BEASTLords of Carnage MC

by Daphne Loveling

  I snort.

  Angel smirks. “You know, some of the brothers have old ladies and children. We even do charity stuff.”

  “Yeah, right,” I sigh. “I’m sure it’s a regular Rotary Club over there.”

  His laughter is easy. “You’ll never know unless you come check it out for yourself. Come on, let’s go.”

  “What, now?” My eyes grow wide. “Are you forgetting that I’ve got Noah with me?”

  “He’ll be fine. Trust me. You think I’d bring my sister and my nephew there if you wouldn’t be safe?” Angel glances toward my son, who’s making his stuffed monkey, Chip-Chip, do back flips. “You can nail my balls to the wall later if anything bad happens,” he promises.

  Against my better judgment, and muttering to myself about what an idiot I am the whole time, I end up agreeing to follow Angel back to the club. The whole way there, Noah is chattering to himself in the back seat and making monkey sounds, and I wonder to myself if I’m making a huge mistake.

  12

  Jenna

  The clubhouse is a nondescript building set back from the main road, with a large, fenced in area to the side and a parking lot in front. Rows of bikes line the portion of the lot next to the fence.

  Angel parks his Harley at the end of one of the rows, and walks over to me just as I’m unbuckling Noah from his car seat. I hand my son to his uncle, who awkwardly gets him into a piggyback position, and together we enter the club through a heavy, windowless front door.

  What the hell am I doing? I ask myself as Angel swings the door open. I open my mouth to tell him I’ve changed my mind. But by the time I get my voice to work, he’s already through the door and inside the clubhouse with Noah.

  It takes a couple of seconds for my eyes to adjust to the light difference, but when I do I see we’ve entered a large, open room. There are about a dozen large, tattooed men of various shapes and ages, all wearing leather cuts emblazoned with the Lords of Carnage rockers. The men are scattered around the room, standing or sitting, laughing or playing pool. A few women are there, too, which surprises me even though Angel told me there might be. Most of them are dressed in clothes so tight I wonder how they can even breathe, and some of them are wearing makeup more dramatic than I would ever wear even to go out to a club. If I went to clubs, that is.

  “Hey, y’all, this is my sister, Jenna,” Angel yells. “And her kid, Noah. You treat them with respect.”

  It occurs to me to wonder what kind of welcome I’d be getting if I wasn’t the VP’s sister. But before I can go too far down that rabbit hole, an enormous — like unbelievably enormous — man with a large beard comes up and claps Angel on the shoulder.

  “So this is your family, brother,” he rumbles, in a voice just as deep as I would have expected. Then he raises his huge, tattooed arm and extends his hand toward Noah.

  “Hey there, little man,” he says. “I’m Tank.”

  Noah’s eyes are so big I can’t tell if he’s terrified or just fascinated. “Hi,” he says in a small voice, putting his tiny paw in Tank’s larger one. They shake solemnly, and damned if it isn’t somehow about the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.

  It’s surreal. I think this place is already starting to mess with my head.

  “Ma’am,” Tank then says respectfully, turning to me and nodding his head once.

  “Uh, pleased to meet you… Tank,” I stammer.

  I have to resist a sudden urge to burst into hysterical laughter. I’m exchanging polite pleasantries with a tattooed, leather-clad human mountain who could break me in half with two fingers.

  Yup. Seriously starting to mess with my head.

  Then, from over to one side, one of the women squeals and comes over to us, tottering in thigh-length boots.

  “Oh, my gosh, he is just the cutest little thing!” she croons. “I just love kids, and he is just adorable. A real future lady-killer.” She winks at Noah and then turns to me. “Hi, I’m Jewel,” she says. She starts to lift up a hand for me to shake, but then lowers it quickly. I look down and see it’s covered in a thick bandage. “Sorry, I keep forgetting about this thing,” she pouts ruefully.

  Angel speaks up. “Jewel’s the bartender I told you about. She’s out of commission for at least a few weeks.”

  She’s pretty, with wheat-colored hair and a wide, toothy smile. Her revealing clothes notwithstanding, there’s kind of an innocence about her attitude and demeanor that feels a little strange in an MC clubhouse — well, like I know what an MC clubhouse should even feel like. But she’s not exactly the “rode hard and put away wet” woman I would have imagined.

  “What’s your name, kiddo?” she’s asking Noah now. Normally, it overwhelms him when lots of adults start paying attention to him, and I expect him to shrink back from her. Instead, he gives her a shy smile.

  “Noah,” he tells her.

  “That’s such a good name for a handsome boy like you,” she grins at him. “How old are you?”

  “I’m four,” he tells her proudly, holding up his hand to show her how many. “Almost five. I can read already!”

  “Wow. That’s great. You must be really smart, then.”

  Noah nods. “I am.” We all laugh.

  “Your little boy reminds me of my little brother, back in Indiana.” Jewel says, looking at me. “He’s ten. Going on about thirty.”

  I chuckle. “Yeah, Noah gives me a run for my money.”

  “Hey, Jewel,” Angel says. “You wanna take Noah for a few minutes? We’ve got some business to discuss.”

  “Sure thing!” she says enthusiastically. “Come on, Noah. You want me to teach you a card trick?”

  Noah bobs his head up and down, and slides off Angel’s back. Jewel immediately offers him her non-bandaged hand and leads him over to one of the couches to play with him.

  Angel leads me over to the bar. “And that fucker there, pardon my French, is the reason we need to get you behind the bar,” he says, pointing. A handsome but nervous-looking young guy behind the bar gives me a slight wave.

  Prospect,” he calls to him. “You think you can pour my sister a decent drink without killing her?”

  I almost say no to the drink, but the fact is, my nerves are kind of jangled at the moment. I ask for a beer, which is cold and soothing and ends up settling me down a bit. A few more of the MC members come over to see what’s going on, and I start to realize I know quite a few of them. Angel makes more introductions, and I let myself relax a little bit. The men aren’t nearly as intimidating as I expected them to be, although I’m guessing that’s because Angel’s my brother. They are, almost to a man, freaking massive, though. The smallest of them has almost a foot on me. I don’t think I’ve ever been in a room with such a sea of testosterone before.

  It’s… freaky, I admit. I mean, most of these guys are objectively hot. But thankfully, they seem to be dialing it back with me, and I’m thankful for that. Far from feeling in danger, I actually start to have fun bantering with the men.

  About half an hour later, I take a deep breath and turn to Angel.

  “I can’t believe I’m going to do this,” I tell him, “but I accept your offer. Just until I can get on my feet, and Jewel can start tending again,” I add hastily.

  Angel grins at me. “Good deal. Now, get behind the bar and mix me your fanciest drink.”

  I snort. “Will do. Where do you keep the paper umbrellas?”

  I slip behind the bar and root around to see what they have. I end up mixing him an Irish Car Bomb, which I adorn with a makeshift umbrella that I’ve made out of a toothpick and a paper coaster. I bring it my brother in the back, where he’s started a game of pool with a few of the other men, who laugh and give him shit about the umbrella.

  From the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of Jewel and Noah. They’re playing some sort of card game where they’re both slapping the cards on the table as hard as they can. He’s laughing and screaming in glee — the happiest I’ve seen him since we moved to Tanner Springs.
I push down my feelings of guilt and allow myself a rare moment of optimism.

  Maybe things are going to be okay, I think for the first time in days.

  And then, just as I’m walking back to the bar, the front door opens and Cas Watkins strolls in.

  13

  Cas

  Even though it was originally my idea for Angel to ask Jenna to tend bar for the MC, it’s still a pretty big shock to see her here.

  Since that day at the Downtown Diner, I haven’t seen Jenna at all. And definitely not this close up.

  I could have used a warning.

  Again, I’m struck by how startling it is to see her as a brunette. It definitely suits her. Hell, pretty much anything would look good on Jenna, though. She could probably shave her damn head and still be a damn knockout. Even so, it still feels a little… off. Like the way she was carrying herself the other day at the diner. The curtain of hair, and the way she has a tendency to hide behind it, feels like a barrier. Something she’s consciously placing between her and the world.

  She looks up at me just as I come through the door and freezes in her tracks. Those pale, pale blue eyes lock onto me, her lips parting slightly in surprise. I take advantage of the moment to check out the entire package close up.

  Jenna is petite in stature, barely coming up to my shoulder. But even so, somehow she has legs that just won’t quit. She’s wearing a pair of jean shorts that are probably meant to be modest, but on her they’re anything but. Looking at her now, my eyes raking over her curves, I can still remember how it felt to reach down and cup her ass, pulling her toward me for the first time all those years ago. The feel of it in my hands is so strong right now that I have to fight the rising of my cock against my zipper. Shit. No good pitching a tent right here in front of the whole club. Especially when I can’t do anything about it.

  “Hey,” I say, my voice huskier than I mean it to be.

  “Hey,” she half-whispers back.

  “So. You’re working here now?”

  Jenna blinks her eyes in surprise. “Yeah, I guess so. How did you know?”

  “I, uh…” I shrug. “I suggested it to Angel. After Jewel got hurt.”

  “Oh.” Jenna looks flustered, like she doesn’t quite know what to make of that. “You did?”

  Frankly, neither do I. Oh, yeah, of course I suggested it to Angel. At the time, it just seemed like a practical solution to a mutual problem. But that was when Jenna still seemed kind of… abstract. Now, with her here in the flesh, right in front of me… Well, let’s just say, I’ve never been much of a one to resist temptation. And this, right here? This is a fucking temptation. And I brought it on myself.

  “Yeah,” I continue nonchalantly. “It just seemed like it made sense. Angel said you were back in town, and that you were having some money troubles, so…”

  Jenna’s expression changes, in the space of an instant. Her jaw sets, and her eyes flash. She’s embarrassed, and more than that, she’s pissed.

  “Great. Glad to know my life is and my problems are something everyone feels entitled to know about,” she says sharply, giving a short, sarcastic laugh. “But I guess it was probably obvious anyway. Why else would I accept a job in a place like this?”

  Fuck. I feel bad. Jenna’s always been proud. She doesn’t like people to see her weaknesses. I know that much about her. I wish I could take my words back, but of course it’s too late for that.

  Instead, I pretend to be angry myself, to take the focus off her. “What do you mean, a place like this?” I retort. “You think you’re too good for the likes of us?”

  It seems to work, at least a little. “No, that’s not what I meant,” she says quickly.

  “Sure it is,” I continue. “You think we’re just a bunch of criminals. The lowest of the low.”

  “No!” She rolls her eyes in frustration. “It’s just that…” She pauses.

  “It’s just that what?” I prompt, crossing my arms.

  “I just…” She’s flustered now, and her blush heats her skin. I resist the urge to reach up and slide my thumb along her jawline, to see if it will make her blush more.

  “I’m sorry, you’re right,” she finally admits. “That was rude of me to say. I don’t think badly of the club. I just…” She sighs, looking defeated. “Well, I guess I was hoping to find a job other than bartending for once. I guess I’m just frustrated that I have to basically take a charity job with my brother’s club.”

  “It’s not charity,” I say gently. “We really do need a bartender. Just so happens, you fit the bill and you’re free.” Her face looks dubious, and I decide not to push it. I try to change the subject. “How’ve you been?” I ask her without thinking, and then realize I’ve just put the focus right back on her and her troubles. Smooth.

  She laughs softly. “Okay. I mean, apart from the obvious.”

  “You look good,” I say, because it’s true. Her blush just gets deeper. Fuck, she’s just as goddamn gorgeous and sexy as I remember her being. More, actually. What I wouldn’t give to back her against the bar and have my way with her right now.

  “Thanks,” she murmurs, looking down. “So do you.”

  Aha.

  “Hey, Ghost!” yells Beast from the back. “Get back here and settle a bet for Tank and me.”

  “Calm your tits,” I call back. I grin at Jenna. “Sorry. Pardon my French.”

  “I forget they call you Ghost now,” Jenna says, a tiny smile quirking the corners of her mouth. “Angel told me that.” She wrinkles her nose. “It took me a minute to figure out it’s because your name is Casper.”

  “That’s not why they call me Ghost,” I tell her.

  “It’s not?”

  I take a half-step toward her and lower my voice a notch. “No,” I say, “But I can be a very friendly ghost, if you want me to.”

  I mostly say it just to see her reaction, but as soon as the words are out of my mouth, something changes. It’s as though an electric arc just shot between us. Her eyes lock onto mine for a long, scorching second. When she finally looks away, I realize I’m hard as a rock.

  “I’m just here to pour drinks, Cas,” she says quietly.

  “Ghost!” Beast shouts again.

  “Goddamn it,” I mutter, turning away. Jenna retreats behind the bar, and I go back to kick Beast’s ass.

  14

  Cas

  I try to stay away from Jenna for the rest of her shift, but I’m still hyper-aware of her presence in the clubhouse.

  I can’t help but keep watching her out of the corner of my eye as she moves around the bar and brings drinks to the brothers. I catch every movement she makes. I notice the way her white T-shirt clings to the curve of her breasts, and a memory of her pert, pink nipples makes me practically bust the zipper on my jeans. I see her leaning over to serve a beer — perfect ass molded by her shorts — and almost come in my pants thinking about how good it would feel to plunge myself deep inside her. It’s fucking torture having her here. What’s even worse is that every once in a while, I catch her glancing over at me, furtively, like she can’t help herself.

  It feels just like that summer five years ago. Here we are, dancing around each other again. It’s just a matter of time before we stop dancing. I can feel it.

  The first hour or so, Jenna’s moving around pretty stiffly, like she’s not sure what to expect out of the brothers. But eventually, she starts to loosen up as they come to the bar to chat her up and make her laugh. Angel’s in back with Rock talking business because we have church later, and it looks like his absence is starting to make some of the brothers feel a little bolder about flirting with her.

  A little too goddamn bold, for my taste.

  Sarge seems especially taken with our new bartender. I watch from the other side of the bar as he pulls up a stool and starts saying shit to Jenna I can’t hear. I see her throw back her head and laugh a few times, and before I know it my blood starts to heat up in my veins. Sarge can be a charming motherfucker when he
wants to be, but from what I’ve heard, his sexual tastes run a little on the violent side. As I watch Jenna roll her eyes and laugh again at something he’s just said to her, I know he’s making a play for her.

  Jenna isn’t my old lady. I have no business getting between her and anyone. And hell, I know she’s somewhat protected by being Angel’s sister. As I watch Sarge flirt with her, I keep repeating these things to myself like a mantra. But even so, my blood starts to simmer, and then to boil.

  The idea of Sarge, or any one of these men, bedding her is more than I can handle. By the time she walks by him and he slaps her on the ass, I’m seeing red and too far gone to care. I stand up, knocking my chair to the floor, and before I know it I’ve crossed the room in three strides.

  “Don’t you fucking touch her!” I snarl. I pull back and punch Sarge hard in the face before he even knows what’s happening. He falls backwards off the stool and hits the ground. Getting to his feet with a roar, he lunges for me. Sarge is a little bigger than I am, but I’ve got adrenaline on my side, and I’m not backing down. He barrels toward me, aiming to plow me down by the waist, but I’m ready for him. I crouch down low and catch him in the chest with an uppercut just as he rams into me. Then we’re both on the floor, trying to land punches where we can.

  “—it! Stop it! Cas, stop!” Jenna’s voice seeps into the fog of rage in my head. I feel myself being pulled off of Sarge by a couple pairs of arms, and I look up to see that Tank and Skid are hauling Sarge up, too.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” Jenna cries, getting in my face like she has no idea how close I am to exploding.

  I shake off the brothers holding me and grab Jenna by the arm, pulling her outside without a word as she continues to bitch at me. I’m practically shaking, I’m so angry, and I’m working hard not to take it out on her.