“I’m glad we won’t be working together,” she announced. That was kind of bratty.
“Yeah me too there Hazelnut.”
Jasmine sighed, “Just tell me what the hell that means – you’re stubborn as all hell.”
“That you turn something that I actually somehow enjoy into something that I despise, in this case? My general existence,” he gave her a quick wave then, shut the door, and then a clicking noise could be heard. Wow he wasn’t joking, Jasmine thought. She reached for the handle and turned it, “Don’t be such a jackass,” she called out, leaning suddenly as the door unexpectedly opened. Whoa. Jasmine ‘stepped’ inside and quickly balanced her person.
Turning to face her, the lines on Augustus’ face shifted as if to say ‘come on’.
Jasmine brushed back a strand of her raven hair. “Uhm, didn’t you l—”
“Oh don’t go feeling special now. I locked the hell out of that fickle thing, but you know, when you’re the Dean of Medicine you can’t be assed to fix something like that,” he laughed derisively. “Because it’s,” he did air quotes, “not in the budget.”
“Some man you are,” she quipped. “Fix it yourself.”
The man whined, “That hurts you know, being pigeon holed into a gender identity, what if I don’t know how?”
“Pay someone else to do it?” Her pager buzzed in her coat. Damn.
Augustus sighed and moved over to his red leather chair, sinking back into it. “It’s the principal of things, Darla.
“Jasmine,” she corrected sharply.
“Yeah whatever,” he waved a hand with such an impressive nonchalance that she wondered if, in his head, that Jasmine might have not even been there. “It’s Corey’s job to fix it, not mine. It locks most of the time, if and when by some stroke of luck it doesn’t work – then let’s toss it up to the big G deciding there was a reason for it. Because, you know, he has time for that and not curing the cancers that he’s okay with having exist.” Augustus was rubbing his temples aggressively at this point, the veins in his neck poking out. “You’re sending me into a rage.”
Jasmine shrugged. “Fix your shit, Gus.” She turned on her heel and started to walk away.
“You start calling me that and I’ll start to play real nasty,” he threatened from behind her, a real anger lacing his voice. “You hear me?”
“Nope,” she called back, not bothering to close the man’s door. “Not over all that hypocrisy.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Luke
The lights had cast a foreboding and soft orange hue against the round table. It was a beast of a creation, wrought iron legs decorated with detailed etchings of Norse runes kept the massive wooden structure upright. The circle of wood was made of a resplendent and ages old cedar, lacquered lovingly by the forefathers of the club into a fine polish that partially reflected the faces of the men that sat its chairs. Many people’s death warrants had been signed on this table. More still would, Luke mused, bringing his hands together.
Smoke danced through the air aimlessly before the president himself, Allen Knight, lit up a cigar of his own. A shiver ran down Luke’s spine – he knew it wasn’t right what he did on the way here. If anyone knew what he was doing on that road …
Gabriel, directly across from Luke, turned his head away from the smoke. He and Luke were the few that did not partake – save for when they really needed it. Gabriel had brown hair that cascaded to his shoulders, quite possibly the most ‘pretty boy’ of the whole club, it curtained his face in such a way that it made him look as if he were only nineteen. He was of course twenty and six. The man had a long, pointed nose that gave him a touch of regality, and his cheekbones were high, very prominent; Gabriel’s eyes were dark as chocolates and deep as bottomless pits, to Luke, they made him look all the more thoughtful, pensive even.
Directly to the left, sat Robert ‘Chains’ Knight, vice president of the MC and son of Allen. Whereas Robert’s hair was blonde and spiked up, Allen’s was tousled in a mess and starting to recede ever so slightly.
Robert leaned over and whispered in Luke’s ear. “Heard you needed a ride today man,” here we go, “shoulda called your boy I woulda tossed my bitch out and been there in a heartbeat.” Though he’d never let the man in on it, Luke truly did not care much for the vice president – they were not close in the least. Well, not anymore at least; for a time they had been close growing up, but things change and so do people. How things were now, was how Luke preferred it to be.
Luke glanced at Robert. “Well I know how you like to kick your conquests to the curb, I should have considered that beforehand – next time, brother.” Physical sickness swelled in his stomach, just saying the word felt like an abortion of what it implied. He touched the bronze ring on his finger inscribed ‘bro’.
“Awesome,” he popped his knuckles, “I can’t wait to crack some skull again man, jonesing so bad.” He gave a stupid little laugh, shifting to face Luke. “Hey let me ask you, you think we’re getting screwed?”
Luke craned his head, a bitterness overcoming him at having to acknowledge his existence. “In my experience this is called sitting.”
“What?” He screwed his face up confused, “I’m talkin’ ‘bout Earl man, you think he’s getting us too cheap?”
“Not really our place to decide,” Luke replied, “he pays above street value and we make good money.”
Turning from Robert, Luke looked to Allen as he did a nice long drag of his cigar – letting the smoke smoothly roll out of his mouth. He sat beside his son, naturally, at the head of the table.
Feeling his phone vibrate in his pocket, Luke produced it and eyed the caller I.D. Kayla. He stuffed it back where it belonged, even if the meeting wasn’t going down he still didn’t want to pick it up.
Allen spoke up, “Let’s get down to brass tacks,” his voice was gruff. “We need to get our heads out of our god damned asses and find something,” Allen sucked and the embers glowed red as fiery rubies.
The man to Gabriel’s left, Alex, suggested, “What if it’s not the usual suspects, like someone outside the MC’s.”
Allen narrowed his eyes, “Why? You got somethin’ Lex?”
“Nah,” he replied, “not really. Just smashing heads isn’t turning anything up is the problem Prez. Startin’ to think we’re looking at things wrong.” Alex was right about that, Luke had been skull splitting since he’d found out and not a damn soul had any dirt on what had happened.
Gabriel pushed back his hair. “That’s what I’ve been thinking too, it’s all so clean, something doesn’t sit right. Maybe Martine is involved,” he offered.
Luke unclasped his hands and leaned forward slightly. “That could be,” he concurred, “it definitely explains why everyone would be so hush hush.”
Robert smirked, “No reason for that Gabriel,” his tone was condescending. “Able barely had a place on the table.”
Allen looked displeased. “He has a point,” he admitted. As much as I hated the man’s guts, he wasn’t wrong.
Gabriel placed a finger against his chin thoughtfully.
Allen raked a frustrated hand through his messy straw hair, placing the cigar betwixt his fingers and giving a long drawn out sigh. “I just don’t know,” he admitted, the hurt behind his every word. “Out of all the Knights they could have offed … “
Everyone nodded and whispered their agreement. Able was the best of us, hell he was what we should have been striving for from day one – he wasn’t about the violence or the smuggling or any of that.
Allen scratched an itch on his arm, “Point is don’t give up, we need to find something. As for other matters, Robert, Luke, I got word from Shady Earl – he’s ready for the drop.”
Robert perked up in his chair, the boy had a real problem, but nobody else seemed to be on the know about it. “We got this,” he announced, placing his hands behind his head and leaning back – looking over at Luke.
Today was shaping up to be a bad one.
“I’ll make sure it gets done, boss,” Luke promised, making certain not to use ‘we’. For reasons unknown to him, his mind meandered to the thought of those emerald eyes – the ones that let Able slip through the cracks and drift away into the dark below; the ones that still made his heart swell and sting like a knife finding its mark.
Jasmine. Why couldn’t you save him?
I just see his smile, Luke morosely thought. I see us running in the fields and fighting over Tracy at the beach and kicking down sandcastles; I just can’t stop missing you little bro. In all her beauty and splendor the woman faded from his mind.
Allen slammed his fist against the table as if it were a gavel. “Dismissed,” he declared authoritatively.
The men collectively got up from their chairs and made their way from the Knights Round and through the door, leading to the bar and lounge. The lounge was an impressive sight. The floors were decked with fine wood of all kinds, some polished with a nice sheen while others were dull and aged – giving the place a unique, if not mismatched kind of beauty. Two pool tables sat on either end of the room with a half crescent, black leather couch that sat in the middle, atop an old Persian rug of vivid reds and lustrous gold.
The bar itself was beyond well stocked – if you could think of a hard liquor, the house surely had it. The counter was black with gold trim and it was spacious enough to fit well over a dozen people. One TV was mounted from the ceiling while another was facing the crescent couch.
Luke’s favorite piece of furniture was of course the old jukebox that Allen’s father had left the boys before he passed. It had, and played, everything from hard rock to smooth jazz to the sweetest country – it made sure that the nights were never quiet and never dull.
The club itself had several guest rooms and was tucked away deep within the woods, which was both beneficial to the club’s secrecy and its defense. Not that anyone had ever been dumb enough to have raided it since Luke was just a boy.
With a buzz, he could feel his phone vibrating again – he produced it from his pocket as he walked past the bar. Kayla again, Jesus Christ. Placing it to his ear, he tried to contain his annoyance. “Speak.”
“Hey baby,” Kayla’s voice was soft and sultry, “when are you getting home?” Try never.
“Can’t say when,” he replied, eyeing the tequila on the shelf as he strode by.
Robert caught up to him.
He could hear Kayla sigh on the other end. “Okay,” she said, both defeated and pissed at the same damn time. That woman was more trouble than she was worth, but she was well ingrained into The Life – her father, J.D, was one of the few remaining original members of the Knights. “Just make sure you actually come home, baby – you know your kitten misses you,” she went and did that stupid thing where she pretends that she’s a cat.
His mind went to Jasmine. His senses lit up, a ball of need forming just behind his cock – he could practically smell her, the sweet scent of rain filling his nostrils. Was it wrong that he wanted to taste her? That he wanted to be inside of her?
“Baby,” Kayla whined. “Are you even paying attention?”
“Yeah,” he snapped back to reality, “look I’ll be home I just have shit that needs to be done, so lay off. I’ll call you later,” he clicked the phone off and shook his head.
Robert gave that stupid smirk, “Still banging Rochester’s girl eh? Man you two been at it forever now.”
“Yes,” he replied in a curt manner. “Wait here and I’ll get the stash, don’t move,” Luke ordered.
Robert lifted his hands and wagged them jazzily. “Heil Hitler,” he remarked.
Luke made his way into his guest room, grabbing the crowbar beneath his bed and finding the marked board. It had a single line cut across the end corner, it wasn’t a perfect system but he couldn’t figure that most people would pick up on that little tell. He jammed the crowbar into the board and propped it open, revealing the bag of Oxycottons beneath.
Running drugs was one of the club’s revenue streams, not one of Luke’s favorites but honestly it beat smuggling guns. That was one thing he couldn’t stand.
His mind meandered to his brother. Able couldn’t sleep at night when we were gun running, he remembered.
Luke picked up the bag, feeling a difference in its weight already. He eye balled it just to be sure. A wave of heat moved through his body like a breeze, two hot points forming at his temples and a hand clutching at his chest. Son of a bitch, that’s not right – not even remotely close. He strode over to his dresser and stuffed the bag inside of a black pack, zipping it closed and slinging it over his shoulder; he then opened one of the drawers and put on his gloves and riding shades, making sure to grab his helmet on the way out. The Vice Prez had a bad habit with pills, and despite how annoying and inconvenient it was – Luke had let it slide for a while considering he was only skimming off of the top. But to have this much gone? That fool was dealing, and the club wasn’t getting a cut.
When Luke returned to the lounge Robert was there, leaning against the wall impatiently; he turned his head and the lines of his face turned something nervous when he undoubtedly saw the fury in Luke’s eyes.
Robert swallowed and tensed up, “Y-yo hang on I can explain.”
No, no you can’t. Luke glanced over at the bar where Gabriel and Allen were sitting, discussing something and drinking a beer; they turned to look at Robert and Luke. He didn’t know where Alex was, but it didn’t matter. For once, someone was going to humble that kid – guess since nobody else has the balls I’ll be the first.
His sails filled by the winds of wrath, Luke made a single, deadly quick motion against the man. Luke threw down his helmet at the VP’s feet and grabbed the man by his collar, shoving him up against the wall.
Luke could feel the men burning holes into his skull, one of them calling out his name – they were just noise to him. The only thing that mattered was what was shaking in his hands. “I’m getting really fucking sick of your shit,” he snarled, slamming the vice into the wall – feeling his bones rattle as he did so.
“Christ Luke!” Robert cried out, trying to worm his way free. “What’s wrong with you?” That sly grin was on the man’s face, that stupid smile that Luke hated so damn much.
Allen practically roared behind Luke, “Get the hell off of him.”
That fiery serpent at the base of Luke’s spine only grew hotter at the words, climbing up his back and spurring his hands to press against the fool of a man even harder. Allen should be ashamed of you, I should just tell them all right now what you’re doing – Able always knew what you were you piece of dog shit. He leaned in to Robert’s ear.
Robert spoke first, “You’re such a pussy,” he hissed beneath his breath. “Come on,” he taunted, “hit me.”
“Yeah? Daddy doesn’t know you deal our shit on the side – he doesn’t even know you get high you little prick. How is beyond me.”
Robert let out a quiet, dry and short lived laugh, “You’re both stupid but he really takes the cake,” he admitted freely. “You know Dad, too busy with himself to be busy with us.”
“If it were me I’d kick your teeth in,” Luke pushed the man up against the wall.
Smiling, there was something dead in Robert’s eyes, something cold and cruel and long in waiting, “Your—“
Luke felt the hands on his back before he was yanked backwards and off of the man, causing Robert to fall back on his feet and steady himself. Next was Allen’s arm around Luke’s neck and Gabriel’s hands around his waist.
Robert played up the sympathy card, “I don’t know what the hell got in to him,” he said in that tinny boy of a voice of his.
Allen said, “Calm down.”
Find your inner peace, “I’m good,” he breathed, “I’m good.”
Gabriel and Allen eased their respective grips, but did not fully let go.
Robert pulled on his jacket and looked Luke in the eyes. “Is it because of your brother?” He inquired, “you kno
w,” he started in that condescending tone, “he really wouldn’t have wanted to see you act like that.”
The rage came hot and quick all over again, and Gabriel and Allen felt it first hand as they desperately tried to hold Luke back. He didn’t care that he was playing into the man’s hand. Everything went red and every muscle in his body was screaming to break free, every bone begging to feel the crunch of Robert’s own against Luke’s knuckles. His agony in that moment would have been the sweetest music. Luke shouted in a fit of tempestuous anger, ripping himself from Gabriel’s clutches – but it did not last, the man quickly redoubled his efforts and restrained Luke.
Gabriel grunted, “Luke,” he said, “stop.”
Allen said, “Stop this shit right now and tell me what’s going on son, let’s not make things worse okay?”
After several moments, considering Gabriel’s words, he closed his eyes and thought of Jasmine’s demure emeralds. Through bared teeth, he apologized – not looking Robert in the eyes. “I’m sorry,” he took a deep breath. It took every fiber of his being to say it, “you were right, I just got worked up from earlier and I thought you said something about Able …”
The two let Luke free and Robert nodded his head. “It’s okay, Luke,” he put a hand on the man’s shoulder. It made him ill, just the feeling of it resting on him like that – all he could think about was scrubbing it clean and ridding himself of the filth that was the president’s son. “I forgive you.”
Luke felt a tightness form in his throat. He wanted to scream when he looked into those dead eyes. “Thanks,” he said, trying not to sound fake.
Allen looked over to Gabriel, then to Luke. “Don’t pull that shit again,” he warned, pointing a finger at the man. “Next time there’ll be hell to pay, you hear me?”
Revved Up Soul: A MC Romance Page 7
