by Hazel Parker
Clubs
Savage Saints MC
~
Hazel Parker
Clubs (Savage Saints MC Series) © 2019 Hazel Parker
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This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1: Barber
Chapter 2: Cassie
Chapter 3: Barber
Chapter 4: Cassie
Chapter 5: Barber
Chapter 6: Cassie
Chapter 7: Barber
Chapter 8: Cassie
Chapter 9: Barber
Chapter 10: Cassie
Chapter 11: Barber
Chapter 12: Cassie
Chapter 13: Barber
Chapter 14: Cassie
Chapter 15: Barber
Chapter 16: Cassie
Chapter 17: Barber
Chapter 18: Cassie
Chapter 19: Barber
Chapter 20: Cassie
Chapter 21: Barber
Chapter 22: Cassie
Epilogue
Accidental Forever (Sneak Peak)
Other Books by Hazel Parker
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Author Bio
He didn’t expect to see her again …
Nothing in Barber’s life is going the way it should.
As the sergeant at arms for the Savage Saints MC,
his president should trust him to oversee the combat operations of the club.
Instead, with a growing threat from a rival club,
the pres has brought in the sergeant at arms from their brother club in California.
When he goes to the Red Door to drown his sorrows in his favorite way—
booze and women—
he comes face to face with the last woman he ever expects to see:
Cassie Erickson.
She’s one of the new dancers,
and his high school sweetheart who left without a word 15 years ago.
There are so many reasons he should stay away from her—
She broke his heart and still won’t tell him why,
and she’s already planning to quit the Red Door,
but he’s drawn to her like a moth to a flame.
With their rivals a constant threat, the thought of losing her again is unbearable.
Will she ever trust him enough to reveal her secrets?
And can he get over his hurt to trust her not to abandon him again?
Prologue
Brett “Barber” Pierce
“I’ve reached out to the Savage Saints in Green Hills for help.”
I supposed that to everyone else in that room, hearing that Richard, the club president, had called in the reinforcements was invigorating. Now, not only would we have a tactical advantage against the Degenerate Sinners, not only would we have an advantage in resource and talent, but we’d also at least not be so disadvantaged from a manpower perspective. We might not exactly match them in numbers, but with everything else, the one thing they had on us would vanish.
That’s what I figured, at least, the rest of the club felt. It was not what I was thinking.
I just felt like I had failed Richard and the Savage Saints of Las Vegas at large. I had failed to do my job, because if I had protected the club and handled its dirty business, we wouldn’t fucking need the Savage Saints of Green Hills to come and help.
But no. Richard didn’t think I’d done well enough. And after one of our own had fallen in the most recent attack on the Sokolov’s house, I couldn’t blame him for that. But I sure as hell could blame him for thinking I wouldn’t learn from the error.
I’d been with the club for damn near a decade. In that time, before the incident with the Sinners, the worst that had happened was some teenagers drawing graffiti on our building, a task which I dealt with easily and which resulted in no repeat incidents. What the Sinners had done went well beyond that, but I was assigned the role of sergeant-at-arms for a reason.
Apparently, that reason was to be humiliated in front of the club.
“Love it!” Dom, the club VP and its most youthful member, exclaimed, much to my chagrin. “We’re gonna bury those fuckers and then bury ourselves into some women to celebrate.”
“Watch it, pretty boy,” Mama, the treasurer in name but a de facto co-president in practice, said. “We have no guarantee that they’re gonna help. I don’t know if you know this, but Richard has some smoothing over he needs to do. Turns out if you don’t call your little niece for several years, you can’t just pick up the phone and expect help.”
“You’re gonna have to collect some goodwill for that call!” Pork, the club secretary, said, leading all of us to groan.
Thankfully, Pork’s words masked the fact that I was the only one not to say anything. I knew if I said something, it would have a biting effect on the room’s atmosphere. Mama may have tempered it some, but she hadn’t expressed disdain, just doubt.
“In any case,” Richard said, taking control of the room. “It’s an ongoing process, but my niece Jane and her husband, who is also the president over there, at least expressed interest in further dialogue. You know how this goes. Blood may be thicker than water, but blood of the family is the thickest of them all.”
“Uh-huh,” Dom said. “Did you make that up, Richard, or did you find it on your new girlfriend’s Instagram account?”
“Says the boy who probably stalks all of his lovers’ social media,” Mama said.
“Hey now,” Dom said.
“OK, on topic,” Richard said, slapping the table, just short of angrily. “Barber.”
Shit. I had to choose my next words carefully, if for no other reason than that my reserved nature meant that when I did snap, I tended not to say the nicest things.
“I haven’t heard a word from you yet. Thoughts?”
I sighed and leaned back against the plush chair. My facial expression probably already gave away how I felt about this. That didn’t mean I couldn’t play politics, though.
“I think that, as president, you have the right to do whatever the fuck you want.”
Probably too strong.
“I do think this is a bit abrupt. We handled our business pretty well. Lost one, they lost what feels like dozens. I think we can handle our shit just fine without bringing in some pretty boys from California.”
“What’s wrong with pretty boys?” Dom said with a smirk, but I ignored him.
A tense silence settled on the room. Dom maintained his smirk, but it was a forced smile. Mama had her hands on the table, folding and twisting them. Pork looked like he wanted to speak but knew better. Richard kept his eyes on me while I just stared.
“Fair point,” Richard said. “But the thing to remember, Barber, is that this can be as much a security and preventative measure as an offensive attack. The Sinners will think twice about striking at us if they know tha
t we’ll have a couple dozen men here.”
There was too much wrong with that train of thought. I didn’t see how some Cali boys would do anything more than come down for a week-long run to help us, as if it would send a message to the Sinners. I didn’t see how such a measure would intimidate the Sinners given that they seemed to have no shame in raiding a billionaire’s house party—if that didn’t say “we don’t give a fuck,” nothing did.
But I was not the president. Part of playing politics was knowing when to make a stand and when to keep capital in the bank, and right now, there wasn’t anything to be gained by fighting a losing battle.
“Makes sense,” I said with a sigh I couldn’t repress. “I guess if it manages to knock out the Sinners or make them think twice before coming after us, I’m all for it.”
I’ll have to bring this up when Richard is alone, or when the other Saints get here. He’s too energized after hearing from his niece.
“Then it’s settled,” Richard said, and I most certainly noticed the sly smile forming on his face. “We’ll have to worry about logistics, but for now, Jane and Trace said they’d send someone here soon to discuss more. Dom, let’s go and get our guest this week, shall we?”
It was all cocky smirks, relaxed body postures, and easy jokes from there as Igor Sokolov, the billionaire whose house had gotten robbed and whose daughter was now seeing Richard, appeared. It was nice to see someone relaxed. It was nice to see someone whose job hadn’t gotten swept up from under them.
The poker game went off without a hitch, I suspect in part because Richard was in some mood seeing Mr. Sokolov, having Jane come back around, and having a plan for the Degenerate Sinners to fall. It didn’t hurt matters that Igor, despite having his party raided, seemed to be in good spirits with Richard. I just couldn’t help but retreat inward.
Mama noticed. Her glances to me were not subtle, and though she made no quips, I could see her trying to make eye contact with me. It helped from external appearances that I was probably the most introverted of the group.
When the game finally ended, I had lost about two hundred bucks, something of a rarity for me. It wasn’t just because of the cards, either; I had trouble focusing and wondering what good I was if, at the first sign of trouble, Richard ran to some pretty Cali boys.
As was the norm, Igor walked out first. Pork looked to Mama—all of us were wondering when, not if, that would convert into a romantic dynamic—but Mama’s eyes weren’t turned to him right now.
They were on me.
“Pork,” she said, not turning her gaze from me. “Give us a moment.”
“OK, it’s been a moment, and—”
Mama smacked him without turning to him.
“What’s going on?” she said once the door to the main burlesque stage had closed.
“What do you mean, what’s—”
“Don’t bullshit me, Barber,” she said. “You’ve got as bad a poker face as a drunk tourist from Hawaii. Something about the Saints being called from California is busting your balls. You may not open up to Richard, but you can damn sure tell me what’s going on.”
That seemed like a really good way to tell the rest of the club by proxy.
“And have Pork and Richard find out through you?”
“Yes, but in ways that will benefit you,” she said. “Come on, don’t be stupid. I know how to stroke Richard’s ego and get what we want.”
I knew that every moment that passed in which I didn’t respond was another reason for Mama to believe I was hiding something. I just…
“Whatever it takes to kill the Sinners,” I growled. “Not interested in the politics of it.”
“In the aftermath, you will be,” Mama said. “What’s—”
“Mama, I’m fine,” I said sternly, rising from my chair. “Whatever bullshit is bothering me, it’s not going to bother me enough for me not to do my job or to undercut Richard. So let it fucking drop, OK?”
Mama bit her lip, glared at me, and shook her head.
“Fine,” she said. “Just remember, Barber. You may be the sergeant-at-arms, but that doesn’t mean you’re a goddamn mute. Understood?”
I didn’t respond.
“It’s one of the new girls’ first nights. I’m gonna go talk to her and make sure all is good. And do me a favor, Barber. Whatever shit you’re deciding to keep inside, don’t let it transform into fucking one of my girls. I swear I’m going to kill you and Dom before I kill a Sinner for the way you hit on my women.”
“Uh-huh,” I said. “I don’t know who the new girl is, so you’re fine.”
Mama just rolled her eyes as she headed out to the burlesque stage. Dom and Richard walked in a few moments later, but I walked out to the theatre as well. After Richard’s announcement, I had no real reason to be there if I wasn’t useful.
* * *
Cassie Erickson
It’s never been better than this.
I had never done a burlesque show in my life, but I’d done strip club gigs elsewhere, so it wasn’t like I’d never performed for strangers before in a topless fashion. If anything, this was a much easier gig than stripping since I didn’t have to sit on the laps of smelly men, obese men, creepers, or just men I didn’t have an attraction to.
It was all part of a process that had begun in my teen years, continued through my college years, and now into my late twenties. I was building the funds to eventually go to graduate school, get a real job, and leave this life behind. I didn’t hate this life, not by any means, but it made dating a hell of a lot harder than it should have been.
And considering that the last real relationship I had ended in tears, heartbreak, and a whole lot of silence, I wasn’t exactly eager to settle for whatever I could get.
But that process was near an end. The Red Door paid a thousand bucks a night, making this almost more profitable than being a lawyer would be, at least in at first. Considering that that meant I’d make three grand a week, it was easy to see the six-figure amounts piling up quite quickly.
I went out for my first routine, and I had to admit, I was a little bit nervous. I had danced for some famous people in my day as a stripper—the times when I’d get flattered and flustered by the name of the man before me had faded at least five years ago—but I’d never done it for so many famous people in such a small place.
But the other girls were supportive and encouraging, and after the first few seconds of feeling the chilly air brush over me, the dancing not only went smoothly, but it went without thought. It was pure flow, no thinking or heavy improvisation needed.
When I got to the back, many of the girls congratulated me, including Crystal, one of the more senior members of the dance troupe. None, though, meant as much to me as Mama—an owner of the place and the one that looked after all of us.
“Cassie,” she said in her raspy yet still sensual voice. “You looked beautiful out there, doll. How’d it feel for you?”
“Thanks, really good,” I said, still in disbelief that I had progressed from small-town Arizona strip club all the way here. “Like… really good. Sorry, don’t have the words.”
“You’re fine,” Mama said. “You were a treat to watch. You still got a couple more routines, right?”
I nodded. Mama was never this complimentary. She was sweet and protective, but she was not afraid to tell us if we fucked up; it didn’t seem like it was in her DNA to be the woman who would say, “It’s OK, you’ll get it next round!” if we failed.
“Good. There was something I forgot to tell you, by the way,” she said, leaning close and out of earshot of the other girls. “There are two members of the Savage Saints here who seem to take a special delight in pursuing dancers. I slap the shit out of them when I find out, and I’ll slap the shit out of you, dear. Don’t fuck them if they try.”
I nodded. That was not going to be a problem. As I said, I hadn’t had a serious relationship in a while, and even just for casual sex, I hadn’t had a relationship with a client or a bo
ss in years. I’d had one when I just started in Arizona, but that went south so fast, I learned equally quickly not to make that mistake again.
“We’ve had girls quit because they get upset when Dom and Barber fuck ‘em and dump ‘em,” Mama said. “Technically, it’s not in your contract, but I’m here to tell you that you’re gonna throw away six figures a year if you need to get some dick in you. Fuck any of the clients, but don’t fuck anyone in the Saints.”
“OK,” I said. “Got it.”
“We’ll see,” Mama said with a sad chuckle. “Every girl I talk to says that. But they all said the same thing you did, and only the ones who followed through are still here. Understood?”
I nodded again. There wasn’t anything that could be said to satisfy Mama’s maternal instincts, and in any case, I didn’t need to say anything. Biker guys weren’t my thing, anyway.
Lots of things weren’t my thing after the past.
“Good girl,” she said. “Have fun and keep at it. You’re a real treat to see.”
I smiled as Mama walked away, yakking at Felicia about having more makeup on before she went out. At that moment, I didn’t see how Mama’s speech could mean anything. Whoever these Barber and Dom characters were, they couldn’t be hotter than anyone I had already seen, couldn’t be more charming than anyone I’d spoken to, and couldn’t be more persuasive than anyone who had hit on me already.
And then I went out for my second show, and I saw…
Him.
He wasn’t there the first time. I would have instantly zoned in on him, and it was a damn good thing he wasn’t there on my first show—Mama would have fired me on the spot for the way I would have wobbled.
But he was there now.
I didn’t know who these Barber or Dom characters were, and I didn’t care. But I for sure knew who Brett Pierce was, and I had a feeling that we weren’t just going to look at each other across the theatre for the rest of my time here.
We had too much of a past for it to remain that way.
Chapter 1: Barber