Clubs: Motorcycle Club Romance (Savage Saints MC Book 6)

by Hazel Parker

  “You’re right we could probably get some of the weaker members in here to start talking, but it’s also true that there’s no way Scar would reveal plans to their members. They have a very divided structure. Each person only knows what they have to know and not a word more. If we ask some prospect what the Sinners’ plans are, they wouldn’t know the plan from their asshole.”

  I nodded glumly. I looked over to BK, who didn’t make any moves.

  “You two figure it out and come back to us when you have a plan for how to handle this,” Richard said. “And I expect you two to have an answer before the end of the night. Whatever the fuck you need to do to figure things out, do it. I’m not letting these shitholes get away with this any longer. Dom. Go get our poker guest.”

  BK stood, nodded to the door, and I begrudgingly followed. I hated that he was the one taking the lead here.

  I followed him through the theatre, ignoring the mass of people watching the performance on stage. I looked out to try to see Cassie, but she wasn’t out there. It was just as well—if she had been on stage, I probably would have stopped to catch a glance, and if BK tried to interrupt me from doing so, I definitely would have murdered him on the spot.

  We walked outside, BK ignoring Walker and me nodding to him.

  “What’s your plan, hot shot?” I said as we got to the side of the building.

  “Call me BK or don’t say anything,” BK said. “We’re going to get all of the addresses Scar has ever lived at and use that.”

  “Did you not hear a goddamn word that Richard just said?” I said, ignoring BK’s flippant dismissal of me. “Or do you California folks not listen if you don’t like what you hear?”

  BK, using his height, tried to stare me down, but I just stared right back at him.

  “Since the day I showed, you have hated me,” he said. “I’m here for a reason. Work with me or fight me.”

  “Is that a threat?”

  “Yes.”

  Hey, at least I could say BK was honest about it.

  “I work for one fucking person, and that’s Richard,” I said.

  “I said with, not for,” BK responded.

  “Then I work with three other fucking people, Dom, Pork, and Mama. Unless you wanna change your club name or unless you’re secretly a butch woman, I am not fucking working with you.”

  “So that’s how you’re gonna be, huh?” BK said. “Then I will let Richard know.”

  “Tattle to the teacher, huh? That’s nice.”

  I didn’t hear another word, because BK landed a wicked hard punch on my arm that left me reeling and my shoulder feeling numb.

  “I’m not here to fight anyone except the Sinners,” he said. “If you won’t work with me, then stay out of my way.”

  “So what?” I said. “So you and Trace can take over this club? So you can get the profits of this place?”

  BK’s expression didn’t change much, but here, he gave me a real look of confusion.

  “The fuck?”

  “I’m not stupid,” I said. “You—”

  “You’re out of your fucking mind,” BK said. “I have zero interest in taking over here. Whatever Trace said to Richard is between them. I’m here as a favor to Richard.”

  A small part of my mind told me that I had just let this spiral out of control, that if I had just stopped to consider Richard’s perspective, maybe I could have worked with BK better and we could have solved this.

  Too bad my emotions were raging hot right now.

  “Fine,” I said. “But even that aside, this is my club. You let me lead.”

  “We both lead.”

  “No, I lead,” I said.

  “You think this is leading the club?” BK said. “You’re being a child.”

  “Fuck off.”

  “Not until you’re gone.”

  That’s all I needed to hear. BK might have meant it as me leaving my immature ways behind, but to me, it was like hearing that he wanted me to quit. I socked him in the gut and followed that up by slamming him into the wall.

  Unfortunately, I had chosen my fight very poorly. I was strong, and I was big, but unless I was willing to use knives and guns—something that, even here, would have gotten me kicked out of the Saints—I was about to get my ass kicked.

  Just before I delivered a strong right hook, BK raised his arm and blocked it. With his greater reach, he delivered a right punch to my face. It wasn’t that strong, given he couldn’t coil back with the wall behind him, but it stunned me long enough that I staggered back.

  He was on me in a flash. I suddenly remembered as he swept out my leg from underneath me that this man had trained in the Marines and knew exactly what he was doing; I had trained in MMA and with knives, and while one taught how to win a fight, the other taught how to kill.

  BK’s foot was on my throat a second later.

  “I could fucking kill you right now,” BK said.

  “Enough!”

  Richard’s voice broke through the din as Mama and Pork followed outside.

  “What the fuck is going on here?” Richard said. “You two came to blows? Right here in front of the club?”

  I stood up quickly, catching my breath in gasps. Richard had his eyes on me first.

  “What happened?”

  “What happened,” I said, catching my breath, “is that you brought in a fucking replacement for me, a replacement that has no regard for this. We had one bad incident with the Sinners and now you want to call in help.”

  Richard raised his arms, confusion on his face.

  “No fucking shit I wanted help!” he said. “We don’t have the manpower to win a fight like this! We need the help!”

  “So call in members and prospects, not that asshole!”

  “Barber!”

  But Mama slapped me hard before Richard could say another word.

  What the fuck was all of this? Was everyone in the club just ganging up on me right now? For all I had done for the club… now I was the one being accused of doing all wrong?

  “Get your prideful head out of your sensitive asshole and listen to us,” Mama said. “We need help. We all need help. You need help. You think you don’t, but when we’re outgunned and going to die, you’ll sure wish you had help. The world is not so small that only one sergeant-at-arms can exist. So stop acting like a goddamn pussy—”

  That was it. Maybe it was childish, but I didn’t fucking care. For all that I had done, for all that I’d gone through, for all that I had fought for, I was not going to be called a goddamn pussy.

  “You have a sergeant right there,” I said. “If I’m not needed, I’ll go where I am.”

  With that, I glared at BK before turning around and storming off.

  “Barber!” Richard yelled, but there was no going back now.

  I needed to get away from all of this. I needed to retreat somewhere safe. I needed to just… fuck.

  I needed to go somewhere where it didn’t feel like everyone was jumping ship to be with or near someone else. I needed to be somewhere where I didn’t, well…

  Where I didn’t feel abandoned.

  The last thing I heard before I got on my bike was Mama begging me not to leave, her voice almost sounding strained. Instead, I rode right by her, coming within inches of hitting her before I peeled out onto Sahara Avenue, heading home.

  There was only one thing in my life, it seemed, that wouldn’t abandon me.

  But even she was someone who had done it before.

  Maybe I was as alone as I feared.

  Chapter 14: Cassie

  I heard what sounded like shouting outside of The Red Door in between appearances on stage, but I was much too present in my performance to pay them any heed.

  I had a show to give, and I was in a pretty damn good state of bliss and happiness with how easily Brett and I had managed to come together the past couple of days. Some assholes fighting outside couldn’t disrupt or bother me.

  The audience didn’t seem to care eithe
r, because they never left their chairs except to grab a drink or during the intermission. I never heard anything from one of the dancers, either, and when we gave our final bow to signal the end of the show, I had forgotten that a fight had even taken place. I just wanted to get dressed, find Brett, and continue our romp that had started two nights ago.

  When I got out of the dressing room and headed to the theatre’s seating, though, Brett was nowhere to be found. The only two people left were Mama and someone I think they called Pork, though I just knew him as the guy who seemed to always have food on him and said ridiculous things.

  “Whatcha looking for, doll?” Mama said, her voice sounding strangely emotional and bothered.

  “Is Brett around? Or, err, Barber?”

  Mama arched an eyebrow before letting out a sigh.

  “You’re fucking him now, aren’t you?”

  Well, that’s pretty on the nose.

  “I mean, he’s an old flame of mine from way before; didn’t I tell you that?”

  “Not to my knowledge,” she said.

  I gulped as I realized that perhaps I hadn’t told Mama the truth about Brett and me. I’d just imagined I had, maybe as a way to reassure myself or Brett that we were OK no matter what happened.

  “Shoulda fucking asked if we had any conflict of interest,” Mama said with a sigh before she walked off.

  I loved Mama, but her response to that pissed me off. She could have at least helped me find Brett or at least told me where he might have gone. Maybe something had come up, or maybe he’d just gone home knowing I’d be there shortly as well. But no, because I’d had a previous relationship, that was apparently grounds for being a bitch to me.

  Whatever, I thought. I’m only going to be here six more months anyway.

  Six more months…

  Six more months until I wouldn’t be around Brett anymore.

  Oh, fuck…

  I had completely forgotten that promise to myself when I was speaking to Brett the past few days. If I didn’t handle this right, the cycle was going to repeat itself all over again—and this time, I didn’t think he’d take me back in another fifteen years. If I handled it well, maybe I could stay a little longer, or Brett could follow me.

  But my destiny almost certainly didn’t involve me staying in Las Vegas. UNLV had a law program, but I didn’t have an interest in practicing law in Vegas. Nothing about the city besides Brett’s presence had me wanting to stay here, and if I could take him with me, then what was the point of us trying to be here?

  But if Brett didn’t want to leave Las Vegas… if he was as attached to the club and to The Red Door as he seemed to be…

  Oh, God. Maybe we aren’t meant to be together. Maybe it’ll be better if we just end this now before things get bad.

  No, Cassie, don’t think like that. Not yet, at least.

  At least now I had his phone number to call and didn’t have to rely on him appearing at the club. I stepped outside, headed to my car, and dialed Brett’s number.

  “Hey, baby,” he said.

  Is he… is he drunk? Don’t say anything.

  “Hey, sexy, where are you?” I said, trying to mask the concern in my voice. “I just finished the show and don’t see you around.”

  “Oh, yeah, that,” he said with a dry laugh.

  What’s going on? Brett, are you about to pull some sort of game on me here?

  “I went home. I quit the Saints.”

  “What?” I said, gasping.

  “Yeah. I got in a fight with BK, some asshole outsider. I decided I wanted no part of this club anymore, so I quit.”

  “Holy shit, Brett.”

  I had no idea how to react to that. He hadn’t said a goddamn word about quitting the club. And now, because of one fight, he had quit?

  I couldn’t tell him right now about leaving in six months, or in the near future. That was too much to throw onto his plate. I felt justified that this was not me being a coward, but instead a smart move; Brett had to be in a calm state before I had a conversation like that with him.

  “So then, where are you?” I finally said after a long silence.

  “I’m at my place,” he said. “Having a few drinks. Nothing crazy.”

  Damnit, Brett. You’re lucky we’ve already had sex and it wouldn’t be creepy anymore.

  “OK, stay where you are. I’m going to come over.”

  “Please do, I need you, Cassie.”

  “I… I need you too.”

  I hadn’t expected this complete turn from bitter quitter to emotionally needy. Then again, he was drunk, so it was pretty sensible.

  I hung up a short moment later after saying goodbye and gunned my car to his apartment. He did live in a very nice spot, but there was something about it not being The Red Door that just left me feeling a little sad. It felt like it was where he slept, but it wasn’t his home. That was The Red Door.

  I knocked on his door and stood back as he opened it. He had a bemused smirk on his face, reeked of whiskey, and had on a wife beater shirt and gym shorts.

  “You OK?” I said, not bothering to hide my disgust with his look.

  “I will be,” he said. “But I’m so glad you’re here.”

  He came in for a hug, which would have been sweet, if not for the fact that I could also smell cigarette smoke on his shirt. It was as if he’d indulged in all of my least favorite parts of him, as if he were testing if I still liked him at this moment. I loved him, but I didn’t like this part of him.

  “I’m just glad you’re fine,” I said as I tried to push away.

  He leaned in to kiss me, and I accepted the kiss, but it wasn’t one I particularly liked. Brett noticed, a bit of a scowl on his face as he moved back into the apartment.

  “Are you fine?” he said.

  “Yeah,” I said reflexively. “I just don’t like the smell of cigarettes. And that’s what—”

  “Hey, I’ve had a bad day, I’m sorry,” he said.

  He didn’t sound sarcastic or mean, I did give him that.

  “Anyway, yeah, I’m done. I quit. I felt unwanted, and if I’m not wanted, then I won’t stay there.”

  “Unwanted?” I said, surprised.

  I didn’t have grounds or the means to fight back. It just seemed very unlikely that that was the case. If Mama knew he had something of a reputation, he had to have had time to develop said reputation.

  “Yeah, brought in some asshole to do my job.”

  I bit my lip before saying anything else. Sometimes, even men just wanted to be heard and not given a solution.

  “I’m sorry, Brett,” I said, stroking his arm as he lay on the couch. “I’m really sorry.”

  “It’s fine,” he said. Then he gave a sad, short laugh. “You’ll have to give me the gossip on the club.”

  I smirked and gave a slight snort at that. You need to tell him you won’t be there more than six months. You need to tell him you won’t be there much longer, Cassie.

  “Well, I’m not quitting anytime soon,” I said.

  That was barely true. And that was not a good thing to say, especially since I would have to say the full truth later. I felt so guilty, I was sure my face gave it away.

  “Good,” Brett said. “I’d hate to think that you’d be right out the door as soon as you showed up. It’s like, hello, we’re just getting started, right?”

  I smirked as he laughed and then fell face first into my lap, his eyes closed.

  “You’re gonna pass out, huh?”

  Brett nodded.

  “I may have had a bit more to drink than I imagined,” he admitted. “This shit may have bothered me more than I have let on.”

  “That’s how you and I both are,” I said with some sadness in my voice.

  We both were very good, almost too good, at hiding things from the other person. Like me right now, for example.

  “But we can work to overcome it, right?” Brett said, his voice getting quieter as he got closer to passing out.

 
I nodded.

  “Yeah,” I said. “We can.”

  But would we?

  That was something I didn’t have the answer to. And when I did get the answer, I wasn’t sure that I would like it, either.

  Chapter 15: Barber

  I woke up to the sound of bacon and eggs sizzling in the kitchen, with their smell wafting over toward me just moments later.

  It was hard to start a morning better than that. It was also much needed given how the previous night had gone. At least the night had ended well.

  Sluggishly, with less of a hangover than I had anticipated, I reached for my cell phone and checked my messages. I had three messages from Mama, two from Richard.

  “Talk to me, Barb. What’s going on?” “Barber, just promise me you got home safe.” “Call me when you get up, please.” Those were Mama’s messages.

  “Hey bud, can you call me so we can talk about this?” “Hope you’re feeling OK. Let’s chat when you can.” Those were Richard’s messages.

  I had no intention of reaching back out to either. So long as BK was hanging around the Saints here in Vegas, there was no reason to reach out. Richard and Mama had made their choice. BK would be their sergeant-at-arms.

  Maybe I was being a stubborn jackass in this. OK, I was definitely being a stubborn jackass in this. But BK’s behavior made me feel more than justified.

  I had no idea what I was going to do but starting with breakfast with the woman that I loved seemed like a good idea. I slowly got up, stretched out, felt the hangover hit a little bit harder, and put a smile on.

  “Good morning, beautiful,” I said with a groggy voice as I walked in.

  Cassie was always beautiful, and seeing her back turned to me, in her Chucks, her gym shorts, and her pink shirt was no different. But when she turned me, she did not look anything close to top beauty. Bags formed under her eyes, a weary smile masked fatigue, and she looked on the verge of hunching all the way over to the ground with her posture.

  “Hey,” she said.

  Poor girl looked like she hadn’t slept at all the previous night. Probably because she took care of my drunk ass.

  “Sorry about last night,” I said. “I know I smelled bad and drank too much. Just a bad day at the office.”