by Jayne Blue
My grip loosened a bit on the handle of the sledgehammer. The thing was getting too heavy to hold up like this. But when he took a step toward me, I choked up on it again.
He held his hand out, to shake mine. “I come in peace,” he said. There was that sultry smirk again. A guy like this, looking the way he did and with the patch he wore, was probably used to Port Azrael girls melting for him. Well, I was a different kind of Port Azrael girl. If he took one more step, he was about to find out why.
“Name’s Chase,” he said. “Chase Cutter.”
“I can read,” I said, nodding my chin toward his leather vest. “You’re a little out of your territory, Cutter.”
His eyes went hard but the smile didn’t leave his face. “This is Port Azrael. You new in town?”
“No.” I gripped the sledgehammer so hard my hands started to go numb. “Lived here my whole life. And this is my house you’re trespassing in.”
That seemed to shock him. Those gray eyes widened and he finally dropped the smile. “Your house? You mean you bought this shithole?”
I let the head of the hammer rest against my shoulder. “That’s right. Closed this morning. So you can tell your crackhead friends this place is closed for business. I won’t bother calling the cops, I know you own them. But you can bet your ass I know how to keep your kind clear of this place.”
He barked out a laugh and put his hands up in surrender again. “My kind? Baby, you must be new in town.”
“And I told you, I’ve lived here my whole life,” I said.
Chase arched one blond brow. “And here I thought I knew everyone. I’ve never seen you before. What’s your name? I told you mine.”
“Look, you’ve taken your little peek. Now clear out.”
Chase took another step toward me. Heat raced up my spine, settling between my shoulder blades. I kept my grip on the hammer but my eyes went up and up as he stood no more than a foot away from me.
“Like I said, I was just here to take one last look. I used to live in this house a long time ago. That’s all.”
Something changed about his expression. A shadow came into his eyes. For a split second, he seemed vulnerable as if chasing away a painful memory. I loosened my grip on the hammer, but kept my back straight.
“Fair enough,” I said. “But it’s mine now. You can’t just barge in here and start smashing things.”
Chase leaned a shoulder against the wall and crossed one booted foot over the other. “What’d you pay for it?”
I took a step back, not expecting the question. “Ten thousand,” I answered.
Chase let out a low whistle. Keeping his casual posture against the wall, he did a quick look around the kitchen. “You overpaid.”
“I’m going to sell it,” I said. “It’s what I do.”
“You think this is worth a flip?” Chase asked, incredulous. “You get some kind of magic beans with that hammer?”
I reached into my back pocket and pulled out my business card. When Chase took it from me, his fingers brushed against mine. The heat between my shoulder blades settled in my core.
“Gatling Brothers, Ariel Gatling,” he read. “Which brother are you?”
“No brothers,” I answered. “Just me. One Chick with a Sledgehammer seemed overly long to put on a business card.”
Chase’s genuine, deep-throated laugh echoed through me, starting my heart again. I tightened my grip on the hammer, using it to ground me. This guy had my head spinning. He was rough and dangerous, all the things I wanted to drive out of the north side of Port Azrael. And I was, even if it was one rundown house at a time.
Still, there was raw honesty in his eyes when he said he’d come back here for one last look around. If he had grown up here, it meant he’d been through some shit. Hutchins Street was bad now, but it was mostly abandoned. The worst trouble we had were squatters and crack dens. That was changing, in large part thanks to me. Hutchins Street twenty or thirty years ago had been a downright war zone. I’d be damned if he’d get me feeling sorry for him. He was still trespassing. He’d put a fist through my wall. It didn’t matter that I planned on smashing that same wall down to give this floor an open concept.
“It’s not a bad marketing strategy,” he said. “People around here expect a certain thing in the construction business. Give ’em what they think they want. Then just get the damn job done. You any good at it?”
Chase’s eyes flicked over me again, making me feel exposed. I finally rested the hammer’s head on the floor with a thunk. “Yeah,” I answered, leveling my stare right back at him. “I’m the best there is.”
It was true. I’d carved out a niche for myself in this town. In the last year, I’d flipped a dozen houses just like this one. I’d done well enough to hire a second crew last month that I hoped would double my income along with it. I took old houses and turned them into gems. Little by little, the north side was becoming gentrified. People like Chase Cutter and the Dark Saints could change all of that.
“Good,” Chase said, giving me a solid nod. “This neighborhood could use something different.” He finally pushed himself off the wall and stepped around me. I thought he would head for the back bedrooms. For a moment, he hesitated, looking that way. But he turned and walked back into the living room.
“Sorry about the wall,” he said as he reached for the front door. “You’ve got your work cut out for you here, though. Change isn’t easy for some people to accept.”
“You’d be surprised.”
Chase raised that blond brow again, arching it to the ceiling. “You need any backup in that area?”
I set the hammer against the wall and crossed my arms as I took a step toward him. The hair on the back of my neck went up. “And just what are you offering?”
Chase fingered the doorknob. He seemed caught between the decision to stay or go. “I mean, this is still a rough neighborhood. I’d hate to see bad shit happen to your business.”
I turned to stone inside. There it was. “Oh yeah? Is that a threat?”
Chase jerked his head back. His eyes went wide. “Fuck. No. Not a threat, Ariel.” He hesitated over my name, as though he were deciding whether he liked the sound of it. He said something else that sounded like an apology but my fuse was already lit. I picked my sledgehammer up, slapping the handle between my hands.
“Right. I know exactly how your club works, Mr. Cutter. I told you, I was born and raised in Port Azrael. Is that why you’re really here? You see these houses getting turned around and made into something better. So you think you can come down here and shake me down? I pay you, you make sure my shit doesn’t get messed with? I don’t pay you, you’re the one doing the messing?”
Chase put his hands up in surrender. “That’s not what I’m talking about.”
“Well, here’s what I’m talking about. Keep clear of Hutchins Street. Keep clear of my businesses. I know how to take care of myself.”
Chase opened the door letting sunlight flood the dim foyer. It was the first thing I wanted to get rid of. I wanted to bring the light into this place and drive away the shadows.
“You know,” Chase said, turning to me. “I bet you do, Ariel.”
He startled me then. Chase let go of the door and made a quick hop up the steps so we stood eye to eye from my position on the upper landing. He stood so close his hot breath touched my cheek. Butterfly wings battered inside my chest. I had twin urges to touch his cheek and run my fingers over the rough stubble. But I also wanted to use the hammer handle as a battering ram and knock him back on his ass. As his eyes darted over me, his face split into a rakish smile. I swear it was as if he could tell exactly what I was thinking.
“I didn’t come here to shake you down,” Chase said. “You can believe me or not. Your choice. But I meant what I said, Ariel. Be careful. Some things about this town can’t be changed, baby.”
He bit his bottom lip as he looked me up and down. I narrowed my eyes at him. His body heat warmed me. Chase cocked his head to the side, t
hen finally backed down the stairs. He left me clutching my sledgehammer as he turned and walked out the door.
Chapter 3
Chase
Church was quick. I sat near the end of the table next to Domino. He kept giving me side glances. It was my own fault. I should have checked in with him last night after I left Hutchins Street. Hell, every pair of eyes at this table seemed to gravitate toward me. I should have figured as much. My little trip down memory lane was supposed to stay low key. Though I loved every one of the men beside me like brothers, they could sure gossip like a bunch of damn high school girls.
“We good?” Bear said. He sat back in his chair at the head of the table, directing his question to E.Z., his V.P. A true silver fox, Bear had long white hair clubbed back. His hard eyes had seen this club through decades of tough times. It had been Bear who had pulled me off the streets and out of foster care when my next stop would have been juvie or worse.
“Nothing else on my plate,” E.Z. answered. We’d run through the tallies for the week. The Dark Saints kept our membership flush from a variety of savory and not-so-savory ventures. Though I’d taken issue with Ariel’s accusations, she wasn’t far off. We kept Port Azrael clean and safe. Our methods were dark, but people and businesses like Ariel’s could thrive because of it. I’d never be sorry for that.
“Collections went smooth this week,” Axle said. He sat at E.Z.’s right. As club enforcer, he went on some of the most dangerous runs every week. Axle was the toughest son of a bitch I knew. Like Dom, he had Comanche blood running through his veins. Most of the time, it took just one look from Axle’s battle-hardened face to get our tenants to pay their bills. The times it took more than a look, Axle was ready for that too.
“Good,” Bear answered. “It ain’t gonna stay that way and we all know it.” His gaze drifted to Kade sitting on the opposite side of me. A few months back, Kade had to take care of some shit with our biggest rivals, the Devil’s Hawks M.C. Though we hadn’t felt any repercussions for that, we all knew it was only a matter of time.
“Anything you wanna share with the group, Chase?” E.Z. asked. I curled my fist beneath the table. E.Z. knew damn well my trip to Hutchins was personal. I wondered if Domino had been the one to talk. I’d kept my exchange with Ariel to myself. I’d felt some kind of strange protectiveness over her that I couldn’t quite explain. But now that the full membership was here, I had a reason or two to talk about her.
I pulled Ariel’s business card out of my back pocket. It was simple, clean, with green lettering. Her logo was just a toolbox. I ran my fingers over the raised letters of her name. Flipping the card on the table, I locked eyes with Bear. He was the only man at this table that I’d ever told the whole truth of what happened on Hutchins Street twenty years ago.
“The north side’s turning,” I said. “Flippers are buying up property on Hutchins and some of the other streets for cash.”
Bear’s steely-eyed stare cut straight through me. I knew it meant we’d need to talk alone, soon. He knew how much I wouldn’t want to.
“Anybody know what they’re making on the back end?” Zig asked. He was our club secretary. Beside him, Maddox, our treasurer, was still tallying up the numbers we’d just gone over. Zig’s question piqued his interest and he slid his laptop to the side.
“I did some asking around,” Domino answered. He shot me a guilty grin and shrugged. “Three bedroom at the corner of Hale and Hutchins went for two hundred grand a couple of weeks ago.”
Low whistles went around the table and Bear slammed a fist into the wood. “You gotta be shitting me. So somebody’s making a fortune in our backyard.”
“You want in on that?” Zig asked. I bristled at the implication. Zig had married into one of the biggest crime families in Texas. His wife, Gina, was trying to take things legit by the time their son was old enough to inherit, but her uncles had their thumbs up the asses of a lot of local trade unions.
I held my breath. Any other time, I might have been the first one to raise a hand. Everyone here knew the north side was my old stomping grounds. Out of respect, they’d want me to have first dibs on any slice of pie we made out of it. Again though, my spine bristled. I’d only just met the chick. She’d damn near taken a sledgehammer to my chest. And yet, I hated the idea of anyone fucking with Ariel or her business.
“What’s good for the north side is good for Port Azrael,” I said. “Just like down at the docks. Business is thriving down there now. If that can happen on the other end of town, why would we want to get in the way of that?”
“We wouldn’t,” Bear answered. He hadn’t broken eye contact. “It’s other people getting in the way of that I’m worried about. I think for now we need to keep a close eye on what goes on down there. This is still our town. You hear about any bullshit, subcontractors getting ripped off, copper going missing at job sites, you let me know.”
Zig cleared his throat. “I’m all ears on this. With the baby now, the DiSalvos are pretty well unified. But it’s not a good time to be stepping on anyone’s toes.”
There was color in Zig’s cheeks. Gina kept sending him pictures of their baby. He kept checking his phone every few minutes. It was good to see. A bunch of the guys were starting to settle down. Zig had Gina. Axle got married last year. Kade had found a woman too. His timing was perfect. His shit with the Devil’s Hawks would escalate at some point. I knew that’s what had Bear twitchy more than anything. Things had been calm for a while. It never lasted.
“Gina going to be able to keep her uncles honest for the time being?” Bear asked Zig. It was a question he’d asked before. Gina was young. But she was shrewd and tough. Plus, she had the backing of the Dark Saints.
“Gina’s good,” Zig answered. Fucker couldn’t keep the smile off his face. Good for him.
Bear nodded. “You let me know if she needs anything. You too.”
With that, Bear knocked his knuckles on the table and Church was over. Scraping chair legs echoed through the room as everyone got up to leave. I got halfway to the door before Bear called me back. When I turned, E.Z. gave him a pointed look but Bear waved him off. Whatever Bear had on his mind, he meant it just for me.
When we had the room, I took a seat on Bear’s right. He waited until E.Z. shut the door before leaning back in his chair. He hooked his hands behind his head. “You okay, Chase?”
“All good, Bear.”
I ran my finger through a groove on the top of the table. Something made me want to avoid Bear’s pointed stare. I was no good at hiding anything from him and he knew it.
“Did you find what you were looking for on Hutchins Street?”
My throat ran dry. I fucking hated talking about this. If anyone but Bear were doing the asking, I’d have told him to fuck off and left. I couldn’t though. Instead, I ran a hand over my chin and looked him square in the eye.
“Nothing there but ghosts, man.”
“Right. But did you leave ’em there, son?”
Bear knew what he was doing. He’d been more a father to me than my real one. Brian “Birdman” Cutter had been little more than a hangaround. Bear and Mama Bear tried to sugar-coat it out of respect for my mother and the dead, but Birdman had been a piece of shit. Bear wouldn’t tell me all of it, but I knew enough. My pops was a con man loser, always looking for shortcuts. He ended up on the wrong side of a drug deal when I was seven years old. He got capped for it, dying in the middle of an alley down by the docks. He wore no patch. Bear wouldn’t have him. But Bear looked out for me anyway.
“My head’s clear, Bear,” I said, meeting his eyes.
He didn’t seem convinced. “She was something special, your mama,” he said, his gaze drifting to some faraway place. His face split into a smile. I wished for that. I wished I could remember my mother without pain and loss. Bear’s memories of her were so much different.
“You know you look a lot like her,” Bear continued. “Thank God for that. She was the prettiest girl I’d ever seen. Don’t t
ell my wife that, by the way. But Rochelle had it, you know? She had that thing where she could walk in a room and every head would turn. She coulda been so much more.”
Bear’s voice trailed off. I knew where he was going with this. My mother, Rochelle Raines, made her living working at The Dude Ranch. Back in its heyday, that strip club had been the Saints’ biggest money maker. Bear wouldn’t say it, but I’d heard the rumors. My mother had been the marquis act. She had it made. Until she met my loser father. It was another thing Bear wouldn’t come out and say, but we both knew. I remembered. I’d just been a little kid, but all of a sudden, she started bringing home “uncles.” She loved my old man to a fault. She’d been willing to do anything for him. He burned through all her dough. And when that wasn’t enough, he turned her out.
“Look,” I said. “I know you tried to protect her. I don’t remember a lot, but I remember that much.”
Pain etched deep lines in Bear’s brow. “I’d have killed for that woman. You need to know that.”
I leveled a hard stare at him. “I do know that, Bear. I remember the promise you made me when I swore my oath to this club and got this patch.” I thumped my breast.
“You remember anything else?” he asked.
I squeezed my eyes shut tight. Just like always, the question sent a million knives through my heart. After my pops died, my mom had been too proud to go to Bear for help. We were broke. At eight years old, I didn’t understand what that really meant. She started bringing tricks home and one night, something went wrong.
“She locked me in my room,” I said. I’d told Bear this part a hundred times or more. “She never even screamed.”
Blood welled in my palms where I’d dug my fists in. Bear put a hand on my forearm. When I opened my eyes again, his had gone blood red.
“You were right,” I said. “About Hutchins Street. There’s nothing there for me anymore. But I had to see that for myself.”
Bear’s jaw bulged as he swallowed hard. “I remember too, Chase. I told your mama to come to me if she ever needed anything. I wish to God she had.”
