ASH: Westside Skulls Motorcycle Club: (Westside Skulls MC Romance Book 4)

by Cooke, Jessie

  “Hello, Allison, you’re looking well.” She didn’t answer him, but he could almost hear the “fuck you” in her eyes. He kept smiling, genuinely now, knowing that it bothered her.

  Her attorney started the meeting with a bunch of legal mumbo-jumbo and unnecessary introductions. At last he took out a pile of paperwork and slid it over to their attorney, who looked at the first page and laughed. “This is not what we came here for. This is a completely different offer than the first one.”

  “We’ve put in a few addenda,” the other attorney said.

  “A few? It’s like twelve pages longer. She’s asking for two million dollars plus a monthly allowance, an expense account, paid vacations...paid vacations? They’re not her employers, they’re her children.”

  “I only have one child here. He is not mine. He’s only five years younger than me, for God’s sake.”

  Ash cleared his throat. “Ten.”

  The attorney saved her from having to try to explain her lie or backtrack. Allison was thirty-eight years old. She’d been twenty-three when his father married her, and Ash was thirteen. He remembered wondering if his father had gone crazy the first time he met her. He hadn’t been mature enough yet to realize the things some people would do to keep from being lonely, and celibate. By the time he was fourteen or so, he’d figured out what his father saw in her, superficially at least, but he’d still hated her, maybe even a little more then, because by that time he was convinced she was only with his father because he was rich. Ash never cared about the money. She could have taken it all for all he cared. But he felt like if he knew her motivations then everyone else did too...and that was making a fool out of his father, and he hated that. Now, however, he thought about the will and the way his dad had left it, and he smiled again. Dad had gotten the last laugh. He finally stood up to her...in death. Better late than never, I guess.

  “I only came here because I thought this was a done deal,” Charlie said. She pushed back her chair and stood up. Ash was filled with pride. He stood up too.

  “Charlotte...”

  “It’s Charlie,” she said. “And save it...Mom. You worked for minimum wage in a coffee shop when you met my father. You lived the good life for fifteen years. It’s time for you to relearn how to take care of yourself. If I can do it, so can you.”

  “Oh, right! You can do it with Daddy’s billions,” Allison said, rolling her eyes.

  “I’m not going to argue with you,” Charlie said. “The point here is that he was my father, and Ash’s, not yours. You’re a grown woman who is capable of taking care of herself. Two million dollars and an estate that’s worth at least fifty mill. Accept that today...Mother...or we walk out of here and I swear I will spend the next ten years fighting this in court so by the time you do get a penny out of me, you’ll owe it to your attorney.” The two women glared at each other for several seconds and when Allison didn’t speak, Charlie turned and started for the door. Ash was right behind her and as they stepped through it Allison said:

  “Okay! Fine. I’ll take the first deal.”

  Charlie turned back around, and Ash stepped out of her way. She walked over to the table and her attorney, who looked as proud and impressed as Ash felt, slid a document and a pen over in front of her. She picked it up, signed it, and said, “So when will the assets be released?”

  “I’ll push it through as quickly as I can. I’ll shoot for the end of the week.”

  “Thank you,” Charlie said to him. She looked at the other attorney then and said, “And thank you too. You can send your bill to my accountant. I’ll make sure it gets paid.” He stumbled all over himself thanking her and she cut him off when she looked at her mother and said, “I wish you nothing but well, Mom, honestly I do. I hope someday you can come out of yourself enough that you and I can have a real relationship. But...I’m not Dad. I’m stronger than he was, and you won’t use and manipulate me.” She really left then, and Ash followed her. They didn’t speak until they got out in front of the building and then Ash stopped, hugged her tightly, and said:

  “I don’t think I’ve ever been prouder of anyone in my life.” He could feel Charlie shaking and after a second, he realized that she was crying. He held her tighter until she pulled back and said:

  “Wanna change your mind now?”

  He smiled. “Nope. A woman who can kick ass, take names, and still be a woman...some man is going to be so lucky to have you someday...and he’d better know it. He’d also better know you’ve got a whole MC at your back if he doesn’t.”

  She smiled and wiped the tears off her face. Rolling her eyes, she said, “I didn’t even think about that. Dating in California is going to be a blast.”

  30

  “I hate these fucking places,” Sledge said as he stepped out of the BMW Ash had rented for the day.

  “Me too,” Ash told him.

  “Yeah, but you look like you were born in that suit...I look ridiculous.”

  Ash laughed. “You do not, you look sharp.”

  “Right,” Sledge said, rolling his eyes. “I’m still confused about why we had to do this here.”

  “Monday is his golf day.” Ash strolled toward the country club where he’d spent many a day growing up and made many a memory that he still held onto. He had his first job there, working as a caddy for his dad and some of his friends. He had his first kiss there, at a dance that he and Mack managed to sneak away from for a little while when they were thirteen. He had his first taste of alcohol there and smoked his first cigarette too. Those weren’t things he was proud of...but it had all been a part of growing up. A big part of him was glad that Phil Spencer played golf on Mondays; it gave him an excuse to revisit the old place, and he knew how to work the system as well.

  “Hello, sir.” The muscle-head at the door was dressed in a black suit that looked like every thread in the fabric was stretched to its limit. His smile looked fake, but Ash didn’t blame him for that. He could only imagine what kind of rich assholes this guy had to deal with on a daily basis.

  “Well, hello there. How are you today...Robert?” Ash read the man’s nametag.

  “I’m well, sir, thank you for asking. May I see your passes?”

  “Passes?” he said, frowning. He looked at Sledge. “Did Phil give you any type of passes?”

  “No. He just said to meet him here at eleven. We need a pass?”

  “This is a private club, sir.”

  “Yes, of course,” Ash said. “We’re from California but we’ve been here many times with Phil Spencer. He’s a business associate of ours. We were supposed to meet him here for lunch today. He had an eight a.m. tee time, so he was sure he’d be finished by now.”

  “The car left. Should I try and get it back?” Sledge said, with a heavy sigh. “I have to catch my plane by two.”

  “It’s only eleven.”

  Sledge rolled his eyes and gave the muscle-head a look that said, Can you believe this guy? “I know what time it is. But this gentleman says we can’t come in and I’d like to have lunch before I catch my plane.”

  “He didn’t say that. Did you say that?” Ash asked him.

  “Not without a pass, sir.”

  “Can I call Phil? Maybe he got held up on the green, you know how it is, right?”

  “I’d still have to see some kind of pass, sir.”

  “You know Phil Spencer, right?”

  “Yes sir, I know who Mr. Spencer is.”

  “Well then, you’d recognize his voice on the phone, right? I mean, really...would we stand here and offer to call him if he hadn’t invited us?”

  “Sir...” Ash had two one-hundred-dollar bills in his hand and the muscle-head caught sight of them. He looked Ash in the eyes and said, “I don’t do bribes.”

  Ash laughed and looked at Sledge, who laughed too. “Bribes? No way. This was going to be a tip for you letting me use your phone to call Phil. I’d use my own, but I want you to be able to dial the phone and hear who is on the other end yourself.
Please, this meeting is so important, and you know how it is, right? If Mr. Spencer has the other party with him and they show up to find us sitting outside, sweating in our Armani suits...well, that just puts us all at a disadvantage, doesn’t it?”

  The big man sighed, and Ash bit his bottom lip to keep from smiling when he saw him pull out his phone. He handed it to Ash and Ash pressed in a number. The big guy looked at it, probably checking the area code to make sure it was local. He put it to his ear and after a second said, “Mr. Spencer?”

  Ash couldn’t hear who was on the other end, but he knew who it was, and what he was saying. It was a sixteen-year-old boy...a good friend of Charlie’s who worked at the club. Charlie spoke to him on the phone at length the day before and the boy had heartily agreed to his part in this plan...provided Charlie attend a concert in the park with him that night. Ash hadn’t liked that part. It almost felt like pimping his sister out. But Charlie told him that she’d really liked this guy at one point, but because Allison didn’t like his mother, she hadn’t been allowed to date him. Ash ultimately agreed to it, and he knew that right then the boy, a kid named Owen, was telling the muscle-head that he was Phil Spencer’s caddie and he would put Mr. Spencer on the phone. In fact, Owen was at the club...but he was working in the gym as a lifeguard, not out on the green as a caddy.

  There was a long pause and then the big guy said, “I’m so sorry, Mr. Spencer, I would have never bothered you but there’s a...yes, sir, I know that you shouldn’t be disturbed, especially on the eighteenth hole. I’m very sorry, but there are two gentlemen...” He was quiet again and then placing his hand over the speaker he said, “Martin Gellar and Miles Stevens?” Ash smiled brightly and nodded. “Yes, sir,” the man said, back into the phone. “I’m sorry, sir, but they didn’t have passes...yes, sir, of course. Thank you, sir.” He ended the call and told Ash, “He said to meet him at table 22.”

  “Thank you, Robert,” Ash said, slipping the two hundreds into the other man’s hand. He walked into the club, praying that after five years, about twenty pounds, and longer and lighter hair thanks to the California sun, no one in the club would recognize him. He and Sledge found the hostess and once again turned on the charm asking her to show them to Phil’s table, which she did. The waitress was young, and pretty, and Sledge started in on her right away, introducing himself as Miles and telling her how pretty she was. They both ordered a whiskey and Coke and when the blushing waitress returned with the drinks, Sledge flirted with her again. They sat chatting among themselves and sipping their drinks, when Ash’s phone beeped. He took it out and looked at the text. It was from Owen and it said:

  “He’s headed toward the sauna.” Owen’s lifeguard seat also afforded him a bird’s-eye view of the eighteenth hole and the surrounding area.

  “Okay, it’s time,” Ash told Sledge. “You got this?” Ash looked across the room at the waitress and Sledge said:

  “I’ve got this, she’s almost already as wet as I left that sweet little piece at Spencer’s office this morning while you were meeting with the lawyers and the wicked witch.”

  Ash rolled his eyes and laughed. “TMI, brother. I’ll text you in a bit.” While Ash and Charlie dealt with the Allison mess, Sledge had flown into the city and done some reconnaissance. He’d found out from the assistant that Spencer was not expected in on Mondays until one p.m. She said he played his eighteen holes, took a long sauna, a shower, and then had lunch before returning to work. Ash didn’t ask how Sledge managed to get that much information out of her, but he could guess.

  “I wish I could be there,” Sledge said as Ash stood up.

  “I know, but we both agreed this was less risky. This sonofabitch let Mack think he could put me in prison. I want to make sure he doesn’t have the last laugh.” Sledge nodded, and Ash got up, making his way toward the restroom in the back where there was also a door that led outside. He went out the door and then with his hands in his pockets, he strolled toward the health club where the steam rooms were located. He stopped at the door, took out his phone, and put it to his ear. He pushed in through the lobby doors and as he passed the front desk he barked out a few technical business terms into the phone. He sighed and shook his head like he was frustrated with whoever was on the other line and the girl behind the desk smiled at him. He mouthed “towel.” She reached under the counter and brought out a white towel and handed it to him. He pointed toward the door that led to the pool and she smiled and nodded. He made sure she was still watching as he went through that door and then he waited. There were only a few people in the pool and none of them were paying him any mind. He looked out the door and saw that the girl had her back to him before he sneaked out and went toward another door that said “Steam Rooms.” He went through that door and into one of the changing rooms. He stripped off his shoes and all of his clothes except for his shorts. He tucked his gun into the elastic of his shorts and wrapped the towel around his waist. Checking to make sure no one had come in first, he left the changing room and went toward the steam rooms. They were small, individual cabana-like structures with red or green lights on the outside to show occupied and unoccupied. As it was a Monday morning, Ash got lucky and there was only one green light lit. It saved him time guessing. He took one more look around, slid the gun out of his waistband, and stepped into the steamy little room.

  “Occupied!” Phil Spencer snapped. Ash walked toward the voice and the man’s silhouette came into view when he was about a foot away. “What is wrong with you? I said...oh fuck!” He either saw the gun, or recognized Ash, or both. Ash smiled and sat down next to him on the bench.

  “How’s it hangin’, Phil?” He glanced down between the man’s legs, squinted, and said, “Oh, sorry, looks like you ran out of Viagra or something.”

  “What do you want? You can’t possibly think you can shoot me in here and just stroll out...and get away with it...”

  “No, I’m not that stupid,” Ash said. “Not as stupid as you were when you thought you could rape an innocent woman and get away with it. Repeatedly rape...all weekend long. You’re a sick puppy, Phil.”

  “I don’t know what she told you but...”

  “She told me the truth. You want to waste time making up a story, or you want to hear my plan?”

  He looked like he was about to piss himself. After a few seconds he said, “What do you want from me?”

  “I want you dead,” Ash said in a matter-of-fact tone. “I wish I had time to make you suffer, the way you did Mack...but you’re not worth going to prison over.”

  “I thought you said you weren’t stupid enough to kill me in here.”

  “Oh, I’m not,” Ash told him. “Murder is so distasteful, don’t you think? No, I’d hate for Mack to think of me as a murderer. She has such a good heart that she might not even be able to forgive me for killing you. But...I do think it would make her happy to read some obscure obituary about how you had a freak accident at the club.” Phil opened his mouth to scream, but Ash was too quick for him. It was all over in minutes and that was his only regret.

  31

  “I’m going to miss you.” Mackenzie sat across from Ash at the small table in her apartment. Charlie was out on her date with Owen, Sledge had taken a flight home without Mack ever knowing he was in town and Ash had her all to himself, at least for a few more hours.

  “I’m gonna miss you too, baby. We have to figure this thing out. We’ve wasted too many years. I don’t want to be away from you. Maybe I’ll talk to Wolf and see what the Southies have got going on out here...”

  “No!”

  Ash was slightly taken aback by her strong objection. “No?”

  “I’m sorry. I mean, I know you like Dax and those guys, and Boston is a lot closer...but Ash, I can’t ask you to leave your friends, your whole life, and come back here just to be with me. Charlie is even out there now.”

  “Charlie is about to be filthy rich. She’ll be able to visit every weekend if she wants to. And I’m not going to li
e and say I don’t want to leave the Westside. I love my club. I love my brothers...but Mack, I am so in love with you. I’ve been so in love with you for so many years...and wasted so much of it. I don’t want to waste another second. I want a life with you.”

  It was the first time he’d told her he loved her in over five years and as he was saying it, that fact dawned on him. The tears in her eyes told him that she caught it too. “I love you too, Ash. I want nothing more than to make a life with you too...but let me talk to Charlie and see what we can figure out. Please. I don’t want to uproot your whole life.”

  “Mack...you are my whole life.”

  She stood up and came around the table. Putting her arms around his neck, she dropped down onto his lap and pressed her lips to his. The thought of being apart had lit a fire in both of them and as soon as they touched, their passion flared. Mack grabbed the bottom of his t-shirt as they kissed and pushed it up. Ash tore it off over his head and tossed it. It landed on the kitchen counter, but neither of them noticed, or cared. He was struggling to undress her, so she stood up and Ash stood up with her. They both began to strip off their clothes, kissing and touching in between, like two wild, horny teenagers alone at last while Mom and Dad were out. As soon as they were both naked he grabbed her around the waist and backed her up against the refrigerator. When her back was against it he put his hands in her hair and held her head still while he kissed her entire face, licked her lips, and then dipped his tongue into her mouth, assaulting as much of her mouth with it as aggressively as he could. He felt like devouring her, and the kitchen was as good a place as any for a delicious meal.

  Mack reached up and put her own hands in his hair and the kiss went on and on. Ash’s body was pressed hard into hers and every one of Mack’s curves melded into him, like they were made to fit together. God, he loved her. He was overwhelmed by it, and he couldn’t imagine going a day without her now much less a week, or two or three. He hated the thought of leaving his club...but sometimes you had to make sacrifices for love. Mack had made enough sacrifices. It was his turn.