by Penny Dee
I didn’t like the vibe this girl was giving off, and I wanted her to go away.
But she wasn’t finished yet.
“A word of advice?” she said, turning her cigarette packet between her fingers.
“I didn’t know I needed any.”
She smiled, but it wasn’t sweet. “If you’re going to drop your panties for any of them, you’d better make sure you make it memorable so they’ll want to keep you around.”
I put her white wine down in front of her. “Anything else?”
Tiffani’s nice girl mask finally slipped. “You’re not one of us. This place, the Kings, me—we’re family. If you have any intentions of going after Bull—”
Yep, this bitch felt threatened by me.
If only she knew.
I leaned against the bar in front of her. “Honey, the only reason I want them to keep me around is so I get paid every week for doing my job.” I started to walk away but paused. “And just so you know, if I did drop my panties for anyone, you’d better believe I’d be fucking anyone else they’ve had right out of their heads. Including anyone who comes very highly recommended. If you know what I mean.”
If looks could kill, then I was dead a hundred times over. Tiffani’s eyes narrowed and a smirk spread across her glossy lips. But she didn’t say anything, she simply stubbed out her cigarette and walked off.
“Girl, you’re a badass!” Randy said as he walked up to me. “I knew I was right about you.”
“About what?”
“Matlock bet me you wouldn’t last the week. Said you looked too sweet to last in a place like this. Said if the boys didn’t get to you first, then the good-time girls would eat you alive. And he’s a tight motherfucker, too.” He grinned. “Boy, I’m going to relish the look on his face when I tell him he just lost twenty bucks.”
“Don’t start celebrating yet,” I said, throwing three empty beer bottles into the recycle bin. “My first week isn’t over yet, and if anyone else comes at me like that, Bull will probably fire my ass when I pour some Miller High Life all over their heads.”
He tipped his head back and laughed. “Oh, baby doll, you have so much to learn. This is an MC clubhouse. Hollering back and tipping beer over heads won’t get you fired, it’ll get you a fucking pay raise.”
BULL
I deliberately hung back and watched her from the shadows of a booth across the room. I wanted to see how she handled her first clubhouse party. And I’d be lying if I said I couldn’t help but glance over more than I should. There was something fascinating about her. Something intriguing. But also, something else. Something I couldn’t put my finger on. Something scratching at the back of my brain, wanting my attention, but not fully revealing itself.
So, I settled for what I did know.
I wanted her.
I wanted to taste her.
I wanted to feel her.
I wanted to see those succulent lips part with the deepest moans as I did so many things to that luscious body of hers.
I had from the moment she confronted me in the parking lot behind the school.
Then for reasons I couldn’t fathom, I’d offered her a job, making the task almost impossible.
There was a small part of me that wondered if the job offer had come from a place of desperation. Because she wasn’t easily impressed by me. She didn’t care who I was, or what I looked like, or what bike I rode. The cut wasn’t a turn-on for her, and she didn’t care how many other women wanted my attention.
Part of me knew that if I’d let her walk away that night, I’d probably never see her again. Sure, she said she thought she was getting laid. But by that stage, I’d already offered her the job. Besides, she had been joking. Because something told me it was going to take a lot more than an expensive bottle of wine and some good food to get her under me.
I looked across the bar at my brothers celebrating Nitro’s return. He’d done a stint in prison for arson after an insurance job went wrong. It was the type of shit I warned the guys about. Poorly vetted side jobs could get you time. Or worse, dead. Thankfully, there was no blowback on the club, and our razor-sharp lawyer had gotten him a light sentence.
While the band set up in the corner of the clubhouse, Led Zeppelin’s “Rock and Roll” blared from the speakers, and the energy in the room was high. It was a full house tonight. All the boys were here, and most of the old ladies, too. A few of the girls from The Den, Head Quarters, and Spank Daddy’s had also turned up, including Matlock’s movie star girlfriend, Danni Deepthroat.
As I watched everyone having a good time, I tried to absorb their enjoyment and their enthusiasm, but the truth was, I couldn’t seem to muster the excitement for club parties anymore. It wasn’t a recent thing. It was something I’d grown more aware of ever since I’d watched my niece and nephews grow up and find happiness away from the partying and club life. And it wasn’t just my family moving on. It seemed everyone was.
But me? I was fucking frozen in time.
Trapped with a memory.
Chained to it by guilt.
Or so it felt.
I shook my head to dislodge the depressing thoughts, and took a swig of the beer I’d been nursing for the last hour.
I knew what they thought about me. My brothers. They thought I was cold. Ruthless. That my heart dried up and scattered like confetti when my wife died. That I was incapable of feeling anything. They thought I was some kind of sociopath who didn’t feel the consequences of his actions or the weight of every choice I made as club president.
But the truth was, I felt it all.
Every single decision.
Every choice.
Every death.
Every damn consequence of the MC world.
I absentmindedly touched my hip where six dark lines were inked into my skin.
Some days I didn’t just feel it, some days I was fucking haunted by it.
But I did what I needed to do. Then I compartmentalized it. Tucked it away in the dark corners of my mind and hoped my subconscious did a good job processing it so it made some kind of righteous sense. Because I was the president, and that was my fucking job.
But there were moments where I craved the love of a woman. For someone to go home to at the end of the day. Someone who would wrap her arms around me after I’d brutally slayed a psychopathic murdering rapist, and remind me that I was still human. That I could love. That I was deserving.
Some days I thought I wanted it all. The wife. The kids. Even the damned picket fence. But I had spent far too long believing that I didn’t deserve to move on. Because if I had put Wendy first that night, if I had picked up the wine like I said I would, she wouldn’t have died in that car wreck.
I deserved to be alone.
It was my sentence for being a shitty husband.
For my wife and my unborn baby dying in the rain.
And I had rules to ensure I never forgot.
It was why I fucked with no attachment.
It was why I avoided any involvement with a woman that included feelings or commitment. Or love.
It was what kept my heart a barren wasteland and my bed cold.
It was my choice.
My penance.
But it wasn’t without its own consequences, because some days I was fucking lonely.
Like now.
Like last week.
And the week before that.
Not that there was any shortage of available women. Especially in the clubhouse.
But I didn’t indulge in club girls, and they had given up trying.
Except Tiffani.
Tiffani would never give up.
“Hey there, baby.”
Speak of the devil.
Tiffani slid into the booth across from me.
I gave her a nod and she grinned, tipping her head to look at me through her heavy lashes. “You look lonely. Feel like some company?”
“Not tonight, darlin’.”
She saw me glance over at the b
ar and her mood shifted. “You know, your new girl is a real bitch.”
My eyes darted to hers. “Why do you say that?”
She looked over at Taylor pouring Tully and Cool Hand shots at the bar, and her eyes narrowed. “Thinks a lot of herself, that one. Got a mouth on her too. She’s a bad seed, I’m telling you. You watch out for her, baby. I don’t trust her.”
I usually avoided Tiffani. If she wasn’t so popular with some of my brothers, I’d have her gone from the clubhouse permanently.
She was a troublemaker.
And she could turn crazy on and off like a goddamn faucet.
When she looked back at me, her demeanor changed dramatically and she smiled sweetly. “But let’s not waste time talking about some bar girl.”
“You bought her up,” I reminded her.
She scoffed, but waved it off and batted her long lashes. Looking coy, she licked her already glossy lips and curved one bare shoulder toward me. “When are you going to put me out of my misery, Bull? What does a girl need to do to get your attention?” She ran a long nail along my forearm. “No need for you to sit here looking so lonely. Let’s go to your room where I can make you feel real good.”
I pulled my arm away. “It’s not going to happen, Tiffani.”
She pouted at the rejection. But didn’t take the hint. Instead, she upped her efforts. She leaned in closer. “You’ve got my panties soaked right through.” She let out a little whimper. Her eyes hooded. Her teeth biting into her lip. “Give me half an hour with that beautiful cock of yours, and I promise, you won’t regret it.”
How she knew I had a beautiful cock was beyond me. I had never, and never would, touch Tiffani.
I was just about to tell her to leave me alone, when my attention was dragged away by some random cheering across the room. As I looked up, I noticed Sheriff Buckman walking into the clubhouse. Normally, when the cops arrive at a clubhouse, they’re not walking in, they’re storming in. But things were different here in Destiny. We had a good relationship with the sheriff, thanks to a long-standing agreement between him and the last three presidents, as well as a nice fat retainer at the end of each month.
So, seeing him walk into the chaos of a biker homecoming celebration was hardly a concern, and no one really paid him much mind. Except a couple of club girls who made a flirtatious show of saying hello to him. He awkwardly untangled himself from them and made his way over to me.
Tiffani took one look and screwed up her face. She didn’t like Bucky. Not since he’d arrested her for being drunk and disorderly at a roadhouse on the interstate toward Humphrey. She stood up and snatched her purse from the table. Out of courtesy, he lifted his hat and gave her a polite nod. But she was still furious at him. She scowled and brushed past him without a word before making her way over to the pool tables.
“You got a minute?” he asked me.
“All the time in the world, Bucky.”
I nodded when he gestured to sit down.
“I want to talk to you about that incident out near the railroad tracks on the edge of town,” he said, placing his hat on the table in front of him.
“Incident?”
“Yeah, someone called the sheriff’s office to report a body.”
“They did?”
I was playing dumb, and Bucky knew it.
“Yeah. Found it in a ditch with a bullet in his chest and some burns that the medical examiner said was done with a blowtorch.”
I let out a whistle. “Brutal. Anyone we know?”
“A real sleaze bucket called Scud Boney. You know him?”
“Can’t say that I do.”
“Yeah, well, he had his slimy fingers into a lot of terrible shit. Some of the Polaroids we found back at his motel room made one of our forensic guys puke his breakfast all over the goddamn parking lot.”
“Sounds like someone did the world a favor.”
“I guess they did.” Bucky’s knowing eyes shone across at me. “I just hope that someone got rid of the gun they used so it can’t be traced.”
“I reckon whoever did what you said they did probably took care of it already. The Mississippi is a damn big river.”
Bucky nodded, absentmindedly curling the brim of his hat with his hands as he thought for a moment.
“You know, if this someone had called my department before they took the law into their own hands, we could’ve taken care of it, and they wouldn’t be looking down the barrel of a murder charge if they are caught.”
I looked unaffected at the suggestion. “Maybe that someone thought that the world was a better place without him. Sounds to me like he is better off rotting in hell than in some jail cell.”
“Yeah, well, hopefully next time I’ll get a chance to do my job.”
“Don’t sweat the small stuff, Bucky,” I said. “The bad guys are like weeds. One dies and another one sprouts up to take his place. I’m sure if you dig further into Scud Boney, you’ll find plenty of other sleaze buckets to collar.”
He didn’t look convinced, but nodded as he rose to his feet. “I take it there won’t be any more Scud Boneys floating to the surface anytime soon.”
I gave him a blank look. “Some of the best advice I ever received was to never say never.”
“Well, here’s some more advice for you to contemplate. I know you’re hellbent on revenge, son. I just hope you know what you’re doing. Because you know what they say…before you start on a journey of revenge, best you dig two graves.” He looked uncomfortable as he placed his hat back on his head. “Just something for you to consider.”
As he walked away, I took a long pull on my beer.
I didn’t want to think about Scud Boney or the cesspit of a motel room I’d found him in. He was in hell now, right where he belonged, and the moment he hit the floor dead, I had started to forget about him.
TAYLOR
“Hey, T. You interested in more shifts?”
I had just walked into the clubhouse to start my first Wednesday shift when Randy approached me.
“Are you kidding me? Sure, I’m interested. What do you have available?”
“Chrissy’s shifts.”
“Who is Chrissy, and what are her shifts?”
“She works the weekends and all the other shifts you don’t work. But she works to six o’clock some nights. Can you do that?”
I chewed the inside of my mouth. I would have to make sure Pickles was fine with watching Noah.
“You could always bring Noah back to the clubhouse after school. Hawke and Vader’s kids sometimes hang out and do their homework when their mama’s have to work.”
“They hang out here?” I asked surprised.
“This place is PG until five p.m.”
Just as he said it, Nitro and Caveman walked in dropping the F-bomb as they talked about pussy.
“Yeah, real PG,” I replied wryly.
Randy threw the dish towel over his shoulder.
“Come on, kids hear worse than that on Netflix.”
I appreciated the offer. But I was determined to keep my personal life separate from my professional life.
“I’ll work something out. I have a neighbor, Pickles, he usually watches Noah. And when he’s not available, there’s always Mindy the cheerleader. She lives on the other side of the unit complex.”
Randy leaned a hip against the bar. “You know, Vader’s kid, Luke, is Noah’s age. It might be a chance for Noah to make some more friends.”
The thought was more than appealing.
But my reason for keeping them separate was by necessity, not by choice.
“Let me think about that some more.”
I didn’t need to think about it.
Noah wasn’t going to hang out at the clubhouse.
“Great.” He straightened. “Oh, and while I think about it, are you free to work Maverick’s bachelor party?”
“I’ll make sure I am. When is it?”
“Last Saturday of this month.” He raised an eyebrow. “Bu
t I have to warn you, it won’t be as tame as Nitro’s coming home party.”
“I think I can handle it.”
He tipped his head back and laughed. “We’ll see, T. We’ll see.”
Needing to pee, I ran to the bathroom before I started my shift. But as I headed back toward the bar, a sound stopped me in my tracks.
Standing still, my skin prickled with goose bumps as I listened, trying to work out what it was and where it was coming from.
It was a purely raw, masculine sound, a heavy, rhythmic pant that ignited a flare of excitement in my stomach, and sent a torturous throb to the muscles between my legs.
Grunting.
And it was coming from Bull’s office.
I told myself to keep walking. To ignore the erotic, primal sounds coming from inside the other side of the door marked PRESIDENT.
But while my mind said one thing, my feet did another.
The door was slightly ajar, and it was too much of a temptation. Curiosity got the better of me and I crept toward it.
I didn’t know what I expected to see.
Was he with a woman?
Did he have her bent over his desk?
I couldn’t hear a female. No soft moan. No feminine gasp. Just a thick, rhythmic grunting that ignited every sexual urge in me.
Was he jacking off?
Would he even do that here?
I knew I should walk away, but I couldn’t help myself. I felt drawn toward the gap in the door.
At first, I didn’t see him. But when I dropped my gaze to the floor, there he was, shirtless and doing push-ups.
Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.
My lips parted with longing because a shirtless Bull doing push-ups was something else. Even better than white t-shirt Bull.
I was riveted to the spot by the big round shoulders. By his massive arms as they pushed and pulled. By his torso, thick with slabs of muscle. By the up and down motion of his pelvis as he lowered himself toward the floor, only to thrust upward again.
I couldn’t look away.
Dear God, this visual was going straight to the spank bank.
I knew I was being a creeper. But I didn’t care. This was mesmerizing and nothing was going to drag my eyes away.