I didn’t want them to leave, but I needed a few minutes alone.
My shower didn’t help anything, but it did tell me I didn’t need to take any more pills to knock me out. It takes serious shit to knock a werewolf out, and I felt like crap from it. When I came out of the bathroom, dressed in jeans and a Harley t-shirt, my long brown hair in a towel on my head, I told them, “I need to change and run. Can ya’ll take me out to the property?”
“Just the three of us?” asked Brain. “Or do you want us to gather as much of the MC as we can?”
I just wanted them, but before I could answer Bash said, “Just us, and of course we can, but you need to eat if you’re gonna change. We’ll hunt and eat as wolves, if you want, but you need to eat before we go.”
I didn’t want to eat, but Bash refused to take me to the property until I did, so I ate.
3
Present Day
Angelica
Finally. After years of living in Massachusetts and away from home, I’d be walking across the stage this afternoon to accept my Master of Science in Mechanical Engineering from MIT.
So many people from the RTMC wanted to see me graduate, Dad had chartered a plane to bring everyone.
My dad had been up to see me several times, but I’d only come home for Christmas and Thanksgiving. I’d taken classes in the summer, and done everything else possible to get my degree as fast as possible so I could get back to the south.
My mom had been right to make me learn how to talk without cussing. Moving to Cambridge had been an enormous culture shock, but now I felt at home dressed in fancy clothes and discussing complex scientific principles as if it were a normal conversation. To anyone watching, I was what the MC would call a civilian. Truth was, though, I’d never be one. I was always aware of my surroundings, I saw most of society’s rules as a big bullshit game to see who could rise to the top of a bullshit false society, and a car would always be a cage to me. Still, I managed to fit in and enjoy my time as a civilian. I learned to play the game, follow most of the rules, and rise to the top.
I usually had to leave the room if they started talking politics, though. And don’t get me started on the asinine opinions on gun ownership so many of my fellow students had. Massachusetts doesn’t honor a Georgia carry permit, so I’d had to get one up here once I was finally old enough, which had been a huge pain in the ass. My dad had insisted, though, and some things you just don’t argue with him over. He’d financed my move to an area far away from him, and where there isn’t an RTMC chapter to see to my safety, which meant there was no one close to watch over me — so I was more than willing to do whatever he said I needed to stay safe.
Finally, I could have boyfriends who didn’t have to know my dad was president of a motorcycle club, and I lost my virginity six weeks into my freshman year. Things had quickly fallen apart with the guy, though. After my first time, I’d made it a policy to only screw around outside of campus. I had a few long-ish flings with fellow students, but when I wasn’t dating someone, I went into Boston to have my fun.
As far as the students and professors were concerned, I wasn’t a party girl. I made nearly straight A’s, I studied hard, I did extra assignments, and I volunteered for any project that might help my resume later.
After growing up in the MC, my time at MIT had shown me how the rest of the world lives, and given me a totally different perspective on life and society. Most people were shocked to learn one woman could pleasure three men at once, but I’d seen it happening so many times, I wasn’t shocked to see it play out in front of me. My dad had sent me home from the RTMC parties before things got too wild, but that didn’t mean I hadn’t seen stuff happening in dark corners, where people thought they were out of sight. I’m a werewolf, and I had excellent night vision long before my first change.
So, while I loved my dad, and saw the MC as my family, and appreciated that my dad had enough money to help support me so I didn’t have to manage a full time job while I was carrying more than a full load every semester — I intended to keep my distance from the club once I got back. My dad saw himself as the outlaw one percent, but while I was away at school I’d begun to see myself as the other ninety-nine percent. I never wanted my dad to become someone else, but his choices didn’t have to be my choices.
So, I’d go home to my dad and begin job searching. I intended to do my level best to find a good job somewhere in the south, in a state with reasonable gun laws, winters I could actually drive around in, and real sweet tea. Not the crap stuff northerners tried to pass off as tea.
I looked around my tiny apartment and said my final goodbye. Everyone wouldn’t fit in my small living room so we weren’t even going to try — my dad had rented the wing of a hotel for everyone he’d brought, including a suite for him and me. All my stuff was boxed, and the guys would get the cartons onto the airplane for me.
I’d had a partial scholarship, and my dad had paid for tuition and books the scholarship didn’t cover. He’d also paid for my apartment and utilities, and he’d given me a credit card to use for other things. He’d never given me a spending limit, but after my first couple of months up here, I hadn’t used it. He said he wanted me focused on studies, so I could get home as fast as possible, but I hadn’t wanted to take advantage. Plus, I hit on a sweet deal with a local classic car shop. I worked when I could, with no set hours, and they paid me extremely well. I generally managed between fifteen and twenty hours a week, which had given me plenty of spending money. I’d helped finish a complete restore of a 1982 Corvette last week, and I was happy I wasn’t leaving halfway through a project.
I’d opted not to bring my car up here, and had bought a motorcycle my first year. I’d ridden it to class and work when the weather allowed for it, and taken cabs when it didn’t. Werewolves deal better with the cold than humans, so I rode even in the winter as long as the roads weren’t slick. I’m a southern girl, and most of us were never taught to drive in snow and ice.
I donned my backpack and headed to the hotel. The guys were gonna snurl their noses at my kick-ass import bike — lord knows my dad had every time he’d come to visit — but they’d get over it. They’d also probably replace it with a Harley once I was home. It’s one thing for me to drive it up north, where no one knows me, but the daughter of the RTMC President doesn’t ride an import — no matter how badass fast she may have built the engine.
Dad must’ve heard my bike pull into the hotel parking lot, because he was stepping out of the elevator as I entered the lobby. I hadn’t seen him in months, and I ran to him and threw my arms around him, laughing as he picked me up and twirled me around a few times before putting me down. “So damned glad we’re finally taking you back home, but I’m fucking proud of you for sticking it out up here. God, Angel, your mom would be over the moon proud of you, too. You know that, right?”
My eyes teared up and I remembered how hard my high school graduation had been, and my prom, and a hundred other special days, without my mom. This was just one more huge life event I’d have to get through without her, but I tried to focus on what I had, instead of what I didn’t. It was the only way I’d get through it without falling apart.
“I know, Dad. Is everyone else upstairs? I can’t wait to see them.”
He nodded, took my backpack off my shoulders, transferred it to his left hand, wrapped his right arm around me, and we went into the elevator.
I’d known, of course, that a number of the men had formed a new chapter in Chattanooga. So, I was shocked when I saw Brain, as I’d assumed he’d moved on and would no longer be interested in watching his old President’s daughter graduate.
I hugged everyone, but held onto Brain a few seconds longer than the others. He’d been there for me while he was a prospect, he’d helped me with my homework in high school, and he’d been there with Bash for the four days it’d taken them to find my dad and get him home. I hadn’t dared think Bash would come, but with Brain here, I asked, “Bash couldn’t come?�
�� I hoped maybe he was here and I just hadn’t seen him yet.
“No. Duke wanted to come, but the timing didn’t work.”
He didn’t say Bash had wanted to come. Funny thing about werewolves, we can smell a lie, and it didn’t pass my notice how Brain avoided the whole subject of Bash.
We talked a few more minutes, and I made my way around the suite, making sure I talked to everyone. I’d have to deal with my disappointment at Bash not coming later, because for now, I wanted to spend time with the people who had come. These men were part of my family, many of them had watched me grow up, and they’d wanted to come see me graduate.
We all went out to eat at a local restaurant — Dad had made reservations weeks ago — and then headed to my graduation ceremony. I’d reveled at being a regular civilian while at MIT, and it was interesting to see the expression on people’s faces when they saw me with my guys. None of them wore their cuts, as we didn’t want a biker war to break out, but it was still obvious what they were, even without their motorcycles and leather. I was never going to be ashamed of my family, though, and I held my head high, and smiled and waved at people as I saw them. If they had issues, it was their problem, not mine.
I let the guys buy me shots at a bar afterwards, knowing they’d handle any problems that might come up. It’s damned hard for wolves to get drunk, but if we try really hard we can manage it for short periods. I’d had to be aware of my own safety for so long, it was nice to relax and know they had my back.
I loved these guys more than I could possibly tell them. No one could take the place of my mom, but having them here had certainly helped.
We flew back to Atlanta the next day, and my dad and I settled into living together much easier than I’d hoped.
It’d been just the two of us for a couple of years after Mom died, before I’d gone off to college. If anything, he got even stricter about curfews and boys, without Mom to act as a buffer. However, I was so focused on getting as many college classes under my belt as possible, and keeping my GPA up, it all worked out. Dad and I had always been close, but losing Mom had brought us even closer. It wasn’t just the shared grief, but the fact we had to pull together to do all the things Mom had done. Daddy hired someone to clean the house and take care of our laundry, because he didn’t want me neglecting my studies to do it, and we ate out a whole lot more, but there were still a million things Mom had done that we both missed.
Now, coming home again, we went to the forest and ran as wolves together on pretty days, and once we did it during a thunderstorm, just because we could. We worked on my new Harley, and I helped him rebuild one of his older bikes. We watched old movies together on the nights he was home, and when I fell asleep on the sofa, curled up next to him, he carried me to bed when the movie was over. Or, I’m assuming he did, as I’d wake up in my own room the next day, with no memory of the end of the movie or how I got into my bed.
I already had a few lines on possible jobs, as lots of headhunters had approached me during my senior year, and I sat down with Dad and went over what I had so far. All decisions were mine to make, but my dad gives good advice and I’d have been stupid not to ask for it and use it. Even before talking to him, though, I immediately nixed any jobs in the states I couldn’t get a carry license, as well as anything above Kentucky. I’d had enough of New England winters to last a fucking lifetime.
The ol’ladies kidnapped me one evening and took me out to dinner and then drinking, and caught me up on all the gossip. They knew a lot of gossip about the guys in the Chattanooga chapter, and they had tons of juicy rumors about Brain and Duke, but not a single thing about Bash.
I was surprised to discover how disappointed I was at not having an excuse to see or talk to him. I’d missed him while I was gone, and had assumed I’d get to see him again once I was out of school and back home.
Six weeks after I graduated, I accepted a job with TVA in their downtown Chattanooga offices, and talked to Duke’s wife about finding me an apartment. She’s a commercial Realtor, but said she’d get someone to find me something great.
4
Bash
Fuck, but I wanted to skip tonight’s party. Duke and Brain were throwing Angelica a welcome party, and it was the last place I wanted to be. She was out of my life now, and it seemed simpler to just keep her there.
I couldn’t bow out completely, but I could easily get away with not showing up until later. I ran the RTMC’s whore division, and Friday nights are big business.
The MC had bought an ancient motel on the outskirts of town, torn the carpet out and put down linoleum, painted the walls, put up new curtains, and bought new mattresses and bedding. There were no televisions, and the only furniture was a single bedside table with a speaker on it, so the girls could play music from their phones or an MP3 player. Oh, and an armless chair. Most johns put their clothes on it, but some played over-the-knee spanking games on it.
We had girls who did outcalls as well, and a few girls who worked out of a high-class downtown hotel room the club rented long-term. Some johns want to pay for a pretty room and a girl in a fancy dress, others just wanna fuck someone as cheap as they can. We aim to please ‘em all.
Some of our girls worked as escorts who’d fuck their john if he offered more money, but their primary purpose was dressing and looking good for corporate people who needed a date for a function. Tonight, we had three of them going to the same damned charity ball, and I’d gotten a damned fine blowjob from one of the girls before she’d started getting ready.
It was after midnight before I had everything sorted enough to feel good about leaving, and I could make an appearance at the party.
I saw her first thing, her back to me as she sat at a table with Gen, Harmony, Sheila, and a few of the other ol’ladies. Bud had shown up, too, and he clapped me on the back and said, “Glad you could finally make it. She’s asked about you.”
Angelica was stunning — all long legs, tiny waist, and hair I wanted to get lost in. I knew Bud would smell my arousal, so I looked at one of the girls a few feet on the other side of the table, someone I’d fucked plenty, and he followed my eyes and grinned. “Talk to my Angel first, then go put your cock in your flavor of the week. Fuck, Bash, some things never change.”
I’d fucked at least ten girls a week, most of them multiple times, back when I was a prospect — I’d kept my dick so wrung out, I could convince it to ignore the fifteen year old who’d get us killed if we fooled around with her.
Angelica and I had grown to be good friends, which just complicated my feelings for her. We’d worked comfortably together to build her car, and she’d eventually stopped bitching when I scared off the boys who flirted and talked to her. I convinced her if they weren’t willing to stand up for her and claim her, they were pathetic and unworthy of her. I’d like to think I’m responsible for helping form a little of her self-worth and self-confidence.
Truth is, I knew I could never have her, and I wanted to be sure the guy who finally ended up with her actually deserved her.
I’d gotten my full patch three weeks after her mom’s funeral, but had volunteered to help her finish her car and then teach her to drive it. Her dad had been helping her on and off up to that point, but after his wife died, he wanted to help his daughter with all of it, so my services had no longer been needed, and I was out of her life.
I never wanted to feel that kind of loss again, and I hadn’t allowed a woman to get close to me since. I’d hoped to keep her out of my life entirely, because it might kill me to let her back in and have her leave again.
But now she was in Chattanooga, apparently for good, or at least for a while, and I needed to make a good show of welcoming her to town. She must’ve smelled me as I walked up behind her, because she turned to look, and the way her face lit up when she recognized me — there was no doubt she was happy to see me. I put a big smile on my face as well, and pulled her into my arms as she stood, taking in her scent as I locked down my own emotions and
physical reactions. God, she smelled good.
“Sorry I’m late, Princess. Had club shit to handle.” I relaxed my grip, held her out at arm’s length to look her over. “Damn, you are looking mighty fine. Got yourself a boyfriend? Looks like you’re here solo.”
What the fuck did I ask that for?
“Nah, boyfriends just complicate things. What about you?”
I lifted an eyebrow. “Never gonna have a boyfriend, Princess. Surely you figured that out about me?”
She laughed, and my heart laughed with her. Every other girl on the planet pisses me off when they laugh, and to this day I have no idea why Angelica is different. We’d laughed and cut up while working on her car, and she’d eventually laughed when I scared the shit out of her would-be suitors. We’d had a lot of fun together, right up until her mom had died. She hadn’t laughed or smiled at me after that, and then I’d got my cut and her dad had stepped in to do everything I’d been doing, and there wasn’t a chance for us to laugh and cut-up anymore. Brain had still had a reason to hang around her, because he helped her with her homework, but I no more understood calculus or chemistry than the man in the moon.
“No, goofball,” she said with a happy smile. “Fuck, I figured you’d be smart enough to know I was asking if you have a girlfriend, but you don’t have to answer. You’re the love’em and leave’em guy, after all.”
“Yep,” I agreed as I let her go and walked around the table to sit across from her. “Some things never change. Was a bitch I had to miss your graduation, but you have to know how proud of you we all are.”
I managed to make it sound like I’d wanted to come, without lying and saying I had. In truth, I’d wanted to go, but knew it was best I kept my distance.
She reached across, touched my hand with tentative fingers, and then seemed to make up her mind and just hold it. “Do you think we can have dinner one day this week? I start my new job Tuesday, are you free Monday?”
An Elegant Weapon Page 11
