Origin

by Ana Jolene

  And there was still the matter of sorting the shit out between us. It was clear that Seven was still upset about it. We had to talk and I needed to apologize. But a strange part of me almost didn’t want to. Apologizing meant I regretted what had happened and though the end had spun into hell, it hadn’t been something I could easily forget.

  “What’s for breakfast?” I asked her later when I came down to the kitchen.

  “Make your own breakfast,” she snapped.

  Okay, so she was still angry, but we had to talk about that night eventually. “We should talk,” I began.

  Seven didn’t even look up from her work. “Save it. Kitt’s coming over.”

  What? “Why?”

  “We’re friends, if you haven’t noticed.”

  Oh, I’d noticed and I didn’t get it. Kitt was the most leveled person I knew. “How do you two even get along?”

  “I could say the same about you,” Seven said as she began stirring something in a pot.

  “We’re different though.” At least Kitt could punch me if I got on his nerves. I peered over her shoulder. “What are you making?”

  “Spaghetti Bolognese. For when Kitt gets here.”

  “You’re not even going to offer me some?”

  “You don’t even like spaghetti Bolognese.”

  “You don’t know that.” Seven sent me a look that said, Come on, really? All right, so I hated the stuff, but I didn’t think Seven cared one way or another about what I liked and didn’t like.

  A food processor sat in front of her, ready to be used. “Can you turn on the stove?” she asked. I came around to switch on the gas oven just as Seven approached with a pot of water. “And can you take the vegetables out of the fridge?”

  “Sure.” The fridge was dark as a cave when I opened it.

  Seven came around beside me and frowned. “Flare?”

  “Yeah.” Disappointment laced my tone. Must’ve taken the electricity with it, too.

  Seven shrugged. “I guess it was due.”

  I nodded. It had been a while since we had one. “Can you still cook your meal?”

  “Yes, but the generator should’ve automatically gone on. You’ve fixed it, right?” Oh shit. With all the Phantoms business happening and unpacking, I’d totally forgotten about it. Seven turned, unleashing her angry gaze on me. “I told you to fix it! That was the deal, Lucky.”

  “I’ll take a look at it,” I said quickly.

  “It’s too late now. We won’t have electricity for however long this power failure lasts. Now all of our food will go bad.”

  “I’ll take a look at it,” I repeated.

  With a sigh, Seven presented her back to me, removing the food processor from her workspace and opting to simply cut up the ingredients herself. While she did that, I headed straight to the generator that was housed in the back of the supply closet.

  Bending at the knees, I looked it over. Generators had become essential after the start of the flares. Unpredictable onslaughts caused everyone to have one of their own, but maintaining them in the post-flare world was difficult. They could malfunction or get damaged by the intense heat. It didn’t take long for one to wear out now.

  Though Glory MC specialized in automotives, we also carried generators when we realized the high demand for them. It helped that we knew how to fix them whenever repair was necessary.

  But one glance at the thing and I knew this one was ready for Westborough. If it were a simple problem such as a blown fuse or an issue with the circuit breaker, I could’ve fixed it, but I could tell by the voltmeter that it wasn’t supplying any voltages. The problem could be a list of things, ranging from issues with the engine, the exhaust system, the piston rings, or even the valves. Replacing it would be more cost efficient.

  Seven had just finished cutting up the vegetables and was sliding them off the cutting board and into the pot when I came back into the kitchen. “Your generator’s busted,” I told her.

  “I know that. That’s why I asked you to fix it.”

  “I mean, it can’t be fixed.”

  Her sigh seemed both disappointed and frustrated. “I thought you said you were good at this kind of stuff.”

  “I am.” Not cockiness. Just fact. “And I can tell you that you’re better off getting a new one with the cost it’ll take to get it fixed. How long have you had that thing anyway?”

  “About six years.”

  I nodded. “You’re due a new one. I’ll place an order for you when I head into Neptune’s.”

  “How long will it take?”

  “Depends on the stock. I could have one here tonight. Or, if you’re really shit outta luck, it may take weeks.”

  “Weeks?”

  “I’ll check it out for you.”

  She sighed heavily. “Fine.” Then she resumed her cooking.

  The knock on the door signaled Kitt’s arrival a moment later. “What smells so good?” he asked as he entered the kitchen. Seven turned and beamed at him as if he was a fucking messiah and she was his loyal servant. What the hell was that all about? She never smiled at me that way.

  Kitt pulled her into a hug and she showed him a seat. As he settled into it, he shot me a glance. “How’s the sheets I got you?”

  “Better than the pink shit, that’s for sure.”

  “The two of you living together must keep things really entertaining,” Kitt mused.

  Not really. “I woke up to find her aiming my pistol at me.”

  Kitt’s panther eyes widened with disbelief as he glanced back at Seven. All she did was shrug like it was no big deal. “He leaves his weapons all over the place. Anyone can just waltz right in and take them.”

  “It’s only you and me living here,” I argued.

  “So I showed him how his weapons could be used against him if he left his shit around.” Her evil grin made an appearance.

  Irritation was once again gnawing at my bones as she ignored me. But as long as Kitt was here, I was sure he’d have my back on this. You know, brotherly support and all that. “She’s right, Lucky,” Kitt agreed.

  “Come again?”

  “You gotta take better care of your weapons,” the sergeant at arms explained. “They need to be handled with care.”

  As my jaw dropped, Seven shot me a triumphant smile. The scathing glare I sent Kitt didn’t even register with him. “Can I help you with something?” he asked Seven.

  “Sure.”

  Kitt sent me a cutting look. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m actually pretty good at cooking.” Um. Had he not just realized he’d taken Seven’s side over mine?

  “What have you cooked?” Seven inquired, eyes glittering with interest.

  “Meth doesn’t count,” I drawled.

  “Funny,” Kitt said dryly. “I’d like to see you cook from scratch.”

  “Nope. Not happening. We’ve got church soon.”

  “I know. I’ll be there.” I slumped as my eyes closed slowly. The idiot just let the raft of survival pass. What the hell was wrong with him? Did he actually want to spend time with Seven? If so, there was no hope left in the world. Might as well say, sayonara, brother now while I still had the chance.

  Without a parting word, I left the two happily playing Betty Crocker as I tucked my pistol in the waistband of my jeans and headed for the clubhouse.

  Seven

  My eyes trailed after Lucky as he left. Finally, I could breathe. What was it about Lucky that irritated me so much? He had the power to affect me even when everything else seemed to slide off me like oil.

  “Sorry. I would’ve been further along before you came but with the flare, I couldn’t use my food processor.”

  “I don’t mind.” Kitt continued stirring the pot of sauce. His muscles hidden beneath a full sleeve of tattoos rippled like water as he moved. Within seconds, he had finished with the stirring. “What else do you want me to do?”

  “Could you keep an eye on the stove over there?”

  “Sure.” />
  The contrast between being with Lucky and being with Kitt was extreme. Kitt took instruction well. He never talked back. And if he didn’t like something, he found a way to communicate it without coming across as an asshole. Lucky, on the other hand, operated on his own whim, never letting anyone regulate his behavior.

  Especially not me.

  The differences didn’t stop there. Side by side, Lucky and Kitt couldn’t have looked more different than night and day.

  The sergeant at arms looked even more intimidating because he was heavily tattooed. The artistic ink traveled along both his arms and even across his chest and legs. Lucky, on the other hand, had his own pieces on display, but his golden skin refused to be shown up by the exquisite detail of the eagle on his back.

  Added to that was Lucky’s killer smile. The man knew his effect on women and wielded it as a weapon frequently. He just oozed confident swagger and good times with his charming words, and women seemed to fall prey to it every time.

  But not me.

  The guy laughing it up in the middle of the bar wouldn’t have interested me. Instead, the one in the corner, watching everyone else as they partied would be the guy I would have trailed to. Indy once told me I had a taste for bad boys. I believed it was partially true. Secrets intrigued me and if I wanted to know something about a guy, I’d stride up to him and ask him myself. You couldn’t do that with someone like Lucky. Lucky liked women who were sweet and shy, who would blush and smirk at every little compliment he gave you. If sheep were what interested him then a tigress like me wouldn’t do him any good.

  “Are these done?” Kitt asked, cutting into my thoughts.

  “They’re perfect.” I took the bowl I was working on and transferred its contents into the pot on the stove. In ten or so minutes, we’d be able to have brunch.

  Stirring occasionally, I kept an eye on the stove as Kitt chopped up some fresh parsley.

  “Um,” Kitt said, looking warily at the stove beside me. “Are you sure it’s supposed to do that?”

  The sauce was bubbling, spitting out like angry hot lava. I cursed, reaching for the knob to adjust the heat. “This stupid stove keeps malfunctioning on me! The heat suddenly spikes and I can never get it to stay one temperature for long.”

  “Don’t you have another stove?”

  “You mean the one Lucky was supposed to fix? He hasn’t.”

  Kitt laughed. “I’d take a look at it, but I don’t know shit about that stuff. Best leave it to the guy who does.”

  “Except he won’t touch it.”

  Kitt glanced at me. “Look, I know you and Lucky don’t get along, but he’s actually a nice guy if you get to know him. Why don’t you . . .” His shoulders lifted in a shrug. “I don’t know. Talk to him?”

  Lucky’s earlier words resurfaced. We should talk.

  Yeah, that was the last thing I wanted to do right now. Rehashing those emotions wasn’t something I wanted to experience again so soon after his return. More than anything, I was angry at not just what his disappearance did to me, but also what his return meant. How were we supposed to deal with what had happened without turning things awkward between us? “There’s no such thing as talking with Lucky,” I told Kitt. “We fight. We argue. We bicker about the most inane things. We just don’t seem to get along.”

  “Lucky is only nasty when he sees people as a threat.” I shot him a look that said, gimme a break, but Kitt continued, “He was pissed at me now because he was jealous.”

  “Jealous?” I echoed in disbelief. “What would give you that idea?”

  Kitt leaned in to rest his elbows on the countertops. “I don’t know what happened before I got here, but the moment I walked through the front door, I thought he was going to give me a boot in the ass. Didn’t help that I took your side on the weapons standpoint. Something tells me that I may have walked into something.”

  I slid a curious glance at Kitt. The man was way more perceptive than I ever figured him to be. But that didn’t mean I was open to discussing what happened between Lucky and me with him. “Why does this feel like some romantic comedy? Like you’re like the gay best friend who tries to make me see the good side in the jackass hero.”

  “I can assure you, I like women too much for that to be true. I’m just telling you what I saw.”

  I dropped the spoon I had been using to stir. “This isn’t edible. It’s completely burnt underneath.”

  Kitt frowned. “All that work for nothing?”

  “Sorry. Unless we cook by fire, it’s going to take a while unless the power comes back on. Do you want to go to Neptune’s for a quick bite instead?”

  “I don’t see any other choice. I’m starved.” He was already putting on his cut. “Besides, we have a meeting. You can ride on my bike.”

  Before we headed out, I made sure the stove was off and that the burnt food was in the trash. There wasn’t much I could do about the food in the fridge except hope that the power came back sooner rather than later. No matter how much I wanted to deny it, my thoughts were focused on Lucky and how much easier life would be if I could avoid him. And yet here I was, getting on the back of his brother’s bike, heading straight to him once again.

  EIGHT

  Trust Me

  Lucky

  My boots thudded against the hardwood floor of Neptune’s. Hanna looked up as I passed, sending me a wink that I returned. I headed straight to the back room, ignoring the thumping music and the interested looks from the women to check out our stock of generators for Seven. If I didn’t, she’d probably cut off my balls with one of those sharp knives she had in the kitchen. And then where would I be with the ladies?

  The good news was that the latest shipment of generators had come in last week. The bad news was that most the inventory had already been sold. Normally, this would be a reason to be happy. It meant that money was coming into the club and we could finally get the repairs that the dive bar needed to restore it to its former glory, but with the generators selling like lap dances at a titty bar, there was nothing left for Seven.

  I pulled out a form, filling out the blank spaces with the specifics I wanted for the new generator. Within a few days, a new shipment would come in and I could pull one out and save it to take home later. That should get Seven off my back for a couple of days.

  That done, I headed back to the bar and slid onto a stool. Hanna suddenly formed in front of me. “What’ll you have?”

  I grinned. “Shouldn’t you already know by now?”

  She shrugged, already turning to grab the bottle of Jack Daniels and pouring a shot for me. “It’s a habit to ask,” she said with a smile. “How’s your leg?”

  I looked down, adjusting my injured leg on the rungs of the stool and frowned. “Hurts a little to be honest, but nothing I can’t handle.”

  “Yeah.” Hanna laughed. “Tough Lucky doesn’t show an ounce of pain, huh?”

  “Where’d you hear that from?” Grinning, I tossed back the shot and felt its burn all the way down to my sternum.

  “Seven seems to think you’re like stone. Nothing ever really fazes you.” She paused and shot me a cheerful grin. “Except for her, that is.”

  “Did Seven also tell you that I’m an asshole? Because she reminds me of that every day.”

  More laughter from the redhead. “I already knew that. Don’t need Seven’s big mouth to discover that fact.”

  Another voice cut in then. “Are you two bad mouthing my best friend?” From the other corner of the bar, Indy stood with her arms on her hips. She sent me a look that told me she’d throttle my ass if I’d been talking shit.

  “No, we were just discussing Seven’s accurate portrayal of me. She seems to believe she knows me better than myself.”

  As Indy approached, her smile grew. “Well, Seven is quite insightful,” she said, no doubt referring to the time Seven knew about her mood disorder before she could tell her. “How do you like being her new roommate?”

  I groaned, letting that
say it all. Both ladies before me laughed. “We argue. A lot.”

  “Do I even want to know what you two fight about?”

  “Morning showers,” I rattled off. “Generators. Where I leave my guns. Sex hammocks.” The list was endless.

  “Sex hammocks?” Hanna asked, puzzled.

  “Never mind,” I muttered, as Indy laughed harder. I took another shot, letting my body ease itself of its tension.

  “I hope you don’t drive her insane. Otherwise, she’ll come kick my ass for suggesting that you stay with her.”

  “Drive her insane?” I thundered. “Indy, your girl nearly clocked me in the head with my own pistol this morning. At this rate, I’ll have a head that’s swollen to twice its size with the way she’s been threatening to beat me with it.”

  “You don’t need me to help with that, sugar.” At the sound of that irritating voice, I turned to find Seven strutting towards us. She’d changed into a new top, matching it with a pair of sexy cowboy boots. “Your head grows with each passing look from a woman.”

  I shot her a wolfish grin. “So does my dick.”

  “Lucky!” Hanna scolded.

  “I don’t see you beating at my penis,” I continued as a look of disgust crossed over Seven’s expression.

  I busted out laughing. Kitt approached with his helmet tucked beneath one massive arm. When he settled on the stool beside me, I turned to him. “Finished baking cookies with Betty Crocker?”

  “I see you’re in a slightly better mood,” he returned.

  “I still can’t believe you didn’t take that exit I gave you. What’s she got that these other women don’t?” I spread my arms out to the pool of women who frequented Neptune’s. They would do anything just for a chance at a Glory member. Any one of these ladies would be a better pick than Seven.

  Kitt smiled. “She’s got a damn good pair of legs and a nice rack on her. Don’t pretend like you haven’t noticed, bro. I see your leering eyes.”