the kitchen door, “Hey, Macky. Just letting you know I'm here.”
“Come in, hon. I need to talk to you,” Macky said as he took up a basket of fries.
The menu here was very simple. Macky served hamburgers and fries, that was it. If you wanted cheese on your burger, you could get that, otherwise he said if people wanted to eat something else, then they could go elsewhere. He ran a bar, not a fucking restaurant.
I walked completely into the kitchen, wondering if I had done something wrong that I was unaware of. I didn't lie, cheat or steal, and, as far as I knew, I hadn't pissed off a customer, so I wasn't sure what was up.
“What's up, Macky?”
“Want a burger and fries?” he asked as he slapped pickles, lettuce and tomato on a plate besides the cheeseburger on the bun. Next, he scooped up a huge amount of fries and put them onto the plate and added packets of condiments. He then slid it to the side and started on another plate.
“Nah, not right now Macky. Later this evening I'll want one. Were you needing anything else?”
“Yeah, kid. Wanted to let you know I'm selling the bar,” His face was sad as he made the comment.
“You're selling the bar, really? Something wrong?”
> He sighed heavily and took a deep breath, “Doc said my ticker is bad and I need to destress my life. So, I decided to sell the bar and go live closer to my daughter and grandkids.”
“Hate to hear that, Macky. You take care of you, understand? I know the bar is your baby, but your life is more important.”
“Yeah, that's what my daughter said. Not sure if being around the grandkids is gonna destress me though.”
I laughed lightly, I'd only met his grandkids once and they were hellions.
“Do I need to start looking for another job, Macky?”
“Nah, hon. For now, you don't. Before I officially put it up for sale, I have a party that might want to buy the bar. If they do, I'm pretty sure they'll keep you on.”
“Really? Who is it?”
“Not at liberty to say right now, hon, sorry.”
I nodded at him. When someone told you it was basically none of your business, the only thing you could do was agree and move on with things.
“Well, let me know which way the wind is going to blow.”
“Will do, hon.”
“I'm gonna run to the restroom before I start work. If you need me for anything just holler.”
“Alright hon, go on and get out of here.”
As I walked back toward the bar after using the restroom, I noticed business was really hopping now. Rick was looking a little frazzled.
“Ready for some help?” I asked him as I tied an apron on around my waist.
“Fuck, yes. It's getting insane. Where the hell are all these people coming from anyway?” he muttered.
I laughed at him and waded into the fray. About three and a half hours later, I finally had a chance to catch my breath. A fucking softball tournament was going on this weekend in Rogers and apparently the majority of the teams arrived today to have a day to settle in before their games began on Friday. Someone had told them the place to get a hamburger was The Watering Hole. Apparently, they all agreed it was, because people had steadily kept coming into the bar for over three hours straight.
As I reached under the bar to grab a bottle of water, I glanced at the clock on the wall to see that it was seven-thirty. I heard the door open and almost groaned. After the rush we just had, I needed ten fucking minutes of down time. It appeared I wasn't going to get that. I turned my head toward the doorway and my breath lodged in my throat. Six guys wearing cuts walked into the bar and headed toward the booths close to the pool tables.
I felt like I was about to pass out and realized I hadn't taken a breath from the moment I had seen them walk in the door. As I drew in air, I was furiously trying to see the emblem on their cuts. But they were all walking slightly diagonal to me and I couldn't make out a damn thing.
“Hey, you okay?” Rick asked, causing me to jump and turn my head toward him.
“Yeah, why?” I asked as I whipped my head back around.
Mother. Fuck.
They had all sat down in a booth and now I couldn't see anything on their cuts. I felt my body trembling slightly and for the life of me I couldn't figure out why. I took another drink of water as I stared at the guys. I just needed one to stand up with his back to me.
“You sure you're okay? You're staring at those bikers really hard.”
I lowered my gaze down to the bar fast. That's all I needed was to piss off some bikers. If they were the right ones, I was gonna need their help. Well, that is if they did things like what I wanted done. If not, I wasn't sure what I was going to do. It's like all my hopes hinged on my biker hero. For all I knew, he was married with ten kids and only rode on the weekends in a Christian MC. I so prayed that wasn't the case though. Because I honestly didn't know what I would do if that became my reality.
“Yeah, I'm okay. I thought they might have been some bikers I knew once. I was just trying to see the back of their cuts.”
Rick looked at me skeptically and nodded. Fuck, I needed to keep a cool head on my shoulders. It wasn't like me to freak out like this.
“You okay with me heading on out? Can you handle the bar alone now you think?” Rick asked as he started untying his apron. It looked like he was leaving regardless, so I wasn't sure why he even asked me.
“Yeah, no sweat. I got this.”
I grabbed a rag and started wiping the bar down. I glanced around to make sure that everyone was okay, then watched as Rose walked over and took the guys’ orders. As she walked my way, I saw a man get up and head toward the hallway that led to the restrooms. Just as he was about to turn his body where I could see his colors, someone at the other end of the bar tapped their beer bottle on it and reflex had me turning my head toward him. He held up his empty beer bottle and I nodded at him. I hurried and turned my head back toward the hallway, just in time to see the guy go into the men's room. Damn my luck.
I drew a beer from the tap then hurried and gave it to him. I checked on everyone else that was sitting at the bar on the way back down to the other end that was closest to where the hallway joined the main room. I wanted to be able to keep an eye out for the guy to come out of the restroom. Rose came out of the kitchen and slapped the ticket on the bar top. I glanced at it really quick to see they had all ordered a Bud Light. As I pulled the six beers out of the chiller, I saw the man make his way back down the hallway. I slapped the beers down on her serving tray, but kept my eyes glued to the biker.
I vaguely heard Rose murmur, “Thank you,” as I tried not to hyperventilate. Fuck, what was wrong with me. I was never like this. I think I knew before he even turned and started for the table what I would see. My eyes flew to the emblem on his cut. I blinked, then blinked again to make sure. Oh, thank God, it was the right one. I had found my bikers. Now, I needed to figure out how to find my biker hero.
~*~
Blood
“Think the bartender is checking you out, Blood,” Slaughter said as I sat back down.
I casually glanced around the bar and as my eyes landed on the chick behind the bar, my eyes locked onto hers. Her eyes widened in shock and she jerked her head around. She was fucking gorgeous. I wasn't a fan of short hair, but on her it was sexy as hell. The color looked silver from here and it had that just fucked look to it, like a man's hands had been holding it as he guided her mouth back and forth on his cock.
Tats started at her wrists and ran up both arms until the sleeves of her t-shirt hid them from further view. She definitely wasn't trying to get tips by flaunting her chest. The shirt she was wearing was something a preteen would wear when their moms still had some control of how their daughters dressed.
As I continued to watch her, I could tell she was damn good at her job. She was constantly scanning the people seated at the bar to make sure they hadn't run low on their drinks. I tried as unobtrusively as possible to keep watching her. The longer I did, I noticed how much she kept glancing at us. It wasn't me she was glancing at; it was at all of us. Fuck, she was new so maybe she didn't know that we hung out here often and wouldn't cause her any problems.
I decided to go have a chat with her. I needed to know the lay of the land so to speak. If we were gonna buy the bar, I needed to know if she was someone who wouldn't be scared to work for bikers. That is if she passed our background check.
“Go get her, Brother,” Doom murmured as he took a drink of his beer.
I smiled lazily at him as I got up from the booth.
As I made my way toward the bar, I saw Rose heading to our table with our burgers. Hell, mine was gonna get cold, but I felt the need to talk to this chick. Not sure why. I almost felt like I had seen her somewhere before, but I knew I would definitely remember a woman who looked like this, especially with those tats. The closer I got to the bar, the more nervous she appeared to get. Damn, I hope she wasn't one of those chicks that thought they were better than bikers. Hopefully, she was just scared of us and I could ease her mind on that front.
As I leaned against the bar, I tapped the bottom of my bottle on it. When she glanced my way, I held up my bottle. She no
dded and reached into the chiller and grabbed a beer. As she made her way to me, I slowly looked up and down her body. Fuck, she was hot. She was fairly tall for a woman, I'd say about five feet nine inches or so, and she had fucking legs that went on forever. They were the type to wrap completely around a man's waist and be able to hold on with no problem.
Damn, her hips were perfect, not too big, nor too small. The more I looked at her, I realized she truly was a fucking brick house. I would bet all the money in my bank account her measurements were 36-26-36, and those sweet beauties gracing her chest were a generous C cup. I liked what I was seeing and apparently so did my damn cock because he was hard as steel.
“Here's your beer, will there be anything else?” she asked me in a husky voice.
“How about your name?” I inquired as I watched her shift back and forth. She appeared very nervous. “Or do big bad bikers scare little girls like you?”
She blinked her eyes at me, then dumbfounded me when she started laughing.
“Nah, big bad bikers don't scare me. And, I left little girl status a long time ago,” she replied.
Damn, she couldn't have been more than twenty-five, if that, her face was too soft and pure looking, and I noticed she hadn't given her name. As I was about to repeat my question, I heard someone walk up behind me. Fuck. I had been so focused on her that I must not have paid attention to who might have gone past me toward the hallway. That was the type of mistake that I never made, yet this chick had made me do it. I couldn't afford to make those types of mistakes, not with my job as the MC's Sergeant at Arms and lead Enforcer. As I was straightening up, a hand slapped me on the shoulder and Macky walked past me and behind the bar. He was carrying a plate with a burger on it.
“Hey, Blood, how ya doing?” Macky asked as he passed.
Mad Dog (Angel’s Rebellion MC: #2) (Angel's Rebellion MC) Page 7
