Unfinished Business: A Bastards of Boston Novel

by Carina Adams

  Rob would have a hemorrhage if I didn’t cover up, but I didn’t care. I needed coffee and food. I’d put on his damn shirt before we left the house.

  Voices drifted down the hall, but I couldn’t make out their words. I followed the sound, hoping that if I found them, I’d find caffeine. They were in a kitchen, some around a small table, others on stools at a counter. They all stopped talking as soon as they saw me.

  Matty moved from his seat at the counter, stepping toward me, a welcoming smile on his lips, but Rob wrapped a hand around mine and pulled me down onto his lap before my brother could reach me. His other hand gripped my chin while he captured my mouth with his.

  “Mornin’,” he muttered quietly against my lips, before pulling me in for another kiss.

  He turned me so my back was to his front, his hand settling on my thigh. The men from last night were scattered around the kitchen, along with a few more, and two women stood on the other side of the counter, cooking. They all gaped at us, as if it was the strangest thing they’d ever seen.

  “Sleep well?” an older woman asked, her voice nothing but kind.

  I nodded shyly, looking at Rob over my shoulder. I wanted the earth to open up and swallow me whole, but he appeared to be completely comfortable, business as usual. When I rolled my eyes, he offered a smug smile and gave my thigh a gentle squeeze.

  One of the men cleared his throat. “You gonna introduce us, Prospect?”

  Rob lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug, as if he didn’t care one way or another. I’d felt him tense at the question, though. He lifted his chin toward the man closest to us. “Mutt. Preach. Tiny. Wiz. Clutch.” As he went around the table and introduced each, they lifted their own chin or a hand in greeting.

  “You know those assholes.” He pointed toward my brother and Tank. “Candy and Tabby.” His fingers slid into one of my belt loops. “This is Cris.”

  “Does Cris drink coffee?” Tabby asked me with a smile. She was young, probably around my age, and despite the crooked and missing teeth, was absolutely beautiful.

  I nodded. “She does.”

  I tried to stand up, to go get the cup she offered, but a steel grip held me in place.

  “Gotta pay the toll,” Rob whispered in my ear before his teeth closed over my lobe.

  I twisted just enough to see him. “And what’s that?” I asked, fighting a smile.

  He popped an eyebrow in suggestion and leaned toward me. The sound of the doorbell halted him. Everyone in the kitchen moved in unison, five chairs scraping against the floor as their occupants pushed them back and Tank and Matt slid from their stools. In seconds flat, everyone around us had a weapon in their hand.

  Rob tensed and stood, still holding me. His arms tightened around me before he dropped me into the chair and backed away. “Stay there,” he growled, as if I would actually listen to him.

  The men scattered, all moving in different directions as they headed for the front door. I didn’t know if they were being overly cautious or if the reason they were all armed to the teeth had something to do with the issues the day before. Another ring of the doorbell, followed by the sound of a fist hitting the wood, made my heart leap into my throat.

  Violent curses filled the air.

  The women had come to stand by my chair, and Candy laid a supportive hand on my shoulder. “Come on, Princess.” She urged. “I think it’s time for us to leave.”

  “Leave?” I couldn’t go anywhere. I didn’t know what in the hell was going on, but I wouldn’t run away.

  Tabby hurried across the kitchen and pulled open a side door I hadn’t noticed earlier. Candy’s hand slid down my shoulder and she gripped my arm, tugging me along. “It’s better this way; you’ll see.”

  Tabby nodded her agreement as she ducked inside the door before Candy pushed on my shoulders, forcing me to follow her. My heart hammered against my chest as I maneuvered through a narrow hall that was barely wide enough for my shoulders. When Candy shut the door behind her, the entire space went pitch-black. Panic rose in my chest; fear I’d forgotten came forward. I hated the dark.

  “Give it a minute,” Candy urged, her voice quiet, reassuring.

  Before the tears that burned my eyes had a chance to escape, Tabby opened a door in front of me, bathing the entire area with bright sunlight. I rushed toward it, desperate to get out of the confined space, not caring where it led.

  She startled me when she peeked back in, but it was just to say, “All clear!”

  As soon as I was out, I took a deep breath, filling my lungs with fresh air, as if I’d been trapped below the surface instead of in a secret passageway. I spun around, confused. We were in a garage. Candy closed the door behind me, and it vanished in the wall, hidden in the design.

  “Escape route,” she explained, her voice still low. “Let’s go.”

  Tabby nodded and headed toward the side of the garage.

  “Where are we going?” I asked, completely confused.

  “Upstairs,” she whispered, grabbing my arm again. “A soundproof room where we’ll be safe.”

  “You have a panic room?”

  “Not really.” She laughed as if something I’d said was hilarious. “But it works in a pinch.”

  I paused and listened to hear anything from outside, any sound at all. Nothing.

  “They’ll be fine.” Tabby assured me. “It’s just better to let them discuss business on their own.”

  Business. She said it as if they were a group of MBAs sitting in a board room talking about last quarter’s profits and losses instead of members of a biker gang, all carrying guns and looking ready to kill. I shook my head, pushing the last thought away, and followed them up the stairs as I shook my head at my train of thought and wondered when this had become my life.

  25

  Rocker

  I stared at the man across the table, unsure of what to say. Tank sat on one side of me, Matty on the other, as three prospects faced down their president in a united front. Somewhere behind us, the rest of the brothers who had helped us over the last twenty-four hours stood guard, waiting to see where their loyalty would lie after the meeting.

  Slasher had come, with only Zip to have his back. He’d insisted on the meeting yet had shown up at Tiny’s with no notice once he’d figured out where we were. Now, the old man I’d once respected was weaving a tale I wanted to believe but wasn’t sure I should.

  He claimed Shooter set us all up. The VP hated me, so it made sense. After Slasher handed him his ass over the problem with Cris at the clubhouse, Shooter had decided the perfect revenge against me would be to go after the people I loved. In the process, he’d figured he’d take out the people he hated the most and set Slasher up for it. With the president gone, VP would step into the role and the Bean Nighe would be Shooter’s.

  Slasher ignored everyone else and focused on me. “If I’d known, I woulda slit his fuckin’ throat long time before I did.”

  “Convenient, isn’t it?” Tank’s voice oozed with disbelief. “That the one man who could dispute your story is dead.”

  “Watch your tone,” Slash snapped and turned icy eyes on his son.

  Tank smirked in challenge. “It’s a good lie you’re peddlin,’ old man. But I’m not buyin’.”

  Slasher’s eyes flashed. “If I wanted to take you out, boy, I’d do it myself. Don’t make me make your momma cry.” He turned his attention back to me and some of his anger disappeared. “It’s the perfect setup. You’re smart enough to know that. Tell me you didn’t question it once.”

  He was right. I had. More than once. It hadn’t added up.

  “He’s telling the truth.”

  Matt nodded, seeing it, too. He’d questioned the timing and the reasoning. We’d spent hours discussing it the night before while his sister had been at the hospital.

  “Question is, how do we come back from it?” I demanded.

  I knew the answer. We didn’t. Three prospects, three members, and his sergeant at arms had gone r
ogue. We’d disobeyed direct orders. We’d followed our own agenda.

  It was too much for Slasher to ignore. Matt, Tank, and I would be cut from the club. The patched members would be forced to leave or would be disciplined in another, just as horrific, way. I could’ve told them, but I needed my friends to hear Slash say it.

  Knowing that Hansen was dead, that my face was the last one he’d seen, made my banishment worth it. It was my weight to carry, not theirs. I didn’t want them punished because of what I’d done.

  “I acted alone,” I announced. “This was all me.”

  Slasher nodded. “I know.” His eyes moved along the line of Bean Nighe behind me. “You’re the only one who woulda taken that kid to the hospital.”

  I kept my face neutral, hiding all emotion. If he knew what I’d done, others did, too. I shook my head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  He took a long, deep breath and held it for a few seconds. “He was a liability. A casualty of war. Mosta my club would’ve left him there. Let time do its job. Others would’ve planted a bullet in him, put him outta his misery.”

  My fist clenched at the thought of no one helping the little boy. Fuckers.

  He leaned back, scratched his chin. “You’re not like the rest, though, are ya? Can’t let anythin’ go. Always rockin’ the fuckin’ boat.” He shrugged. “Not that I expected anythin’ less from the man who would tie his life to a woman he can’t stand just to save her, to protect her brother.”

  Matty tensed next to me.

  “I knew when you were sixteen,” my president told me with a nod. “The scrappy teen who jumps into a brawl to defend someone twice his size, the kid who remains blindly loyal, no matter what his fucked-up friends do. The student who barely graduated from high school, yet is always one a the smartest people in the room.” His eyes narrowed. “That’s the brother who’s gonna challenge me for president one day.”

  He reached into his cut, yanking something out. Six men—his men—responded by drawing their own pieces, all pointed at him. Zip reached for his sidearm, but Slasher stopped him with a shake of his head.

  The president laughed like it was the funniest shit he’d ever seen. “Loyalty. It’s a bitch, ain’t it?” He tossed an envelope onto the table in front of me.

  I eyed it. “What’s that?”

  “A fresh start.” He cocked an eyebrow. “Leave,” he commanded to the group behind me. “Unless you’re wearin’ a prospect patch, get the fuck out.”

  They hesitated. With a quick nod from me, the room cleared.

  When everyone but the four of us had left, Slash tipped his chin toward the center of the table. “You gonna open it?”

  I eyed the package suspiciously. I didn’t reach for it. “Nah.”

  All humor disappeared from the old man’s face. “Open it.”

  With a sigh, I snagged the package and tore the seal. My eyebrows shot up and my head jerked toward Slash. Stacks of hundreds and a pile of papers littered the table in front of me. Tank swore.

  “A payoff?” he asked his dad. “You tryin’ to bribe us?”

  Slasher’s eyes narrowed. “I’m givin’ you a way out.”

  Tank did a double take, the news hitting him hard.

  “A way out?” His voice wobbled with anger. “The Bean Nighe is my legacy.”

  “No, Thomas.” Slash shook his head. “It’s mine.”

  “Fuck that noise,” Tank shot back. “You’ve been preparing me to take over my entire life.”

  “You wanna be president?” Slasher challenged. Tank didn’t need to answer because we all knew he didn’t. He felt obligated, but he didn’t want the job.

  “You want the loyalty. The power. The brotherhood. The club pussy. You don’t want anything else the Bean Nighe is.” He looked at me and then Matt. “None of you do. The three of you are too good for this shit.”

  He was right. There was nothing to argue. Even Cris had seen it, and she’d only been around the club for a few hours.

  The three of us didn’t fit in. We didn’t work for the club. We didn’t live at the clubhouse. We’d never hold a woman down and force ourselves on her. We’d never deal drugs. And we’d never leave a defenseless child alone.

  “You’re taking my cut.” Tank’s voice had turned flat.

  “No. I’m givin’ you the chance to give it back. To replace it with a new one.”

  “A new one?” Matt broke his silence.

  I motioned to the cash. “He wants us to start a club.

  “The Bean Nighe are goin’ to war. After the last few months, it’s inevitable. Wouldn’t hurt to have an ally in the city.”

  “An ally?” Tank scoffed. “Wouldn’t another club just be competition?”

  “If you wanted to do the shit we did, you’d join in now. You don’t.” He paused, frowning in concentration. “I started the Bean Nighe in ’77, after I got back from ‘Nam. Most of us were a buncha lost boys who couldn’t find work and didn’t fit in anywhere. We’d been taught to kill, seen our friends butchered, were all fucked in the head and pissed off at the world. The club gave us a place to belong. A purpose. We been catchin’ drifters ever since.”

  “And we’re different?” Tank challenged.

  “You’re all pissed off at the world, but for different reasons.” He met my gaze. “You need to find your own purpose. I’m offerin’ to do what no one did for us. The money to get you started.”

  “Because you feel fuckin’ guilty for kicking your kid out of your club,” Tank challenged.

  “No. Because Rocker here—” Slash pointed at me—“kept his head, didn’t act stupid.”

  I let his words sink in. I’d never wanted to run the Bean Nighe, let alone have my own club. The more I thought about it, the more it seemed like it was good idea. The three of us, Tank, me, and Matty, we could do it.

  I stood, shrugged out of my cut, dropped it onto the counter, and sat back into my chair. “I’m in.”

  Hours later, I hurried down the hall of my apartment building, desperate to get to Cris. I’d spent the day talking out details and making plans. Now I just wanted to see the woman I couldn’t stop thinking about.

  Preach was leaning against the wall next to my door and stood when he saw me. “All good.”

  As naked as I felt without my cut, it fucked with my mind to see the old man without his. It was almost like he was a stranger. I still didn’t know what to think about the brothers who had taken the chance to leave the Bean Nighe and follow me. It was scary as hell.

  “Thanks, man.” I slapped him on the back. “Go home.”

  Preach and Wiz had left the meeting earlier than the rest of us. Preach to escort my girl back to our place, Wiz to research shit for me.

  I opened the door quietly, pulling my pistol free and tucked it into the top drawer in the kitchen. Cris was at the table but smiled warmly when she realized it was me. “You’re back!”

  I pulled her into my arms, kissing her until my lips were raw. When her hands roamed south and found the buckle on my belt, I pushed her away. I wanted to carry her to the sofa and bury myself in her, spend the entire night making her moan my name, but we only had a few minutes until our place would be full of people.

  We needed a few days with just the two of us. One where we could figure shit out without others hanging around. The weekend seemed too fucking far away; if Matt could handle the jobsite, Cris and I could take off in a day or two. I planned to ask him as soon as he got there.

  I started to tell her my plan when I saw the packing boxes that covered the table. “What’s going on?”

  She glanced over her shoulder and then back at me. “I’m packing.”

  “No shit. Why?”

  She frowned. “Don’t we have to leave? You said it was a club apartment and you’re not”—her hands waved up and down in front of me—“a member of the club.”

  She’d taken one look at me without my cut and panicked, assuming the worst. When I pulled her outside and told her th
at I was no longer a prospect for the Bean Nighe, she’d started to cry, clinging to me like it was the best news she’d ever heard. I hadn’t had the heart to tell her that I was trading in one club for another.

  It had been a long fucking weekend, and instead of explaining, I’d sent her home with Preach. I hadn’t meant for her to come home and prepare to move again. Jesus, we hadn’t spent one night in the place yet.

  “Nah, Princess. It’s ours.”

  “What?” Her forehead scrunched and her lips pinched in disbelief. “Really?”

  I nodded. It had been one of the things Slash had insisted I keep. The money, the connections, the apartment, and any brothers who wanted to join Tank, Matty, and me.

  Cris shrieked in joy and jumped into my arms, laughing. “I love it here!” She kissed my cheek. “I thought we’d have to go live with the guys.”

  “Fuck, no!” I’d end up killing someone if I had to share a house with my three best friends and her. Knowing that she was that close but I couldn’t touch her would’ve driven me insane. If Tank or Jerm looked at her the wrong way, I might have completely lost my shit. No. We were all better off if Cris and I had our own place.

  She wrapped her arms around my neck and squeezed, then beamed up at me as if I’d just given her the world on a silver platter. After the last two weeks of complete shit, seeing her that happy did something to me—made me feel something I didn’t recognize. When she pulled my face down to hers and slid her tongue over my lips, I knew I’d do it all over again just to have her kiss me that way.

  A knock on the door made me pull away.

  “That’s the guys,” I muttered, unable to look away from the bottom lip she was biting. I was tempted to tell them to fuck off and spend my night wrapped up in her.

  I grabbed her, fisted her hair, and captured her lips.

  Another knock made me break the kiss, but I pressed my forehead to hers. “I’m never going to get tired of that.”