by Ryan Michele
“That’s not all that matters. Fucking hell, Austyn! So many things could’ve happened.”
She runs her fingers through her hair, pulling it at the roots. “You think I don’t know that? I couldn’t call Mom, Dad, Cooper, or Nox.”
“Why the fuck not!” I’m fully aware that I’m arguing with my twenty-year-old cousin, but I don’t give a fuck.
Austyn has support. She has family. It’s not that I’m not willing to pound the fucker in the ground for her, because I am. Why come to me when there is a clubhouse full of badass motherfuckers ready to pounce in the name of family?
“Look at my face, Deke!” She points to it. “If they find out about this, I’m fucking toast.”
“More like he’s toast,” I growl.
“No, Deke.” She moves into the space, making small passes. “Things are different now. So much different.” She shakes her head.
Things aren’t that different. Emery shares enough; I would know if Austyn had a reason to worry about going home.
“I’m sure they are, but they sure as shit are looking for your ass right now.”
“I texted Nox and told him I was fine, that I’d be home soon.”
“Give me your phone.”
She reaches in the back pocket of her jeans, pulling it out. “It’s dead.”
I don’t answer. Instead, I tear the sparkle infested cover off, then the back of the phone. Pulling out the battery, sure as shit, there’s a chip in it.
“Fuck,” I growl.
“What?”
“You can’t be this stupid, Austyn.”
Her hand goes to her hip, and in that moment, the look on her face is just like my aunt’s. Fuck, that’s freaky.
When no one would listen, when I couldn’t stop the rattling in my head, Aunt Princess was there. She didn’t force me to talk. I asked her to teach me to fight, to give me the escape, the control, and she did.
“I know there’s a tracking device on it. That’s why I let it run out before I got close to your place so they wouldn’t know where to find me. This is the last place they’d look.”
Fuck, that guts, but it’s no more than I should expect.
“I can’t let them see my face. All of them will go apeshit, and I’m already in deep with Mom and Dad.”
“You’re fucking twenty-years-old, Austyn; why haven’t you grown the fuck up?” I bark.
“Oh, I have in more fucking ways than one, so don’t you sit there and lecture me on that shit, Deacon! None of it’s your goddamned business!” She sucks in air. “Look, I just need a place to crash for a couple of days while my face heals, then I’ll go home and face the music.”
“And you think you’re staying here? With me?” I open my arms, gesturing at the tight space. “No, you’re going the fuck home.”
“Deke …”
“Not tonight. You sleep on the fucking floor, and I’ll figure out what to do with you tomorrow. Need to shower.” I turn.
“Why are you all busted up? Your face and knuckles look like you’ve been fighting,” she asks, studying me for the first time since she got here.
I don’t turn. “It’s what I do.” Then, rather than explain, I shower.
I knew that if I told her I was taking her ass home right now, she would bolt when I got in the shower. Therefore, I lied. Once I get this fight off me, I’m driving her ass back to Sumner. The damn place I never thought I’d go back to.
Fucking hell.
The water does nothing to tame the beast inside me. Going back is a really bad idea. It could do so much fucking damage, but I can’t let her stay here, and no way in hell am I calling Nox to come get her. They don’t know where I’ve been, and they don’t need to know. I’ll take her there, drop her off, then get the fuck out.
The problem is, when I get out of the bathroom, she’s passed out, asleep on my couch. And fuck, it looks like she hasn’t slept or eaten in days. I’ll let her sleep, feed her, then take her home.
Yes, I can give her the night, but tomorrow, she goes home, and so do I.
Chapter Six
My cell rings the next morning. Looking at the screen, I see it says unknown caller. Swiping it, I take the call, knowing at least it’s not the cunt bitch.
“Yeah?”
“Rylie?” a woman’s voice comes over the phone.
I wipe the sleep from my eyes, my mind instantly connecting the voice to the person.
“Princess?”
She chuckles. “That obvious?”
“What’s up?” This is totally strange. First, how the hell did she get my number? Second, what the hell does Princess Cruz want with me? Third, did I fuck something up last night I shouldn’t have? The thoughts continue as I listen for her reply.
“You’re coming to work for me.” It’s not a question; it’s a statement.
Bolting up from the bed, the sheets fall to my waist. The sudden chilly breeze sends goose bumps on my flesh through my tank top.
“That’s nice and all, but no thanks.”
“Just listen for a minute.”
I say nothing, giving her the cue to continue.
“My head of security at X put in his two weeks’ notice about a week and a half ago. Gar, the guy who was supposed to be watching you girls, was up for the job. Last night proved he’s not ready. I want you.”
Not gonna lie and say I’m not good, because I am. That’s why Schade pays me the way he does. It’s also why I don’t need another job to sustain my simple lifestyle. Another serious reason is, I’d be in the fold with the Ravage MC. Putting a big target on my back isn’t really a move I want.
“Appreciate it, but it’s not a good idea.” Even as a rush of adrenaline fills me, I know it’s best to stay away.
“Not takin’ no for an answer. You can stay with Schade; we’ll work around those hours. And I’ll pay ya double what Schade does.”
I fall back to the bed in a puff of sheets and blankets. Double? Double what Schade does? She obviously has no idea what he pays me. There’s no way a strip club would want to fork out that kind of cash when they could find someone a hell of a lot cheaper than me.
“You do realize how much Schade pays me, right?”
She laughs over the line. “A fuck of a lot. That’s why I know you’re good. The best come at a price.”
A chuckle escapes me. She’s damn persistent.
“Thanks, but really, I don’t need another job right now.”
“Tell me what the hang up is, and I’ll take care of it.”
“Anyone ever tell you you’re damn persistent?”
The phone moves like she switched ears. “All the time. Tell you what; meet me at the clubhouse at one. I’ll pull my husband and a few others together, and we’ll talk about what you need. Told you, you will work for me.”
I shake my head as I look up at the ceiling. No one bosses me around. And no one puts restrictions on me. Not even Princess, the head ol’ lady of the Ravage MC. Not happening.
“No thanks. I’ll see ya around.”
I lift the phone, just about ready to hit the end button, when she says, “I’ll be at your house in twenty.” Then she clicks off.
“Fuck!”
Tossing the phone to the bed, I climb out quickly and move to the bathroom. Noting the makeup still on my face from last night, I jump in the shower and clean myself off.
Princess is coming to my damn house. I didn’t even know I was on her radar in the first place. All of this because of last night. One incident and now the head of the club is showing up at my doorstep to get me to change my mind. Fucking hell.
The Ravage MC is big in this town. There are so many rumors flying around about the club, though most of it is hearsay—nothing confirmed. My assumption is that’s how they want it. They don’t like people in their business, and I don’t blame them one bit, since I don’t like people in mine.
After showering, I toss on some jeans and grab a T-shirt that says “suck it.” Staring at the woman in the mirror, a s
mall smile plays on my lips. My blonde hair comes to my shoulders with the tips a cross between blue and purple. When I went to the salon, I told them I wanted fun and got this. I love it. It’s different.
I chuckle just as the doorbell rings, followed by a fist pounding on the door. Alrighty then.
Another round of pounding occurs as I reach it, unlock it, and then swing it open. Princess stands there in ripped jeans and a shirt cut low on her chest. Her dark hair reflects the sunlight, not to mention the fire red streaks. She wears a smile on her face, but a sinister vibe flows from her. Not many can match me, but I’m thinking Princess could. At the same time, it doesn’t intimidate me in the least. If anything, it makes me respect her even more.
“Come on in,” I say, stepping back from the door and letting her enter.
My place is me. Bold colors of reds and purples accent the space while the walls are a light gray. It’s not messy, but it’s not picked up and tidy, either. Who has time to waste on putting shit away when you’re just going to get it back out in a couple of days? My time is more important.
Princess moves into the living room, taking a moment to look at my space before her focus comes back to me. She’s definitely on a mission, exuding so much confidence I’ll need to keep on my toes.
“What can I do to get you to come to X?”
A chuckle escapes me as I sit in my recliner. She follows, taking a spot on the couch, never taking eye contact away. She’s intense, that’s for damn sure.
“Look, I appreciate you wanting me on your team, but it’s not a good fit for me.”
“Why?” she fires back. “Because of Ravage? Or is it because you just don’t want to? Clearly, a strip club isn’t an environment you dislike, since you and your friends came in to chill, so what is the problem?”
“It’s because I make enough money with Schade that I don’t have to. For as little time as I actually work, I don’t need the cash. It would just take up my time.” I shrug more to myself than her. There really isn’t an issue with working in a strip club. Hell, my girls and I went there for fun; she’s right about that. Money is always great, but bottom line, I don’t want club shit at my door.
“Bullshit.”
“You’re right. It’s the club. Having my ass tied to it could cause me problems, and I’m not into having problems, Princess.” While rumor on the streets is the Ravage MC has cooled down quite a bit over the years, they still do what they do, and with that comes trouble. Trouble I don’t need.
Her face grows hard while my body goes on red alert. I have no doubt a duel between her and I would rival any fight in the ring. She is undoubtedly used to getting what she wants.
“I’ll guarantee you that nothing with the club will affect you.”
I smile. “Yeah, and how does that guarantee work?”
A slow grin breaks over Princess’ face, obviously thinking she’s won this battle. “Easy. Club shit stays out of X. You’re in X; therefore, it doesn’t touch you.”
“And if it does?”
“Then I have your back. The club has your back. No questions asked.” She leans back against the couch. “I get it. I do. There’s always a risk, but know we protect our own. Bottom line is, I have shit going down.”
My head tilts in question.
“No, personal shit. I need someone I can trust to take over the security so I don’t have to deal with it right now.”
“And what makes you think you can trust me?”
Her eyes narrow. “You sayin’ I can’t?”
I meet her stare straight. “You can. But how do you know?”
“I read people. Last night, I read you. And Schade obviously trusts you. I’m kickin’ my own ass for not thinkin’ of you sooner.”
It’s interesting that she thinks so highly of me without really knowing me, but I’ve earned it. My time scrapping as a kid is useful for something. May not have had much, but I’ve always been me.
“How long?” I ask, suddenly letting this idea roll around in my mind. “How long till your guy Gar is ready to handle his shit?”
Her eyes snap to mine, surprise flitting across them, which she covers quickly. Inside, I smile at having caught her off guard. Something tells me that doesn’t happen often and probably won’t happen again.
“Indefinitely. You’re the one for the job.”
I shake my head. “No. Three months. And you gotta know, Friday and Saturday nights, I’m at Schade’s.”
“Three months. First four weeks, you’re at X either Friday or Saturday night. It’s our big crowd.” She sits up on the couch, her attention directly on me as she clasps her hands in front of her and rests her elbows on her knees. This is negotiation Princess. Nice.
Princess is a fuck of a woman, and I can’t help a small twinge of nervousness talking to her. No way in hell I’d let it show, though.
“Three months. The first two weeks I’ll be at X either Friday or Saturday night. But you have to pay me what I would have made at Schade’s, plus what you’re going to pay me.”
She shakes her head. “I can’t believe I’m fucking negotiating this shit. Fine. But after you spend those four weekends at X, we talk again and see about extending it.”
Damn, she’s tough, especially for something I don’t need. She must really want this.
“Fine. And Princess?” She nods. “Don’t fuck with my job with Schade. You talk to him and try to get me fired or my hours changed, I’m out. Automatically. That goes for you and everyone else with your club. Schade is off limits.”
She full-out grins. “Knew you had a good head on your shoulders.” She rises. “Follow me to the clubhouse. You can meet my ol’ man and the guys. They’re in and out of X, so you need to be aware of them. Not to mention they want to meet the woman I’m bending over backward to come work for me.”
“Doesn’t happen often, huh?” I ask as I rise.
“Fuck no. Try never. Like I said, I’ve got personal shit and I need someone. Let’s go.” She makes her way to the door as her cell rings.
I grab my keys and lock the door.
“Yeah?” I hear her as I move to my Jeep, swinging myself up and in.
“You’re fuckin’ shittin’ me.”
My focus goes to Princess, but I’m cut off from hearing any more as she slams the door on a black Hummer and powers out of my driveway. This is going to be interesting.
I’ve driven by this place a few times since moving here, but never actually been here. Pulling up, barbed wire lines the top of metal gates, and a guard stands on in a parapet, his hand on a gun. Mine’s in my glovebox. What a way to meet your employer, but it’s coming with me.
The large gates slowly slide open, revealing an enormous cement blocked building with a huge open grass area that has a fire pit in the middle and a playground off to the side. Cars line one side, while bikes like the other. Off to the right is Banner Automotive, the local repair shop. I’ve never brought my car here, but they must do lucrative business, judging from the movement inside the building.
I park the car then reach over to pull out my gun.
A tap on my window has me turning to the sound to see Princess standing there. I open the car door.
“Don’t take guns in. My ol’ man’ll be pissed, and then I’d have to deal with his shit, which means you have to deal with his shit. We seriously don’t want to deal with a pissed off Cruz.”
I hesitate, weighing my options. I really don’t have any at this point. I’ve already agreed to work for her, so it’s not like I’m going to go in guns blazing or anything. Not to mention I have no reason to. My hands and feet can protect me plenty. They have a shit-ton of guys here, though I’m sure, if they wanted to take me out, they’d have no problem. I may be able to take on several, but all of them … I’m not fucking Superwoman.
Releasing the buckle, I climb out of the car, taking in a deep breath. Smells of oil and fire fill my nostrils, and my first thought is: I hope nothing’s burning. Looking around, I see nothing.<
br />
Princess begins to move, and I follow.
“Alright, Cruz knows you’re comin’. We’ve got family shit to deal with, so this’ll be short and sweet. I’ll introduce you to the guys that are around. The others, you’ll meet later.”
I’m obviously going to be dismissed after my meeting with her husband, which is fine by me. My list for the day didn’t include coming to a motorcycle club and meeting the president, let alone having his ol’ lady show up at my house, offering me a job.
Whistles come from the picnic benches where several guys sit. Three to be exact.
One man is covered in tattoos. He has this vibe that screams different pussy every night. That’s his view on women. Reading people in a split-second is what I do for my job, so I know I’m the prey and he’s the predator, ready to eat me alive.
The middle one seems tame, not really taking me in like a meal, but rather along for the ride. It doesn’t really fit the expected vibe I had for bikers. Meanwhile, the third is laidback, confident, and focused solely on me. He’s reading me as hard as I’m reading him.
“Green, Jacks, and Ryker,” Princess introduces. “Be nice; she’s workin’ at X.”
The one with the tattoos stands up and saunters over to me. “Hey, baby. Workin’ at X, huh? I’ll give ya a ride.” His cut reads Ryker.
Just catching myself from rolling my eyes, I smile as he leans in a bit, thinking he’s got me. I inhale him, the smell of cigarettes coming off loud and clear. He’s hot, don’t get me wrong, but he’s not a man I’d take home with me. Too much going on in that head of his.
I lower my voice and tell him, “You couldn’t handle this ride if it came with training wheels.” His eyes flair. “Not a challenge. Truth.”
“Ryker, she’s not dancin’; she’s security. Now back off. You’re gonna scare her off before I even get it all worked out.”
“Nah, he doesn’t scare me. It’ll take a lot more than him to do that. Thanks for the vote of confidence, though.”
Princess smiles. “What, Ryker? This must be a first. Nothing to say?”
“I’ll have your panties by the end of the week,” he declares with a grin.
