by Carina Adams
Jeremy was different from the three of us. Not only was he one of those guys who was truly decent, he had a huge loving family that expected him to be home every Sunday for dinner after church. Skinny as a rail, with long blond hair, and zero ink showing on his body, he couldn't look more out of place with us if he tried. Add in the fact that his dad was a detective in the Boston Police Department, and you had to wonder why he'd ever hang with hoodlums like us.
He and Matt had classes together at UMass and they’d been partnered together on a project freshman year. When Matt introduced us all, it was obvious that Jeremy was the piece our tight-knit group was missing. It felt like we’d known him for years. He'd moved into the townhouse we all shared the next week.
"I know it's hard for you to understand, but there is life outside of the club, guy. Some of us want more," Matt pointed out for the nine-hundredth time.
Tank shook his head. "You're really serious about that school BS?" Matt rolled his eyes at me in answer. "You do realize you're gonna end up in minimum-wage jobs working with punk-ass kids who make us look like saints, right?"
Matt nodded, laughing. "That's the plan."
“As long as we pass this class,” Jeremy mumbled, his frustration clear. “If not, I guess I can always take my dad up on his offer to pull strings and get me into the police academy. Then I'd have a minimum wage job and be working with punk-ass adults just like you."
Matt snorted, but Tank looked back and forth between the two of them, appalled. "You're both fuckin' nuts. You know that, right?" Leaning between the front seats, he put his hand on my shoulder. "What about you, brother? You in? The OGM are gone on a run. It’ll be just us. And pussy. Lots and lots of club pussy."
"Original gang members?" Jeremy asked cautiously.
I chuckled shaking my head at the absurdity of the conversation. "Nah. Old gross men. It's what we call the originals." I glanced back at Matt. “You heard the man. Lots and lots of club pussy. You really gonna miss that?”
Matty nodded, looking almost sad. “Yeah, man. I gotta get this paper done. I have a study session tomorrow I can’t miss, so I have to do it tonight.”
He made me proud as hell. Going back to school wasn’t easy. Fuck, between working with me getting our company off the ground and club shit, I didn't know how he managed to find the time to get to class, not to mention study to get the grades that kept his financial aid paying for school. I usually didn’t go anywhere without him, especially if he had to miss fun because of school.
It had been a long, stressful week. If we weren’t at the club on a Friday night, we usually drank at home. Since we weren't going to drink at home because he had to study… I shrugged.
"Yeah. I'm in."
The parking lot was full, even though a good portion of the club had gone down to Jersey on a run, and the laughter and music were blaring. Everyone seemed to be in a better mood when the OGM were gone. I didn’t blame them.
As soon as we were through the door Tank turned toward me, opening his arms wide, walking backwards. "When Daddy's away, the prospects will play!"
I laughed but shook my head. "You know you're a wicked loser, right?"
Tank only smiled back. Stopping he turned, surveying the tables. "I'll grab the booze. You grab the seats." Pointing toward a half empty table, he took off.
I tried to ignore everyone who greeted me as I made my way over to a table in the corner, but it seemed like a club girl stopped me every couple of steps. By the time I dropped into the chair next to Preacher, my tolerance for people had disappeared and I regretted my decision to come.
"Remind me why I came here on a Friday night?"
Preach wasn't an original member, but he’d been a brother longer than I’d been alive. Middle aged, wrinkly and leathered from years on the road, he always had a smile on his face and a prayer on his lips in order to save your soul. He was one brother I trusted with my life.
"It sure as shit ain't for the punani."
Mutt, another brother at the table, laughed. They all found the fact that I wouldn't fuck the whores hilarious. Usually, the only men that wouldn't take advantage of the free tail were happily married or too old to get it up. Before I could tell them both to fuck off, Tank handed me a beer and fell into the seat next to me.
"He might not be, but I am." Grinning, he tipped his bottle back. "That’s the only reason I'd grace you assholes with my presence."
I shook my head. "Even club pussy will get sick of your needle dick at some point."
"I know." Tank nodded seriously. "That's why I gotta hit it while I still can."
"Speakin' of, have you seen the new girls yet?" Mutt leaned forward, as if he were about to tell us something important. "There's one I wanna take out back, bend over and…"
"New girls?" Tank interrupted, frowning. "We don't have new girls comin' in. We're not takin’ on any more right now. Won't be for months."
Leave it to Tank to know that shit. The guy couldn’t remember what job site we were on from one day to the next but had the date fresh ass was arriving memorized.
Preach cleared his throat. "Well,"—he paused to take a slow sip of his drink, as if he didn't want to say what he was going to—"they just showed up today, and since Prez wasn't here to make the call, we decided to let them stay for the night."
Tank's eyebrows rose. "They're here now?" He half stood, turning his head to look around the room. "I can't see shit!"
He sat back down, irritation clear on his face, but his eyes didn't stop searching the room. I started to offer a dickheaded observation about how desperate he seemed, but my friend went stone still, his shock clear.
"Son of a…" He suddenly pushed his chair back angrily and stood. "No fuckin' way!"
Before I could ask him what was wrong, he was practically sprinting across the floor.
I watched him curiously as I half listened to my tablemates laugh about the four women who’d apparently jumped off the Greyhound and showed up at the clubhouse earlier, luggage and all, telling security that they were there to have a good time. When Tank stopped beside a table of patched members, I was half worried he was going to do something stupid, like tell the brothers that they needed to share the new girls who were sprawled across their laps. My bruised eye twitched at the thought of getting into another brawl defending his pathetic ass.
Instead, my friend did something even dumber. Without saying a word, Tank reached out and grabbed one girl's arm and yanked her off Zip and onto her feet, shaking her as he shouted words I couldn’t hear into a face I couldn’t see.
I was up and halfway to them before I realized I was moving. I didn’t know what in the hell he was doing, but he would never act that way unless it was important. The fucker was going to get our asses handed to us again, but there was no way in hell I'd let him take that beating alone.
"You shouldn’t be here!" I heard him yell over the music at the tiny thing in front of him, shaking her again, his face red with a rage I hadn't seen in a long fuckin' time. "What the fuck were you thinkin'?"
Small hands shoved at his chest, trying to push his massive body away from her. I wasn’t close enough to see her face, but when she screamed back, my blood ran cold.
“Don’t fucking touch me!”
Tank ignored her, shaking her once more. “What in the fuck are you doing here?” he demanded loudly.
Zip stood, stepping in next to my friend, his face twisted in agitation that Tank had ruined his good time. “Fuck off, Prospect,” he snarled as he reached out, ready to grab the woman in Tank’s arms, “this one is mine.”
Tank’s features morphed from disdain for the woman in front of him into barely controlled rage. “Yours?” Tank challenged the brother with a bitter laugh. “You gonna claim her tomorrow when Pres finds out you let four new girls in? I only count three. Where in the fuck is the other one?”
When no one answered, he swore under his breath, glanced up, and caught my eye. Before anyone could stop him, Tank spun the girl suddenly and shoved her my
way. "Take her,” he commanded me before turning his back on us.
I felt my eyes widen as I got my first good look. In my mind, she was still just a girl, short and straight, all gangly arms and awkward movements that come with being a young teen. Somewhere over the last few years, she’d grown up.
I hesitated, stunned. This woman was nothing but trouble; tall, athletic, and beautiful enough to make even me notice her. Her dark hair was longer than it had ever been, her face had thinned, making her cheekbones seem sharp, and her lips look puffy. For a split second, I stared into her arctic blue eyes, completely blown away. If I hadn’t known better, I would’ve sworn there was relief in those depths.
Something I’d thought I’d lost stirred in my gut.
“Don’t touch me!” she sneered, trying to get free as I caught her and gripped her shoulders tightly. When she couldn’t break the hold, she glanced over my shoulder, her panic clear. “Where’s Matty?”
“Not here.”
“Let go!” She shoved at me again. “I need Matt, not you.”
"You're in my clubhouse, little girl," I growled, pushing away anything but the irritation that my stress-free night had gone to shit so quickly. "If you didn't want to see me, you should have stayed in that cushy little apartment I pay out the ass for."
Blue eyes narrowed as she tipped her head back and looked at me. Seeing my shiner, she raised an eyebrow, her nose wrinkled in disgust. "Someone finally gave you the beating you deserved? Sorry I wasn't here for that."
The strong scent of alcohol on her breath made me clench my fists. She winced as my fingers dug into her flesh, and it took every ounce of self-restraint I had to loosen my grip. I took a deep breath and tried to control my rage. “You’ve been drinking.” It wasn’t a question.
Her eyes narrowed in crystal-clear hatred as she jerked her head back. “Go to hell.”
“Already been there, Brat. Fought my way out. Explain to me why you’re here."
"I told Tonka Truck," —she sent Tank's back a seething look—"I’m here for Matty. I meant it." Her hands planted themselves on my chest. "Get the fuck away from me before I start to scream and these guys”—she leaned her head toward the table—"give you another black eye."
I laughed humorlessly at that.
The stupid little girl was fucking clueless. She could scream all she wanted and not one of the brothers here would step in to help her. She wasn't at some college frat party where a good Samaritan was waiting to rescue the pretty damsel in distress. Tank and I were the closest things in this room, and if we were the ones causing the scene, everyone else would sit back, drink and watch the show.
Hell, if the brothers found out that she was Matt’s little sister, they would probably use her against us. There was a reason prospects didn’t bring their ol’ ladies around. No better way to terrorize a prospect, get him in line, than to hurt the woman he loved.
“Let’s go!” I snapped.
Cris shook her head. “I’m not leaving. Not without—”
“Now!” I yelled, cutting off her words.
Her jaw set. “Fuck off. I’m not leaving.”
Five years ago I'd had enough of her attitude and manipulation to last a lifetime—I definitely wasn’t ready to deal with it again. I refused to cause an even bigger scene with the drama queen in front of me, to risk the chance that someone would figure out she was worth something. Her brother could deal with her shit. I was done.
If Matt had been here, I would’ve stepped aside and let him handle her. Since he was home studying, she was my responsibility. Fucking bullshit best friend code. But I knew he’d do it for me.
So, I did the only thing I could. I grabbed her, threw her over my shoulder, and strode out of the clubhouse.
When fists started pounding into my lower back, and she began demanding I put her down, my hand itched with the need to spank the jean-covered ass on my shoulder. As we made our way outside, I hoped the anger and hatred coursing through my veins was clear on my face. If any patched member stepped in, I’d have no place to argue—I wasn’t their equal yet; I was still a guest in their club.
A few brothers nodded my way, amusement clear, as I headed for the door, but no one tried to stop me. Thank Jesus. I wasn’t sure what I would’ve done if they had. Probably something dangerous to my health and definitely something stupid.
Once the brat realized that she couldn’t fight her way down, she did the only thing an immature child like her would—she tried to pants me. I knew when she was quiet for a moment too long that she was up to something. I thought she was going to give it one final push and try to break free, but when her hands moved to my back pockets and she gave the denim one solid shove, I almost laughed.
Instead, I yanked on my waistband, barely keeping it around my hips, and gave her thigh a warning squeeze with my free hand. The whole city could see my blue Fruit of the Looms, and I still wouldn’t put her down until I’d safely deposited her ass in my truck.
When she gave them another push, I snapped. “Cut the shit, Cris.”
“Fuck off.”
Such a polite and sweet little girl my best friend’s baby sister was.
I didn’t even bother taking her to the passenger side of my truck—she’d just jump out before I made it back to my door and I’d have to catch her. I might be tempted to chase the right woman around the world, but this one? I was pretty sure I’d let her run.
Instead, I pulled open my door and dropped her onto my seat, climbing in immediately after, turning the key before I’d even shut the door. Cris dove across the space, reaching for the passenger door, but I grabbed her arm, holding her in place as I tore out of the parking lot as fast as I could drive.
She fought, trying to rip away, but I didn’t let go until we were on the main road, speeding fast enough that I knew she wouldn’t try to jump out.
“No!” Suddenly, she moved toward me, clutching at my arm. “Take me back, Rob. Right now!”
I shook her off, pushing her back into her seat. “No.”
“Stop! Let me out!” When I only accelerated, she screeched in frustration. “What in the hell is your problem?” she demanded as she pressed herself against the door, as far away from me as she could possibly get, and I knew she was contemplating escape.
“What’s yours?” I snapped back. “Do you have a death wish? The men in that club, those guys you were hanging off? They don’t play around.”
“I don’t care!” she screamed, lunging my way, slapping at me. “We need to go back.”
The light in front of me went from yellow to red, but I didn’t touch the breaks. If I stopped before we got to the apartment, she’d make a run for it and I’d have to explain to my best friend how I managed to lose his little sister, who was dressed like a two-bit whore, in the middle of the city on a Friday night when Richie-rich frat boys were out looking to score. Fuck that.
“I don’t need to do shit,” I told her as I glanced in my rearview for blues and took a deep breath when none appeared.
Cris took that moment to grasp my arm again, her nails digging into my skin. “Jesus, Rob. Please? You’ve got to take me back there.”
“No.” I shook my head, disgusted, but the change in her tone had me glancing at her. She was scared. Good. She should be. Her brother was going to wring her neck.
“I can’t leave her there! I promised her I wouldn’t leave. They’ll…” Her voice was barely a whisper as it trailed off, but I heard the fear loud and clear.
I slammed on my breaks, pulling over, not caring that I’d driven up onto the sidewalk. I turned toward her as dread filled me. She’d not only been stupid enough to go to the clubhouse, she’d been dumb enough to take a friend.
“Who?”
Cris didn’t answer. Instead, she shook her head and stared at her trembling hands. I wasn’t in the mood for her games.
“Fucking Christ, Crissia! Who is at the clubhouse?”
She lifted her head, and I saw the pain in her eyes. “Kate
.” Her voice broke. “Katie was with me.”
My blood turned cold as I glared at the girl next to me in disbelief. “Katie?” I hissed. My sister would know better than to come to Boston without telling me, to go to the Bean Nighe house. Staring into terrified blue eyes, I knew the answer before I asked. “My Katie?”
Cris only nodded once. I swore as my fist connected with the steering wheel, but pain didn’t register. The gears protested and ground as I forced it into first and revved the engine, twisting the wheel and shooting across four lanes, not even looking to see if there were cars coming.
I needed to get back to the clubhouse. Had to get to my sister. Before something happened that could never be undone.
The return trip only lasted seconds and before I knew it I was out of the truck and shoving my way past faceless brothers and into the building. My eyes moved around, searching for only one person. Rage coursed through my veins, growing more heated with every second that I didn’t find her.
She wasn’t in the main room. Which could only mean one thing. Someone had taken her to the bunk rooms.
I’d kill any man who had touched her. Tear the fucking flesh from his bones and make him beg the devil himself to come to his rescue. After I did to him whatever the fuck he did to my Katie.
I headed toward the back of the building, trying to mentally prepare myself for what I was going to find. For what I’d do when I found it. Instead, memories from days gone by, from when I was just a little boy who hadn’t been able to save his sister, danced before my eyes, and acid churned in my stomach.
As soon as I was through the door, I saw someone hurrying down the darkened hall. I knew it was Tank before I could see his face. Just like I knew the woman he carried in his arms was my sister.
His head was bent, speaking to her, offering words of comfort the way one would offer assurance to a small child. I couldn’t hear what he was saying over the music from the main room. I closed my eyes, begging relief to come, hoping the knowledge that she was safe would ease my mind just a bit.
My friend looked up, his steps faltering slightly when he saw me, but he didn’t speak until he was right in front of me and I was reaching out to snatch her from him. He only shook his head as he paused. “I’ve got her, Brother. I’ve got her.”
