Army

by Wilder, Chiah

  Still laughing, Goldie nodded over and over.

  “It’s fine,” Army said, his insides tightening.

  “Okay,” the employee said. Doubt laced her voice as she slowly walked to the back room.

  “Are you fuckin’ finished?” Army asked as he walked to the counter.

  Wiping his eyes with his palms, Goldie went over to the computer. “Sorry, dude. I haven’t had a good laugh in a while.”

  “If you spread this shit around the club, I’m gonna beat your ass,” Army growled.

  “Then let’s go out back and face off, because there’s no fuckin’ way I’m keeping this one under wraps. You gave me so much shit when I was dating Hailey, and you ragged on and on about Paco and Chelsea. No way I’m not spilling my guts.” He started laughing again.

  Army clenched his fists. “You gonna do this, or do I go to Rambling Rose and give them my business?”

  Goldie cleared his throat. “Okay. Let’s be professional.” He snorted as he slid the book over to Army. “Pick something out of here because I don’t know shit about doing a custom order.”

  Army flipped through the pages, but each snicker from Goldie pissed him off more and more. He pushed the book back at him. “I’m not ordering from you. Tell the chick in the back to help me, or I’m outta here, dude … I’m not fuckin’ around.”

  Goldie held up his hands and pivoted. “That’ll work for both of us ’cause there’s no way I can keep a straight face.” He popped his head in the doorway. “Petra, can you come out here and take an order?”

  “Sure,” a high-pitched voice answered.

  Army pointed his finger at him. “And you keep your fuckin’ mouth shut, or go outside and smoke a damn joint if you can’t.”

  Goldie just laughed and settled on the stool behind the counter. Petra ambled over, her dark brown apron speckled in glitter and globs of glue. “Did you pick something out?” she asked, looking at Army over big red-framed glasses.

  “He’s new to this,” Goldie said, then smiled when Army threw him a dirty look.

  “Did you want something already made or a custom?”

  “Not sure.” Army refused to even glance at Goldie, who was enjoying this way too much for Army’s liking.

  “Do you know what kind of flowers she likes? That’ll help.”

  “I’d say sunflowers and some purple flowers and green stuff.” Army’s jaw tightened at Goldie’s snicker.

  “Let me see,” she said, flipping through the plastic pages in a big binder. “Here we go.” She turned the book upside down so Army could see the picture. “Something like this? It has sunflowers mixed with miniature scarlet carnations, bronze daisies, orange chrysanthemums, and large lavender asters. Bold red roses would be a pretty addition. Just a suggestion. Of course there’ll be autumn greens like in the photo. It comes either in an angular vase or a large, rectangular basket.”

  Army felt Goldie’s gaze on him. “I like that. The colors complement her eyes.”

  “What color are they?”

  Army wished like hell Goldie wasn’t there. “Amber.”

  Petra looked up at him. “True amber? I mean a lot of people think hazel eyes and amber ones are the same, but they’re not.”

  “True amber.”

  “Wow … that’s rare. This arrangement will be beautiful. Do you want it in a vase or basket?”

  “Vase.”

  “Clear?”

  “I guess.”

  “Okay. What about the roses?”

  He hesitated. “Pass.”

  “Okey dokey.” Petra’s fingers flew over the keyboard.

  Army looked over at Goldie. “Go smoke a fuckin’ joint.”

  “Don’t you want me to know your chick’s name and address?”

  Army scowled and Goldie chuckled while he stood up. “I’ll stack those boxes on the shelves,” he said to Petra as he disappeared into the back room.

  “It’s hard for guys to order in front of their friends. I think it’s a macho thing,” she said as she pushed up her glasses.

  Army didn’t answer but a multitude of emotions coursed through him. He almost changed his mind when Petra asked for Mia’s name and address, but he didn’t, and by the time Goldie came back out, the order was paid for: the flowers would arrive at Mia’s house the following day—he’d paid extra for overnight delivery.

  “I’m taking off,” he said to Goldie. “See you later at Lust.”

  “I’m gonna be at the dispensary tonight.”

  Suddenly, the teasing from earlier disappeared, and the seriousness of what may happen later that night fell over the two men.

  “I got the vibe some shit’s gonna go down,” Army said after Petra went in the back.

  “Me too.” Goldie ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m worried about Hailey.”

  “I know.” Army clasped Goldie’s arm. “Are some of the brothers watching the old ladies?”

  “Yeah. They’re all going to Steel’s house. The kids too. Breanna’s been preparing for it all day. They’ll have dinner and do whatever shit women do.”

  “Are the prospects gonna watch them?”

  “Yeah. I told Hailey to call me if anything goes down.”

  “They should be all right.” But Army knew they were empty words because the damn Pistons wouldn’t hesitate to hurt women or children. Both men stood quietly, each lost in thought.

  The front door opened and the chime broke through their musings. Army lifted his chin at Goldie then turned around. An older woman and man walked past him as he went out of the store. He jumped on his Harley and made his way to Lust.

  * * *

  Stars splashed across the sky like diamond-splattered blood but cast nothing to lift the impenetrable inky blackness blanketing the town. The occasional beam from a passing guard illuminated the luxury cars parked in Lust’s parking lot. The muffled beats of music and voices filtered from the club.

  “Everything good?” Army asked, coming around the back of the building.

  Dennis—one of four extra security guards they’d hired from Sangre’s company—stepped back a little as if startled. “Yeah. Seems pretty quiet back here. It’d be better if it wasn’t so dark.” He looked up at the moonless sky.

  “The security spotlights should help, but not having a new moon would’ve been better. A lot of dark corners and shit to check out. I’m headed around the front. If you need any of us, you know what to do.” Army made his way to the front of Lust when he saw Eagle and Crow coming out the side door.

  “All’s good?” Crow asked as he fell in step with Army.

  “Seems to be. I’m checking on Paul in the front. How’s it going inside?”

  “Those guys can fuckin’ party.” Crow laughed.

  “And they got a shitload of money to burn. The girls will make a killing tonight,” Eagle added as he trailed behind.

  When they came around the front, they saw the other guard holding a large pizza box as he walked toward the front door.

  “Paul!” Army called out.

  He stopped and looked at them. “The strippers ordered pizza.” He laughed.

  “What the fuck?” Crow said.

  Army shone his flashlight on the security guard who looked like he was going to open the box. “Don’t move! Don’t open the—”

  A loud explosion, shattering glass, a streak of fire reaching up into the blackness, and the fearful screams coming from Paul as he propelled backward and landed on the ground filled the night. Army, Eagle, and Crow dashed over to the fallen man and quickly dragged him away from the burning cardboard box on the tarmac. Dennis came running over at the same time Diablo, Brutus, and Chains burst through the club’s front door.

  “What the fuck happened?” Diablo cried as he ran over.

  Dennis—wide-eyed and pasty—knelt by his co-worker.

  “A fuckin’ bomb in the pizza box. Paul opened it,” Eagle said before he and Crow ran out to the street.

  “Can you hear me, dude?” Army said
to Paul.

  “Yeah. What the fuck happened?”

  “The goddamn box was booby-trapped.” Army looked behind him at Chains. “Call Medico.”

  “We need to call the police and an ambulance,” Dennis said.

  “We’ll take care of it. Go back to your post. Chains will go with you.”

  Dennis reluctantly stood up. “Do you want me to call someone for you?” he asked Paul.

  Shaking his head, Paul took the damp cloth Brutus gave him. “No. I feel like I’m on fire.”

  “The dumbasses who made the pipe bomb fucked up, otherwise we’d be picking up parts of you all over the damn lot,” Diablo said.

  Army took out the phone and called Goldie. “We got a bomb blast over here. Paul got hurt, but Medico’s on his way. It was a pizza box.”

  “I have the fucker who delivered one here. He was trying to tell me that one of the employees ordered it. I knew it was bullshit,” Goldie said.

  “What’d you do with it?”

  “It’s far enough away, so it won’t do much damage if it goes off.”

  “The bomb here was defective. Burned Paul pretty good, blew out some car windows, and some of the debris dented a few BMWs. I don’t know if Medico can help out. We may have to call Wexler on this.” Not wanting to deal with law enforcement, the Night Rebels handled things on their own as did all outlaw MCs, but sometimes they needed the assistance of Sheriff Wexler. They had a tacit agreement with Wexler—they’d keep hard drugs and gangs out of Alina, and he’d look the other way on some of their not-so-legal dealings. For the most part, it worked well.

  “I’ll take the little shit to the clubhouse. Jigger will stay here and deal with the badges. They gotta disarm the bomb. Is everything okay at Skid Marks, Get Inked, and Balls and Holes? Seems like they’re targeting our businesses.”

  “Diablo’s taking care of it. Here comes Steel and Paco. I’ll see who they want to go to the clubhouse to help you interrogate the fucker.”

  “I’m going now. Wexler’s gonna have his hands full,” Goldie said.

  “How the fuck did this happen? Where the hell were you?” Paco asked, a scowl embedded on his face.

  “I was on the other side checking on Dennis and making sure no one was lurking in the shadows. I can’t believe Paul thought the strippers would order a fuckin’ pizza in the middle of a party,” Army replied.

  “He knew to call one of us.” Paco looked at Steel. “I was against bringing in citizens to help out. What a fuckin’ mess.” He bent down and put his hand on Paul’s shoulder. “How’re you doing, man? We got help coming.”

  “My face feels like’s it’s on fire,” he whimpered.

  Paco nodded then stood up. “He’s burned pretty bad,” he said in a low voice.

  “The other places are good. Muerto said someone tried to deliver a pizza, but Brandy knew something was off. The guy left it at the front and took off but Muerto got him. He said the place was packed tonight.” Diablo clenched his fists. “The fuckin’ Pistons are gonna pay for this.”

  “What’d he do with the box?” Army asked. A sideways glance confirmed Medico had just arrived. The forty-four-year-old man had his medical bag in one hand, and he lifted his chin at Army and the others then knelt down beside Paul.

  “He said he took it over a few blocks and left it behind a trash bin in an alley. The dude he caught is at the clubhouse. He’s going back to the pool hall when Goldie gets there, then he’ll call the badges.”

  “How he is?” Steel asked Medico.

  “He’s got some pretty bad burns. He needs to get to the hospital stat.” Medico had been on the Night Rebels payroll since the club had started. Many times he was called in to patch up the brothers after a rumble, and he never opened his mouth about what he’d seen or did—a trait that was priceless to the outlaw club. Steel took off his jacket and gave it to the physician, who placed it around a trembling Paul.

  “I’ll call it in,” Steel said somberly.

  By now, many partygoers had filtered out of the club, and Steel went over to them in an attempt to put them at ease. Eagle and Crow returned without any luck in finding the person who’d delivered the bomb. They joined Army and Paco, who talked in hushed whispers, calm and low, but their words were of hate and retribution.

  The flashing red and blue lights signaled that the badges had arrived. Army looked over his shoulder and saw three police cars and an ambulance. Paco walked over to the sheriff, and Army saw that the VP’s jaw was working overtime.

  Soon the paramedics had Paul on a stretcher, wheeling him to the ambulance. Sangre stood next to Army and watched the vehicle drive away.

  “Fuck,” Sangre said.

  Army gripped his shoulder. Paul was one of Sangre’s employees, and he felt for him. “Yeah … fuck.”

  “The women are good. Ink told me no one’s come near the house,” Diablo said as he came up to them.

  “That’s something,” Army answered. “Anything happen at Get Inked?”

  “Nope.” Diablo folded his arms over his chest.

  “That doesn’t make sense. I wonder how long the damn badges are gonna keep us,” Sangre said.

  “I heard Wexler say they’ve got some badges coming down from Durango to disarm the bombs,” Diablo said.

  At the mention of Durango, an overwhelming desire to hear Mia’s voice seized him. “I’ll check on the dancers,” Army said. He walked past the deputies and went back into the club. The women sat with patrons, and when he entered, the barrage of questions made him sorry he hadn’t just gone around back. After fielding their inquiries, he made his way to the back area and slipped into the office, shutting the door behind him.

  For some reason he had it in his head that Mia could be in danger, and that Satan’s Pistons could go after her to get back at him. He had no indication that the damn Pistons even knew he dated Mia, and his rational mind told him that his reasoning was askew, but he needed to make sure she’d turned her alarm on and was safe. Army tapped in her number and glanced at the clock: 1:00 a.m.

  “Hi Army,” she said groggily.

  Her voice was thick and sweet like slow pouring honey. “It sounds like I woke you up.”

  “You did, but I don’t mind.”

  “Did you remember to put your alarm on?”

  “You’re obsessed with that.” She chuckled. “Is that the reason you called me?”

  Her voice was clearer now that she was awake. He pictured her pushing up and maybe leaning back against the headboard. “I wanted to hear your voice.”

  “That’s nice to know,” she said softly.

  “What did you do tonight?” He wondered what she was wearing. Is it something sheer and nasty or cozy and flannel? His dick twitched.

  “I went out with some of my friends for a drink after the gym.” She yawned. “What about you?”

  “I worked, remember?”

  A small pause. “That’s right. Was everything okay with your club business?”

  “Can’t say. What’re you wearing?”

  “A nightshirt.”

  “Anything under it?”

  “Panties.”

  “Fuck.” He huffed out a breath. “I wish I was with you.”

  “Me too.”

  Damn, she gets me going.

  “Taylor talked me into competing in an upcoming fight. I’m still thinking about it. I’ll have to train my ass off and lay off the carbs and booze.”

  “Doesn’t sound like too much fun. When’s the fight?”

  “In four weeks.”

  He heard her gulp something and smiled as he imagined the sheet falling down past her toned legs as she reached for a glass of water.

  “I hope … you can come and see me … if I decide to compete,” she said tentatively.

  “I wouldn’t miss it.” Flashes of her in the cage straddling him and wiggling her firm ass over his cock made the bulge in his pants grow bigger. That had been a favorite fantasy of his since he’d first seen her at the MMA fights.r />
  “Maybe you could come before then. I know Taylor likes sparring with you. He told me you guys used to do it a lot when he was younger.”

  “Maybe.” Army perched on the edge of the desk enjoying the battle going on inside Mia at that moment. He knew she wanted to ask when he was coming back, but her independent side wouldn’t let her. It seemed like her mind and body were constantly at war with each other. The way he saw it, there was no doubt her body craved him, but overthinking it too much made her push him away.

  “Oh.”

  Army looked out the window and saw the sheriff and his men walking around the building. I gotta get back out there. “Do you miss me?”

  “I had fun with you.” Defiance crept into her voice.

  You miss the fuck outta me. “That’s good.” A rap on the door. “Hang on.” Army went over and opened it then put the phone tight against his denim-clad thigh.

  “What the fuck are you doing in here?” Steel asked as his gaze flicked to the phone.

  “I had a call to make. You want me to head over to the clubhouse and see what’s up?”

  “Goldie, Rooster, Razor, and Cueball are finding out answers. Wexler has some questions he wants to ask you. I don’t want him nosing around anywhere else except here and the two other businesses.”

  “Okay.” Army stood rooted to the spot.

  “End your fucking call and get outside.” Steel turned and walked out the back door.

  Army shut the door. “Mia, I gotta go.”

  “Is everything okay? I heard someone talking.”

  “It’s fine. One more thing—did you cancel your date with that fuckface?”

  “Date?”

  “Lunch on Sunday.”

  “His name is Noe.”

  “Did you?” He looked out the window and saw Steel pacing.

  “I did because I thought we were going for a ride. I was going to call him in the morning and tell him I can make it now.”

  “Don’t.”

  “You’re telling me what to do now?”

  “Yeah, I am. Just don’t go. I have to hang up. Later.” He slipped the phone in his pocket, switched off the lights, then headed outside.