Existential (Fallen Aces MC Book 4)

by Max Henry

  “I think we should work up an appetite.”

  His hands trail to my ass and give it a generous squeeze. “Sounds like a good fuckin’ plan to me.”

  THIRTY-FIVE

  Hooch

  Don’t get me wrong—I love my northern brothers, but there’s nothing like walking in the door and feeling home. Yeah, the Fort Worth clubhouse has seen it’s fair share of arguments, carnage, and loss of late … but it’s still where my heart lies.

  I spent my adolescence here. I fixed up my first pan-head here. I first brought a girl home to meet the family here. And I was first introduced to how shallow others’ opinions of our lifestyle can be, here.

  And now?

  Now, I look at Dagne as she shares a drink with Crackers, a wide smile on her face, and for the first time I see a future here.

  I can’t stop the grin that spreads across my face as I remember how that body looked this morning over the top of me, naked. She might be on the shy side day-to-day, but get that woman blinded by lust and she loses all her inhibitions.

  Her taste, her smell, the way her hips felt grinding against mine … I need a bucket of ice.

  “Can I get a word with you, boy?” Murphy leans in from my left, his gaze drifting to the same spot I’m stuck on as I discretely adjust myself. “If you think she’ll be okay on her own.”

  “She’ll be fine. Pretty sure everyone knows if they put a single hand on her, I’ll castrate them.”

  Murphy chuckles, raising the drink in his hand in toast.

  “You seen Digits this morning?” I ask.

  The jackass hauled ass out of Lincoln before the rest of us even rolled out of bed. Either that fucker is as guilty as they come, or he’s got something pressing to attend to that I’m guessing we should know about.

  “Nope. He was gone before I got up.”

  “Anyone here see him?”

  He shakes his head, turning his focus to me. “No. Asked about, but even Heather had no idea he should have rolled in already.”

  “Great,” I mutter, jerking my head in the general direction of my office. “Let’s go give you that minute.”

  Murphy follows me through the house to my refuge, waiting patiently as I punch in the code on the door. Yeah, that was how bad it got for a while there. Neither my old man, nor myself could trust the members to keep their noses out of things that didn’t concern them. Trust doesn’t come easy in our chapter, and loyalty has only started showing its face again after we almost disbanded.

  Ask me a year ago if I thought Fort Worth would have still been here now, and I would have laughed in your face.

  “You said you could use my help with something,” Murphy starts as he shuts the door behind us.

  “That I did.” I wait until he’s seated opposite me before I continue. “You notice anything odd around here while I was gone?”

  “A few things.” He crosses one ankle over the opposite knee. “What in particular are you fishin’ for?”

  “Members acting out of sorts.”

  He laughs, full and hearty. “Oh, boy-o. Just come out and say it. Everyone knows you’ve got some beef with Digits over that girl.”

  “That’s just it,” I say. “I don’t think it’s just about her. I think he’s using that as a smoke screen for somethin’ else.”

  “Aye. I’m listenin’.” He places both hands on his shin; his face grows stern.

  “Was anyone aware the week before Crackers and him went south, that I asked him to hack the phone we stole off one of the Wingmen? I asked him to strip it of details, find anything that might have been of use.”

  “No. Nobody’s said a thing.” His brow creases further.

  “He claims he lost it. That he mustn’t have put it in his pocket properly and it fell out while he was ridin’.”

  Murphy cocks an eyebrow.

  “Sound like something he’d do?”

  “No way. That kid’s as meticulous as they come.”

  “Exactly. I brushed it off, thought nothin’ of it, but then his attitude at the table flares up and I find out some other shit he’s been doing behind our backs, and I wonder—”

  “Can he be trusted anymore,” Murphy finishes with a knowing nod. “I’ve got to admit, I felt a bit off when we were questionin’ Jessup. Right about the time he was swearin’ black an’ blue that he knew nothing about stoppin’ the gypsy girl, Digits stepped in and hit him one square across the jaw. Made the fucker black out.”

  “Think he was about to let too much out?” King’s suspicion about Digits setting the cops on Dagne suddenly feels a lot more solid.

  “I get that itch about it, yeah.” He regards me with hard eyes that have seen their fair share of trouble over the years. “What do you want to do about it?”

  I sigh, leaning back in my seat and tapping my fingertips together. “I don’t know. I was hoping for some aged advice.”

  “Watch what you’re callin’ me,” he teases. “I may be old …”

  I chuckle. “You know what I mean.”

  “Aye, I do.” He leans on one elbow, resting his head in his hand. “What’s your concern about confronting him?”

  “We’ve got no bulletproof evidence. Just hearsay and gut feelings.”

  “What kind of evidence would prove it, though?”

  I twist in my chair, kicking my boots up on the desk. “Written. However it comes: emails, messenger, texts, phone records … whatever.”

  “You want me to organize a tail for him?”

  “How much will that cost?” Tails are always independent contractors. We don’t turn club members against club members on a suspicion.

  “What about those guys King has in his pocket, those Butcher Boys?”

  I shake my head. “Malice is out of the game. He’s talking about babies and shit with Jane. Bronx is too involved havin’ the trade in Kansas now. And Ty …” Actually. “I could ask him, I guess. Makes sense; he’s also a whiz with that kind of shit.”

  “Sounds like you didn’t need my help after all.” Murphy straightens in his seat with a smile.

  “I guess.” I lean forward on the desk, and put my head in my hands. “I don’t know, brother. I doubt myself too much these days; I needed someone to confirm I was doin’ the right thing, and you know I respect your advice.”

  “I do.” He raps his knuckles on the front of my desk to get my attention. “Now tell me what the fuck you were thinkin’ trying to get in touch with your crazy fuckin’ mother.”

  I laugh, leaning back in my seat and wonder where to start.

  If I thought the club was a mess before, I could guarantee she would have made it look like nothing in comparison to what she would have stirred up.

  “Tell me somethin’ I don’t know about her,” I ask. “You knew Mom and Dad better then I did at that age. Give me a story about them.”

  “Jesus, boy. Where do I start?”

  THIRTY-SIX

  Dagne

  I knew when we returned to Fort Worth, Hooch would have a stack of responsibilities as president to take care of. Just how many, I grossly underestimated.

  Now I know why King’s partner gets grumpy when he doesn’t make it home in time for dinner. Hooch has barely stepped foot outside of the office the past four days.

  I rinse and stack dishes in the kitchen while Beth loads the dishwasher. The southern clubhouse doesn’t see nearly as many people through it day-to-day as their Lincoln counterparts. At most, there are half a dozen regulars who eat and sleep here, and no more than a handful who pass through sporadically throughout the week.

  “You seem happier since you were here last,” Beth states out of nowhere.

  I smile over at her as she lines up the cutlery in their slots. “That so?”

  “Yeah.” She dusts her hands off on her shorts and shuts the dishwasher. “I just hadn’t said anything until now because I wasn’t sure if it was a permanent thing or not.”

  “My happiness?”

  “You and Hooch.” She c
atches my shocked reaction. “I didn’t mean it like that; he seems real sweet on you. It was more I didn’t want to put my foot in it if it was just a … you know …”

  “Fling?”

  “Yeah.” She smiles, punching the buttons to start the machine.

  I pull the stopper out of the sink and wipe down the sides with the dishcloth. “Has he had many women in the past? Like, is a fling his usual MO?”

  “Ah, I see what you’re doing there.”

  “What?”

  “You’re comparing yourself to his past conquests.”

  “Pfft. Whatever.” I totally am.

  “Nope. Not going there,” Beth sing-songs as she snatches the cloth from me and wanders through to the dining area to wipe down the tables.

  I follow her through, stopping in the doorway and resting my shoulder into it. “Does it ever bother you?”

  “Past conquests?”

  “Yeah.” I frown. “I mean, you’re not exclusive with anyone, right?”

  Hurt flashes in her eyes before she schools her expression and wipes an already clean table. “No. I mean, if I had the opportunity with the right guy here, maybe. But no, they’re all no strings attached.” She laughs, but the hollow sound doesn’t reach her eyes.

  “You wish it was with one in particular?”

  Her smile tells me to stop being so silly—of course I know.

  “Crackers.”

  “Yeah.” She stops wiping, wringing the cloth in her hands. “He’s a real sweet guy under it all.”

  “They all seem to be.”

  Her eyes shoot wide, and she waves the cloth in my direction. “Oh, no way. No they aren’t. Trust me, sugar, some of these men around here?” She tutts, shaking her head side to side. “No good for anybody.”

  “Well,” I appease, “Hooch seems to be like that: one guy on the outside, another behind closed doors.”

  “It’s his job to be like that. He has to put up a strong front so the guys all respect him.” She moves to the next table, wiping as she looks at me from the corner of her eye. “I heard he had a bit of a meltdown while y’all were up north.”

  “Nothing stays a secret around here, does it?”

  “Nope.”

  She stares me down, waiting on details. “He had a rough run, what with the trouble when he picked Mel up, and all that.”

  “You know she’s gone back up to Lincoln, right?”

  “With Dog. Yeah.”

  “Are those two a …” She dangles the cloth left and right.

  “I think so.”

  Beth lets out an intrigued sound as she moves to the last table. “Hopefully she can tame that wild child then, huh?”

  “If anyone’s got the sass to do it, I think it’s her.”

  “Agreed.”

  I push off the doorway, ready to leave Beth to it and head upstairs for my morning shower, when I’m boxed in by an unwanted visitor behind me.

  “Oh, don’t leave on my accord.” Heather pushes past to enter the room with Beth. “I just wanted y’all to know that the guys are headin’ out soon. No idea when they’ll be back.”

  Funny. Hooch never said anything about a trip. “Gee, thanks,” I snap, despite the fact I’m pissed as hell at him for not telling me.

  Between his hours in the office, and the time he spends eating, sleeping, and showering before disappearing back in his hole, we get maybe an hour a day to hang out if I’m lucky.

  Sure as hell not what I signed up for when he asked me to come back with him. If this is us ‘figuring out how we work’ then shit, I think his puzzle is missing a few edge pieces.

  “Anyhow. I’ll leave you two maids to it,” Heather says, heading back past me. “I’ve got more important things to be doing, like taking care of Digits after you broke his damn heart.”

  Hold up one goddamn second … “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me.” She stops level with my shoulder, her too-thick makeup glaringly obvious at this proximity. “You come in here and lead him on, use him for your own advantage. Just an end game to get at the top prize, was he?”

  “I never lead anyone on.” I struggle to keep my voice low and even, but it must have the desired effect as she reels back. “And if he has a fucking problem with me being here, then he can come and speak directly with me about it.”

  Not that I’d want him to. It took Digits another two days to get back to the clubhouse after we did, and even then he’s kept his distance the past forty-eight hours. It’s unnerving, to say the least.

  “And why the fuck would I want my man anywhere near you, bitch?”

  “Hey now.” Beth laughs awkwardly. “Let’s all cool our jets, huh?”

  “You know what?” I cry, stepping into the hallway to put distance between us. “I’m done with this shit from you, Heather. If I wanted a piece of your man, you’d goddamn know by now. But you projecting your own insecurities onto me is getting real old.” She tucks her chin to her chest, scowling. “You got an issue with how he feels about me, take it up with him. He was the one harassing me when I made it real fucking clear I had no interest, love.”

  “As if he’d do that.” Heather crosses her arms, clearly taken aback.

  Wonder what stories he’s been spinning her, then?

  “Afraid so.” I jut my chin out defiantly. “You don’t believe me, ask Hooch. He saw the messages.”

  “When,” she snaps. “What messages? When did he send them?”

  “The whole time I was in Lincoln.” I narrow my gaze on her. “Why?”

  Heather glances to Beth, seeming to seek support. “He was here, with me.”

  “Not my problem.” I’d feel sorry for her, but … you know. “I get it sucks, Heather, but you’ve got to understand that I never asked for any of this. Surely?”

  Her chest heaves with each stolen breath, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. But she’s not upset, not sad; she’s angry, frustrated, and looking to place that hate somewhere convenient and close.

  I’ve seen this look before, many a time. Only it was on a man’s face: my father’s. Shit’s going south, fast. I step sideways, ready to bolt, but she pre-empts my move and cuts me off, effectively boxing me in the dead end between the kitchen and dining room.

  “Heather,” Beth warns. “Perhaps you need to go talk about this with Digits.”

  “No,” she snaps. “None of this would have happened if he hadn’t brought this whore back here.”

  “Excuse me?” I scoff. Who’s the whore?

  “You heard me, bitch. We had it good until you turned up. I was goin’ to be his old lady.”

  “You know that’s not true.” Beth steps between us. “You know he has no intention of doing that.”

  “He will.” Heather visibly shakes, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. “You’ll see. He loves me.” The girl’s lost it. Completely cuckoo. A whole fucking basket short of a picnic. “He’s just blinded with her around.” Her lips peel back in a snarl as she points her bony finger around Beth at me.

  “I don’t know what you want from me,” I exclaim. “I’ve told him I’m not interested. I made it clear.” Jesus. He’s been messing with her, too. Why the hell did I think I’d be the first one he tried emotional blackmail on?

  “He wants kids,” Heather snaps. “You know that? He’s told me I’d make a great momma.”

  This is way worse than anyone realizes. I flick my wide-eyed gaze to Beth. She stares back at me and shrugs. What do we do?

  “I thought he was playin’ around on me.” Heather laughs sadly. “But he promised, he told me I’m the only one. He told me how pretty I am, how he loves how small I am.”

  He’s the cause of her frail size? Oh, no way. Beth seems just as surprised by the revelation.

  “Yeah.” Heather mistakes our shock as something other. “He buys me these clothes. That’s how much he loves me” She picks at the edge of her shorts that I’m pretty sure could be found in the kids department. “Says if I stay small enough to fit them
I’ve always got a place in his bed.”

  “You realize what he’s doing?” I ask softly.

  “He loves me,” she reiterates. “He just wants me to look my best.”

  “No.” I shake my head. “He’s controlling you, Heather. Can’t you see it?”

  Her head whips left and right, her gaze flicking between us. “No. No way. You’re lying!”

  “Why would I lie?”

  “Because you’re trying to break us up. You’re makin’ a move you filthy fucking slut.” She launches forward, hands outstretched.

  Beth manages to hit Heather in the shoulder, sending her spinning, but the madwoman regains her balance and lunges around Beth to lock onto me by the throat. I grasp at her wrists, prying her off, but she raises a knee and catches me in the stomach before I can fully comprehend the level of insanity I’m dealing with here.

  “Get off her,” Beth yells, tugging at Heather.

  A sharp crack sounds as Heather whips an elbow around, and Beth stumbles back, her hands covering a bloody nose.

  “You crazy fuckin’ two-bit hooker!”

  “You’ll never have him,” Heather screams, still not getting the fact I’m not interested in Digits in the slightest. “You hear me?”

  I try to speak, but my words come out garbled through her tightened grip. White spots mar my vision as she shakes me back and forth, and I flail madly in the hopes I connect with something. Only problem is, the waif is a slim target and most of my hits go unanswered.

  Certain I’m going to blackout if I don’t get oxygen, I do the only thing I haven’t tried: pushing into the fight. Instead of trying to pull away, trying to escape, I delve deeper into the ruckus by launching my head up and towards her. Our foreheads connect, and it’s enough to startle her into loosening her grip.

  Free, and able to breathe, I manage to choke out a single word to Beth. “Hooch.”

  She sprints toward the front of the house, hollering at anyone who’s available to come help. But not just anyone will understand—I need Hooch to see this. I need him to realize that the problem with Digits isn’t going to die a natural death.

  Murphy is first on the scene, arriving in the exact moment Heather recovers enough to swing a wild right hook at my head. I duck, and her knuckles connect with the hardwood flooring. She cries out in pain, cursing as Murphy grapples her from behind, restricting her arms to her sides.