by Harley Stone
Talking about my time in the service dredged up too many memories I didn’t want to think about, so I gave her the short answer. “Sniper.”
“Guess that explains the name,” she replied. “Like a scout sniper?”
I nodded and shoveled in another bite to keep my mouth busy, so I wouldn’t have to talk. She seemed to get the hint and turned her attention on Wasp. “What about you? Wasp, right? Which branch did you come from?”
As the conversation continued, I learned a lot more about Naomi than I wanted to. She was smart and funny, she shared a love of reading murder mysteries with her father, and she seemed genuinely interested in the people around her. I’d been expecting her to be an entitled daddy’s girl, but she wasn’t that at all. She kept throwing glances my way, making her interest in me known. But, she wasn’t the kind of girl I normally took to my bed and I didn’t need the grief I’d get if Link ever found out about it. So, as soon as we finished dinner, I got the hell out of there and away from her.
Naomi
I’D TRAVELED OVER sixteen-hundred-miles to be there for my brother’s inauguration, and I didn’t even get to go into the super-secret room where the patched club members voted him in. Instead, I sat in the common area with the ol’ ladies and club whores, trying not to be salty about my lack of a penis once again restricting my options.
‘No girls allowed’ apparently meant the same thing to grown ass men as it did to the Little Rascals and their silly little boys only club. The only difference was that the Little Rascals had eventually caved. The Dead Presidents probably never would.
I knew the rule. I didn’t understand its necessity, but I didn’t intend to break it, either. I didn’t even complain out loud about being sidelined. Instead, I slipped behind the bar and poured myself a glass of whiskey, with ice so I’d be forced to sip it slowly, and checked my emails. Nothing but junk. I poked around internet news for a while, but found nothing interesting enough to hold my attention. My phone buzzed with an incoming message from Monica and I checked it to find a meme asking me if I’d gotten laid yet.
No. I was too busy wallowing in self-pity over not being included in the club’s penis games to hunt down a boy toy for the weekend. Actually, I’d found a boy toy, but he seemed more interested in avoiding me than getting into my pants. No doubt my brother dearest had something to do with that. Controlling clam-jammer. Disgusted with myself and the situation, I replied with my own meme: a depressed looking dog shaking its head.
I needed out of this funk. I needed to stop focusing on all the shit I couldn’t do, and turn my attention to having a good time. This was supposed to be my vacation. Surely, I could ignore the fight for woman-kind for a few days and let loose.
I needed more alcohol.
Spinning my phone on the bar while I sipped whiskey and tried to think of ways to relax, I didn’t hear Margo approach. She slipped behind the bar to open herself a beer before joining me. Eyeing my rapidly diminishing drink, she said, “This must be hard on you.”
My stepmother seemed like a nice enough woman and she made my dad the adorable kind of happy that old people madly in love get, but I’d been in the service since long before they’d even met, so I didn’t know her well enough to be real with her. “What has to be hard on me?” I asked.
“You came all this way to be here, and you don’t even get to be in the room while he’s getting sworn in. Seems kind of messed up.”
Well, she was observant. Still, I didn’t feel like spilling my insecurities to her, so I shrugged. “It is what it is.”
“It annoys the hell out of me,” she replied. “I love this club, Naomi. I love what they stand for and what they do, but you and I should be able to join.”
“You?” I asked, startled by the way she included herself. “Were you in the service?”
“Sure was. Served in the Army Nurse Corps for six years. My motivation was a little different than yours. I was just a small-town girl looking for an exciting environment where I could explore job opportunities, meet male suitors, travel, and build self-esteem. That’s the pitch they gave us back then. Most of the girls I knew only joined to travel and find a man. That’s how I met my first husband, God rest his soul.”
“I had no idea you served.” And she’d lost a husband. This knowledge gave me a whole new respect for her. “Must have been really hard back then.”
“It was what it was,” she replied, smiling as she turned my words back on me. “It was easier to serve as a nurse than in the Women’s Army Corps. The best jobs those women could hope for were switchboard operator or mechanic, but most served as bakers or seamstresses. Some got to repair or maintain the weapons that we were forbidden to use, but the women who served in WAC were harassed and ridiculed. People called them lesbians or prostitutes and talked about how unnatural it was for them to want to serve the country. Mostly it was men who’d been drafted, complaining about how all the ‘easy jobs’ went to women, or women who wanted to join but were too cowardly to stand up to their fathers and brothers.”
Women had been shamed for serving their country. I was sure I’d read about that somewhere, but hearing Margo talk about it made it more real. Dipping my head, I let her words sink in. Women had come a long way. I was able to be a pilot now because women like Margo had broken down those initial barriers. “I should probably be more content with our progress,” I admitted.
“Oh, no, honey. I’m not saying that at all. I’m saying that without women pushing the envelope and raising the glass ceiling, we’d still be stuck in the sixties. Or worse. You keep fighting for equality, Naomi. God knows I am.”
Something she’d said tickled the back of my mind. “You asked Dad to make you a member? Of the club?”
She smiled. “A prospect. I would have taken the appropriate steps, and wouldn’t have wanted special treatment.”
Okay, I loved my stepmother. “What did he say?” I asked.
“The club isn’t ready for that sort of progress. Then he announced that he was stepping down.”
Interesting. I filed that piece of information away to examine later.
“You know he’s proud of you, don’t you?” she asked. “He tells everyone about his daughter the Pedro.”
Knowing he was proud of me wasn’t the same as hearing it. “Thank you. Did he tell you I lied to him?”
Her smile disappeared. “About what?”
My Uncle Wade and Dad had joined the military at the same time. Dad came home, but Uncle Wade never did. Not even his body. Dad always feared that Uncle Wade had been captured, and it really messed with his head. Mom claimed that it changed Dad into someone she couldn’t live with anymore. It was the reason she gave for leaving. It was also the reason Dad formed the Dead Presidents… to help others like him cope with coming home. “He didn’t want me or Link going into the service. Not after what happened to Uncle Wade.”
“Understandable.”
“I promised him I’d go for the safest job I could. It was the only way I could keep him and Link from locking me up in the broom closet and keeping me here.”
She laughed. “I’m sure he knows you better than to believe that you would actually choose the safe route, Naomi.”
“He was so pissed when he found out I was a Pedro.”
“He worries about you, but that doesn’t mean he’s not proud of all you’ve accomplished.”
Before I could reply, the sound of cheering drew my attention. The guys were done with church, which meant Link was the new club president.
“Here they come,” Margo said, popping the top off two more beers. “Let’s go congratulate the new prez.” She handed me one of the beers and I took it and my drink and went to find my brother.
Link’s celebration went well into the night. As I joined in on toasts and embarrassing stories about my brother, I kept one eye on Eagle, often surprised to find him watching me, too. Finally, I broke away from my family to sidle up to the sexy prospect. Eyeing his almost empty glass, I asked, “What
are you drinking?”
He watched me warily. “Jack, why?”
Of course. It had to be whiskey, because I needed one more reason to jump his bones. Seriously, there was nothing hotter than a no-nonsense Marine who sipped whiskey.
Plucking the glass from his hand, I replied, “I owe you a drink, remember? I’ll get you a refill.”
He started to argue, but I was already weaving through the crowd toward the kitchen. After refilling both our glasses, I found Eagle by the pool tables. “You any good?” I asked, handing him his drink as I gestured toward the table.
He started racking the balls. “I do all right. You?”
I grabbed one of the pool cues from its holder on the wall. “It’s been a minute since I played, but I used to be okay.” In truth, I was damn good. I’d grown up playing on these tables with Dad’s crew, and those old guys were a bunch of pool sharks who liked to show off. They’d taught me a thing or two.
Removing the rack, he said, “Your break.”
I took a deep breath, lined up the cue ball, and sent a stripe into a corner pocket. Then I shot again, sinking a second stripe into a side pocket. My third shot sank a third stripe.
Eagle arched an eyebrow. “I think you misled me, Pedro.”
Remembering that I wanted to get laid more than I wanted to win this game, I intentionally missed the next shot. Eagle sank three solids before missing the fourth.
“You do all right?” I asked. “I think I was the one misled, Marine.”
He shrugged, smirking.
My heart did a little flip at the sight. Damn, the man was sexy. His hands were huge, his shoulders were broad, and I’d overheard a couple of the club whores saying he was a beast in the bedroom. Exactly what Love Doctor Monica had prescribed to chill me the fuck out.
Needing a little more liquid courage to up my flirting game, I took a long drink of my cocktail before sinking two more stripes. He sank two more solids. He should have sank a third, but his hand twitched at the last second, causing the cue ball to hit its mark off-center. It looked like he did it on purpose.
Arching my eyebrow, I called him on it. “You don’t have to hold back with me, you know?” I asked. “I can handle your game.”
His nostrils flared, and his gaze roamed over my body. Whiskey was loosening him up as well. “I was about to tell you the same thing.”
I’d been caught. A guilty smile tugged at my lips as I backed up to the table and took a shot behind my back, sinking another stripe.
“Oh, it’s like that, is it?” Eagle asked.
I sank my last stripe before turning my attention on the eight ball. I didn’t have a good shot, but I could sabotage Eagle’s next move, so I did.
“Rude,” he said, eyeballing my work.
I shrugged and took another sip of my drink. “You said I didn’t have to pull my punches. Did you change your mind, Sweetheart?” It felt damn good to throw that nickname back at him.
Shaking his head, he took a shot, surprisingly sinking a solid in the corner pocket. He missed the next shot, though. My turn. I sank the eight ball and his solid. We both laughed, and I racked the balls for our next game while Eagle refilled our drinks. We were evenly matched and with whiskey flowing, conversation was easy and relaxed. Not only was the guy easy on the eyes, he was great company.
Eagle won the second game, and as he racked up the third, we were joined by Havoc and Wasp.
“Eagle, you greedy son-of-a-bitch,” Wasp said, eyeing me as he approached. “You’ve got the most beautiful girl here stuck in a corner.” He stopped inches in front of me, reached around and plucked a pool cue from behind my back. Then he flashed me an adorable smirk. “Nobody puts Naomi in a corner.”
Wasp was clearly trouble. Matching his smirk, I asked, “Did you just make a low-key Dirty Dancing reference?”
He bobbed his head up and down, grinning like a fool. “Mom’s favorite movie. She used to make me watch it with her until I got in trouble for trying the moves out on girls at school.”
Yep. Wasp was trouble with a capital T.
He leaned against me. “So, tell me, are you worth getting my balls racked over?”
“Is that what my brother threatened to do to you?”
He nodded and spun away, settling in front of the table.
“I believe Link’s exact words were, ‘I’ll rip off your balls and shove them up your asshole, Wasp,’” Havoc said, selecting a pool cue from the other rack. “Wasp here likes to see how far he can push Link. The prez is probably going to have to kill him at some point. I’ll have to help dispose of his body.”
“You would all be bored without me, and you know it,” Wasp replied, chalking his pool cue as he bumped hips with me. “And I call Naomi’s team.”
Eagle’s pinched expression told me he didn’t like that pairing one little bit, but he didn’t object as he gestured for us to go first. The game was a nail-biter, but Wasp and I won when Havoc scratched on the eight ball. I was having a blast and could have kept playing all night, but Eagle begged off, giving me one last scorching once-over—that looked a hell of a lot like an invitation—before heading upstairs.
“He’s a quiet one,” Wasp said, following my gaze as I watched Eagle disappear in the crowd.
Quiet? We’d been talking non-stop before Havoc and Wasp had joined us, but now that Wasp mentioned it, I realized Eagle had closed down since their arrival. “What’s his story?” I asked. Most of the men in the club were dealing with shit from their time in the service, and it was clear Eagle had picked up a few demons. Wasp seemed like a guy who’d know, also like a guy who’d talk.
“Served with his woman. Planned to marry her, too. Then he watched her AAV run over an IED. She didn’t make it.”
“Shit,” I breathed. Doing combat rescues meant I’d seen some pretty grizzly scenes. Amphibious assault vehicles were usually open on land for the gunners. I’d seen firsthand what an IED could do to a crew in an open AAV. “How long ago?”
“About four years.”
“You shouldn’t be sharing Eagle’s business,” Havoc said, his expression dark.
Wasp shrugged and changed the subject. “Should we pick up a fourth? Maybe someone who can teach you not to scratch on the fuckin’ eight ball?”
Havoc flipped him off, then apologized to me like I’d find his middle finger offensive. His concern was sweet but unnecessary. I was no proper lady who couldn’t handle swearing. Nope, I was horny and half drunk, trying to figure out an inconspicuous way to slip upstairs unnoticed and find Eagle’s room so I could bang him. Hearing about the loss he’d suffered only made me want him more. He probably needed to get laid, too.
“Actually, I think I’m going to head up to bed,” I said, faking a yawn. “I’m still on mountain time and it’s getting late.”
Wasp leaned closer to me, his expression mischievous. “Go get ’em, Slugger.”
“Who?” I asked, feigning innocence. “What are you talking about, Wasp?”
“Right.” Grinning, he turned back to Havoc. “Guess it’s just me and your ugly ass. Maybe we should go next door and see if we can find some action.”
Excusing myself, I drifted into the crowd, mingling with old and new club members until I was surprised by a familiar-looking brunette who was making out with another prospect.
“Kim?” I asked.
She pulled away and gave me a sheepish smile. “Hey Naomi. I heard you were here.”
Yet she hadn’t tried to find me. Kim and I had been friends in high school. She’d come to the club with me a few times, but we’d been underage and mostly hung out in my room talking about boys and teachers. We’d tried to stay connected after graduation, but she moved away and we lost contact.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
Her gaze cut to the biker she’d just been locking lips with and her cheeks reddened. “Uh…”
While she was fumbling for an answer, another biker smacked her on the ass and said, “Hey babe. If you’re
not busy later, I could use a little more of what you gave me last night.”
Ah. My friend was a club whore. It wasn’t all that surprising since she’d always been a little too interested in what the bikers were doing downstairs to fully focus on our conversations. I don’t know if she expected me to judge her for it or what, but the club whores had always been good to me. Growing up without a mom, ol’ ladies and club whores had purchased tampons for me and taught me how to use them. They were the women I went to when I needed advice or had questions that Dad and Link couldn’t or wouldn’t answer.
If she wanted to spread her legs for bikers, who was I to judge? In fact, now that I’d found her, I was hoping she’d help me find a particular biker so I could get him in a leg lock.
“This must be the princess,” the biker said, looking me over with a little more interest than I cared for.
And that had to be the worst nickname of all. I had half a mind to make him eat it. I glared daggers at the biker, and replied, “You must have me confused with someone else.”
“Naomi, this is Brass,” Kim said, introducing us.
“Link’s little sister,” he said with a nod. “I hear you’re off limits.”
“Yes, she is,” Kim replied, stepping between us like her five-and-a-half-foot body could block his view.
Brass continued to leer at me over her head like a creeper. “If you decide you want to break your big brother’s rules, you come and find me. I’ll show you a good time.”
Who the hell did he think he was? Not only was he rude and disgusting, but he was openly disrespecting Link here in our home. That shit didn’t sit well with me. Time to shove a dose of reality right up his ass. “Brass, huh? Did you choose that nickname because you were wishing you were top brass in the service? Obviously you weren’t. You lack the demeanor, wisdom, and class to hold such a position. I’m guessing you were infantry. Probably served the minimum, couldn’t hang, and got out. My brother took you in and helped you get cleaned up, and you repay him by insulting him behind his back like a coward.”
His face reddened. “Bitch,” he spat before walking away.