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

by Hazel Parker

  Cassie sniffled.

  “I could,” she said. “I just… I don’t know. It’s all so much. There’s so much to think about. There are better schools, for one.”

  Like what? I didn’t say that thought out loud, though. I didn’t want her to feel like I was accusing her of hiding something, even if a part of me was beginning to believe that there was something being left unsaid.

  “What are you going to do?” Cassie said. “What will you do?”

  I sighed. I knew the answer.

  “I need to reconnect with the Saints,” I said. “I need to apologize. My ego and fears of being pushed aside got in the way. And… I need to apologize to BK.”

  Cassie gently ran her right hand over my hair and then on my cheek.

  “It sounds like the right decision.”

  “I hope so,” I said. “But what about you? What about us?”

  Cassie opened her eyes. From how close I was to her, I could only see her eyes, not her lips or anything else. But they narrowed as if in a smile.

  “Brett…” she began. “We—”

  And then my fucking phone rang. Cassie actually laughed.

  “Fuck that phone,” I said. “Great timing, huh?”

  “Right?” Cassie said with a laugh borne as much out of comedic relief as anything else. “You can answer it if you want.”

  “Nah,” I said.

  But then, when the ringtone ended, whoever had called did so again. I rolled my eyes.

  “OK, fine,” I said, only now pulling out.

  Fuck, my dick was sensitive. But damn if it didn’t feel fucking good. Damn if it wasn’t one of the best physical and emotional moments I’d had in my life.

  The way Cassie had responded to me made me believe there was hope for us down the line.

  I grabbed the phone and saw Richard calling me.

  “I really don’t—”

  “Brett,” she said reassuringly. “It’s OK.”

  I sighed, hit “Answer,” and held the phone to my ear.

  “You’re calling at a hell of a time,” I said, trying to keep my tone light.

  “It is a hell of a time, and I don’t mean that in a good way, Barber,” Richard said.

  Uh oh.

  “I know you’ve been gone and don’t want to hear from us. But BK just got attacked coming to our Tuesday night party. He’s fine, and his girlfriend is still in California. But he’s in no condition to go out into the field. We need a sergeant-at-arms, Barber. We need you.”

  Those three words were words I had sworn I never needed… but now that I heard them, I realized I had to have them. They were the reassurance I needed to know I was still a valued member of the club.

  I looked at Cassie. I mouthed the words “they need me.” Her response was immediate.

  “Go.”

  “Alright, fuckers,” I said to the phone. “I’ll be there in about ten.”

  “Hurry up if you can,” Richard said. “We need to strike at these assholes now. We’ve got some of the California Saints. We have the numbers.”

  “Acknowledged,” I said. “See you in a few.”

  I hung up then, looked at Cassie, and laughed.

  “So tonight was supposed to be our last night—”

  “It won’t be,” Cassie said. “I promise.”

  I smiled like a school kid on the last day before summer, even though I was about to get back into a dangerous, bloody situation. Cassie may not have committed to permanently staying here, but to have her beyond tonight was the biggest win I could have realistically achieved at this point.

  “I’ll entertain myself somehow,” she said. “You go take care of whatever you need to do and then come home to me. You got it?”

  “I got it,” I said. I leaned forward and kissed her. “I love you, Cassie.”

  “And I love you, Brett,” she said, a smirk slowly forming. “But if you don’t go out there, I’m going to show you how tough my love can be!”

  We both shared a laugh before I hurriedly got dressed. I had everything on but one thing as I headed for the closet.

  My cut.

  I grabbed it and looked at it. It had the Savage Saints logo on the back, my patch on the chest, and the worn look of someone who’d been with the club for years.

  Fuck yes, it felt good to be back.

  * * *

  True to my word, I was back at the club in ten minutes.

  And I had never felt so invigorated and so determined to kick some ass. I had Cassie for at least tomorrow. I had found the confidence and the assurance from the club I needed to return. And most of all, I’d come to terms with my insecurities leading me to act like such a fucking dick to BK and the rest of the club.

  If that wasn’t the recipe needed to head out into the city and kick some ass, nothing was.

  I knocked on the back door of The Red Door, which Mama answered.

  “Well, well, well, Hair Cutter here decided to show up,” she said, but she wore a huge grin as she did so. “Welcome back, asshole.”

  “Feels good to be back,” I said as I looked over her shoulder and saw the other club members standing there.

  One by one, I exchanged hugs with Pork, Dom, and Richard. None of them looked like they begrudged my absence; none of them looked like they hated that I had vanished for some time.

  But the real test, it turned out, was BK, who was seated with a sling around his arm. My smile faded, but I knew what I had to do.

  “Hey, man,” I said, as I walked over. “Sorry for everything.”

  “You and me both,” he said with a snort. “Sorry.”

  Wow. That easy, huh?

  “I talked some sense into him,” Mama said. “Just as I talked some sense into your sorry ass, Barber.”

  Should have known. There’s no greater force for this club than Mama.

  “Work together?” I said, extending a hand.

  “You’re going to have to extend your left hand here, bud,” BK said. “But yes. Work together.”

  It was amusingly awkward to have to shake with my off hand, but the point was made all the same.

  “What the hell happened, anyway?” I asked.

  “Just happened in the last hour. Mama and Pork finished putting this on about thirty seconds before you walked in,” BK said. “Got hit coming from the north.”

  “So we think that the Sinners are hiding out in one of those spots just south of downtown but north of Stratosphere,” Richard said. “I think you know that it’s a super sketchy place.”

  “Well, duh,” I said. “Think we should get some revenge now, huh?”

  All eyes turned to me.

  “What? I’m serious.”

  “Just like that, huh,” Richard said.

  “Hey, just like that,” I said. I shot a smile to BK. “Anytime a Sinner attacks a Saint, it’s cause to rally. We all know what we need to do. Let’s go and fucking do it.”

  Chapter 20: Cassie

  I was really bad at listening to my own advice.

  That was pretty obvious every time I ignored the voice in my head. But this time, it wasn’t something that I thought would bother Brett or anyone else. In fact, I figured it might make him happy.

  Instead of just staying at his place, bored, watching some TV or trying to watch the city of Las Vegas go by, I decided to head to The Red Door.

  The decision wasn’t purely to see him. There was also an element of safety to it; I felt like the safest place would be where a bunch of guns and armed men would be and given that I didn’t know anyone at Nellis Air Force base, this seemed like the next best outcome. Granted, if the club had some sort of retaliation planned, the numbers would be few at the club, but still. A few armed men were better than none.

  Admittedly, there was a small chance Mama and some of the girls would look at me askance since yesterday had technically been my last day. Actually, it was more than a small chance. Brett will stand up for me, though. He’ll take care of me.

  But first, there was some
thing I had to confirm, something I’d held off on until I knew how the end of my previously scheduled tenure in Vegas would go.

  As soon as the door shut when Brett left, I fumbled for my purse, looking for the pregnancy test. I probably should have done this three weeks ago, but for as long as I could avoid not knowing, I wanted to. If I was pregnant, I didn’t want it to affect what I had with Brett. If I wasn’t, well, it wouldn’t have affected us, but that hadn’t been a risk I was willing to take.

  I went to the bathroom, used the pregnancy stick, and waited. Those two minutes would go a long way to determining what my life would look, regardless of whether I stayed in Vegas.

  And then, I gasped when I saw the answer on the test.

  * * *

  I pulled up to The Red Door just in time to see that I was actually blocking about two dozen bikes from exiting from the back. I’d sped over as quickly as I could, hoping to catch Brett before he and the rest of the Saints rolled out on whatever mission or task they had to do.

  With him at the front, it seemed like I’d made the exact right choice. And maybe I was going to embarrass him a little bit by showing some PDA here, but I had learned my lesson from before.

  I walked over to him, planted a kiss on his lips, and smiled.

  “You better come back alive,” I said over the roar of his engine. “You’re stuck with me, whether or not you like it. I’m staying here in Vegas for you. And our baby.”

  Brett just looked at me in confusion at first for a few seconds.

  But I could see the instant the look went from confusion to recognition. I could see his face going from determination to excitement and nervousness for our future child. I could see love sprouting in his eyes.

  I could see gratitude for a second chance.

  He reached up with both hands, held my face, and pulled me in for a kiss. Only the honking of other Savage Saints pulled us out of the moment, but not before Brett made it a point to hold me in his hands for just a beat longer than I would have anticipated.

  “Looks like I’ve got another reason to keep your ass around,” he said with a playful grin.

  I laughed and hit him.

  “I should probably move my car, huh?”

  “Please before they murder me.”

  I laughed, hurried back, backed out, and parked on the street. I stood on the hood of my car, waving as the horde of bikers exited The Red Door, en route to whatever destination there was. There was something spectacular about seeing two dozen motorcycles moving in unison—it was less of a parade and more of a military operation. And there, at the front, was the one and only Brett Pierce, leading the charge.

  Go do what you need to do, my love, I thought. We’ll be waiting for you when you get back.

  I then went to find Mama and Walker inside, holding machine guns with more pistols in their belts. Mama arched an eyebrow at me.

  “You picked a hell of a time to tell me you aren’t quitting, hun,” she said.

  “I know, I know,” I said. “I know it’s a weird look. But I figured this was the safest spot in town.”

  “You’re not wrong,” Walker said.

  “Hurry up and get your ass to the back,” Mama said. “We’ll come and get you when it’s safe.”

  Just before I passed her, though, I paused. I may have hated Mama for telling Brett that I was leaving in a short time before, but when I took a moment to think about it, I knew that I wouldn’t be in this spot without her intervention. She was a motherly figure in more ways than one.

  “I appreciate you telling Brett,” I said. “Because of you, I realized that being here, with people I can call family, matters most.”

  Mama gave a short smirk.

  “That’s sweet, hun,” she said. “Now get to the back before I’m the one to shoot you.”

  I laughed, even knowing Mama may not have exactly been joking, and headed back.

  She might have felt family was a metaphorical construct, but to me, it was anything but.

  Brett was going to be my family. No.

  He was already my family.

  Chapter 21: Barber

  I’m going to be a father.

  Holy. Fucking. Shit.

  I’m really going to be a father. And it’s not a secret I find out all these years later, either. I know it.

  And the woman I love is going to be a mom.

  I should have gotten into the zone as we drove down Sahara Avenue, preparing to take a left on Las Vegas Boulevard toward wherever the Saints were hiding. I should have mentally prepared myself for a brutal firefight, the kind of thing where my men would die, and I would too if I wasn’t ready.

  But as we slowed for the yellow light that would become a red by the time we reached the end, I couldn’t help but think about how much of a second chance I had gotten.

  A second chance at love. A second chance at being the sergeant-at-arms of the club. A second chance at being a father.

  Life would not give me a third chance, but I was determined not to put it in a spot where I would have to ask for a third chance. I couldn’t say for sure that Cassie’s words had confirmed her desire to stay in Vegas—she might have meant she was staying until she got into law school, at which point she would expect me to follow her out the door—but I did know that she had given me the greatest gift of all.

  More time with her.

  This night, which had started so sweet and had gotten very sentimental very quickly, had at least made me better at not wasting time on bullshit. No more drama with BK; no more drama with the Saints; no more drama with Cassie.

  The light turned green. Richard revved his engine just to my left, and the two of us led the other 22 bikes down Las Vegas Boulevard. It was time to get serious. Any point past the Stratosphere was a spot where the Sinners could be hiding out. It was a dark, decrepit region of the city, where many homeless people lived, drug deals went down, and hookers tried to get clients away from the eyes of the police.

  Cassie. I am coming back alive.

  And to my child.

  I’m never going to leave you behind. And neither is your mother. We’re going to give you the childhood you deserve.

  And that starts by making this town a little bit safer.

  In the meeting just before we rolled out, we all agreed on a few key points regarding this particular run. First, that even though the Sinners had struck BK from the north did not mean they were necessarily here; however, that this was the most dangerous part of town not including the east side made it pretty reasonable to assume they were here.

  Two, we had to keep the violence as contained as possible. This wasn’t east Vegas, where crime happened outside the eyes of the cops. Any gunfire here would be heard on the Strip and near downtown—the Sinners may not have given two shits about their personal reputation, but we sure did, especially since we made money off of people coming near this part of town.

  Three, there was to be a take-no-prisoners approach. Anyone with a Sinners jacket was fair game, provided it wasn’t someone obviously held as hostage like a homeless person or a woman.

  We rolled forward, passing a hostel, a couple of shuttered bars, a tiny, grotesque “chapel,” and an abandoned car repair shop. I saw homeless men and a couple of hookers nervously looking our way; the hookers leaned against lamp posts, while the homeless people got to the ground. They know. They know what’s about to happen. They’re just trying to get ready for the worst of it.

  We got near Charleston Boulevard, likely the last area that the Sinners could have occupied. Beyond that were more established locations, such as the pawn shop from the TV show, the Arts District, and Downtown Las Vegas; the Sinners might have been willing to fight us there, but they wouldn’t have been willing to fight us and the police there. It was only about a quarter mile north-south distance they could have covered, but that was more than enough for the Sinners.

  “Stay on alert,” Richard shouted. “They—”

  POW!

  A gunshot rang out from
behind us as one of the California Saints fell off his bike and into the street. We quickly turned around to see about a dozen Sinners driving perpendicular to us, unloading their guns toward us. The men at the rear managed to take out about three of them and hit another, but the rest got away, dispersing down nearby streets.

  “They’re trying to surround us!” I shouted.

  We had a couple of options here. One was to follow them, but that risked getting led into a trap. Another was to form a circle to account for all angles they could attack us from, but that limited our numbers, put us smack in the middle of traffic—granted, not much was going to come our way during a shootout, but there was always the risk some idiot would drive through unaware—and made us unmoving, sitting targets for any Sinners around.

  I—

  TAT-TAT-TAT!

  I quickly turned as more bullets hit us, this time from the rooftop of the abandoned building. Again, the Sinners retreated, and again, we managed to score a few of them, but the majority of them escaped into the shadows.

  “Guerrilla warfare,” I grumbled.

  We need someone who has training in the military to know how to handle this. We need…

  BK.

  “Richard!” I shouted. “We need BK out here. He’s going to know how to handle this.”

  “And how the fuck—”

  We took cover again as more gunfire broke out. Two of our men fell, one from California and one from here, a guy named Red. Fuck!

  “We can send someone to get him,” I said. “We don’t need him to fight. We just need his brain to help.”

  “Well, now you fucking want him!” Richard shouted over the roar of engines.

  “I want him because he has skill in an area I don’t,” I said.

  Richard stared at me, jaw agape.

  “The fuck was this humility in the months before?” he growled.

  “If I knew that, sir, I never would be in this spot,” I said. “On your six!”

  I saw the Sinners just before they would have gotten Richard. Richard ducked behind his bike while I unloaded onto the enemy, along with several of the other Saints. Four Sinners fell.