Battlefield (The Covenant Book 2)

by Gwendolyn Casey

  His eyes met mine immediately, and he approached the counter.

  “Hi,” I said as my cheeks caught on fire.

  “Hey, is Mark here?” he asked, his voice rumbling over my skin like thunder.

  “Yeah, he is back in his office,” I said, proud of myself for forming a full sentence.

  Then there was coughing behind me. I glanced at Lauren, who had an expectant smile on her face.

  “Jordan, this is my friend, Lauren. Lauren, Jordan Mitchell.”

  He glanced at her briefly and said, “Hey.”

  “Hey,” she responded breathlessly.

  He looked at me again, and I wondered what I could say but nothing came to mind that didn't sound stupid or immature.

  After a moment of awkward silence, he finally said, “I'll probably see you around.”

  “Yeah,” I said. He looked a little frustrated as he walked away.

  My heart was pounding in my chest as I watched him disappear down the far aisle to get to Mark's office.

  Once he was out of sight, I remembered to breathe. I turned and jumped a little when I found Lauren standing right next to me. “OMG,” she said, “that was the most intense ten seconds of my life and it didn't even involve me.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Please, it is totally obvious that man wants you.”

  I rolled my shoulders a bit. “No, we both just feel awkward about what happened.”

  She raised an eyebrow at me. “He didn't look awkward. He looked like he was trying to hold himself back from leaping over the counter and having his way with you.”

  Just then, a customer set a basket of groceries on my counter. I turned away from Lauren, grateful for the reprieve.

  Chapter Six

  Jordan

  I made my way back to Mark's office, cursing under my breath as I went. It was a mistake coming in through the front. I usually came in the back of the store for our meetings, but I couldn't seem to resist the chance to see Cece again.

  I just wanted to see her again, make sure my mind wasn't playing tricks on me.

  And it wasn't.

  When I came into the store and she had been standing right there, my mind seemed to stop all conscious thought as my eyes took in every detail. She didn't have any make-up on, making her look younger than the other night, and she wore her hair in an intricate braid. I liked her hair that way. It reminded me of a Grecian deity, like Athena or Artemis. A beautiful goddess that was completely untouchable to a mere mortal like me.

  I was amazed we had lived in the same town and I never noticed her before. Most of the young beauties of Clayton came to the club sooner or later. They all wanted a taste of the dark side before moving on to other things. Except Cece never set foot into the club until Friday night, and it had been clear that she never wanted to. For some reason, that made me like her even more. She didn't jump on the bandwagon and she didn't go looking for trouble. She was too smart for that.

  Our encounter a few minutes ago had been awful. It was my attempt to learn more about her, but every question that popped into my mind was creepy. Like, are you in love with my brother? Are you a virgin? If you’re not a virgin, how many guys have you been with?

  My inept attempt to get to know the woman made me cranky by the time I reached Mark's office at the back of the store.

  “Hey,” I said to get his attention.

  Mark looked up from the laptop that sat in front of him on his desk. He closed it slightly as he said, “Come on in.”

  He leaned back as I sat in the chair across from him. “Why'd you come through the front?”

  I shrugged. “Change of scenery.”

  “So, it has nothing to do with Cece Taylor working today?”

  I looked at the TV screens behind Mark that displayed every inch of his store before I glanced back at him. The arching eyebrow he shot me was one I was familiar with.

  “What does it matter?” I asked.

  Mark pushed his computer back a little bit, so he could set his elbows on the desk and bring his hands together, looking like the responsible adult he always played at. “Well, I like to watch out for my employees, especially the ones who don't have anyone else to do it,” he said.

  I felt a spark of anger at his tone. I didn't like him implying that I would be a danger to Cece. “So, you’re her self-appointed big brother?” I asked, furrowing my brow.

  “Maybe,” he said. “And speaking of brothers, isn't she dating Greg?”

  I glared at him.

  “Isn't it against bro code to sniff after his girl?” Mark said with a haughty smirk.

  “Maybe,” I replied. “But what about Lauren?”

  Mark's arrogant smirk dropped from his face, and he began to glare back at me. He forgot for a moment that I was privy to a few of his secrets. More than a few. We had known each other since the fifth grade, and we’d shared the hobby of hacking throughout high school.

  “I wonder how her internet dating is going,” I said sarcastically.

  Mark continued to give me a hateful stare, but I could see the shame in his gaze as well. Lauren would never meet a guy online because Mark wouldn't allow it. He was a master of the cyber world with the power to control anything and everything.

  It was the real world that Mark had difficulty controlling. His lack of confidence when it came to his looks made it so he never made a move for Lauren.

  In that way, I felt sorry for Mark. He lived under the delusion that he wasn't good enough for a girl as pretty as Lauren. It wasn't true, but he wouldn't believe me. Lauren was the only one who could convince him otherwise.

  It was for that reason that I decided to give the guy a break. “I'm not judging,” I said. “Just … glass house.”

  Mark relaxed a little and nodded his head as he leaned back in his chair.

  “And you don't have to worry about Cece. If she is with Greg, she is off limits.”

  Mark raised another eyebrow at me. “And if they break up tomorrow?” he asked.

  I looked away because I had no idea what I would do if Cece was suddenly free. Part of me thought she was still too young and too much a good girl to be involved with me. But another part would want to hunt her down, throw her over my shoulder and find the closest room with a lock on it so I could lay claim to her before anyone else.

  Mark ran a hand over his face. “I guess it won’t matter soon anyway,” he said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Cece will be leaving for California once she saves enough money.”

  “Why?” I asked, a little too quickly.

  He shrugged. “I could think of a million reasons for her wanting to leave.”

  I nodded, letting that information sink in.

  “You got the info I need?” I asked.

  He opened a drawer and handed me a stack of pages. “This should be all you need,” he said.

  I flipped through it quickly to make sure everything was in order and then stood up to leave.

  “Jordan,” Mark said. “From now on, use the back door. We don't need to advertise that we're meeting to my employees.”

  I chuckled. “Well, if this was legit business, you'd be able to e-mail me this stuff. Instead, I get to drag my ass down here every few days.”

  “I'm sorry to make you work a little harder, Mitchell. But I think we can both agree it is worth the effort to avoid ten to fifteen years in the state pen.”

  I smirked, imagining the comforts of a minimum-security prison. “Your pansy ass would get state. They'd send me to supermax,” I said, knowing Lady Justice wouldn’t be blind to my appearance and history.

  “Probably,” Mark mumbled as I left.

  I left through the back door, not wanting a repeat performance of my awkward conversation with Cece.

  As I tucked the documents in my saddlebag, I started thinking about what Mark said about Cece and California. I shouldn't be surprised that a nineteen-year-old girl had plans to leave her hometown
. I ran from this town straight into basic training when I was eighteen.

  But why California? I needed to know. Just to make sure it was a smart move, I told myself. As her boyfriend's older brother, I had a right to look out for her.

  I got back to the clubhouse just in time for church, our club's monthly meeting. Greyson, our president, sat at the head of the table when I entered the room, and Rem sat next to him as the club's VP. I took a seat toward the other end to leave room for the other officers. Hawk, the sergeant at arms, sat next to Rem, and the treasurer, Max, sat next to Hawk. A few others trickled in until we had nine members at the table. Our chapter also had a few nomads, a couple in prison, and some that were mostly retired.

  Greyson brought things to order by banging the gavel and telling everyone to “shut up”. Greyson Carpenter was legendary in this club as a stone-cold bastard who was willing to slice a man's throat without blinking. However, the last decade he had given up the battle against old age and surrendered to family life and peace. He had the look of man weathered by his past but still healthy. He kept his long hair and goatee to fit the biker look, but they were both more white than brown.

  After everyone was settled, Greyson asked, “How’s Duncan doing?”

  Duncan was one of our brothers serving time in Sioux Falls. He was doing three to five years for assault with a deadly weapon and was only one year in.

  Rem spoke first. “Izzy visited him last week, and she said he seems okay. No new bruises or cuts, at least.”

  I’d never served time, but we all knew that there may come a time when we’d need to, for the club. Duncan was doing his duty, and he was tough. But we still worried. He was a young man, prone to stupidity. There was a hierarchy in every prison, and Duncan had to find his place. The process was going to change him.

  “But I've heard from another source that Duncan is making a name for himself, serving at the right hand of the devil,” Rem added. The other source was probably another MC member that we had allied with.

  “I guess in hell, that is the best place to be.” Sam, a second-generation Ace, spoke up.

  “We hear anything from Jackson or John?” I asked.

  Jackson was the president of the Wraiths MC, one of our allies in the Southwest, and John was president of the Bears MC, our other ally to the East. Together the three clubs with all our chapters were called The Covenant. Our forefathers thought it wise to form an alliance back in the nineties to contain the chaos that was bleeding out of Canada between MCs and the Mafia. We stayed out of each other’s business for the most part, but we agreed not to steal each other business and we would join forces if the need were to arise.

  “Jackson is making his move into California,” Greyson said.

  You could almost feel the temperature rise in the room with everyone’s blood pressure. About a year ago, Jackson mentioned opening a Wraiths chapter in California with the Italian Mafia’s backing. There was money to be made, but MCs in California were nasty. They would have to fight for every inch.

  “Should we start preparing for a war?” Hawk asked, a gleam in his eye. He had a Native American mother that gave him his dark hair, eyes, and coloring. But he was built like his father, a brutal thumb-breaker, and was given the bloodlust to go with it.

  Greyson shrugged. “Jackson seems to think he can handle it. He wouldn’t tell me the details, but I think he has found a way to move in without causing an all-out war.”

  “Jackson is a smart man, and if anyone could pull this off it would be him,” I commented.

  “Let’s not panic just yet, but let’s make a few arrangements just in case,” Greyson said to Hawk, knowing he would take care of it.

  After getting a few other maintenance items out of the way, Greyson opened the floor to new business.

  “I have been approached to help with a cyber-attack on a bank,” I said without preamble.

  “What does that mean?” Skinny asked softly. He was newer to the table, only obtaining member status a few months ago. We called him Skinny because he was stick-thin while he was a prospect. He has begun to fill out and bulk up as the months go by, as if he wanted to escape the wimpy name.

  “In simple terms, we sneak our way into their network and start skimming where they won't notice. Should only take a couple months,” I explained.

  “What's the risk?” Greyson asked.

  “Pretty small, as long as my associate and I keep things straightforward. We have been monitoring the network, sharing information in person so as not to leave a cyber trail. There is only one complication. To mask our presence, I will need direct access to an admin’s account. Going in through the software is doable but risky. Hardware access is safer. The regional manager is in the Rapid City office. If I can clone his PC, we'll be set.”

  “How do you intend to do that?” Hawk asked, always wanting the logistics.

  “I would need Izzy's help. My idea is to pose as a couple applying for a loan and get into the office.”

  As predicted, most of the members started shaking their heads, not liking the idea.

  “Why not go in at night?” Hawk asked.

  “I thought about that, but the security is tight with motion and pressure sensors, and the security cameras are on an internal network with no way to access it from the outside. If we trip any alarm before we get in, the footage is automatically sent to their secure servers.”

  “Fuck,” Max said.

  “On a normal day, the footage isn’t sent to the servers until midnight every day. If I get the ghost planted, I will be able to alter the footage before it is sent.”

  “Have you asked Izzy?” Bobby said, another newly patched member. He was built like a beast with a shaved head, but he was a gentle soul, at least that was what the old ladies called it.

  “Yes, she is open to do it,” Rem answered.

  “And how do you feel about it, Rem?” Greyson asked.

  “I hate it,” Rem said, glaring at me.

  “I completely understand if the club votes it down,” I said.

  “Max, what do you think?” Greyson asked.

  Max looked like a Viking—built, blond, and blue-eyed, not to mention tall. He pushed his hair back with a hand and looked at the table as he thought. “I don’t like using Izzy either, but … we need the cash. One more fuck-up with the Snakes and we will start having to sell off assets.”

  Last year, we killed a couple members of an MC out of Iowa, the Snakes. Since then they have been causing us trouble with some of our shipments, and it has been draining our reserves to make up the difference to our supplier. The Snakes would be handled, but until then we needed cash in case they were clever enough to do it again.

  “All right,” Greyson said. “All in favor?”

  Everyone agreed to the plan except Rem, but he choose to abstain rather than vote it down.

  I left the room with a new sense of purpose. I had a project that could pay off, but I had more than myself to consider with this one. I needed to make sure everything was perfect and that meant getting to work.

  Chapter Seven

  Cece

  I had waited like an anxious idiot for Jordan to come back up front after visiting with Mark, not sure what I would say. I had felt disappointed when I realized he left through the back. It was like I wanted another opportunity to explore the feeling that came into my chest whenever he was near. I needed to figure out what it was, so I could detect it and deal with it in the future. It was like a hurricane that I wanted to prepare for, finding shelter and boxing supplies so I could survive it.

  I went home, feeling drained from the rollercoaster day. My mom came into the kitchen just as I was finishing a bowl of cereal that was my dinner. She looked tired and pissed, which was par for the course on any given day.

  I rarely saw her smile these days. It was a shame because my mother was a beautiful woman, with long blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and cheekbones to rival any model. But that was once upon a time. Now the chemicals of the dru
gs and cigarettes had invaded her skin cells, making them too weak to replicate so she could look her age. Instead her face sagged, making her look sixty-four rather than forty-four.

  She flopped her purse on the counter and went to the fridge to grab a beer. Then she left the room, and I heard the TV turn on in the family room. After I put my bowl into the dishwasher, I went into the family room, but I didn’t sit down. Instead, I just looked at her.

  While she was an addict, I couldn't call my mom a full-blown junkie. She was a functioning addict in that she kept her job and managed to stay out of prison. This was the Betsy I preferred. The other two versions were hard to take.

  There were a couple of times when rehab had been court ordered and she came out the other end a hyper, chain-smoking, optimistic Stepford mom. I'd admit that she tried to be better, but it never lasted. I came to hate Rehab Betsy because of how much it hurt when she went away. One week she would be going to parent-teacher conferences and the next I would find her in a puddle of her own vomit on the kitchen floor.

  Then there was the Bender Betsy, who abandoned me for days at a time. Bender Betsy would also let strange men into the house and had stolen money out of my Little Mermaid coin bank. While Rehab Betsy threatened my heart, Bender Betsy took a physical toll in the form of starvation and no sleep.

  I'd seen enough episodes of Intervention to know my feelings of abandonment and worthlessness were nothing special. Addict parents turned out all types of children. People pleasers who were always looking for the love they never received, OCD control freaks, or just another addict following in their footsteps. Then there was me. The self-sufficient, cynical type who couldn't trust to save my own life. And who knows what neuroses were caused by my father rejecting me before I could even grow limbs.

  I did wonder why Betsy had me sometimes. She had other options when she got pregnant. So why wasn't I aborted or adopted by some barren Christian couple? She could have put me in foster care at any time. I couldn't help but think part of her wanted to be a mother. Maybe it wasn't all she hoped it'd be or maybe she didn't develop the maternal instinct like most mothers did once the baby was born.