“Thanks,” I smiled, and loaded up my fork. “I’m glad you like it.”
“It’s freaking fantastic,” he enthused, taking another bite. “You know, you really should cook for a living. You’d be a great chef.”
“I don’t know about that,” I protested, but I smiled happily. It was nice to be appreciated. And if I did say so myself, the ravioli was pretty damn good.
We ate in silence for a couple of minutes, during which time I found my thoughts turning back to Grey, and the Stone Kings.
“So…” I asked. “Things are good with you, it sounds like.”
“Yeah, great,” he nodded. “I mean, I’m pretty busy with the MC, but I like that, you know?”
“What… what sort of stuff do you do with them?” I asked, trying to keep my tone light.
Cal looked at me briefly, and then back down to his plate. “Uh, actually, See… I can’t really talk about it. See, that’s kind of one of the things. Loyalty to the club is really important, and that involves keeping club business to ourselves.”
I frowned. “It’s not, like, anything illegal, is it?”
Cal looked back up at me. “Look, See, I don’t want to talk about it. No offense. But I’m not going to.”
I didn’t know what to make of that. But Cal seemed pretty resolute, so I figured that pushing him on it wouldn’t get me anywhere, anyway. So, I tried another angle.
“What are the other members of the club like?”
“Tough,” he admitted. “Like, ‘don’t fuck with me’ tough. These guys don’t take shit from anyone. But they’re like a family. A brotherhood.” His tone grew enthusiastic. “The president, Grey, he comes off as really hard, and he can be pretty rough on the prospects. But I think underneath he’s a really good guy. The rest of the brothers in the club seem to really respect him.”
Cal kept talking, but I didn’t hear much after that. My mind was in a daze. Grey was the president of the Stone Kings? I had only barely been able to get my mind around the fact that the man who had leaned me up against my car and made me scream with pleasure was a member of a biker gang… but the president?
What did the president of an MC even do?
Then it hit me. The man who had done things to me I didn’t even think were possible wasn’t just some random member of the Stone Kings. He was the head of the Stone Kings. And although he was clearly too young to have been involved with my father’s death, he might know the person who killed him. Maybe even well.
Grey Stone was my enemy. Why didn’t I feel the hatred that I should? My stomach roiled in confusion and I put down my fork, my appetite suddenly gone.
Cal had continued to talk as my thoughts spun out of control, but he eventually noticed that I didn’t seem to be paying much attention. “You’re awfully quiet all of a sudden, See,” he remarked. “Anything wrong?”
I didn’t trust myself to speak, so I choked out the only response I could. “I’m fine.”
Cal must have interpreted my silence as worry. “See,” he began, “it’s okay. Really. Nothing bad’s gonna happen to me. The club isn’t what you think it is.”
“Isn’t it?” I asked sharply.
Cal looked down uncomfortably. “Well, I mean… they’re not choir boys. But the club protects its own. And they do a lot of good in the community. Silent auctions, bike runs for charity…”
“Stop,” I interrupt him. “Just, stop.”
He stopped talking, his brow furrowing in frustration.
I sat still for a moment, willing myself to change the subject. But I couldn’t stop myself from asking the question I knew he wouldn’t want to hear.
“Cal, doesn’t it bother you at all that a Stone King killed our father?” I asked quietly.
Cal shook his head. “I don’t wanna talk about that, See.”
“What? Why the hell not?” I asked, my voice rising. “How can you possibly not have a problem with that? I don’t understand how you think it’s just fine that a club you are prospecting with is responsible for our father’s death!”
“Stop it!” Cal yelled. He shook his head angrily. “Seton, there’s stuff you don’t know. Stuff Mom told me. Dad brought it on himself. He never should have gone after a club member. Dad was nothing but a drunk, anyway.”
It was as though he’d dropped a bomb right in the middle of the room. “How dare you talk about our father that way!” I shouted, my eyes filling with furious tears.
“See—“ Cal began.
“No!” I yelled. I slammed my fist down on the table. “Get out, Cal! Get out now!”
Cal stood and watched helplessly as I put my head down on the table and sobbed. I couldn’t believe that my brother thought of our father as nothing but a useless drunk. Cal had been so young when Daddy died, he barely remembered him, I knew. Just like I knew instinctively that my mother had reduced him in Cal’s eyes to nothing but a sad caricature. But it didn’t matter that I knew it wasn’t true. I couldn’t take it. My heart couldn’t take it.
Cal tried to touch me once, on the shoulder, but I angrily pushed him away. Eventually, I heard him walk slowly toward the door and leave, shutting the screen quietly behind him.
I couldn’t bear for Cal to be part of the Stone Kings MC. I just couldn’t. I would do anything to stop him.
Even if it meant confronting Greyson Stone.
CHAPTER 8
Grey
“Okay, meeting called to order.” I banged the gavel once.
The raucous chatter around the table subsided, as one by one, my brothers settled in and turned to look at me.
“We all know what we’re here to talk about,” I said as I looked around the table. “It’s time to find out who’s behind Hammer’s death.” A couple of the members nodded. “So. Talk.”
To my right, Trig spoke up. “Gotta be the Cannibals.” A murmur of assent went around the table.
“What’s the motive?” I shot back. I knew my VP, and we called him Trigger for a reason. He was a shoot first, ask questions later type. His instincts were usually good, but there were still a lot of questions that were unanswered. I wanted to be one hundred percent goddamn sure before we planned our payback.
“Who else could it be?” Levi, my Sergeant at Arms, said. His brow was furrowed in a murderous glower. Levi had a slow burn, but once he was mad, he was a powder keg. I could see it in his eyes that the burn had begun.
“If it was the Cannibals, why the hell haven’t they taken credit for it?” I challenged him. “It doesn’t make any sense that they’d do something like this unless they wanted us to know it was them.”
“Coulda been lots of people,” Sag agreed. “Undercover cop?”
“Nah, that makes no sense,” I countered. “We got friends in the force. Doesn’t make sense we wouldn’t have heard something by now, if something was going down.”
“The Cannibals haven’t been a problem for a long time,” Repo called from further down the table. “We got an understanding with them. They stay in their territory, we stay in ours. Everything’s copasetic.”
“Yeah, but they got a new prez,” Trigger said, his dark eyes flashing under his furrowed brows. “And we don’t know much about him other than he used to be their sergeant at arms.”
“That’s not enough,” I countered. “We need to know more before we start a war with the Cannibals over this.”
“Too bad the only guy who could have told us more ran away from the scene like a fucking pussy,” Levi said in disgust. Angry mutters circled the table. Jethro’s betrayal would rankle the brothers for a long time.
“So, how do we find out more?” Sag asked the table.
“We do something provocative,” Trigger replied. “See how hard they bite.”
I chewed on this for a minute. “What you got in mind?”
Trigger squinted for a moment in thought. “We take a little Sunday drive into their territory. See how much of a reaction we get.”
“Seems risky,” Sag countered.
&nb
sp; “Not if there’s nothing going on,” Trigger said. “We just get our hands slapped. No worries at all.” He spread his hands wide and smiled.
“It’s not a bad idea,” I admitted. “Could tell us a lot.” I looked at Trigger. “Since it’s your idea, you go. But you need to keep your hair trigger in check, brother. This is reconnaissance, nothing more. No escalation. Make this look like a simple joyride, even if they’ll know it isn’t.”
“How about if I take the prospects along?” Trigger suggested. “The Cannibals would never expect us to bring prospects on a kill mission.”
The prospects. It was a good idea. Really good. Bringing the prospects along would de-escalate a possible confrontation as long as the Cannibals didn’t have specific orders about us. And it would be good training for the prospects, as well as a chance for Trigger to see how they acted in a tense situation.
But all I could see was Seton’s face if something went wrong and Cal got hurt.
Goddamn it. No. No. I couldn’t let decisions about the club be influenced by some girl with good tits and a hot ass I was itching to fuck. It wasn’t good for anybody if I did that. I had a responsibility to the Stone Kings. My brothers. I couldn’t let my dick make my choices for me.
I turned and nodded at Trigger. “Good idea. Take the prospects with you. And…” I looked around the room. “Take Repo, too.” Repo was my road captain. He was ace at keeping his eyes open.
Trigger looked at Repo and lifted his chin in acknowledgement. “You ready to go now?”
Repo nodded once. “Yup. Let’s go round up the prospects.”
“Okay,” I said. “Any other business?” The table was quiet.
“Move to adjourn,” Trigger said.
“Second,” Repo added.
I banged the gavel. One by one, the brothers began to file out of the room, talking quietly among themselves.
Levi came up to us and looked at Trigger. “You guys are sitting ducks if the Cannibals are responsible for this. You should take me with you.”
I tried to shrug off the possibility. “Nah. They wouldn’t bother going after prospects if they were serious. They’d be going after bigger guns. But they might do something to scare the shit out of them. This is good intel. And it’s also a good way to find out if the prospects have enough mettle to be Stone Kings.”
Levi’s brow creased into a frustrated frown, but he nodded. “Okay,” he said simply.
I turned to Trigger and glanced at Repo, who had come up beside us. “You good, brothers?”
“Yeah,” Repo said. “We’re good.”
“All right. Give me an update as soon as you’re back.”
I watched them go, then closed the door to the chapel, and tried to get Seton Greenlee’s face out of my thoughts.
It had been over a week since I’d seen her. Not that I was counting or anything.
I’d been trying to keep my distance. Keeping myself as busy as possible so I wouldn’t be tempted to go see her again. She had left so abruptly that night, I wanted to give her space.
But as much as I had tried to put her out of my mind, I just kept coming back to her. Her flashing eyes as she sparred with me. Her crazy mixture of innocence and red-hot sexiness. The way her cheeks and neck flushed when she was turned on. The little sounds she made when she wanted more. The way she threw back her head and moaned right before she came.
Fuck. I was hard as a rock just thinking about it all.
As I watched her drive away that night, I was already thinking about how to see her again. But as the days went by, I started to realize it just wasn’t in the cards. I never should have gone to see her in the first place. I wasn’t even sure what the hell had possessed me to. Sure, she was gorgeous, and hot as fucking hell. But I’d never been short on pussy, and I’d never felt any one woman was worth getting all tangled up for. I sure as hell wasn’t relationship material. Seton was. She wasn’t my type at all. She was smart. She was classy. She had a future. She deserved better than me. She was exactly the opposite of the club whores that I usually resorted to in order to satisfy my sexual whims. Sex-wise, I had always specifically done everything I could to avoid exactly the situation I found myself in.
And now, here I was, unable to get a woman out of my mind. I couldn’t whether to protect her, get rid of her, or fuck her senseless.
I was turning around these three possibilities in my head, just as I had been doing for days, when a soft knock on the closed door of the chapel interrupted me.
“Hey, boss?” Tammy called. She opened the door and poked her head in timidly. “There’s uh, someone to see you out in front.”
I frowned. “Who is it?”
Her expression was perplexed. “Uh, I’m not sure. It’s a woman.”
I walked out front to see Seton Greenlee standing by the bar.
CHAPTER 9
Seton
I heard his footsteps coming down the hall before I saw him. The peroxide-blond bartender who had gone back to get him reappeared, her eyes flicking momentarily toward me and then looking away nervously. Behind her, Grey emerged.
He was wearing a dark gray T-shirt that accentuated the muscles in his chest and arms, and worn, faded jeans that looked so soft I wanted to touch them. Standing there watching the muscled fluidity of his movements sent my mind back to the last time I’d seen him, to what he had done to me, and I felt my face flush. Dammit. I stood up taller, squaring my shoulders. I couldn’t let myself think about that now.
Grey stopped about three feet in front of me. His eyes raked lazily down and then up my body, stopping occasionally to linger a second or two too long. “To what do I owe the pleasure, sweetheart?” he murmured, his lips turning up in a sexy, infuriating half-grin.
“I need to talk to you,” I said coldly.
“You’re talking already,” he observed, his grin getting a little wider.
“In private,” I said angrily through clenched teeth. I nodded my head toward the blond bartender, who was pretending not to listen to our conversation.
Grey chuckled and held up his hands in a mocking gesture of surrender. “Okay, whatever you need, sweetheart.”
“And don’t call me sweetheart.”
“Right this way, sugar,” he replied without skipping a beat. Turning, he motioned for me to follow him down the dark hallway. At the end of the corridor, he pushed open a door and motioned for me to step inside. Only once he had followed me in and closed the door did I realize that maybe it hadn’t been the best decision to ask to be alone with him.
“So.” Grey leaned against his desk and crossed his arms. He cocked his head at me with that perpetually amused smirk on his face. “What did you want to ‘talk’ to me about?” His mocking tone implied that I had other motives. I was instantly furious with him for suggesting that I was here because of what had happened between us last time, but told myself to keep my cool and not let him goad me.
“You didn’t tell me you were the club president,” I accused him.
“You didn’t ask me.” Grey pointed out.
“Doesn’t that seem like the kind of thing you would have told me?”
“I don’t see why,” he shrugged. “You’re not in the club.”
“But my brother is.”
“So what?” he challenged.
“So what?!” I cried. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“I don’t see what that has to do with anything,” Grey said coolly. “His life is his life. Your life is yours.”
“Grey, he’s my brother. He’s practically my only family,” I pleaded.
“He’s a consenting adult.” His voice was a statement not a question. I colored.
“I know. I know,” I said. Suddenly, my emotions threatened to overcome me and I had to fight to blink back angry, frustrated tears.
Grey’s tone softened. “So… what are you saying?” he asked more gently.
I cleared my throat and willed my voice not to crack. “I came to ask you a favor,” I s
aid, more loudly than I had intended.
His half-smile returned. “I thought you weren’t here about that.”
“Goddamnit, stop being so infuriating! I’m serious!” I cried.
He made a half-effort to stop smiling, but his eyes still twinkled with merriment. “Okay. What’s the favor?”
“I want you to…” I stumbled over the wording. “Un-prospect Cal.”
A low laugh came rumbling from deep in his throat. “You want me to do what?”
“Un-prospect him,” I repeated more firmly. “Whatever it’s called. I want you to refuse to let him into the club.”
“Seton,” Grey began. The twinkle in his eyes disappeared. “I’m not gonna do that.”
“What? Why?” I demanded, incredulous. “You can do it, right? You’re the president. You can do anything.”
“I can. I could. But I won’t.” His expression was set, his jaw firm.
“Why not?” I cried. “Why can’t you do this?” I tried not to say it, but I couldn’t stop myself. “For me?”
He gave me a long, penetrating look, then shook his head. “I’m not going to mix up the club’s business and… this,” he said. “They need to be kept separate. That’s my job as president: to keep my personal life from affecting decisions about the club.”
“Grey, please,” I begged. “He’s too young. He’s only nineteen.”
“I was seventeen when I prospected,” he remarked with a smirk.
“That’s different. You’re… he’s…” I stammered.
“Not trash?” he smirked, a challenge in his eye.
“That’s… no! That’s not what I meant!”
“What did you mean, then?” he growled.
“Just that…” I struggled to find the words. “He’s not tough enough.”
“That’s for the club to decide,” he retorted. “That’s what prospecting is about.”
I tried again. “Look, he’s… he’s too immature. He’s never thad to handle anything really tough in his life. He doesn’t have what it takes to do this.” I looked at him. “Please.”
“He’s got to grow up some time,” Grey said.
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