The Prospects had to do whatever nasty jobs the patched members came up with. They needed to earn their place within the Club by showing their loyalty and commitment. Three of the four Prospects were good as far as Whiskey was concerned. The fourth, Digger, was a lazy son-of-a-bitch. He did the bare minimum just to get by while the other pulled hours of guard duty and spent the rest of their time bartending or any other task put to them. It looked like all of them needed a little wake up call. He would be embarrassed if an ally Club stopped by and saw the state of their Clubhouse.
Whiskey didn’t want to think about if another Club were to see the shit he was seeing, they would think the RBMC couldn’t keep their shit tight. Motorcycle Club’s didn’t have the best reputation and cleanliness wasn’t even at the top of that list, but control and structure dominated their world. If they couldn’t control their little slice of the world, then there would be issues. Other Clubs might get the idea they weren’t as Ruthless as they really were, and that couldn’t happen.
Walking into their inner sanctum, the place they held Church, Whiskey took his seat by the wall. He was a patched member, that meant that he had earned the respect of the RBMC by showing his loyalty during his Prospecting days, but not one of the officers. Only officers or old-timers sat at the table. He watched as his Brothers filed in and it looked as though none of them knew what was going on. If they had a mission that shit was prepped and prepared for days if not weeks in advance. There were rare occasions that a mission would come up at the last minute, but Link was usually in charge of that shit, and he had been at the diner with him, so he doubted that was what was going on now.
Tuck, the President of the RBMC, walked in and took his place at the head of the table. It only took seconds for him to pound the gavel down on it to get everyone’s attention.
“I won’t drag this out, we have a problem in Defiance. Hank James came to me a week ago and informed me that Addy Sinclair has been having problems at her farm for a while now. First, it was just kids’ stuff, broken fence lines, and property damage. Now, it has turned into straight out vandalism and threats. She hasn’t come to me with any of this, but about an hour ago she called and offered the farm to RBMC for half its value.
“I tried to get her to talk about everything that was going on, but she wouldn’t listen, just kept on sprouting off some shit that it was just time, and she wanted a change. The thing is, she’s adamant about only selling to us. When Hank first brought this to me, I had Link look into it, but he didn’t come up with anything.” Tuck looked at Link with a look of disapproval in his eyes. Link was his brother, and Whiskey knew the man was good underneath his pissed off and pumped up exterior; he also knew Link had always had it out for Addison. Whiskey had to wonder if Link had purposely not looked into Hank’s claims because she was involved. He wanted to doubt it, but where Link was concerned, Addison had always been bad news. He wanted to believe Link would put his personal feels aside and follow his President’s orders.
“So, I called in a few favors and have learned that Addy is getting the hard push from someone to sell. She owns the farm outright and has for a couple of years, but within the last six months she has received ten liens against the property for everything from delinquent taxes to personal injury from some fucker that lives in California. From what I can tell, he hasn’t even stepped foot in Defiance or anywhere near Addy’s farm. There are also contractor’s liens for work that hasn’t even been done. Jinx’s is looking into the liens and there’s only one common thread; all of these fuckers are from out of state and have links to over the border. They also have ties to one of our recent cases, Satan’s Vultures.”
Son-of-a-bitch, this wasn’t good. Those fuckers were into everything, drugs, guns, women, and extortion, and that was only the tip of the iceberg. RBMC had been sent in to get three little girls that had been taken and held for ransom a few months back. None of them had been over the age of seven, and the stuff those sick fucks had done to them turned Whisk’s stomach.
“Here is the problem we face, the RBMC can’t in good faith agree to buy the farm from her when we know Pop would turn over in his grave at the thought of the place going to someone other than family. We also know Addy had no plans of leaving until recently.” Tuck said looking right at Whiskey with that same disapproval he had given Link.
“Bring her in and make her talk, if these fuckers are threating her, then we do what we have to do. She might not be family, but she is an ally to this Club,” Tank said.
Tuck held up his hand before any of the Brothers could speak, looking around. Whiskey noticed that Talon and Tank were about to jump out of their seats. He knew both of them had ties to Addison and that bothered him more than he cared to admit.
“Before you get you panties in a twist,” Tuck said looking to Talon, himself and Tank. “We have another problem; she isn’t and has never been Club property. RBMC has been taking care of the Sinclair family for years because their property butts up against ours, but Addy has made it clear she wants nothing to do with the Club other than for us to buy her out. She will run and try to lay this shit in our unprepared laps. I’m cutting her some slack because of Pop and our long-standing relationship, but if it were anyone else, we would have already had her tied up out back.
“Addy is a good girl, but she is trying to play in a world she doesn’t have a clue about. She thinks if she cuts and run, it will all be over with, at least for her. I asked her for twenty-four hours and she agreed. In that time, I want all hands-on deck; we need to figure out what is going on and how to prevent any further fall out. If my feelings are right, Addy is just the way in for Satan’s Vultures to get to us. We have brought our problems to Addy’s front door and no amount of running will deter them, that is what we need to make her understand.
“Tank and Talon, I want you two to talk with her, she is closest to you, try to get her to open up about what is going on. I don’t care what you have to do, fuck her, buy her chocolate, or wine and dine the shit out of her, your choice, just get it done. I want her locked up here at the Clubhouse by the end of the tomorrow, your choice on how to make that happen.”
Whiskey walked out of meeting pissed the hell off. No way was either of those two fuckers doing anything with Addison. They had unfinished business, and he would be the one that brought her in, whether she liked it or not. Before he could make it to his bike, Link stopped him by grabbing his arm, making him turn around.
“Don’t do it asshole, leave the past in the past where it belongs. Addy isn’t yours and hasn’t been for a long fucking time. Too much water under the bridge for that shit to happen now. Follow Tuck’s instructions and let Tank and Talon handle it.”
“Fuck off, Link. Addison is and always has been mine. You understand me, from the day I popped that cherry to now, she is mine. I don’t give a fuck about the fucking water under the bridge or any of that shit. Addison will come in because I will make her, no one else.”
“Fuck, listen to yourself. You haven’t even laid hands on that women in ten fucking years. She isn’t yours, and she sure has hell isn’t going to bow to your will. Fuck man, she runs every single time she sees your ass. Leave it, grab a Puppet, a bottle, and find a place to lay low. I didn’t do the shit I had to all those years ago just for you to throw it away now.”
Whisk yanked his arm out from Link’s hold. He didn’t know what Link was talking about and he didn’t care. The one thing he knew, he needed to get to Addison and make her do what he wanted, didn’t have time to deal with Link, right now. Talon walked up and Whisk braced for another fight. “Let him go Link, it isn’t your place to hold him back.”
“Like fuck, it isn’t. I am the head of this family, and if that isn’t enough for you, I am also the motherfucking VP of this Club. What I say goes.”
“That’s the thing, Link, your say only goes as far as Club business, and Tuck just said Addy wasn’t Club property. If Whisk claims her, problem solved, he can bring her in and we can get the
answer we need. I think it’s time you kept your manipulative ass out of his personal life. Hey, while you’re at it, consider mine off limits, too.”
Whisk got on his bike and revved the engine, he couldn’t have said it better himself. But he couldn’t leave without a final shot at his brother, “You have my loyalty and respect as far as the Club is concerned, but don’t pull that big brother shit, again, asshole. I’m not a punk-assed, little kid, anymore. I am perfectly capable of making my own decisions without your help or influence. You don’t have to agree with them, either.”
Yeah, that came out a little more childish than he wanted, but damn, Link was like a damn mother hen when it came to him and Tal. He never knew when to just let them be. Whiskey was also thinking Link may have had a lot more to do with what happen ten years ago then he ever thought, and if that were the case, he and his brother would have it out once and for all.
His older brother, Link, had planned their lives out to the smallest of details and at eighteen Whiskey had been all for it. Serve his country for a term, then come back and join the Ruthless Bastards MC. Simple—live hard and ride free were words that had speared him on, but as most things in life, the older he got, it changed for him. Link’s constant rules and orders for his life pissed him off. He was a free man and an adult, but every time he decided for himself, Link would push harder for him to follow his plan. After years of putting up with it, Whiskey just stopped talking to him.
It was a little hard now he was back in Defiance. Link was the VP of the RBMC, and he had to take orders from him as far as the Club was concerned, but that was as far as Whiskey was willing to let that shit go. When Whiskey became a full-patched member, the President of the Frankfort chapter gave him a choice; stay at the Mother chapter, or come home to Defiance. Whisk chose Defiance and every day since, questioned the decision. He was loyal to the Club, but his blood brothers were another matter.
Link never stopped trying to treat him like a child, and Talon just ignored him. Whiskey couldn’t blame Talon, he and Link had left him when he was only sixteen, and although they came back from time to time, it was never the same. Talon had pulled away from both of them as Whiskey had pulled away from Link. He wanted to fix it with his younger brother. They had another brother, Sebastian. He wasn’t a part of their MC world, but he was also the only one who still spoke to all of them regularly. Maybe it was the distance that helped that along, or that Bas never once tried to do anything but help and offer advice. He didn’t intrude or demand anything from any of them. He also didn’t come around that often, but called as much as he could.
Chapter 5
Pulling out from the RBMC, Whisk knew there was only one place that Addison would be right now if she was planning on leaving town. His mind took another trip down memory lane, Whiskey cringed at how hard and fast he went after Addison. She was sweet and innocent, and she had no defense for what he had planned for her. The hot, high school nerd that everyone wanted, and no one got to touch. She didn’t give any of the guys the time of day back then; she was the prize, and Whiskey had been determined to win it at any cost. Corrupting Addison worked right into his plan of leaving this two-bit town with a major Fuck You. To prove to the fucking wannabes and too goods he was somehow worthy. He’d used that poor girl and thrown her away. Not caring until it was far too late to make any changes. Funny how things you thought were important as a kid don’t measure up when you got older.
Shaking his head, Whiskey thought, man, he was an ignorant asshole back in the day. Hell, he just hoped that he wasn’t making another mistake as far as Addison was concerned because once again he was going to go at her hard and fast.
Pulling up to the cemetery, he felt horrible. Pop had helped them all out and not a single one of them even attended his funeral. Shit, he hadn’t even heard the man had died until years later. Back then, he didn’t even think to ask if anyone attended the funeral to honor the man. Now, it was just another regret to add to the many he had accumulated over the years. When his mother, Star, would go on one of her benders and forget to go to the grocery store or leave for days on end, it was Pop that brought over food and checked up on them, before Link was old enough to take over those responsibilities.
It was also Pop that taught them how to hunt and dress wild game to keep them through the winter. He also brought them clothes and other things, never once making a big deal about it. Say shit like, “The ladies down at the church were going to throw this stuff away. Can’t have that now can we, waste not want no you know. Figure out something to do with it. Got too much crap at home, you boys can help me out.” The old man had a way about him that made it seem like they were helping him instead of taking charity, something none of the Frost boys would ever do.
During harvest Pop would come and get them early every morning before school and put them to work. The work wasn’t easy, but it wasn’t back breaking either. When they were done for the morning, Pop would direct them to the bunk house where clean clothes and fresh soap always waited for them. He also had lunches packed and at the end of the week they all got a few bucks to put in their pockets. As they got older, those time in the mornings came few and far between. He and his brother found other ways to spend their time and make money, but Pop still watched out for them. If the furnace broke or there wasn’t enough food to put on the table, he was always there.
After leaving Defiance, Whisk never once looked back or tried to honor the man who meant something to him as a kid. It hurt too much; Addison was his granddaughter, and he let the sins of their past taint the relationship he had with Pop.
Getting off his bike, Whisk looked around the cemetery. It was the only one in town and looked pretty much the same as any other cemetery. Tombstones, statues, or name plates littered around plush green grass and trees. The wind was blowing slightly, and he could smell the scent from the dogwood trees surrounding the area.
Letting his gaze wander, Whisk took everything in and realized he never wanted to be laid to rest in a place like this. Whisk wanted his Brothers to throw his ashes to the wind that way he could be free forever. Whisk would also rather have his loved ones remember him at special places or times than be forced to come and remember him at some piece of granite, metal, or cement statue. It was just the way he thought, and if others didn’t like it, too fucking bad.
Whisk walked up the winding path searching for Addison. He knew she was here, he could feel it deep in his bones. People changed over the years, but Whisk knew she couldn’t stop herself from seeing Pop one last time before she left for good.
It took a while, but he finally found her standing in front of a grave stone. She was wearing a pretty, yellow sundress. Damn, she had changed through the years, she’d only gotten more beautiful. Her once thin tomboy shape had turned into that of a woman’s. Lush and curvy in all the right places. Her A-cup breasts had turned into a full D-cup, and Whiskey had the urge to feel their weight in his hands. Her hips were more pronounced, her ass lush; the weight she had gained through the years looked good on her.
Her hair was shorter, but no less captivating, a mixture of many, browns, blondes, and reds. He had loved playing with it as a teen and longed to do it again. He was also happy that it was still long enough that if he fucked her from behind, he could wrap it around his fist. Damn, he needed to stop thinking this way. Adjusting his hard cock in his now too tight jeans, he stood there staring, trying to compose himself. Addison wouldn’t be his toy this time around.
Whisk smiled thinking about the dress, it brought up memories from the past. Through the week and Saturday, she always wore, jeans, t-shirts, sweatshirts, and flannels, but every Sunday she wore a dress. He remembered the first time she had done it when we were kids, and he had asked her if she was going to church or something? Addison just smiled and said no. It wasn’t until years later and that conversation long forgotten, she explained the dress to him. He kind of wished he could go back in time and change that day. He had already decided what he would do, but
he never thought about how it would affect the rest of his life.
Whiskey had been teasing Addison, they were sitting on the top of truck and the wind kept on trying to blow the material way from her body. He wanted a peek, so he didn’t really care, but Addison had always been such a tomboy he couldn’t help but give her some shit about her attire. His plan was already in motion to win her, and he was putting all his seventeen-year-old charm her way.
“Oh, come on Addison, just let the wind take it. I’m dying for a look at those little undies you have on under that prissy dress.
“Stop it Aiden, I get one day to be a girl. All week long I go to school, come home, work the farm, and then go work for Old man Harris. I get everything on my clothes from mud to horse poop, but on Sunday’s I get to wear a dress and pretend, just for a little while that my life is a little different. I can wear a dress and not get dirty. So, I can feel pretty,” Addison looked down as if she was ashamed of what she just admitted to.
Whiskey had felt bad, he knew his intentions weren’t right, but in that moment, he showed her something he never showed anyone, softness. Hugging her up close, he said and truly meant, “Addison you are pretty, jeans and mud or a dress and heels.”
Brushing her bangs away from the front of her face she looked up at him with those startling hazel eyes made brighter by the tears she was trying to hold back. Her little smile was too much of a temptation and he kissed her, right there in the middle of the field. Kissing Addison Sinclair turned into more right at that second with their lips pressed firmly together. She was no longer the girl he played tag with, or went fishing with, and swam in the pond on hot summer days. Right then and there, Addison became his.
God, he had forgotten about that, forgotten about the feelings; even now looking at her he felt the same. Addison Sinclair was still his and still the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.
Whiskey: Ruthless Bastards (RBMC Book 1) Page 4
