I look into your eyes filled with love and realize, maybe that’s all that love is. Two souls that care enough about each other to holler Peligro when one gets too close to the edge.
Hand on your belly, you give a secret smile down to our little bundle of joy.
Which gets me to thinking. Reminiscing about fond memories. Is it possible to make new ones? Does my boy have to stay sleeping or can he come out and play catch. Next time I see that biker, I’m going to ask.
Full of hope, I ask, “You ready for a road trip Stella?”
The twinkle in your blue eyes is answer enough.
When I turn the key, the radio turns on. Maybe it’s a coincidence, but it’s the same song that Angelina was humming.
Sounds about right.
It does feel just like heaven driving into this happily ever after life with you.
The End.
About Angie
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Leather and Lace
A Knights of Mayhem Short Story
K.A. Ware
DEDICATION
For Danielle, you believed in these characters even when I didn’t. Thank you for being my friend and constant sounding board. I appreciate you!
ONE
FINLEY
“Another round of blow jobs!” Harley screamed to the bartender over the music, slapping an open palm on the polished oak bar top.
I tilted my head back and cackled, the previous four shots we’d done in the last two hours starting to take a toll on my self-control. I wasn’t drunk per se—more like buzzed. The familiar slow-moving fuzziness had begun to creep into the edges of my vision two shots ago, and my teeth were starting to tingle.
Maybe I am drunk—just a little.
Rising up on my toes, I leaned over the bar and made eye contact with Avett; the bartender Sierra had been eye-fucking all night. “Can I get a water?” I asked as he worked on setting up a line of shot glasses for Harley’s order.
Stella sidled up next to me and slung an arm around my shoulders. “Sorry, no agua for you, senorita. It’s your last night as a single woman, if you’re not halfway to alcohol poisoning and puking in a public bathroom by the end of the night. We haven’t done our job.”
Ignoring my newly-legal sister’s less than stellar advice, I accepted the mason jar of ice water and gave Avett a grateful smile. “I’d prefer not to miss my own wedding because I’m busy getting my stomach pumped,” I said, shrugging out from her arm and turning to head back to our table.
“Pussy!” Stella called after me.
I absently flipped her the finger and concentrated on making it across the crowded bar. Staying upright in my heels was more difficult than I expected and I had to fight to focus on the task at hand.
I could see Blondie, the former president’s old lady and Harley’s mom, holding up a giggling Candy, my future mother-in-law, at our table. Honey leaned forward, saying something else I couldn’t hear and the two older women lost it, tossing their heads back and howling with laughter. It wasn’t exactly common for club whores like Honey to go out on the town with old ladies, but I’d kind of taken her under my wing. Honey—whose real name was Kenzie—was new and had only been coming around for a short time before shit hit the fan a few months back, but she stepped up when the club needed it most, and it didn’t go unnoticed. She was there every day, doing whatever she could to help even when girls that had been attached to the MC for years made themselves scarce, she was a constant staple.
Ox took a liking to Honey pretty quick after that, and they’d been practically inseparable since. I was holding out hope his interest would stick. Despite the brief run in we’d had when Baz and I had started seeing each other, Ox had been nothing but respectful to me. Hell, the giant biker even apologized for his inappropriate behavior—and meant it. We weren’t close, but there wasn’t any bad blood there.
I’d been concerned about my place in the club when Baz took the gavel last month. Sure, we’d moved kind of fast, and I hadn’t gotten a chance to know any of the brothers before Baz made me his old lady, but it wasn’t that uncommon. Although, being an old lady and being the president’s old lady were two different things. A property patch demanded a certain level of respect. But when your man was the president…it changed everything. It was my responsibility to set the tone for the females attached to the club, and I’d made my intentions clear—which was why none of the girls batted an eye when I invited Honey to my bachelorette party.
“I thought you were getting more shots?” Blondie asked as I plopped down on the leather couch beside her.
The night had started out relatively tame considering the mix of biker bitches and strippers we had in tow. We had dinner at my favorite sushi restaurant before heading to the edge of Chinatown for the longest-running drag show at Darcelle XV. At Sierra’s insistence, we stayed for the full male review after the show—much to the dismay of the two prospects who were ordered to babysit us on our night out.
Now, our little gang of misfits was taking over a corner living room section of Edison, a super trendy bar in the Pearl District of downtown Portland that Sierra had insisted we add to our itinerary. The drinks were strong and the company was great, but the vibe wasn’t really me. I was more of a dive bar with a broken condom dispenser in the bathroom-type girl.
I waved a hand in the direction of the bar. “Harley and Stella are getting them. I needed to sit. My feet are killing me,” I said, taking a sip of water. Jesus, even the straws in this place were on-brand, nothing but the best eco-friendly paper straws for the coolest hipster bar in town.
“You’ve only been off the stage for two months, and you’re already losing your edge,” Sierra scoffed. Up until recently, I’d worked with Sierra at The Doll House, one of Portland’s best strip clubs. Seven years of dancing and out of the countless number of girls I’d worked with over the years, Sierra was one of the few I’d call a friend. Our favorite bartender, Nic, and one incredibly misguided cocktail waitress named Quinn rounded out our little group.
“Suck my dick, I could still dance circles around your bitch ass,” I said, leaning back and settling my sore feet on the low coffee table.
Sierra tilted her head back and laughed, it was melodic and loud, drawing the attention of every guy within a twenty-five-foot radius. My walking wet dream of a friend, with her Bettie Paige looks and tattoos, was the perfect hipster fantasy.
“For real though, are you going to get back on stage when Red Rabbit is up and running?” Sierra asked when she finally stopped laughing.
The Red Rabbit Room was the other reason I had no time on my hands this summer. After my abrupt departure from the stage, I proposed a partnership with the club to open our own strip joint. It didn’t take long for the brothers to agree. Because strip clubs are zoning nightmares, we went ahead and bought an already established club. After a quick escrow, construction was already underway for the remodel.
“Nah, my plastic heels are staying hung up. I’m the boss bitch now,” I said, stretching my arms out wide and almost smacking Blondie in the face. “Shit! Sorry,” I said, pulling my wild limbs back.
Blondie just snorted, falling into a fit of giggles with Candy. They did that a lot. Best friends for the better part of thirty-five-years and they still acted like a couple of teenagers.
“That reminds me,” Honey said, leaning forward. “Did you get the fabric samples I put on your desk for the booths?”
Honey had sort of adopted the role of my right hand, helping with anything and everything I needed when it came to the Red Rabbit project or the club.
I nodded and sat up, eager to discuss my new favorite subject. The Knights of Mayhem might have put up half the money, but everything else about The Red Rabbit Room was up to me. “Yeah, I think I’m going to go with the black vinyl with the snakeskin texture. It’ll look good against the red frame and tabletops.”
“Ugh! You guys are boring me. I’m gonna go see if Avett has time for
a quickie in the storage room,” Sierra said, standing and straightening her pencil skirt.
I waved her off, intending to go back to my conversation with Honey, but my gaze halted when I caught sight of Nic and Quinn sitting closer than they had been twenty minutes ago. Their heads were bent together, and Nic was saying something to the other woman as her fingertips drew shapes on Quinn’s bare knee. I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing.
Quinn was a notorious sugar daddy hunter, and after all the bets she placed on Nic convincing me to bat for the other team, she was quickly falling into the other woman’s web of Southern charm. The irony was palpable.
Before I could further analyze the situation, I found a whipped cream topped shot thrust into my face. “Drink up, bitch! The party’s just gettin’ started!”
Looking up at my sister, I saw the stubborn glint in her eye. Deciding not to argue, I reached up and took the small glass from her.
“Oh, hell no!” Harley shouted, stepping around Stella and setting a tray of shots on the cluttered table. “You gotta take it the right way,” she said, setting a shot glass on the table in front of each of us.
“Don’t forget me,” Sierra called, squeezing past Harley and reclaiming her seat beside Nic and Quinn.
“Strike out with the bartender?” I asked, setting my shot on the table and scooting to the edge of the couch.
Sierra did the same and waved a perfectly manicured hand my way. “As if. He’s coming over later,” she said. Holding her hair back, she bent forward and wrapped her ruby red lips around the shot glass and sat up, taking the shot with her.
I followed suit, trying not to choke as I swallowed back the sweet liquor.
“Incoming! The boys are on their way,” Candy said, frowning down at her phone.
It took me far too long to connect the dots and understand what the fuck she was talking about. “How do they even know where we are?” I asked, my brain still playing catchup.
Candy raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow and shot a pointed look over my shoulder. Following her gaze, I found Kainoa, the newest Knights of Mayhem prospect, standing with his back against the wall, arms folded over his broad chest.
The prospects, of course.
“Right,” I said, rolling my eyes as I turned back to the group. It’s not that I disliked the security having your own personal bodyguards provided, but it’d be nice to have one night out without a constant lurking shadow. Besides, I didn’t know Kai, no one really did besides Zero, since he was the one sponsoring the Hawaiian hottie.
Z had shown up at the club one afternoon with Kainoa, or Kai as everyone had taken to calling him, and the next day he was wearing a prospect patch and sleeping in the apartment above the garage office at the compound. No one knew his story, and he wasn’t generous with details, but he was polite, a hard worker, did as he was told, and was nice to look at, so there wasn’t much to complain about.
“Risa wanted to make sure we had a heads up,” my future mother-in-law said pointedly, narrowing her eyes on Kai.
Glancing back, I caught the remnants of a smirk on Kai’s face. He’d developed a little rivalry with Risa since he’d started working in the garage with her. Baz’s sister, Risa, was a master mechanic and did most of the work for Knights Customs, the auto shop the club owned. To say she was territorial would be putting it lightly, and from what I’d heard, Kai had been enjoying finding all her buttons to push.
I hadn’t figured out the newcomer yet—no anger management issues, quiet, but also not a brooder. Kai was perfectly sociable when the situation called for it, but other than that he seemed content to sit back and observe. Aside from pissing off Risa, which wasn’t exactly a difficult task, he was exceptionally normal.
“Is Risa still with the boys?” I asked. Since Risa was one of the ‘groomsmen,’ she’d opted to stick with the guys for the bachelor party instead of coming out with us. If it were anyone else, I’d probably be hurt my sister-in-law chose to skip my bachelorette party but considering how close Risa and Baz were, and the fact that she hated all things girly, I didn’t mind.
Candy grimaced as she downed her shot and nodded. “Yeah, they were headed back to the compound, and Baz decided they needed to pick us up on the way. Sorry, darlin’ looks like our night out is gettin’ cut short.”
“Jesus Christ, he can’t go six hours without dragging you back to his fuck cave?” Stella bitched, crossing her arms on a huff.
I smiled at the thought of Baz coming in here and going all caveman on me. I complained about his Neanderthal ways, but it was secretly one of my favorite things about him. There was just something so panty-melting hot about a man picking you up and hauling you back to bed.
Shifting in my seat, I crossed and uncrossed my legs, trying to alleviate the need for friction. Even if I wanted to, I wouldn’t be able to stay away from Baz the night before our wedding. Just thinking about him made me hot and needy.
“Why don’t I buy you a drink and let’s see if we can make your night a little better,” a twenty-something guy in a beanie asked, leaning over the back of the chair and into Stella’s space.
Stella’s head reared back, and she opened her mouth, I was sure to spew venom, but Kai cut her off, appearing out of nowhere.
“She’s not interested,” he said in his deep timbre.
I watched in part amusement, part horror as my sister’s head snapped up to where Kai stood looming. I could pinpoint the second she decided to make a point instead of letting the scene play out.
“Actually, I make my own decisions, so yes, I’d love a drink,” she said sweetly, standing up.
Kai sidestepped, blocking her way. “No.”
“Chill, it’s just a drink,” Stella gritted out.
“It’s not happening,” Kai said, his tone nothing but steel.
Kai was blowing this way out of proportion. Someone needed to diffuse the situation and fast because it didn’t look like Stella was anywhere near ready to give up the fight.
Before I could jump in, beanie guy piped up. “Yeah man, chill,” he said, straightening and taking a step around the chair.
Was this guy fucking suicidal?
I looked around frantically for Cato, the other prospect that had been tasked as our security for the evening, but I couldn’t see him anywhere.
“I’d re-think that if I were you,” Kai said. Arms at his sides, I watched as his hands curled into fists. “This is your one warning, don’t fucking push it, man.”
What happened next played out in slow motion. Beanie dude reached out and shoved at Kai’s shoulder, causing his body to jerk and bump into Stella. Since they were standing so close, this caused Stella to fall back into the chair right as Z rounded the corner—making it look like Kai had shoved her.
That’s when shit got real.
“THE FUCK?” Z’s voice boomed over the music just as Kai reached out to grab the hipster by the collar.
Ice. Liquid ice filled my veins at the sound of Z’s usually raspy voice echoing in my ears. It took a lot to scare me, but two words from Zero did the trick.
Kai turned his head, which opened him up for beanie dude to land a vicious punch to his jaw. Z was already launching himself at Kai, fist at the ready. Zero missed and sent a crushing blow straight into the middle of beanie dude’s face just as Kai recovered enough to send his fist flying. The tangle of men fell to the side, sending chairs skidding across the polished concrete floor. After a short scuffle, Z hauled Kai up by his cut and landed a bone-crunching blow to the side of the younger man’s face, sending him flying back into the middle of our group. Kai landed hard, turning the reclaimed farm wood coffee table into kindling at our feet.
I darted a look at my sister. She was still sitting in the leather chair where she’d fallen. Her face a mask of shock as she watched the men go at it. In reality, the scuffle didn’t last long, maybe a minute tops. The rest of the brothers who’d been a few seconds behind Z were quick to jump in and break up the fight.
&
nbsp; Jester hauled Z back, but he viciously jerked out of Jester’s grip. Head down and nostrils flaring, Z started pacing in front of Stella’s chair. His hunched shoulders heaved with each heavy exhale, but I was fairly certain his labored breaths were due to rage rather than physical exertion.
“Don’t let anyone tell you that you don’t know how to make a memorable entrance, Killer,” Stella huffed, getting to her feet. Any sign of dismay or worry I’d seen earlier wiped clean. She reached out and tugged on Z’s cut. “Come on, let’s go back to the compound, I want to kick your ass at pool again.”
Z stilled and waited as Stella picked her way through the shrapnel from the table. Without sparing a glance at his brothers, Z turned and followed Stella out of the bar. A month ago, I would’ve been worried sick at the prospect of my sister being around Z after an outburst like that, but they had a weird connection. Like this strange symbiotic friendship; Z got to play knight in shining armor, and Stella felt safe with him. After the shit hand she’d been dealt over the years, I wasn’t about to object to something that made her feel safe—even if that thing was a six-foot-four Viking-like mammoth of a man with crazy serial killer eyes.
“We should go,” I said turning to Baz who’d come to my side during the commotion. “Someone’s probably already called the cops.”
He sighed and nodded as he assessed the damage. “Crow, settle up at the bar and throw in a few bills for the chairs and table. The rest of you, back to the club,” Baz said gesturing for everyone to round up and get gone.
TWO
BAZ
I was going to murder Z. Straight up, murder the motherfucker.
One night, that’s all I wanted. One night without a fucking shitshow to clean up. Was that so hard?
Twisted Tales of Mayhem Page 68
