“To tell you the truth, none of the guys are real thrilled. They don’t hate the idea, but they like their freedom more. They see your club as a threat. Like our brotherhood is gonna dissolve if we join you.”
I couldn’t believe my ears. We were really talking about fucking emotional bikers?
“Here’s the deal. Your VP is gone, you don’t trust the guy acting in his place, and you’re getting pretty fucking old, Tate. Your operations are going to shit, and as soon as the other clubs realize it, your little independent club isn’t going to have a way to defend your goddamn territory. So either they need to get on board with a little bit of help from the Horde or figure out a way to earn after the Storm Kings dissolve, because that’s what the future holds.”
I leaned back in the booth. He could have fucking told me this the day I got here. Instead he waited until every member of his club was in town and his back was against the wall. I wasn’t sure if that was strategy or poor leadership.
A patch-over had to be a unanimous vote. If the guys weren’t sure about it, I had my work cut out for me.
“Look, I’m up here to convince these guys, right? I just need to sell it to them a little. They need to want to be part of the Demon Horde brotherhood. Just help me sell it.
Finally, Tate nodded. I cracked my knuckles. Time to get started.
* * *
The clubhouse was quiet when I pulled up. Ten bikes were parked in the lot outside, all perfectly lined up. The only way to get that level of precision is if you rode together a lot. It was gonna be my job to convince them that they start a whole new brotherhood with my club. It wasn’t gonna be easy.
Everyone was still asleep when I arrived. I sat at the bar, drinking coffee. They had to wake up eventually and I wanted to be there when they did.
“Who the fuck are you?”
It was guy in flannel pants and a Southern accent so thick you could sink a switchblade straight through. His hair had grown out and was pasted down on one side. He was scowling.
“Colt, from the Demon Horde, California.” I extended my hand.
It was a good shake. Solid. Not enough of a squeeze to indicate challenge, but enough to communicate strength. He seemed decent enough.
“If there’s any coffee left, you could be General fuckin’ Sherman and I wouldn’t give a shit.”
I took a sip of my coffee to hide my smile. I liked this guy.
He went straight to the coffeepot behind the bar. “I’m Skeeter. So, you’re here to tell me the gospel of the Horde, huh? Make me call you brother?”
I shrugged. A lukewarm reception was better than I had anticipated. “Let’s start with calling me a friend.”
The guy nodded and dumped a bunch of sugar packets into his coffee. “Tell me about yourself. I like to know who my friends are.”
Shit, I didn’t prepare a speech or anything. But it would make sense that the guys would want to know.
“I grew up in the Horde. My dad was a member and when I hit fifteen I started to prospect. Did a stint in Lompoc a while back for guns. I guess that’s about it.”
Bikers gossip more than little old church ladies and it was very possible that they all knew my shame, that my fucking old lady sent me and half the club to jail for nearly a year.
“Tough break.” Skeeter washed out his cup in the sink and then turned to me. “Clean up after yourself. Krista doesn’t need to do dishes all night. Those are the rules of the house. I’m gonna go shower. See you at church.”
I was surprised at Skeeter’s warning. The guys in my club would leave their shit all over if we had someone like Krista to clean up after us.
One by one, the guys filtered in and gathered in the bar, waiting for church. I met Charlie, Mule, Clint and some other guys whose names I forgot. It was a lot of “good to see yous” while they sized me up.
Ten minutes before church, Bear made his appearance. I knew him before we were introduced. He had a wild beard and tons of curly hair. He was the only one who could carry off that road name.
He sought me out instantly. Scanning the room, once he saw me he walked straight over. A couple guys tried to get his attention as he walked, but he was focused. On me.
“Bear, VP.” He stuck out his hand.
“Colt, Horde.”
We shook. Or I shook; he squeezed. Hard. I may be tall, but Bear was huge. I could match that handshake, but playing the squeeze contest for fucking dominance was a child’s game. But Bear was playing it well. So I sat there with a smile pasted onto my goddamn face and let him try to break my hand. When he realized I wasn’t going to play, he grinned.
He leaned in like he was going to give me a manly hug. Patting me on the back, he whispered, “Fuck you and your club.”
Well, I guess he was going to be my problem. I needed to figure out how to play this. Should I take him down or make him like me? Maybe it would be best to let things float a little bit more until I decided.
At noon, Tate walked through the room and we all followed him into the chapel. It was a large room, with an oval table for officers and chairs lined up around the periphery. I sat in a chair leaning against the back wall. Fifteen guys crowded around the table and three prospects hung in the back with me. The Kings were larger than I had anticipated. Usually these independent clubs only had ten members or so total. The Kings were large, almost large enough to have a support chapter. This would be a good merge for the Horde. The extra support and cash flow would be good. I just had to make it happen.
Someone passed around a basket. I turned my phone to silent and dropped it in with the others. It was gonna be an intense meeting. A room full of bikers could be pretty noisy, but not chapel. The chapel was the room where the club held their monthly meetings. Our chapel in San Bernardino was loud and filled with cigar smoke. This chapel was silent as a tomb. We were all waiting for Tate to speak.
“Welcome. I appreciate you all coming today. Let’s go over regular business first. Bear, can you tell us about the latest delivery?”
“Three hundred grand even. It all went good, boss. We had to wait a few days because the ‘Vette wasn’t clearing the computer. Rip was able to fix it, though. After that it was smooth sailin’.”
With the Kings’ twenty percent cut, and then split that amongst the members, it was a decent haul with minimum risk.
They went through the earnings statements from the casino and other legit businesses. I liked the fact that there were no surprises; everything was exactly the same as I read in their ledgers.
Tate cleared his throat. “And now I’d like to introduce our friend.”
All heads swiveled to me. Shit.
“He’s a member of the Demon Horde’s lead chapter in San Bernardino, California.” Tate nodded to me. “You all know that we have been considering a patch-over with the Horde. We’re not voting on it today, but Colt is up here to see how we operate. He’s gonna make a judgment call to make sure we are compatible. You all got any questions for him?”
“Will we have to prospect again?” A guy in his mid-forties asked that question. I could understand his worry. I never wanted to prospect again either.
“No. There will be a one-year probation period where you’re not allowed to vote on national business. Once that is over, you will be admitted as full members. We don’t intend to make you scrub the latrines or play guard duty at a warehouse. You’ll be given the fullest respect.”
Hawkeye told me to anticipate that question. A single small club like theirs would soon be swallowed up by the other clubs that were moving in. They understood the need to unify, but also didn’t want the shit duties of being prospects again.
The crowd seemed mollified with my answer and we all sat for a moment in silence as someone tried to think of the next question they could ask.
Silence. Minutes’ worth o
f fucking silence. No one had any other questions, no one wanted to talk to me. Great.
Tate banged the gavel. “All right, meeting adjourned.”
Chapter Seventeen
Krista
The guys replacing the windshield on my car had their shit down, like they had been practicing that routine for years. They probably had. They’d replaced the smaller windows in six minutes and the windshield was just as fast.
Thank god my car was fixed. I needed to pick Becky up after school. After an early dinner and a couple of books she would go to Señora Lopez’s for the night and I would be off to the club to clean—and see Colt.
I would have to tell him I was a whore and a coward. I thought he knew, but after his comment about my job, it was obvious he had no clue, and I let him walk out the door without telling him. I would tell him tonight.
My stomach fluttered. I still had shivers from last night. I fucked guys for a living and orgasms were easy to come by, if I wanted them. But I hadn’t wanted them in over a year. Then Colt shows up and I come over and over. He liked me and my kid. He was fun to hang out with. He made funny jokes while watching The Wizard of Oz, and I wanted to spend more time with him.
A job that paid the bills and had enough left over for school was hard to come by. The guys were pretty good to me as well. At first it had been a little awkward seeing my johns every night. After we all got used to each other, it was fine. Skeeter was my favorite. Last time they went on a run to Vegas, he gave me a big hug when he got home and brought me back a pair of loaded dice. Charlie was a great guy too. He made homemade pancakes every once in a while in the club kitchen and always made sure I had enough to bring back for Becky. When I first started working, I didn’t have a car and took the bus everywhere. Tate gave me rides home whenever he could.
Every job had its problems, though. The club had a family night once a month. The first time, Tate invited me. I didn’t bring Becky, just went by myself. It was my first and last family night. The guys might like me, but I wasn’t family—at least the old ladies didn’t consider me such.
Tate’s old lady, Bettes, she was the nicest. She wasn’t bitchy at all when she told me it would be best if I headed home. She knew me a little, though. When I first started, she was the one who showed me the ropes around the bar—how to pour a pint without a big head, which clubs to call when we needed girls at the parties. But once the other old ladies were around, I needed to go. I was the whore, after all. I was the one their husbands turned to after an argument, I was the one who had perfect thighs and a hot body.
But those women didn’t see me—they just saw my job. They didn’t see that I did squats while I studied and had the same stretch marks that they did. They didn’t see that my kid refused to eat anything green for a month. They didn’t see all of those things because all they stopped looking once they realized I was a whore. What would happen when Colt found out? I’d let him go this morning because I didn’t want to see that light turn off in his eyes. All those promises of a relationship, would they still be there once I told him my job?
Colt was a great guy, and he seemed to want me as his old lady, but he hadn’t quite said it yet. All he had really promised me was great sex and some sort of relationship. Hell, he could just want some free pussy while he was in Tacoma, and I had given it to him, twice.
Of course, I enjoyed it too. He was good in bed and he cared about my needs, that was pretty obvious. Making love to him was so different from working, I couldn’t compare the two. Comparing Colt to a trick would be cheapening our whole relationship. We may not have said “I love you” yet, but it was the real thing.
Tonight I was going to walk into the clubhouse and lay my cards on the table. I would tell him that I wasn’t a bartender, I was a whore. I was going to make it very clear that I had fucked and taken money from over half the guys in the club. Then I was going to tell him that I wouldn’t take money from him, because I wanted a relationship. I wanted it to be real between us.
* * *
“Thanks, Señora! Bye, sweetie!”
I waved goodbye to Becky through the screen door as I headed out to my car for work. My phone buzzed as I walked out to my newly fixed car—Party tonight. Call the girls.
It was Tate, and the text had come in a few hours ago, but I’d missed it until now. The guys must have gotten back already if he wanted me to call the girls from the strip club for a party. They always liked to have a big party when they came back from these types of hauls.
I stopped walking and my brain spun like a goddamn hamster wheel. If the guys were back and Colt was with the guys, then Colt may have already heard I was a whore.
I was sure the only thing worse than hearing your girlfriend is a whore is hearing it from someone she’d fucked. I had to tell him first.
When he picked me up from the repair shop, he’d made me program his number into my cell phone, so I dialed it. Thirty-two times.
He didn’t answer a single call.
Fucking shit. He probably already knew.
I sprinted to my car and set a land speed record for the four miles between my apartment and the club.
The parking lot was packed. Twenty bikes were parked in their usual spaces, and Colt’s bike was parked a little off to the side. The place was full of cars, probably the girls from the club. Shit. Tate or Bettes must have already made the calls. If the guys were too busy hitting on the strippers, maybe I still had a chance.
I didn’t bother to find a parking spot and just abandoned my car in the middle of the lot. Running the length of the asphalt, I burst through the metal door and into the bar.
Mostly naked women and bikers were everywhere. The whole place was a goddamn sea of skin and leather. The crowd swirled and moved around as I ran around, sweaty and hot. When I found him, he was standing in a corner with Skeeter and Russ.
Trying to run through the throng of people packed into the little bar was impossible, so I wound my way through the crowd.
“Hey, baby, we’re back!” Skeeter gave me his usual hug. He grabbed me around my waist and bent backward, lifting me onto his chest. I put my arms around his neck, mostly out of habit, but a little bit so I wouldn’t lose my balance. Time stopped as Skeeter clutched me against his body. I just hoped he wouldn’t grab my ass.
“You’re looking overdressed tonight, baby. Where’s that naughty nurse’s outfit that I like so much?”
He let me slide down his chest before my feet hit the ground. Then he squeezed my ass. I started to say something, but Skeeter cut me off.
“Oh, hey, man, let me introduce you to my favorite girl. This is Krista. Hey, baby, why don’t you go visit Colt’s room tonight? It’ll be my welcome gift.”
Chapter Eighteen
Colt
Skeeter was going to send my woman to my room tonight as a welcome gift? I clenched my fist and decided whether or not I should punch him in the nose or the mouth. The mouth would hurt more, but the nose could disfigure him for the rest of his fucking life.
Nose. I wanted him to remember this.
“Her fees are on me tonight.” Skeeter just couldn’t keep his mouth shut.
My rage went from hot to cold—deadly cold.
I looked at Krista. “You have fees?”
When you yank the chain on a lawn mower engine, there’s a pause. It’s just half a second or so before the engine kicks in and starts up. My brain waited that half a second before it turned over, and then engine engaged and I realized what the hell he was talking about.
Krista had fees. She charged men for sex. She was a fucking whore. Not a bartender, but a goddamn fucking ho. She had lied to me, and I had fallen for it.
I froze. I was just another dick to exploit. I was just a big fat wallet in her eyes. A nice set of tits and a gorgeous ass had made me the chump—again. The only d
ifference between her and Tina was that Krista hadn’t put me in jail yet.
I wanted to rail against the world. I’d finally found an amazing woman I wanted to be with and then I find out she had been playing me. I took a deep breath and tried to keep my cool. I couldn’t let on to the rest of the club that I had been fooled. I was here to solve their problems, not show them mine.
She reached out to try and touch my arm, but I wrenched it out of her grasp. I couldn’t stand for her to touch me—I might like it. Last night had been amazing and I could easily fall for her bullshit again.
“Colt, we should talk.”
She was nearly crying. Her voice shook and her chin trembled, but I didn’t fucking care. I thought what we had was different, special. But I was just another john. She didn’t charge me up front for the sex, so maybe she was playing some sort of long game. Maybe she was hoping I would be her sugar daddy, and I probably would have. I was fucking sad.
Whatever. I didn’t give a shit. I was done.
“Thanks for the offer, Skeeter. But Krista and I have already met, and I think I’ve had my fill.” I looked straight into her big blue watery eyes. “Her fees were very reasonable, though. She’s a good whore.”
I nodded at Skeeter and downed my beer. I couldn’t be around Krista anymore. She could probably smell the fact that I was in love with her, like a shark smells blood in the water. I needed to get away.
Trying to keep my mind occupied, I talked to each of the guys in the room, took their measure while they took mine. My phone buzzed in my pocket, so I checked my messages. There wasn’t a single voice mail, but there were thirty-two missed calls. All from Krista. She must have known her lie would be found out. I shook my head and shoved my phone into my pocket.
I switched from beer to whiskey and a couple of girls always kept my glass full. Then they took turns draping themselves across my lap hoping I was gonna take their bait. But my mind just kept going back to Krista and last night.
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