Flamed with Courage: Notorious Devils (Cash Bar Book 3)

by Hayley Faiman

  Standing, I shuffle my feet toward her, returning her smile. “Hi.”

  She gives me a nod, and stands to the side, allowing me to walk past her. The first thing she does is ask me to remove my shoes so that she can weigh me. I cringe thinking about standing on the scale. Stepping on, I watch the numbers and I let out a breath. I’m definitely not as heavy as I thought I was.

  “Next, we’ll have you fill this cup, set it in the small box inside, then meet me in the room right next door,” she explains handing me a cup.

  I let out a groan, not wishing to pee in a cup, but I know that this is just part of the drill. Once I’m finished, I set it down on the little ledge and close the door. Less than a second later, I hear it open on the other side.

  Opening the bathroom door, I glance to the left and see her moving around, opening drawers and doing, whatever it is she needs to do with my pee.

  Walking into the room, I sit down on the crinkly paper covering the exam bed and I wait. She appears a few minutes later and explains that they’ll be taking some blood as well. That everything is part of a new patient physical, but to go ahead and undress before putting on the gown that she pulls out of a drawer.

  An hour later I’ve been poked and prodded and given a prescription for birth control pills. I’ve also been told that since I could be pregnant from the few times I had unprotected sex that I need to take a test in a couple of weeks, and come back if I am.

  I send a prayer up to whoever is in heaven, that I’m not. I know that Free claims he doesn’t care, that he wants children soon, but I’m not ready. I would like some kind of job, and I would like a little more stability not only financially, but also in our relationship, before I start having his children. We need to work through our kinks, and I know after just moving in together that we will most assuredly have even more kinks to work out than we already do.

  Ice is waiting for me when I step out of the office. We head to the store next, and I’m glad that it’s one with a pharmacy. I want to be able to do everything at once. The rest of the day I gather everything that’s on my list then Ice takes me home. He informs me that he’s on day shift, and he’ll be heading out soon, but that another man will be watching the perimeters during the evenings and throughout the night.

  Thanking him with a smile, I go inside and busy myself for the rest of the evening. I clean as slowly as I can, then I organize, and reorganize before I shower and get ready for bed.

  Looking at my phone, I frown because it’s only eight in the evening and I’ve exhausted everything that I can think of to do. This is going to be really boring if I don’t come up with a plan of some kind.

  Sliding between the sheets, I try to think of something that will occupy my time. Free said he would talk to his friend’s wife about working with her after he returned. I really would love to watch children again, I miss the sound of little voices. I miss playing games with them and taking care of them.

  Closing my eyes, I try not to think about the actual children themselves that I miss. I try not to wonder how they are doing, if they’re being fed, bathed, and clothed property.

  Some of them I raised from birth, they were like my own, and I’ve been so incredibly busy and consumed in my own new life that I haven’t had a chance to think about them. Now, that I’m alone, they’re all I can think about.

  Tears fall from my eyes as I mentally scroll through their faces. I know that being out of that environment is what they needed, but I’m scared that their fates could be just as bad now. This world is a scary place, and they’re all alone. My only hope is that some of them were possibly reunited with their birth mothers, that would bring me some kind of peace.

  Eventually, I fall asleep, but I dream of them, I dream about every single one of them and the entire night is a fitful sleep. When I wake up the next morning, I don’t feel like I’ve slept even a minute. Hopefully, I’ll be able to nap during the day, because I can’t go on like this, if this is going to be a pattern.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  FREE

  Pulling into the Notorious Devils clubhouse, Idaho chapter, should make me smile. I have friends here, good friends. I don’t see them as often as I’d like, so this should be something I’m looking forward to, instead of something I’m dreading. Every fiber of my being still tugs at me to go home. I shake my head as I shift the truck into park.

  Sliding out of the front seat, I stretch my back just in time to see Fury, Sniper, and Dirty Johnny walking outside. They’re each wearing smiles and I can’t help but match their expressions. Fury, the president, is the first to greet me.

  “Free, brother, you look good,” he says holding his hand out. Giving him a shake, I lift my chin. “Heard you claimed a woman.”

  “Shit you all gossip like a bunch of bitches,” I grumble.

  Sniper laughs, his hand clapping down on my shoulder. “They sure fuckin’ do. Happy for you, brother, after everything you been through, you fuckin’ deserve a good woman,” he says.

  Shaking my head, I don’t agree with him. I don’t deserve a good woman at all, but I’m not going to argue and explain to them my reasoning. They probably don’t deserve the good women they have either, but they got them, just like I’ve got Whitley.

  “Feels like I was just fuckin’ here,” I grunt.

  All three men lift their chins. I was just fucking here, not too long ago when Crooner and I came to do inventory. His woman was kidnapped, and our trip was cut short. Scary as fuck, the shit that happened with her, and that’s probably why I feel so goddamn uneasy.

  That shit was only a few weeks ago, and here I am, again, except this time I’m the one with a woman at home. I really fucking hope it’s just all in my head.

  “Party tonight,” Dirty Johnny announces, taking me out of my thoughts. He’s got a cigarette dangling from his tipped up lips. “Last time you were here we didn’t get to have a real party. This time, bossman is shutting down the club,” he chuckles.

  I turn toward Fury who is shaking his head with a smirk on his own lips. “Fuck,” I groan, scrubbing my face with the palm of my hand. I know what he means when he says club. Fury and this chapter of the Devils, own a strip club.

  “Go inside, set your room up. Relax a bit. Then we’ll go and have a good time,” Sniper grins.

  Turning around, I grab ahold of my bag from the truck with a grunt. I can’t turn them down, but I also don’t know if I should go. We haven’t talked about shit like this, strippers and parties, clubs and booze. I wouldn’t want Whitley watching a bunch of men dancing around, but to me, that’s different. Maybe that makes me some kind of chauvinist asshole, well not maybe, I probably am the definition of just that.

  Leaving the men, I give them a wave with a promise to be ready to roll in a couple of hours. Jogging toward the bar, I lift my hand signaling for a beer and thank the prospect when he hands it to me. Then, I head toward the room I always stay in.

  Once I’m in, I lock the door, tossing my bag on the ground and taking a long pull from the beer. Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I call Whitley. The phone rings a few times and I hear her laugh before she greets me.

  “What’re you doing?” I ask.

  Clearing her throat, she explains that she and Ice are on their way home from the Cash Bar. “What are you doing out there, now?” I ask, trying and failing not to sound like a goddamn asshole.

  “Just having dinner and a drink, we shopped all day again, and Ice looked like he was about to keel over from boredom and famine,” she says, and I can hear the smile in her voice.

  Closing my eyes, I reach around and wrap my fingers around the back of my neck, squeezing in an attempt to relieve tension. “You get whatever you need?” I ask.

  She hums. “Yesterday I did the doctor and groceries. Today, I outfitted the kitchen. I’m done shopping for a while. Did you make it to your destination?” she asks.

  I grunt, telling her, yes. “You’re okay though, everything’s all good?”

  �
��Everything is good, Mason,” she says, her voice soft and sweet.

  Closing my eyes, I picture her right here with me, her soft body waiting for me to control it—to own it. The way she calls me, Mason, it’s like nothing I’ve ever heard before. I should feel like I’m betraying Gemma’s memory, but with each passing day, she fades from my mind. That’s probably a shit thing to think, but Whitley is taking over everything, and I’m grateful for it.

  “Get home and get some rest, hopefully I won’t be gone long,” I instruct.

  Her soft laughter fills my ear again, causing me to frown as my eyes slowly open. “Miss you. Love you,” she rasps.

  My frown disappears at her words. I love her too, but I don’t tell her. Instead, I tell her goodnight, before I end the call. Tossing my phone onto the middle of the bed, I let out a sigh. Fuck. What am I going to do with this woman? She’s completely consumed me.

  Deciding to leave my phone here in my room, I grab a change of clothes and head to the bathroom. One thing I like about this club is that every room has an attached bath. I wish ours was the same. Getting out of bed and walking down the hall to use the common bath, is a pain in the fucking ass.

  After I’ve showered and dressed, I leave the room. My hand itches to take my phone, not just to stay in possible contact with Whitley, but also with Snake. I ignore the urge to take the device with me, though. I don’t want to be connected to the outside world tonight.

  The bar has already filled with several new faces when I arrive downstairs. I lift my chin at a couple of the brothers I know, but I head toward the bar. I need a drink. Sniper is bellied up, a bottle in his hand and I slide in next to him, sitting down on the empty seat.

  “You were here just a few weeks ago, and single as a bird. I know because I can’t count how many whores you fucked,” he chuckles.

  The prospect slides a beer toward me and I wrap my fingers around the bottle, lifting it to my lips. Tipping my head back, I take a pull from the bottle before I respond to Sniper. “I was single at the time,” I agree with him. “Now I’m not.”

  “Brother, you’re going to need to dig a little deeper about that situation, remember, I know all about your past,” he says.

  I nod once, agreeing. He does know about my past. His isn’t a whole lot different from me, all tortured and shit, just in a different way. Still fucked up, and with a gorgeous little brunette he probably doesn’t deserve.

  “Took her from the compound, she was held up with Hayden,” I say, explaining what I feel about Whitley. Wondering why he feels the need to ask about her, about us, and what the fuck he’s getting at.

  “Fuck,” he hisses. “You sure you want to take on that project?”

  “Project?” I ask, arching a brow.

  He laughs, taking a pull of his beer. “Took on a project myself. Was worth every headache she ever gave me. The battered, bruised, mentally abused woman, project.”

  I nod at his words, his meaning perfectly clear. Thinking about it, I shake my head. “Sniper, you’re fucked up, just like I’m fucked up. Ever think we’re the ones that are the project, not them?”

  His blue eyes cut to mine, and his chest puffs up a bit. I’m almost intimidated by him, but I have a gun fairly close and a bullet will stop his meat hook of a fist from killing me, if need be. “We are the fucked up ones,” he says on a laugh. “Goddamn, you’re right.”

  “She knows all about Gemma,” I admit.

  Saying the words aloud, I feel… nothing. I should be feeling guilt or something, but right now I have nothing at all. My brows knit together at the thought, wondering how all of this is happening. How Gemma is slipping away, and my guilt is no longer crippling and consuming after feeling it deep and daily for seventeen years.

  “Glad you’re moving on from that. It wasn’t your fault. I know you blamed yourself, like any of us would have done in your shoes. But in the end, it was not your fault. Sometimes shit just happens, even purely fucked up nonsense shit,” he grunts.

  I nod in agreement because he’s not wrong. I’ve given the advice to other people a million times, though never able to take it myself. Not until now. With each passing day, the way the guilt subsides, I can now feel that I wasn’t all to blame. I’ll always carry around a little of the blame for what happened to Gemma, but it’s no longer crippling me.

  “Ready to party?” he grins.

  “You joining?” I ask in surprise.

  He shakes his head. “Fuck no, I got my woman and her warm pussy at home. Have fun though, I’ll see you tomorrow.” He drains his bottle, stands, then walks away before I can reply.

  Dirty Johnny appears a few minutes later and lifts his chin with a grin, “Let’s go,” he calls out. “Place is shut down and girls are waiting.”

  “Don’t you have a woman?” I ask, shaking my head as I slip down from the barstool.

  His smile widens. “Don’t you worry about my woman,” he grunts.

  Holding up my hands in surrender, I laugh. He’s so fucking serious, and it’s hard to take him that way, especially with the cigarette that’s always hanging from his lips.

  A few minutes later, I climb into the pickup truck and follow behind the bikes that are ahead of me two-by-two. We leave the clubhouse and head toward town.

  The strip club parking lot is empty when we pull in. I park next to Dirty Johnny’s bike and climb out. Walking into the club I’m surprised it’s as clean as it is, the place is practically spotless. I take myself over to the bar and motion for a bartender. A pretty woman makes her way over and I ask for a shot of whiskey, and a beer chaser.

  She’s quick and doesn’t charge me so I leave her a big tip. The lights dim, and the music starts. Turning to face the stage I’m not surprised when a buxom blonde struts her tight ass out.

  “See anything you like?” a voice asks next to me.

  I glance over and am surprised to see that it’s Grizz. I haven’t seen him in years, and I’m surprised he’s even here.

  “Naked bitches, dancing, what’s not to like, brother,” I grin.

  He claps me on the shoulder, “Been a long fuckin’ time. Missed you last time you were in town, heard you branded some bitch,” he points out. These fuckers really do gossip like a bunch of fuckin’ girls.

  “I did. Whitley.”

  “You got that hero complex down, compound girl, right?”

  Lifting my chin, I take a pull of my beer. He’s right, hero complex is exactly what I had when I took her. However, our shit has changed. I’m not a hero, what I am is a fucking lovesick motherfucker, and I don’t even give a single fuck about that status. It is what it is, and she’s mine.

  The next few hours I shoot the shit with Grizz, while bitches dance on stage. Then they start to mill around the bar area, and I’m content to talk to my old friend and watch.

  One of the brothers takes a girl on stage and they start to fuck. I chuckle, shaking my head at them, but I watch because shit, if they’re gonna fuck on a goddamn stage, they obviously want an audience.

  A girl walks up to me a few minutes later, her bare breasts pressing against my arm as she slides her hand up my chest. “Can I help you?” I ask, turning from Grizz to her.

  She tips her head back, and I recognize her as the first blonde who danced on stage. “I was told to make sure you had a good time, but you’re over here, talking,” she fake-pouts.

  Wrapping my fingers around her wrist, I gently tug her arm off of me. “I am. I’m catching up with an old friend. I’m good, babe. Go have fun somewhere else,” I smile.

  She sinks to her knees and begins to unbuckle my pants. I close my eyes for a beat, letting out a breath. I contemplate letting her suck me off. It wouldn’t matter, it wouldn’t mean a fucking thing, but I have a feeling Whitley wouldn’t like some whore sucking my dick. She’s made it clear that’s not something she’s down with.

  “Go have fun somewhere else,” I repeat, wrapping my hands around hers to stop their movement.

  Her eyes widen, a
nd I watch as she turns her head to look at someone, then nods and turns back to me. I don’t get a chance to see who she communicated with before she’s already staring up at me with big brown puppy dog eyes.

  “You seem like fun, and I want to make you happy,” she smiles.

  Shaking my head, I look up to Grizz who is frowning at the girl. He lifts his chin mouthing to me to keep her busy, then he slides off of the barstool and brings his phone to his ear.

  “Why don’t you tell me why you’re all hot to keep me busy, babe?” I ask, my fingers tightening against hers to keep her immobile.

  She blinks, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip. “You’re a president, in Canada, right?” she asks.

  I nod, not clarifying that I’m actually the vice president, waiting for her to continue. “Things aren’t working out here, I want to move. I heard a girl was supposed to go down to Texas, but never made it. I want to switch clubs.”

  “You a clubwhore? I thought you were a dancer?”

  She shrugs a shoulder, then her eyes lift to mine and a little smile appears on her lips. “Sugar, I’m whatever you need me to be,” she purrs.

  My frown deepens, just as Grizz appears behind her. “She’s new, take her to the office upstairs. Sniper has questions,” he growls.

  I watch as he reaches for her wrist and tugs her up. My hands fall away, as I stand. Following behind them, I want to know what the fuck is going on.

  She focused on me for a reason and I need to know what that is. I curse the fact that I don’t have a phone with me. My gut twists again, and I think about Whitley.

  Something is fucking wrong, I can feel it, I shouldn’t have ever left Canada.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  WHITLEY

  The house is once again spotless, not that it wasn’t last night, but damn I’m bored. I reach for my phone and frown. No missed calls, no new text messages, nothing.