BRICK (Lords of Carnage MC)

by Daphne Loveling

  “Yeah,” Hawk agrees. “And it’ll be good PR for us. Slow people down from assuming it’s us if they see us trying to help deal with the problem.”

  “One more thing,” Angel muses, turning to Rock. “I think maybe we should talk to the Death Devils.” The Devils are a club to the east of us. Our two clubs have done business in the past, and we’ve been making moves toward a tentative alliance with them. “I think it’d be a good idea to ask them whether they’ve been seeing anything similar where they are. Get their take on what the Spiders are up to. Maybe we can figure out a deal to work together on this. At least until our numbers are up.”

  Rock grudgingly nods. “That’s a good idea. I’ll get in touch with Oz. See what he has to say. If he’s willing to do a meet-up.”

  We talk for a few more minutes about who’s gonna approach which businesses and report back, and then Rock adjourns the meeting. The brothers all file out of the chapel, except for Angel and Rock, who close the door behind us.

  “Fuck,” Gunner mutters to me as we walk over and signal to Jewel, our main bartender, for a beer. “I don’t like whatever it is that’s going on between Rock and Angel. Last thing the club needs right now is the two of them going at each other.”

  Jewel eyes us for a second as we pull up stools at the bar, but she knows better than to ask anything. Silently, she pops the top off a couple of bottles for us and moves discreetly down to the other end.

  “No shit, brother.” I take a long pull of the icy liquid. “Fuck, that tastes good. Whatever it is, though, it’s between them.”

  “Yeah,” Gunner glowers. “I sure as shit hope they figure it out.”

  We nurse our beers for a few minutes and try to talk about something else. Eventually, I finish mine and stand up. “I think I’m gonna head home for a while,” I tell him.

  “You coming back to the clubhouse later?”

  “Yeah, maybe,” I say noncommittally. “I’ll catch up with you later, all right?”

  “Sure thing, brother. See you when I see you.”

  I lift a finger goodbye, and walk outside to my bike, exhaling a little as the tension leaves my shoulders. Normally, I’d hang out here with the rest of the brothers, and maybe grab one of the apartments upstairs to sleep here tonight. But right now, I’m looking for a little time to myself. To sort through all the shit that’s in my head.

  10

  Brick

  An hour later, I’m back at my house, staring at the lake with a cold one in my hand. The sun is just starting its descent toward the horizon. I’ve watched its path at least a hundred times out here, just like this, by myself.

  I came back to the lake after church because I needed some time to relax, and to think. Everything that’s been going on the last couple of days is whirring around in my brain, and sometimes I just need some goddamn silence to sort it all out. That’s why I bought this place. Such as it is.

  In the little more than a year I’ve lived here, I’ve basically rebuilt what was a falling down shack from the ground up. The house wasn’t worth much when I bought it, so what I’d saved up after eight years in the Marines was just about enough to pay for the whole thing in cash. Even so, this place is my goddamn pride and joy. It’s funny, but even after a full day of working at the garage, a lot of times the thing I look most forward to when I get back home is firing up the bandsaw or ripping out some old wiring. It’s therapeutic somehow, taking something that’s run down and fucked up, and making it strong and solid again. That’s one of the reasons I like working at the garage restoring bikes and cars, too. But here at the house, the results of my work are mine, and mine alone.

  Before this house, I’d never really had much before that I could call mine. In my childhood, I went from being a burden and an afterthought to my parents, to being passed around from foster home to foster home by people who made it clear to me I wasn’t part of their family and never would be. I joined the Marines as soon as I turned eighteen, and spent the next eight years of my life working hard and playing harder, with nothing to go back home for during my leaves, and no goals except doing the job I was sent with my regiment to do.

  When I got out of the Marines, I was rootless, and aimless. I had no idea where I was gonna go when I got back home to the States, and no fucking clue what I was gonna do with myself. All I knew was that I didn’t want to make a career out of being in the Corps. I chafed a lot at the rules and the hierarchy inherent in military service. Even though I rose up fairly quickly in the ranks, the structure didn’t always sit well with me, especially whenever I saw dumb shits with higher ranks lording it over men who were the real backbone of the unit. The camaraderie, though, and the pure physicality of it — those things I liked.

  That’s probably what ended up drawing me into the Lords of Carnage, after I got out. Gunner and I had served together in the same platoon, and he knew I was having a tough time finding my way out in the civilian world, much as I’d thought I wanted it. He was the one who gave me a call and told me to ride out here to Tanner Springs. Told me he had something to talk over with me. Something he thought would be a good fit.

  Now, a handful of years later, here I am. Turns out Gunner was right. He sponsored me to get patched into the Lords of Carnage, the club he’d always thought of joining someday. Now, instead of a Staff Sergeant or a Master Sergeant, I’m the club’s Enforcer. Instead of enforcing rules by military procedures, I do it with my fists. And weapons.

  It’s a much better fit. For the most part.

  Now, for the first time, I have a family. A real one. Brothers who have my back. A place of my own, where I can lock the goddamn door at night and be left the hell alone. Most of all, silence. And peace. It’s lonely sometimes, but it’s mine.

  Absently, I pull a cigarette from the pack and light it, sitting back in the Adirondack chair I pulled from a dumpster and refurbished. Taking a deep drag, I let it out with a heavy, troubled sigh.

  Church today has left me on edge. Not because of anything that was decided. Not because of this bullshit crime wave in Tanner Springs. Not even because of the threat on the horizon posed by a growing Iron Spiders club, and what that means for the ongoing war between us.

  I’m on edge because I’m starting to have serious doubts about my club president.

  An Enforcer, above all, has to be very loyal to the man who is his president. Sometimes I’m a bodyguard. Sometimes I’m sent out to do the more violent tasks that need to be done: a hit, or a beatdown, or even ending someone, if that’s what’s called for. I’m the president’s arm of justice. I do what he tells me.

  One of my jobs is to keep the other brothers in check if need be. Not only when we’re out on a run or in a situation of danger, but also within the club itself. I have to be able to carry out the president’s orders without question — even and especially if that means I have to face off against one of my own brothers to do it. Insubordination, just like in the military, is not an option.

  But unlike in the military, I’ve never had cause to question the judgment of the man whose orders I’m bound to execute in the Lords of Carnage.

  Until now.

  It’s nothing specific. Nothing I can quite put my finger on.

  But for a while now, I’m not really sure where Rock Anthony’s head is at. I think some of the other brothers are feeling it, too. I see the way they look from Rock to Angel. They’re wondering where the club’s heading. If there’s a crisis in the making.

  And that makes me nervous. Because I’ve never been much good at enforcing rules I don’t believe in.

  Eventually, my cigarette runs down to ash, my beer is empty, and my ass is starting to get sore. With a sigh, I haul myself up and stretch my arms over my head. Enough thinking for now. There’s a bathroom renovation inside waiting for me. And God knows laying shower tile is a fuck of a lot simpler than contemplating the future of a club that I’ve grown to love, but don’t know quite how to enforce anymore.

  11

  Sydney
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br />   “So, then, you wrap up the rest of the pastries individually and put them in the day-old discount basket for the next day,” I’m telling Hailey as we walk through the shop. “After that, clean out the pastry case, sanitize all the trays, and set up the case for the morning. Then, you clean the espresso machine and run the cleaning cycle.”

  I’ve sat down and made a list of all the things I do when I close, to make it easier on Hailey when she starts doing it herself. I point to it from time to time as I talk, to show her that everything is on the list, so she doesn’t have to remember it all. She’s listening attentively — so much so that it’s actually really cute to see how earnest she is. I’m glad, too, because this stuff is important. If she doesn’t take it seriously, customers might get a mouthful of rancid cream, or sit down at a sticky table first thing in the morning. I want everything to be perfect at the Golden Cup, so every person that comes in here for the first time wants to come back again.

  “You need to clean and sanitize the coffee urns, too, and all the bar tools. The pitchers, spoons, containers — everything,” I continue. “Wipe off all the exteriors, too, and make everything look as clean as possible. Then, when you’re satisfied with all that, mop the floor, wipe off the tables and chairs, and look around for anything else that needs to be cleaned. Oh, and don’t forget the bathroom. Then restock the lids and cups and the condiment bar — minus the milk and cream, of course. Then, take out the trash on your way out, and you’re done.”

  Hailey blows out a breath. “Good thing you wrote all this down. It’s a lot to remember.”

  “Don’t worry,”I reassure her. “I’ll come in and help you close the first couple of times, so you can ask any questions that come up then.”

  “Thanks for letting me do this,” she says sincerely. “I know it means adjusting your schedule to fit mine. You didn’t have to, I know.”

  “Honestly, it’s kind of nice.” I smile. “After all, this way I actually get some evenings free once in a while. Hell, I might even end up with a social life, if I’m not careful.”

  “What do I do with the cash in the till?” Hailey asks, glancing toward the cash register.

  “Oh, yeah. That’s another thing. You’re going to have to balance the cash register drawer every night.” I frown. “Let’s save that for another time, though. After you’re feeling confident about the other stuff. For now, you’ll just put the cash drawer in the safe. I’ll have taken out most of the money myself, so there will only be a couple hundred dollars in it.”

  “Okay, good,” she laughs. “Because my brain is starting to feel like it’s going to explode.”

  I set Hailey to work cleaning and wiping down things, and I grab the till and go in the back to count the cash drawer. I’m used to doing all of this stuff by myself every night, and it’s really, really nice to have someone help me for once. At this rate, I’ll get out of here in half the time it usually takes me. Luxury! Already, I’m dreaming of drawing a hot bath and pouring myself a glass of chilled white wine. It’s the little things, after all.

  A loud pounding shakes me out of my little fantasy. A moment later, Hailey’s voice comes wafting toward me from the front.

  “Hey, um… Sydney?”

  “Yeah!” I’m just shutting the door to the safe.

  “There’s someone at the front door!”

  “Just tell them we’re closed!” I get someone at least once a week who raps on the door to be let in, even though the door’s locked and the hours are clearly posted right there.

  “Sydney? I think maybe you should do it.”

  “Seriously?” I mutter to myself as I wipe my hands on my jeans and turn around. This is something Hailey is going to have to learn to deal with if she’s going to be closing by herself. Already thinking about the talking-to I’m going to give her once I’ve dealt with this, I walk out into the shop and prepare myself to be polite but firm to the customer.

  “Hailey, you’re going to have to…” I begin, but when my eyes land on the face peering at me from the other side of the glass, I trail off and go silent.

  He’s tall, and dark. His eyes feel like lasers on mine in their intensity.

  My skin feels all goose-bumpy, all of a sudden.

  I glance quickly over at Hailey, who’s looking at me with a wide-eyed “I told you so!” expression.

  I should just yell through the door that we’re closed. But something in his face tells me he’s not here to fill his to-go cup.

  Uncertainly, I flip the lock and open the door a crack. “Hi.”

  “Hey,” he rumbles.

  God, his voice is like velvet. I suppress a shiver.

  “Uh, we’re closed.” My voice comes out weirdly breathy.

  “I know.” He nods once. “Look, can I talk to you?” He glances over at Hailey. “It’s work related.”

  I can’t imagine what this is about. What the hell does ‘work related’ mean? Is he here to bitch at me again about the whole nitrous oxide debacle? That seems too weird, though, even for him.

  I can’t believe what I’m about to do, but curiosity gets the better of me.

  So I pull open the door and let him in.

  When I turn back toward the counter, Hailey is openly staring. I suppress an eye-roll, knowing that she’s going to make a huge deal out of this when she comes into work tomorrow.

  “Hailey, this is… Brick,” I say, because that’s what polite people do.

  “Hi.” She’s standing there frozen to the spot, almost like she’s been frozen in a game of freeze tag. I have never seen Hailey act so suddenly shy. She looks like a cornered rabbit.

  “Nice to meet you,” Gavin growls.

  “Nicemeetyoutoo,” she mumbles.

  “Hailey, it looks like you’re almost done there,” I observe. “You can take off now. I’ll come in early and finish up in the morning.” I don’t know what Gavin has to say to me, but I do know I definitely don’t want to deal with Hailey hovering around, pretending not to listen but actually eavesdropping on every word. Especially because afterwards, I’ll have to deal with a raft of questions from her, which I know I will not want to answer.

  “Are you sure?” she asks uncertainly. “I mean, I only have the coffee urns to clean out, and then I’m done.”

  “Yeah, it’s fine.” I wave her off. “I can get that done tomorrow before I open up.”

  “Okay.” She’s clearly reluctant, but she pulls her apron over her head and loops it over the hook next to the back hallway. “I’ll see you tomorrow after school, then.”

  “Sounds good.”

  She grabs her backpack from the cabinet where she always stashes it, and wanders slowly to the door. “Okay, bye, then,” she murmurs, giving me an uncertain little wave. “Bye, uh, Brick.”

  Gavin lifts his chin at her. “Have a good one.”

  I wait until she’s out the door, and watch her unlock her bike and ride away. Then I turn back toward Gavin, who’s standing in the middle of the room. Looking hot. And bothered.

  Like hot-sexy, not temperature-hot.

  And bothered like kind of preoccupied. Not… you know… hot and bothered.

  Good Lord. I’m blathering in my own head.

  “Hey,” he says again.

  “You said that already.”

  “Yeah. I know.”

  “Oh.”

  Well.

  This is…

  Well… awkward would certainly be one way to describe it.

  I haven’t seen him since the day the nitrous oxide cartridge exploded. And I had sort of been hoping that the next time he came into the shop, I’d have a long line of customers to deal with so we wouldn’t have to talk much.

  I’ve never been the shy, retiring type. My dad made sure to raise me so I could hold my own from a young age. But there’s something about this man that seems to reduce me to some sort of giggling schoolgirl. It’s maddening. I’m worse than Hailey with her high school crush.

  Not that I have a crush on him, of co
urse.

  Ugh.

  I give my self a stern mental talking-to to get hold of my damn self, and motion for him to sit down at one of the tables. He flips the seat around so he can lean his forearms on the backrest. I take the other chair, moving it back just a hair before I sit down, to give me just a little more distance from him.

  “So, uh, what did you need to talk to me about?” I ask, in my best we totally didn’t almost kiss a couple of days ago voice.

  He seems distracted, his face twisting into a displeased frown. “Is it usually just the two of you closing this place down for the day?”

  “No. Normally, it’s only one of us. Mainly me.”

  “What?”

  “I was teaching Hailey to do it, so she could do it herself sometimes. That’s why she was here tonight.”

  “Seriously?” His eyes grow wide and stormy. “You’re usually here all alone, after dark?”

  “Sorry. I had to let my security detail go,” I say, a note of sarcasm in my voice. “They got too expensive.” What the hell did he think I do? He’s literally never seen any other employees in the shop, because I don’t have any other employees except Hailey.

  “That’s crazy,” he says with a dark look. “You’re totally exposed here. The whole front of the store is plate-glass windows. Anyone out there can see everything you do.”

  I snort. “Yeah. It’s totally scary that they can watch me wipe down counters and re-stock to-go cups.”

  “I’m fucking serious, Sydney,” he says angrily.

  My mind was a swirl of emotions when he showed up just now, but it’s amazing how quickly they’re settling back into just one: irritation. “Look,” I scowl. “The door’s locked the whole time.” I nod toward the entryway. “And seeing through the windows goes both ways, you know. Anyone who wanted to jump me, I’d see them out there right away. I’ve got my cell phone,” I say, patting my back pocket. “Hell, I’ve even got pepper spray on my keychain.” I lean back and cross my arms. “I’d be in the back and have it out in seconds, even if they decided to bust down the door.”