by Ryan Michele
“You keep that shit to yourself,” he barks, moving to grip the back of the chair in front of my desk.
All three of my brothers are in Sinister Sons. The Sinisters are based out of Crest, Florida, where we all grew up. As soon as my brothers could, they prospected and joined the club. All the while, I sat back and watched, happy for them, on the outside looking in. Always on the outside looking in when it comes to the Sinister Sons. My parents even kept me away from the club most of the time, only allowing me to come to specific events.
The clubhouse is an old warehouse that the Sinisters turned into their own. It has bedrooms, bathrooms, and a huge kitchen. My mother would cook for the guys, and I would try to help, even though I burned pretty much everything. Most of the time, she’d just have me sit in the kitchen and talk to her.
Down from the clubhouse is the garage. It’s more of a hobby garage, but the guys use it to work on their bikes and cars. They don’t take many outsiders, but my brothers do fix my car. My office is inside this building, with the door normally open. I don’t hear much, because I keep to myself.
“Can you please, please make sure you give me these little pieces of paper”—I pick some of them up and shake them in front of me—“when you write a check? I can’t do my job if you don’t do yours.”
“I’ll work on it.”
Hunter loves being the life of the party and spreading his jokes around to everyone. He’s tall, a gene everyone in my family seems to have gotten, and his light brown hair is down to his chin. He shares my blue eyes that we got from our mother. Unlike him, I also got my mother’s blonde hair. I know the women find him hot because I heard the talk, but ewie. That shit’s just weird.
“Do you need anything else? I now have a shitload to file. Thanks for that.” I plop into the seat, and it makes a squeal as the air flows out of it. The damn thing is older than me, but this chair is history and reminds me of my mom.
He pulls out his cigarettes and puts a tip in his mouth. “Nope, got shit to do.” As he walks from the room, I hear the click and know it’s his Zippo. He’s had that thing since before he started smoking. Part of me wonders if he took up the habit because of it, but I dismiss that thought, knowing everyone around here smokes something. If it’s not smokes, it’s weed. To each their own. Personally, I choose neither.
After filing, organizing, taking calls from people who want to rent a unit and calls about machines taking people’s money, I close down for the day. It’s early, but I did everything I need to do.
One thing I do love about my job is that as long as shit gets done, I can come and go as I please, which means the alarm can go off a little later than normal tomorrow.
I fill my bag as a knock comes to the door. Sterling stands there, proud and tall, wearing a smile on his handsome face. He is my oldest brother, Stone’s, best friend from school. He joined Sinisters with my brother and has had an eye on me for a long time. I’m not trying to be cocky; it’s a fact. One that no one here misses.
He’s hot, with that scruff of dark brown hair on his face and his short cut on top. His eyes are a deep brown that change just a bit in the light. Women here flock to him. A lot of them. All the time. Everywhere. This is not jealousy talking. It’s a fact. You have a large group of men around, there are bound to be women who will spread their legs. Sterling has plenty of them, and therefore, doesn’t need me. I sure as hell don’t need him.
Honestly, it’s just the thought of having me with him. He doesn’t want me for the long haul, just for a quick roll in bed. That doesn’t fly with me. I know the life, and for some women, that is an arrangement they want. Good for them, but it’s not for me. Bigger hopes await.
A woman can dream, right?
“Hey, Sterling. I’m just heading out. What can I do for ya?”
He swaggers in. “I’ll show ya what you can do for me.” His brows wiggle suggestively as his lips tip up in a sinful smirk.
I’m not one of those women who’s had a crush on their brother’s best friend for years and wants to fall madly in love with them and have their babies. He may think that, but he would be dead wrong. He’s never been on my radar as far as men go, even when he wasn’t giving it to everyone he could and then some.
“I’ve gotta get going.” I swing my oversized bag over my shoulder and look to make sure everything is turned off.
“Let me take you out.”
Here we go again.
“No.” The response is immediate, as it is every other time.
“Come on. What’s it take to get a man in there?” He almost groans at his words.
While rolling my eyes would be totally immature, it takes all my power not to. He’s not getting in anywhere.
“Not interested, Sterling, you know this.”
He looks me dead in the eye with a smile on his face, but it’s the eyes that catch my attention. Something unrecognizable is behind them. “You know I’ll treat you right.”
“Back the fuck off before I stab you in the eye with a screwdriver.” My middle brother, Racer, comes into the room. Damn, today has been like a revolving door. I’m so ready to go home and put an end to it.
Sterling turns toward my brother with his arms out and that same twinkle in his eye. “A man can dream.”
“You fuckin’ touch a hair on her head, you answer to me.” Racer gets up in Sterling’s face.
Racer is a bit of a hot head. Oh, who am I kidding? He’s a full-out hot head. His temper can go from calm and cool to off the charts if someone fucks with him or someone he cares about. He normally has great control over it, but once it explodes … hell hath no fury.
I move to my brother and pat his chest. “I’m just leaving. Come walk me out?”
My brother doesn’t move as I walk past him. Then, when I’m out of earshot, I hear, “Don’t touch her unless she wants it.”
Well, that’s not going to happen. One thing I don’t want in my life is to be with a man who can’t make me his own. A man who will go off and screw other women while with me, then come back to me as if nothing happened. Sterling can’t give me that. There is no trust there whatsoever.
I make my way through the stone-blocked building, feeling a slight breeze from the ventilation system as I make my way outside.
The Florida sun penetrates as the humidity instantly puts a sheen on my skin. With it being late September, it’s nowhere near as bad as the summers can be. Living here, we get used to it.
I slip on my shades and see the president of the Sinister Sons, Wolf, talking to some of the brothers. He turns his head toward me, his glasses hiding whatever is on his face. Technically, he’s my boss, so I’m cordial to him, giving him a slight wave. I’ve known him for years, though he hasn’t always been president. That didn’t come about until a few years ago. I can’t really remember a time when I had a full-on conversation with him since my father is my go-to guy for the businesses. My father says he has an iron fist. Luckily for me, I deal with my father.
After my hand wave, I call it a day.
Chapter Four
Music pumps through the speakers in the open room of the clubhouse. Dark paneling encases the entire room, giving it a darker feel. One wall is full of pictures, some from when I was a kid. On another wall is a bar with mirrors behind it and brightly lit signs. The bar is an L-shape and has more dents and scratches in it than a car at an impound. Each one of those marks is a memory of the life here in the Ravage MC. It will never be sanded or re-stained, not ever.
Women shake their asses on the makeshift dance floor while others mingle. It’s an average Saturday night in Sumner, Georgia at the Ravage MC clubhouse. Tonight’s pretty laid back, just the way I like it.
“You’ve got to be shittin’ me,” Green grunts out, tossing his cards down on the table. Gin Rummy is our game of choice and dollar bills are what’s up for grabs. Green still hasn’t mastered the game yet and tends to lose at every turn. It’s the only way he’s going to learn, though. If that happens to fatten our
wallets, so be it.
“Your hand sucks.” I look down to the cards and let out a chuckle. He has a three, five, seven, eight, ten, queen, and ace; suits all over the place. Possibly the worst hand ever. That shit’s seriously bad, and Jacks knocked, so that means game’s over.
Jacks joined the club with Green, whose real name is Ty, but got the road name Green because, when he first prospected, he was beyond green when it came to club life. They were my best friends in high school and didn’t have to join, but chose to. I’m happy about that. They have had my back through some tricky shit, and I trust them with my life. Even before we were technically brothers, they were there, which shows a man’s character.
Playing Gin, though, Green sucks.
“Take it like a man,” Jacks calls out, pulling all the money his way.
I inhale my smoke, then blow it out. “Does he know how to do that?”
Green pushes my arm. “Shut the fuck up. I need to find some pussy.”
“There’s enough to go around,” I tell him.
“Newbie redhead over in the corner, Coop,” Green says, turning back around to me. “Watchin’ you like a hawk.”
“When she get here?” Jacks asks, and I have the same question. She wasn’t here yesterday.
“Today. Derek brought her in and got it checked with Pops. Don’t know her story. Don’t care,” Green says, and that’s enough of an answer for me.
I tilt my body so I can get a good view. She’s not bad. Her hair is cut super short, while I prefer long so I have something to grab. She has very nice long legs, and her shirt pretty much shows me her plump breasts. What the hell; I’m bored, anyway.
“Let me go see if the carpet matches the drapes,” I say, rising from my seat.
“That’s overused, brother,” Jacks tells me, and I shrug, not giving a shit.
Crooking my finger at the woman, she comes over immediately.
An hour later, I find out that they do match.
***
“About fuckin’ time. Where the hell were you?” Ryker asks as I enter the large out-building we built three years ago. Pops said we needed more room and a place that was locked up tight, so he built this. There are no windows and only two doors. It’s reinforced steel walls with cameras everywhere on the outside and alarms for any unwelcome guests. We don’t need anyone seeing what goes on behind them. Not that we’ve had any problems.
“Watchin’ Austyn and Nox.” I rub my hand over my exhausted face.
I love my siblings, but fuck, they’re a damn handful. They fight all the damn time about stupid shit they don’t even care about in ten minutes. Being so much older, it’s different having them so young, but it’s my family.
“Get over here and help.” Ryker loads up a padded, wooden crate, screwing the top of it shut with an electric screw gun, the sound buzzing off the walls.
“This shit isn’t gonna pack itself,” Green says as I get to work.
Guns. They are always on the market. The bigger, the better, and the more money earned. I learned to put together and take apart just about every type of gun there is doing this job. Ravage makes most of our money from the guns. With laws changing and more people wanting to protect what’s theirs, more guns are in demand.
“You ready for the rally? Rhys says we’re pullin’ out on Thursday.”
“Hell yeah.” Every year, we head down to Florida for Burnout Beach. It’s a smaller rally, not like Sturgis; more low key. This one is more for making connections with other clubs. There are bands, beer, and broads. Lots of all three. While we do accomplish business normally, there’s a lot of time to let loose.
We normally go a few days early to do the actual business, then it’s time to have fun.
The door swings open, with Rhys and Buzz entering the building.
“How’s it goin’?” Green calls out as they step forward.
As a kid, I was terrified of Rhys. His demeanor does not invite outsiders whatsoever. Now that I’m an adult, I’m just happy he’s on my side. Even having two little girls hasn’t cracked his armor. Although, I did see him watch some princess movie a while back, but I never said anything. Personally, I think he’s gotten harder, especially with his kids. They don’t move or sneeze without him or his woman, Tanner, knowing about it. He takes protective to an entirely different level.
Buzz is a tech genius and has been with the club for well over twenty years. He taught me how to hack, best places for cameras when doing surveillance, and how to dissect a hard drive to get information. He says he’s not getting any younger and needs to pass on his skills. He has two twin boys, Raiden and Axton. They’re only nine, but I’m sure Buzz has already begun teaching them what he knows. That could be disaster, because the man could hack classified shit. Hopefully his kids don’t cause too much chaos.
Buzz has a twin brother, Breaker, but his kids are still pretty little.
“Princess is askin’ for some help down at X. Anyone want the job?” Buzz asks on a chuckle.
Studio X is a strip club that Ravage owns and my mother runs. Tug’s ol’ lady, Blaze, used to dance there, but now she does the books. There’s tons of history between them, but it’s theirs to tell.
“Fuck yeah,” Green and Jacks say in unison.
“I’m down,” Ryker adds.
“Sure. I’m always down to see some tits and ass.”
X is a smorgasbord of anything a man could want or need. Blonde, brunette, redheads. Hell, we have one that has purple hair. You name it, X has it.
Working at X is a huge perk of our job. One that we take advantage of regularly. When I was a teen, I’d bust a nut to go to X. Now, coming and going is a wonderful pleasure.
“Boys,” Rhys says as we begin to walk out after packaging our last gun. “Try not to fuck them all. It only leads to bad shit.”
“We’ll try,” Ryker says, waving his hand in the air. I’m ready for the show.
Chapter Five
The red polish sparkles on my toes as I finish my forced pedicure. Toes, feet in particular, are a thing with me. Women, men—it doesn’t matter. They have shitty looking feet, it grosses me out. It’s not like feet attacked me at some point in my life or anything. It’s just my thing, and why my little toes are pristine.
Leah, my best friend from high school, plops down on the bed, making me jump.
“You’re damn lucky I already closed the bottle.” The damage done by nail polish on my purple and black bedspread would be a mess. One I don’t feel like cleaning up or having to buy a new one.
“Whatever,” she grumbles with a smile. “So, is your dad going to let you go to the rally?”
Leah has been around for the past five years, and she’s stuck around because I can trust her. Between girls wanting to be my friend to have a shot at my brothers or the guys thinking I’m an easy lay, I lost a lot of faith in people. My dad always says, “You only trust your family.” I consider Leah my family.
Over the years, she’s had my back on more than one occasion. The best part, she never asks about my brothers or about going to the club. She’s my friend and wants nothing in return, other than friendship back.
“He’ll probably give me shit about it.” More than shit, actually. Even being twenty-one-years-old, my father treats me as if I’m sixteen. I love him, but it’s getting suffocating. There have been times on and off when I’ve had to be locked down at home because he said he had to keep me safe. I know it involves the club, but long ago, I learned not to ask questions. Club business isn’t my business.
I have my own place. Well, partially. The small house is right off the main house where I grew up and where my father lives. I have privacy, but I’m shrouded by my father’s protection. I know he’s being careful, but the older I get, the more it weighs on me like lead—that urge to be free and be my own person, not shielded and confined.
“We have to go. It’ll be so much fun.”
Leah went with me last year to Burnout Beach, and we did have fun. My brothers onl
y found us a couple of times and scared two guys away, which was annoying. My father didn’t like it one bit. He had two prospects follow us from a distance, but they kept their cool and didn’t intervene much. The fight about having those two men follow me wasn’t pretty, but I had no choice except to suck it up.
These rallies are … crazy. I’m not even sure if that’s the right word for them. Lots of bikers from all over the country, but mostly southern states, come to Florida for it. It’s built on the premise that they all get together to connect. At least, that’s what my brothers told me. My perspective is that it’s so they can get drunk and screw.
What I love about them is the bands and dancing. I could spend the entire time just watching the different bands perform. This year, one of my favorites, Demon’s Wings, is going to be there. My plan is to enjoy their music to the fullest. If I happen to stare at Shane Stevenson with his blue-gray eyes and short, dark hair the entire time, so be it.
I’m not going to lie. There’s some great eye candy there as well. The women … I could go without seeing all the tits and ass flying around. But it is what it is.
“I’ll make it work.” I haven’t said a word about the rally to any of my family. My brothers have talked about, but I keep my mouth shut. I do this for one reason and one reason only: if my father doesn’t think I’m going, he can’t have guys watching the entire time. So, I will wait until he’s gone then head out.
Sneaky, yes. It’s easier that way. He doesn’t have to be the bad guy, and I don’t have to get pissed off at him. Win-win.
Leah eyes me, smiles, grabs my laptop, and fires it up.
I chuckle, falling back on the pillows, a puff of air exploding around me. “Let’s see what today brings.”
“This is funny shit. We couldn’t make it up if we tried.”
