by Nicole James
“For what?”
“For showing me this. For knocking some sense into me.”
“Sometimes we just need our eyes opened, and to realize it’s less about us and more about others.” She grins, and squeezes my hand. “Come on. You can help me fill boxes.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Saint—
“Do what?” I almost choke on the slug of beer I just downed. The things I get asked to do for the club sometimes get on my nerves, but I follow orders, especially when its connected to Leigh. Her father, Chaos, is our president, so when she bats her eyes at me and asks if I’ll pretty please give her best friend a ride home, I glance over to Ruin. Since he’s got his patch, he can also boss me around. He grins, knowing I don’t want to do this.
“Go on, prospect. Give the lady a ride.” He lifts his chin at me. I give him a look in return that I’m sure he reads clearly.
Thanks, asshole.
He outright chuckles at my expression.
It’s late and we’re standing next to the pool table in the rear of the clubhouse. I figured things were winding down, and I’d be able to take off soon to get back home to Kami. No such luck, apparently.
I glance to Magnolia, Leigh’s BFF. “Sure, doll. Let’s go.”
Her face lights up, and she gives Leigh a wide-eyed look, like she wants to squeal with excitement. I head toward the door, not waiting for her. I know the girl’s got a thing for me. She’s not bad to look at and nice enough, but there’s no spark for me. These days, the only girl I’ve got any interest in is the last one I should be thinking about, but I can’t seem to get Kami out of my head.
Magnolia’s heels click behind me as she tries to catch up with my long strides. I hold the door for her, and she slips past me, facing me and practically rubbing up against me. I give her half a smile. I’m not about to be rude to the club princess’s BFF.
As I’m about to step outside, I hear Ruin chuckle.
“Better gas up, Prospect. You’ve got a long ride ahead of you.”
What the hell does that mean? I glance back at him, but say nothing. When we’re at my bike, I dig her out the helmet I bought for Kami, hating that I have to let another girl wear it, and hating even worse that I have to put another girl on the back of my bike. I strap my own on. “So where are we goin’?”
“Heflin.”
I frown because it doesn’t ring a bell. In my head I’m trying to visualize the Atlanta metro area, trying to place it, but I can’t. “Heflin? Where’s that?”
“Alabama.”
My brows about hit my hairline. “Alabama? Are you shittin’ me?”
She rolls her eyes. “It’s just across the State Line off I20, don’t get your panties in a wad.”
“I can’t believe you just said that to me. And here I am bein’ nice.”
“It’s the exit with the fireworks stands, you know the one?”
“Yeah, I know the one.” I sit on my bike and lift it off its kickstand, cursing that I didn’t figure a way out of that last pool game, and now I’m stuck with this bullshit errand.
“My grandparents have a farm about a mile off the exit.” She scrambles on behind me, scooting close and hanging on tight. I don’t get the same excitement I do when Kami’s on the bike with me. I fire up the engine, and it thunders to life under us, then I pull out, heading west.
By the time Magnolia points over my shoulder, indicating the drive to her grandparents’ farm, it’s well after 1am. I let off on the throttle and make the turn, rolling to a stop beside the white clapboard farmhouse. A dog barks from the backyard.
Magnolia climbs off, but I stay seated, the bike idling, not about to prolong this a minute longer than necessary. It doesn’t stop her from putting her hand on my chest and leaning in to give me a kiss. I pull back after allowing just a quick peck.
“Thanks for the ride, Saint.”
“No problem.”
The porch light flicks on, and the front door opens, saving me. I lift my chin. “Granny’s waiting. Better go on, girl, before she calls the cops on me.”
Magnolia takes a few steps away, giving me enough room to roll the bike back and pull out.
I get a hundred yards down the highway and can’t help wiping her kiss from my lips, feeling like I cheated on Kami, which is crazy.
Shit, I should have taken a moment to text her. What the fuck am I thinking? I don’t owe her any explanations. We don’t have a real relationship; this whole marriage thing is fake, as if I need that reminder.
I’m rolling down I20 just past the Alabama Stateline headed back into Georgia when I see a semi tractor-trailer in the oncoming lane start to swerve. He hits the shoulder with his tires and veers back, overcorrecting, then starts to rock, and I’m terrified he’s about to fishtail or tip over.
I hit my brakes, not sure he won’t come across the grassy medium and plow right through the guardrails like they’re nothing. I pull to the shoulder on the eastbound side. I’m the only other vehicle in sight on both sides, but as he rumbles past, still trying to gain control, I see two single headlights behind him swerving. I know immediately those are motorcycle headlights. I’m sure they’re dodging the rocks he’s throwing, not to mention the pieces of rubber tread coming off his huge tires.
One of the guys lays his bike down on its side, sliding along the pavement in a spray of glowing sparks, and the other goes over the embankment out of sight, trying to avoid hitting his buddy, I’m sure.
“Holy fuck.” I’m off my bike and jogging across three lanes, and vault the guardrail. I glance back down the road to see the semi regain control and his taillights disappearing over a rise.
I run to the guy pinned under his bike. “You okay, man?” His leg is trapped and he’s struggling to lift his bike. “Where’s my VP? Is he okay?”
It’s then I notice the vest and patches, but I can’t see the back to read what club he’s with. I get the bike lifted off him and he scrambles out. I wheel it to the shoulder and I see a pair of headlights behind us in the distance. The bike rolls, so that’s good, but its scrapped up and his mirror is gone. I set it on its kickstand and run after the man limping toward the embankment.
We both slide down the steep incline to the second biker.
“Shades, holy fuck, are you okay?” The one I’m following is frantic. In the moonlight I can now read the back of his cut.
Evil Dead MC, Alabama. With the infamous three skulls center patch.
Shit. I’ve heard of these guys. They’re some badass motherfuckers. I have to remind myself that whatever I do here, I’m representing my club, so I better not screw up. If I do anything that might show disrespect, it’ll blow back on the Kings.
We reach the second guy. He’s pinned in a watery ditch.
“I’m okay, Ghost. Help me lift my bike.”
Together we get it off him. It’s not easy to wrangle seeing as how the tires are sunk in a couple inches of mud.
The Evil Dead VP manages to pull his boot from the sucking mud and stumble back out of the water, his jeans soaked to the hip. He’s cursing up a storm.
The three of us push his bike out of the ditch and struggle getting it up the embankment. It’s not easy with a six hundred pound machine. We make it to the top, all sucking air, our chests heaving.
The VP looks down the highway. “Where’s the damn truck?”
I turn toward the distant rise and lift my arm. “He’s long gone. Got his rig under control and took off.”
“Motherfucking asshole,” he cusses, and then lifts his chin to my cut, having seen the back when I turned. “Who you prospectin’ with, kid?”
“Kings of Carnage, Uprising chapter.” I want to extend my hand, but I know better. You always let the highest-ranking member make the first move on that kind of thing. If he wants to shake my hand, that’s his call.
“What’s your name?” His eyes bore into mine.
“Saint.”
Finally, his hand is extended. “Shades, Evil Dead VP, Birm
ingham Chapter. Thanks for your help, Saint.”
I shake his hand, and the second man extends his. “Ghost. Appreciate you stoppin’.”
“Glad I was in the right place at the right time to help.”
Shades circles his muddy bike, examining the damage. He pulls out his phone and flicks on the flashlight function, then squats and messes with the shifter, then examines his rims, running a hand around them.
Ghost leans down, and with their heads together, they check the entire bike for damage. “Thank fuck your fork’s not bent.”
Shades pounds his boot on the footpad, bending it pack into place.
“We need to haul ass and catch up to the fucking trucker. Beat the shit outta him for this.” Ghost gestures to the bike.
Shades gives a smirk, straightening. “That’s what we get for coming across the State Line to buy lottery tickets. Every time I visit this damn state I get fucked, and not in a good way.”
I see the humor in his eyes when he looks at me, and I can’t help but return his chuckle.
He points to his club brother. “Let’s get lottery tickets, he said. The pots up to three hundred million, he said. It’ll only take a minute, he said. When am I gonna stop listening to you, Ghost?”
“Shut up, VP. You wanted tickets, too.” Ghost slugs his VP in the shoulder.
Shades throws his arm around Ghost’s neck and slams his palm into his chest. “Just glad you’re okay, bro.”
Ghost shoves his hand off, coughing. “Thanks, but I’ve already had the wind knocked out of me once tonight. Don’t need you pounding on what’s left of my lungs.”
Shades grins, then digs in his vest pocket and pulls out a rumpled card, and holds it out to me between two fingers. “Hey man, we owe you one. You call that marker in anytime you need help, understand?”
I take it and we shake hands. “Appreciate it.”
He lifts his chin. “I’ll be sure to pass the word to your sponsor about how you represented your club well tonight, and that we hold you in the highest regard, kid.”
I’m stunned, but I try not to let it show. “I’d be grateful.”
Ghost extends his hand. “We owe ya one, kid. You ever get to Birmingham; stop by the clubhouse for a drink. Avenue D, Ensley.”
“Thanks. I’d like that.”
I tuck the card in my pocket, and wait while they fire up their bikes, just to make sure they’re good to go. Then I lift my chin to their nods, and jog back across the interstate to my own bike. They pull out, each lifting an arm in respect as they roar off.
I stare at their glowing taillights disappearing into the distance, and then fire my own bike up.
Holy fuck. What a night. But it sure feels good to have that marker in my pocket.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Saint—
I’m passed out on the couch, apparently dead to the fucking world when something kicks my leg. I’ve got my arm thrown over my face, and I jump, pulling it off. I hate to be startled awake, especially given what I do. I squint against the daylight streaming into my living room and up at the large figure looming over me.
“Get up, motherfucker,” Bear growls, tucking his long hair behind his ear. My eyes open wide. What the fuck is the Nomad doing in my house? I see Crow and Mako, reclining in the upholstered chairs across the room. Besides myself, those two are the only ones left prospecting for the Kings, so the three of us get the shit jobs divvied up amongst us. For my sake, I hope I’m the next one patched, before there are fewer of us to divide crap jobs amongst.
I swing to a sitting position and rub the sleep from my tired eyes. I yawn and scratch my bare chest, then lean my elbows on my knees, my faded jeans from last night still on.
I hear the shower running at the exact moment Bear cocks his head.
“You got company, Saint?”
Any shred of tiredness remaining vanishes. I push to my feet, trying not to let my panic show. Fuck.
“Who’s over?” Crow asks, ever the curious one.
“None of your fuckin’ business,” I growl and head to the kitchen. “Who wants a cold one?”
A chair creaks and then Mako is leaning on the doorframe. “You let a bitch spend the night? Thought you swore you never brought ‘em home.”
Bear chuckles, moving to stand in the doorway. “If it’s the right bitch, those rules go out the fuckin’ window. Ain’t that right, Saint?”
I hand him a beer, and grin, hoping to avoid answering. I change the subject. “What time is it?”
“Noon,” he replies. “Heard you had an eventful night.”
I’ve got a bottle tipped back when he says it, and I drop it from my lips quick enough, wondering what he knows. “Yeah?”
Mako chuckles. “Heard you had to take Magnolia home.”
“That’s not all I heard.” Bear folds his arms and grins.
“What’d you hear?” I stare him down.
“VP of the Evil Dead called the clubhouse this morning. Told Chaos and Sly about how you helped them out last night. Talked you up big-time, prospect.”
“Really?” I’m shocked they actually followed through with that, and didn’t waste any time doing it, apparently.
A creak lets me know Kami’s coming out of the bathroom.
“Hey, darlin’. Nice towel. Why don’t you drop it and come on over here and climb on my lap.” Crow’s voice carries from the other room. It’s laced with humor, but I still want to plow my fist in his face.
Bear looks over his shoulder, his eyes sweeping top to bottom. Mako does the same.
Bear swings back to me, arching a brow. “Nice, kid.”
I say the first stupid thing that comes to mind. “She’s my fuckin’ sister, assholes.”
That has them all straightening nervously.
“Fuck, why didn’t ya say so, moron.” This from Crow in the other room. I push through the other two and see Kami clutching the towel tightly to her still damp skin, looking stricken like a deer caught in the headlights.
“Go fucking put some clothes on, Kami. Now.” I growl the words, hoping like hell she heard me explain her presence.
She disappears down the hall and I turn back to see Bear’s eyes narrowed on me. “Sister, huh? Yeah, I don’t see the resemblance.”
Fuck. He’s not buying it. But really, what’s he gonna do? He can’t prove otherwise.
I lift my brows. “You touch her, I’ll kill you.” I glance around the room. “That goes for all of you sons-of-bitches.” I’ve got balls saying those words to a club Nomad, but this is my fucking house, and over my dead body is one of these assholes touching Kami, club be damned.
“What’s she doing here?” Crow asks.
“Ma wanted her out of her hair for the summer. What’s it to ya, Mr. Nosey?” I snap.
“Relax, kid. No one’s touching her. Sister’s are off limits, unless you don’t give a shit, which you obviously do.” Bear moves to the couch and plops down. “So tell us what happened with the Evil Dead last night.
I sit down and tell them, thankful that Kami stays in the bedroom.
Eventually, Bear grins at my discomfort and yells out, “Hey, Kami, come on out here. We want to meet you.”
A minute later, the door creaks open and she comes around the corner hesitantly. My gaze drops to her hand, and I thank God she was smart enough to have taken off her ring. Her eyes connect with mine, and then she looks around. “Hey.”
Mako holds up his empty. “Fetch me another beer, will ya, darlin’?”
“She’s not here to serve your ass, fucker. Get it yourself,” Bear growls.
“I don’t mind.” Her eyes dart between Bear’s and mine.
Bear snags her hand. “Sit down, honey. He can get it himself.”
Mako stands. “Christ, it’s just a damn beer.”
“And you’re two feet from the kitchen, prospect. Get it yourself, and don’t make me say it again.” Bear pulls her to sit between him and me on the couch. “So, how old are you, darlin’?”
The smile on Bear’s face disappears. “Oh.”
That changed his tune fast enough.
He clears his throat and straightens a bit. “So, you’re in high school?”
“Just graduated.”
Bear extends his hand. “I’m Bear, by the way.” He points at Crow. “That’s Crow, and the asshole in the kitchen is Mako.”
“I heard that.”
“No one cares,” Bear yells back, giving his attention back to Kami. “You’re here for the summer, huh?”
“Hmm mmm.” Kami’s eyes sparkle. “That Nomad patch on the back of your vest, what’s that mean?”
He grins, eating up her attention. “Means I’m not tied down to any one chapter, though I’m seeing more and more reason to stick around Uprising.”
I practically roll my eyes at his flirting. “Bear, she’s seventeen.”
“Yeah, damn, that’s jailbait. I’ve been burned by that before.”
I arch a brow and he meets my gaze over her head. “Long time ago, man.”
“So, how was Magnolia when you dropped her off last night?” Crow asks, stirring up trouble for me whether he knows it or not.
“Fine.”
“She’s after you, dude,” Mako adds, returning with a beer and plopping down.
“Yeah, but I’m not interested.” I glare over at him. “Heard Asia made a play for you the other night. How’d that go?” The minute the words are out I could kick myself for bringing her name up in front of Kami. God knows the turn this conversation could take.
“Everybody in the club knows she’s lookin’ to land a patch,” Crow adds.
“Well, I ain’t got one of those yet,” Mako adds.
“She don’t seem to care. Heard she hit on you last week.” Bear turns to me.
“You’re the only patch I see. Maybe you want her.” I give it right back.
“Fuck no. Too many guys have already been with her. Girl like that, she’s got clinger written all over her. I ain’t lookin’ for an ol’ lady, no matter how gorgeous that bitch is.”
Kami looks uncomfortable as hell, and I feel for her.