When Clubs Collide

by Jacqueline Sinclair

  The Enforcers’ Revenge

  Emma James

  &

  Kathryn Kelly

  About The Enforcers’ Revenge

  When a lunch date ends badly for Pearllene and Miss Catherine, the enforcer for the Death Dwellers, Mortician, and Edge, the enforcer for the Soulless Bastards, must form an alliance to save them.

  The motherf*ckers who dared to mess with what is theirs, need to be taught some respect.

  Revenge is everything it’s cracked up to be.

  Edited by: Judy Miracle

  Notes from the Authors

  A Note From Emma

  This Novella is best read after the completion of Contorted, Hell’s Bastard 3.

  The Enforcers’ Revenge is a twenty-four hour period taken from the start of Entwined, Hell’s Bastard # 4, which then leads into its own side story.

  The characters and events leading up to this time are best understood once all three books in the Hell’s Bastard series have been read or else you will be coming in blind to Edge and Whisper’s characters and the struggle they have been through.

  A Note From Kat

  The Death Dwellers MC Series is written in third person POV. The novella is written in first person in the interest of the story. The Enforcers’ Revenge can be read as a standalone to my series. Pearllene was introduced in Mistrust, Death Dwellers #7. It isn’t necessary to read that book to follow this novella.

  Edge

  Twenty-Four Hours

  “Boxer has to be fucking kidding me,” I grind out in a deadly quiet voice. I’m toe to toe with Ghost, dressed in his regulation black attire. His cannon-sized arms are crossed against his big, fucking rock hard chest. Thank fuck he was no longer wearing that ridiculous outfit he had on last night. At a guess, he’s around my age, thirty-one, and I’m vanilla to his mocha-chocolate.

  “I want in that room. Come on, Ghost, you know I’m not gonna just sit here like I’m in fucking detention and keep my mouth shut any longer.” I try to reason.

  The only acknowledgment he’s even listening to me ranting in his face is to raise one dark eyebrow slowly upward, questioning me on how far I’m willing to take Boxer’s orders to keep me away from Whisper. From what I have seen of the man, he’s fucking loyal to the core.

  Boxer had Doc and Ghost on stand-by in Alaska, ready and waiting for when he needed them. He’d kept that information on a need-to-know-basis. The man is smart and left nothing to chance. He fully trusted his people and only his people when it came to Whisper.

  My MC brothers and I apparently were not in the need-to-know-basis.

  Mathias had immediately directed our rescue chopper to the surgery in Anchorage, the one he knew was hidden within the printing business’s fake façade. One of motherfucker Cezar’s secret properties. A place Whisper had unfortunately already visited with a bullet wound.

  I haven’t seen Mathias since we arrived, my mind too occupied with Whisper and the injuries she’d sustained during her captivity.

  Boxer had arrived in Anchorage from Louisiana several hours ago, after finding out the condition Whisper was in. Our paths haven’t crossed, yet.

  Phoenix is here somewhere with Slade, a good friend of mine, and Hazard, the President of my club, the Soulless Bastards, probably getting a coffee. Phoenix has been by Whisper’s side offering female support until Boxer arrived. Too many men have fucked with my sweet and wild girl. She didn’t need any males watching over her in her room.

  Doc Evelyn’s been caring for Whisper while I’ve been locked out of the inner sanctum. I’ve only been told she’s resting and no longer in any pain after having her hands and feet operated on. Torque, the Lion’s Den Prez, and I had previously removed the bolts that had secured her to a table by motherfucker Cezar’s minions.

  I can only pray they are the only things wrong with Whisper. I have no idea of her state of mind.

  Nothing.

  The times I’ve seen the Doc coming and going, she’s looked sheepish and apologetic, not stopping to give me an update, but she managed to shove another moon boot into my hand and look down at my foot disapprovingly. A hint to put it on, because my foot still needed to heal properly from the bullet wound I’d received several weeks back.

  What. A. Fucking. Day.

  I size up the big man before me knowing he’s an even match for me. All I can do is stand here doing my best poked-one-too-many-fucking-times glare at Ghost, knowing he’s only following orders. The ex highly trained soldier won’t budge from his guard position until Boxer tells him, and I do fucking appreciate he has Whisper’s back. Everything is about protecting Whisper, and I can’t argue with that.

  Apparently protecting her from bad guys includes me, too.

  I am the enemy in Boxer’s eyes and she is his daughter, not by blood, but by circumstance, and that man will go to war for Whisper.

  Looks like my name is War, now.

  “Nope. Not going to happen and you know it, Edge.” My thoughts are interrupted by Ghost’s deep voice.

  “He speaks!” I channel my frustration at him because I got nowhere else to bounce it.

  “I do hear you loud and clear, Edge, even when you’re silently stewing sittin’ on a chair, but it ain’t my call to make and you know it. You didn’t expect Boxer to simply forget what you did. Did you?” He looks tiredly at me and changes tactics. “Everybody here only has Whisper’s best interests at heart. And you also know that. She needs rest and she needs her family. And until you get that hall pass…” His thumb points over his shoulder, not breaking eye contact with me, “you ain’t gonna be going in that room.”

  Fucker is too pretty for his own good and makes too much fucking sense.

  “You just need to be patient and give Boxer time.”

  Those big eyes of his and smooth voice are trying to work some sort of calming mojo on me and I can’t be calm. All I’ve been is patient and acting like a piece of the furniture. I’ve been a role model in here.

  I look over Ghost’s shoulder. She’s so close, just behind the door he is blocking like a human wall. I check my watch. It’s nearly midnight.

  I had her safe in my arms over twenty-four hours ago. I haven’t been able to touch her since and that’s just driving me a little bat-shit crazy.

  “Boxer knows what you did to save her, what your MC brothers did. He won’t be forgetting that, but he also knows you fucked her in more ways than one and that is currently flashing in bright neon lights in his mind. You gave him the top two reasons not to let you anywhere near her and you gotta live with that and be respectin’ his orders.”

  I could have forced the fucking issue. I had my MC brothers for back-up waiting at Ghost’s Alaskan cabin. They all wanted to line the walls here ready to back me up, but that wasn’t gonna endear me to Boxer. Everything he was doing was for his girl and I had no part in that.

  For the mean time.

  I don’t even fucking know if she wants to see me, but I’ll be here when she is ready to make that decision and that won’t be anytime soon if Boxer has his way.

  I respect Boxer’s need to be close to her, but somebody was missing from the equation. Miss Catherine hadn’t flown out with Boxer and she should be here for Whisper.

  I take a step back from Ghost, my fists balled on my hips, my jaw locked down tight fighting the strong urge to ram my way past Ghost. I’m wearing the same suit I had on a night ago. I haven’t showered and blood stains my clothing. I look like a desperate man. A man on edge. Not a man who usually has the upper edge. I’m now a man in limbo, not knowing where he fits in with the sweet and wild girl, but wanting to fit in.

  “Eeedge—” Ghost knows I’m wound too tight and only one thing can release that pressure and he also knows I’m not gonna get that from him.

  I cut Ghost off by raising one palm in front of me. I’m a man who knows I have no rights to Whisper. No right to be a part of any of this. I don’t need to be reminded of that. I fucked up badly and forgiveness is a shot in the dark.


  I turn my back on Ghost and start pacing knowing he’s waiting for me to do something predictable like crash my way past him.

  It’s less than a week until Christmas and there’s no way Whisper should be moved before then. I’m no doctor, but she’s been through too fucking much, mentally and physically. I know she ain’t spending Christmas without Miss C.

  That’s for fucking sure.

  It’s her first one with her build-a-family and she needs her grandmother figure with her too and I’m aiming to make that happen. I don’t know how she’s gonna feel about me when she becomes conscious next, but having Miss Catherine by her side will be a great comfort to her.

  I stop pacing and I watch Ghost tighten his stance. He’s ready for whatever he thinks I’m gonna throw at him.

  I have to do something useful. I can’t just stand about here.

  “You can tell Boxer he has twenty-four hours and then we will renegotiate. Guard her well Ghost, because when I come back she better be safe and in that room, and you better be right where I left you.” Then I turn on my heel and walk away. Another day is about to tick over.

  “Edge!” His smooth, deep voice booms sharply behind me.

  I throw my right hand up in the air without turning around and keep right on walking to locate Hazard and let him know I will be MIA for twenty-four hours. Then I need to find somebody who knows how to pilot a private jet and can pull some strings to get A1-fucking-security-clearance to take that fucking big sleek white bird of motherfucker Cezar’s and get me as close to the small town of Connard, Louisiana as he can. I don’t care if he lands it in a fucking field. I need to get to Miss Catherine.

  Pronto.

  Miss Catherine

  I Ain’t No Cougar

  When we first be hearin’ Whisper was safe, I nearly be collapsin’ in Boxer’s arms. The stress be takin’ more of a toll on my body than I be willin’ to admit.

  Boxer was leavin’ for Alaska on a promise to bring Whisper home safe to me and I was holdin’ him to that.

  I still not be hearin’ the condition the chile be in and dem bones of mine are rattlin’ away sendin’ me mixed signals. I only be knowin’ she was safe and under Evelyn’s care with enough MC men around to be keepin’ her safe. I would be knowin’ more soon enough about when she be comin’ home and I’ll be ready to be givin’ her that Christmas she been denied her entire life.

  Boxer not been gone that many hours before next thing I be knowin’, old Lenny is at my front door knockin’ his bony hand on it expectin’ me to let him on in.

  He’s standin’ there with his pork pie hat held close to his chest and sportin’ a grin from ear-to-ear in his neatly pressed suit holdin’ a small overnight bag to be completin’ the damn fool picture.

  I. Don’t. Think. So.

  There was nothin’ to be doin’ to get him outta my house. He was takin’ his orders from Boxer seriously to be lookin’ after me while he be gone. Only thing I be doin’ to get away from that damn smilin’ old man was to go visitin’ a friend to keep my mind off Whisper.

  I sure wasn’t gonna be known as the local town cougar by takin’ on an eighty-year-old man under my roof at my age. I might not be able to be removin’ him from my home, but I sure could jump in Evelyn’s car that she left in my care and be takin’ myself away for the day.

  License or no license.

  Havin’ made my arrangements for lunch and changin’ into a nice warm frock, thick stockings and cardigan, and fixin’ my hair, I enlightened Lenny-my-shadow, that I be takin’ my leave from him to be visitin’ with Miss Pearllene. She would be givin’ me a good distraction for a few hours.

  The disappointment on Lenny’s face be imminent.

  He might be doin’ me nice by wantin’ to be keepin’ me company, but I don’t be needin’ no man for that.

  Pearllene will be doin’ just fine.

  Pearllene

  Once A Creighton, Always A Cretin

  My bones creak and pop as I make my way up the veranda steps of this big, fancy house. I lean on my cane, aggravated at the pain I’m experiencing today. Strength is required to bust a couple of hard heads and knock some sense into that stubborn grandson of mine. It’s damn abominable how he’s treating his mother, my baby. Once Roxy admitted she still hadn’t heard from Duke, claiming it didn’t matter, I decided to take matters into my own hands. My Thanksgiving ass-whipping didn’t do the trick. Several weeks have passed and he’s still acting a fool. Today, I intend to give him and his good-for-nothing daddy a beat down.

  My Roxanne is going through enough dealing with her injuries and mourning a low down dirty dog she went and fell for.

  I glance at my watch and sigh at the time. The cab fare to meet up with Miss Catherine cost me an arm and a leg, especially with this unplanned stop. I can’t even drive anymore.

  Arriving at the double doors, I glance back at the cab and wave at the driver. With everybody doing their own thing today, I had to hire a taxi, but it’ll be worth it to catch up with Miss Catherine.

  Noting the big Mercedes parked in front of the cab, I turn, ring the bell and wait, my patience stretched to the limit. When the door swings open, a woman resembling Jessica Rabbit greets me. Recognition lights her eyes and she narrows them. I don’t know who the hell this cardboard cutout heifer thinks she is, but she better ask somebody who I am.

  Without waiting for an invitation to enter her fancy place, I stomp past her.

  She snorts and slams the door shut, turning to face me. We eye each other up and down.

  “Get Duke,” I order. She might think she’s high up on the hill as Duke’s stepmother, but I intend to bring all these bastards down a peg or two.

  “Creighton!” she yells, her high-pitch grating on me like a fingernail scratching a chalkboard. “Creighton!”

  “Yes, where is Cretin?” Damn it, the asshole’s mama just made that one too easy. She must’ve known her son would turn into a damn snake-in-the-grass heathen. I have much better names to bestow on him. However, Roxy is trying to clean up her language, so I’ll follow her lead.

  “Michelle, dear, why are you raising your voice?” Creighton strolls into view and then stops in his tracks when he sees me.

  Roxanne always said he was a nut-brown. Too nice from my viewpoint. I like to say his coloring is shit-brown.

  “What are you doing here?” he spits at me, his beady eyes narrowing so much I wonder how the hell he can still see.

  Two slick-looking suckers follow behind him and eye me up and down.

  Creighton continues to yap. “You or that hussy you call a daughter aren’t welcomed in my house. We don’t want the air tainted with your presence.”

  “Listen, Asswipe, we can stand here all damn day trading insults,” I say in a don’t-fuck-with-me-voice. “I’m not leaving until I see my grandson.”

  Jessica Rabbit’s doppelganger places her hands on her hips. “You’re in my house. If you don’t leave, I’ll call the police.”

  Snobs and lightweights to boot. I pat my hair, not in the least worried at her threat. “Call them all the hell you want to, pole ho’. I can go to the media and tell everyone Cretin plucked you from the strip club he owned. You know the one? It’s where he has an illegal drug trade going. Imagine that? The high-powered attorney, Creighton Rousseau, nothing but a drug dealer. Umm, chile, that would be quite the story.”

  The shock on their faces is priceless. This YouTube moment would go viral. The other two men snicker. Their lack of surprise tells me this isn’t news to them. Immediately, I classify them in the same league as Creighton: thugs pretending to be high-class.

  My former son-in-law scowls at the two men and their laughter stops abruptly.

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Creighton sputters.

  “You want to test me?” I challenge.

  “If Roxanne told you this, she’s a liar,” he continues, his eyes bulging. “She’s a bitter harridan who refused to accept the divorce settleme
nt I offered.”

  “My baby didn’t mention shit to me.”

  Roxy didn’t know that I knew what the asshole had been up to. A body gets restless when her favorite child is hundreds of miles away. The girl left me in her house. Something had to occupy my time. Snooping through her papers did the trick. That club she’s involved with has always been a siren’s song to her, luring her away from me. Well before she became mother-in-law to the enforcer of the Death Dwellers MC, she had an in with the club. One of the members was her oldest daughter, Bailey’s father.

  “Where’s Duke?” I demand into the silence. “Time’s wasting. I have a lunch meeting with a family friend. Miss Catherine appreciates timeliness. Call my grandson, so I can get to Cake Café.”

  “Duke isn’t here, old woman,” Creighton says, sounding as if the stick he keeps up his ass is quite painful today.

  My glare deepens, and our mutual dislike and distrust for each other rises up like a stench from the swamp. Creighton is a filthy sonofabitch, who always believed I was a decrepit busybody.

  “Call him and ask him if he’s home or not,” he snaps.

  “If his ass would answer my calls, I would’ve asked him.”

  “He isn’t here, Pearllene,” Creighton bites out again.

  “You’re lucky I’m short on time.”

  One of the thugs focuses on where my hand rests on the cane.

  “Nice little old ladies shouldn’t wear false rocks,” he says, his grin returning.

  Creighton snorts. “I assure you it’s real. Her granddaughter is married to some pathetic little ass in a motorcycle gang. The Death Dwellers, I think they call themselves. I heard all about them from Duke. The ring on her finger is probably stolen.”

  Without bothering to correct his assumptions about the MC, I turn toward the door and grunt my way there, my cane stomping the pristine wooden floors. Regrettably, I’m not leaving any marks. “I’ll be back.”