Shadow's Surrender: Insurgents Motorcycle Club (Insurgents MC Romance Book 14)

by Chiah Wilder

  “Isn’t a Mrs. Mansfield giving us a hard time with building the strip mall in West Pinewood Springs?” Helm asked.

  “Yeah, the bitch and her committee of uptight prudes,” Throttle answered. “Don’t even mention her name to Banger or Hawk—they’ll go ape shit.” The men laughed.

  “She’s a total bitch,” Shadow said. “Even though I don’t go in for hitting a woman, the way she looks at us makes me want to punch her right in her sour face.”

  “I get that,” Rags said. “She’s just against the strip mall because we’re the ones that wanna build it. She probably hasn’t fucked her old man since he sold the club the land a year ago.”

  “I bet she hasn’t fucked her old man even longer than that,” Shadow said. “She strikes me as one frigid lady.” But her daughter is just the opposite. Scarlett is one sexy wildcat. Fuck! I’m thinking about her again. He slammed his fist on the table and the three men looked at him in confusion. “Just thinking about her pisses me off.” It was true, but the guys didn’t have to know which her he was referring to.

  “The old man probably has a young cutie he’s supporting to take care of his needs,” Throttle said.

  “He does,” Smokey said as he dragged over a chair.

  “You done with Charlotte already?” Helm asked.

  “Yeah—I just wanted a quick fuck,” Smokey replied. “The old man keeps a chick half his age in one of the luxury condos on Larkspur Lane. I did some work on the place for him.”

  As the men asked questions about the man’s mistress, the mention of Larkspur Lane threw Shadow back to the first day he and his mother had moved into the penthouse apartment on that very street. She had been so happy that day, and he was relieved that his mother could stop taking her clothes off for a living. If only he’d known that the move would turn out to be the biggest mistake of their lives, he would’ve held his mother close and never let her go.

  “You still with us, dude?” Throttle’s voice, faint at first, became more audible, and Shadow jerked his head back.

  “I was just thinking about something.” He threw a warning stare at Rags and Helm. “Did you ask me something?”

  “No, your phone’s been buzzing like a damn bee. I’m pretty sure it’s Hawk asking if you can work tonight at Dream House. He’s already hit up all of us,” Throttle said.

  “You should be well-rested since you had a day off.” A deep frown etched into Smokey’s rugged face.

  “I told Hawk it’s a go for me,” Helm said. “It seems like there’s gonna be a frat reunion or some kind of shit like that, and he wants extra help and security.”

  Shadow nodded as he read Hawk’s text. “It’s a go for me too,” he muttered as he tapped in his response to the vice president.

  “Honeysuckle will be happy to see you,” Rags said. “Last time I was there, she was asking ’bout you.”

  “How’s she doing with her dancing? She was pretty stiff when Hawk hired her a couple of months ago,” Smokey said.

  “She’s figured out that the better you move, the bigger the tips. Crystal’s been working with her and she’s getting real good. A lot of guys like Honeysuckle ’cause she’s super friendly and she’s got a great pair of tits.” Rags laughed.

  “The tits always do it,” Throttle said as he pushed away from the table. “I gotta pick up Kimber. We’re going to Silverton for dinner.”

  “You both riding?” Smokey asked.

  A big grin split his face. “Nope—my old lady wants to ride with me.”

  “Yeah, even when a chick has her own bike, she still wants to hold her old man tight,” Smokey said.

  Throttle chuckled. “It doesn’t happen very often, but I do like my old lady pressed against me. See you guys later.”

  “You gonna help out at Dream House?” Helm asked Smokey.

  “Fuck no. I worked all day, so I’m gonna go on a long ride, then come back here and chill.”

  Shadow ignored the dig. “You guys wanna grab some chow at Ruthie’s?” The diner was one of the favorite spots for the Insurgents.

  Smokey shook his head and stood up. “I’ll pass—I wanna get on my bike and hit the back roads.”

  “I’m in,” Helm said at the same time Rags voiced his agreement.

  “Then let’s get our asses in gear,” Shadow said.

  The three men walked out of the clubhouse, jumped on their bikes, and made their way to the diner.

  * * *

  The parking lot of Dream House was packed with everything from dated pickup trucks to the newest Mercedes AMG GT, which ran over a hundred thousand dollars. Music from the club spilled out into the lot each time the door opened. At the far end of it, Shadow heard a girl giggle and he watched as she staggered to her feet from the passenger seat of a Porsche, wiping her mouth. She wore stilettos, a mini skirt, and a thin strip of fabric that substituted for a top.

  “I’ll meet you inside,” Shadow said to Helm as he walked toward the tipsy woman.

  A man in his late twenties stepped out from the car and stared at Shadow. The biker instinctively placed his hand on the Glock in his pocket and continued walking. The woman stopped and looked at him with unfocused eyes.

  “You okay?” he asked her, his gaze still on the man.

  “Yeah, just a little drunk.” She put her hand over her mouth and giggled.

  “You with this dude?” Shadow pointed at the man standing by the luxury car.

  “I was,” she slurred.

  “She is,” the man said. “She’s my girlfriend.” He stretched out his arm. “Come here, baby.”

  The girl teetered on her heels, confusion marking her face. “You want to go for another round? Can you get it up that fast?”

  He turned to Shadow and shook his head. “She’s totally wasted. She was feeling sick in the club so we came out for some fresh air, and I thought it would be better if she rested in the car.”

  “That’s a load of bullshit. She just finished giving you a blow job that you paid for. We don’t allow that shit on our property.” Shadow looked at the woman again, who was now sitting on the ground with her head between her legs. He didn’t recognize her; she wasn’t one of the dancers. “You got a way to get home?” he asked.

  She shook her head.

  “Where’d he pick you up?”

  “Over on Penn.”

  Penn Street was the red-light district in Pinewood Springs. It was where the street hookers hung out, offering much lower rates than the call girls who worked for a couple of the escort services in town.

  Shadow narrowed his eyes and took a couple of steps toward the man in the expensive silk shirt and dress pants. “Are you going inside the club?”

  “Yes, I’m meeting friends there.”

  “I’m gonna let it slide this one time, but you’re on notice. You don’t bring hookers here; you don’t touch any of the dancers, and you don’t offer money to fuck any of the dancers. If you obey the rules, you and me are gonna get along okay, but if you don’t … well, you won’t be walking so good for the next week. You got that?”

  A flicker of panic crossed the man’s face and he nodded. “I didn’t mean to disrespect you or the club. I thought it was cool since this is a gentlemen’s club.”

  “Hookers aren’t allowed. Now get your ass inside and the only time you come out is when you leave.”

  “Okay … okay,” he muttered as he walked toward the front entrance.

  Shadow walked over to the young woman and helped her up. “You got a place to stay?”

  “I’m at the Wildflower Motel,” she answered.

  Despite the name, the motel was a seedy dump that catered to drug deals, prostitution, and other elements from the underground world.

  “Are you staying there alone?”

  “My boyfriend’s there, but he’ll be mad if I go back now. I need to make a bit more money.” She looked up at him and smiled. Black smudges from where her mascara had run formed half-moons under her eyes. “Do you want a blowjob? I’m real g
ood at it.”

  “How much do you have to bring home to the asshole who you think is your ‘boyfriend’?”

  Her smiled faded. “Roy is good to me. We’re just low on cash, that’s all.”

  “Why doesn’t he get his ass out and work?”

  “He’s got a bad back. He told me the condition he has but I can’t remember it.”

  “How much do you need to make tonight?”

  “He’d be good with a couple hundred bucks, but I only got a hundred and twenty.”

  Shadow took out his wallet and handed her a hundred dollars. “Take it and go home. I’ll have one of the bartenders drop you at the motel.”

  Her eyes widened. “Thanks, mister. Why’re you being so nice to me? Are you sure you don’t want a quickie or something?”

  “I’m sure. Hang on a sec.” He sent a text to Gary, and a few minutes later the bartender came outside. Shadow jerked his head at the woman. “Give her a lift back to the Wildflower Motel. I’ll cover for you behind the bar.”

  Gary nodded and Shadow helped the woman to the bartender’s car. “Keep your head out the window ’cause you don’t wanna puke in his car.”

  “That’s for fucking sure,” Gary said as he closed the passenger door. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  “You got your piece on you?” Shadow asked.

  “Yeah. Am I going to have to use it?”

  “I don’t think so, but she’s got a pimp so be careful. You need one of us to go with you?”

  “I should be fine.” Gary slipped into the car and drove away.

  The woman’s head hung out the window like a dog, and she kept looking at Shadow until the car turned the corner and disappeared. The hollow feeling that had haunted him since the day he’d first learned his mother worked as a dancer was amplified at that moment. Concern for the young woman tightened his chest.

  “You coming in to pick up the slack behind the bar?” Klutch asked.

  “Yeah,” Shadow said as he approached the front door.

  “It’s fuckin’ crazy in there. We got three of the big tables full of frat jerks who love to spend daddy’s money.” Klutch laughed. “The dancers are loving it.”

  “We gotta make sure those pricks keep in line. I don’t want any of the women feeling uncomfortable or cheap.”

  The Insurgents were adamant that the dancers be respected by the patrons, but Shadow was particularly obsessed with it, and he knew the brothers thought he was a bit wacko when it came to them. Only his good friends knew the reason why, but they kept it to themselves. He didn’t want the whole club to know that his mother used to dance. When he was younger, he’d heard her and her friend, Flo, talk about the way the men pawed them and how they hated that the owner and manager didn’t protect them.

  Shadow clenched his jaw so tightly that a muscle jumped in his cheeks, and molten anger rolled through him when he thought about what his mom had to endure to make ends meet. And it was all because his bastard father used every cent he made to drink and fuck other women.

  Shadow lifted his chin at Hubcap and Wheelie who were searching patrons on their way in. When he entered the gentlemen’s club, he was surprised at how many people were packed inside. He glanced over and saw a few people perched on stools that surrounded the big wooden bar, but most of the patrons were standing, crammed around it like sardines in a can.

  Bones, Cruiser, and Blade were rushing back and forth trying to keep up with all the orders, and Shadow dashed over to give a helping hand.

  “Glad to see you, bro. It’s fuckin’ nuts in here tonight,” Blade said as he poured tequila in several shot glasses.

  “Tell me what you need,” Shadow said.

  “Ten rum and Cokes. Stella will be by to get them.”

  Shadow glanced over the sea of people and noticed Honeysuckle gyrating on stage in a glow of yellow and blue lights. He grabbed the soda gun and squirted Coke into the glasses with one hand while adding shots of rum with the other one.

  The whole time he worked, he kept his eye on the guy who was with the hooker in the parking lot. He sat with a group of frat boys who’d reserved several tables for a reunion. Blade had brought him up to speed on the different groups of guys at the club that night. The bikers’ job was to make sure everything ran smoothly at the place and that the men didn’t get out of line.

  The Insurgents only employed three citizens at the club: Gary, the bartender, and two bouncers—Bane and Eddie. The rest of the staff were club members. Cruiser, Blade, and Bear were the ones who worked at Dream House most of the time, and Emma, an old lady of one of the bikers, managed the place. Hawk did the books, and the other members helped out when needed. It made the business run like a well-oiled machine.

  A half hour later, Gary came behind the bar and nudged Shadow.

  “Everything go okay?” Shadow asked.

  “Yeah. I waited for a bit just to make sure.” Gary grabbed a bar towel and wiped the counter.

  “I’d have taken her back, but I know I would’ve ended up beating the shit outta her pimp or worse.” He pressed his lips into a thin line. “And the fucked up thing is, if I’d done that, she’d be all over me, screaming and kicking to defend her piece of shit.”

  Gary nodded to one of the waitresses when she recited an order. “We’re fuckin’ slammed tonight.”

  “Yeah,” Shadow muttered, his mind still on the woman at the motel. When he and his mom used to live in the trailer park, there were two women who always sported black eyes or busted lips. They’d service a few of the lowlifes in the park, but what he remembered the most was their “boyfriends” yelling and punching them when they didn’t bring back enough money. He’d always wanted to run over and help them, but his mother had made him promise never to get involved with any of the personal shit that went on in their neighborhood.

  “You can’t save them all, dude,” Gary said, clasping his hand on Shadow’s shoulder. “It’s just the way it is sometimes.”

  Gary’s voice dragged him back from the past, and he looked at the bartender and nodded slowly. “Yeah … you’re right about that. Life can really throw a bunch of shit in your face. Do you need me back here?”

  “No—four of us is the limit, otherwise we just get in each other’s way.”

  “Okay. If you need a break or anything, find me.” Shadow walked out from behind the bar and strolled over to Helm, who stood against the left wall, his eyes scanning the room.

  “Hey, bro. You’re not needed at the bar anymore?”

  “Gary’s back. How’re things on the floor?” Shadow zeroed in on the group of suits who had tables in the front and were throwing money on the stage.

  “So far, so good. The girls are pulling in a lot of dough with private dances and tips. A good night for all.” He motioned Tiffany over. “A generous glass of Jack for me and Shadow.”

  “Sure, honey.” She winked then disappeared into the crowd. “Honeysuckle’s already asked about you.” Helm’s eyes kept scanning.

  “She’s dancing real good now,” Shadow replied.

  “She and Diamond seem to be popular with the rich frats. We gotta make sure the fuckers behave, you know.”

  “Yeah.” Shadow kept his gaze on the dude from the parking lot, who was currently leaning over the stage and trying to hand Diamond some money. Shadow jerked his head toward the dancer. “I gotta stop that shit right now.”

  Helm’s eyes fixed on the dude who was practically climbing on stage. “Go for it. When you get back, your Jack will be waiting.”

  Shadow put his hand up when he saw Jax stalking toward the guy. He gestured that he had this one and Jax stopped in his tracks.

  With one fluid movement, Shadow grabbed the guy by the back of his neck and dragged him back.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” he yelled as he tried to break away.

  “Leave him alone, asshole!” another man shouted.

  Protests in agreement resounded around the table, but Shadow ignored them and plopped the
guy down on an empty chair.

  “Stay the fuck off the stage. You can’t touch the dancers and they can’t take the money from you when they’re dancing.” His eyes narrowed dangerously.

  “You gonna let him talk shit to you, Jonah?” one of the frat boys asked in a slurred voice.

  Jonah’s gaze locked with Shadow’s, then recognition spread over his face. He looked down at the table. “I was outta line. Sorry,” he said.

  “Fuck that! The bitches are strippers and we’re paying money to do what the hell we want,” a guy with short brown hair and an expensive dress shirt said.

  Shadow gripped the big mouth’s shoulders and pulled him out of his seat. “You’re outta here.”

  The man struggled to get away and several of his buddies stood up. Jax, Helm, and Rock rushed over, and the men sunk back down in their chairs.

  “This asshole doesn’t know how to respect the club, the dancers, or me.” Shadow shoved him toward Rock. “His ass is outta here.”

  One of the men stood up and smiled at the glaring bikers. “My buddy’s drunk as hell, so he doesn’t know what he’s saying.” He took out his wallet. “I’m Warren Huntington, and I’m prepared to make this right.” The guy glanced around the table. “We’ll make sure he doesn’t make trouble.” Warren opened his wallet and withdrew several hundred-dollar bills.

  The dude looks familiar. Shadow racked his brain trying to remember where he’d seen this asshole, but it escaped him.

  “Your call,” Rock said, looking at him.

  Shadow glanced over at Jonah, who had his gaze fixed on his drink, and then he took in Warren, who thought money was the answer to everything. “Fuck that,” he muttered under his breath as he shook his head no. “Your fuckin’ buddy’s outta here.”

  Before Warren could reply, Rock dragged his friend away.

  “You better make sure the asshole’s got a way to get home,” Shadow said.

  Two of the men jumped up and dashed toward the front door.

  “Did you really have to do that? I mean, we know you’re an Insurgent and this club is owned by you guys, but you don’t have to be all badass about it,” Warren said as he slipped his wallet in his back pocket.