Thunder (Desert Phantoms MC Book 1)

by Verlene Landon

  “Blast, I’m sorry, I…” She trailed off. What could she say, she’d fucked his brother at the party he brought her to.

  Blast gave her a genuine smile. “Nothing to apologize for, Andy. You were upfront with me, and I respect that. I should apologize to you for the way my brother treated you. We’ll handle him, don’t worry.”

  “Please, don’t. I just want to forget everything. Well, not everything. I hope we can be friends.”

  Blast nodded as they headed out.

  11

  Thunder

  They were sitting in church discussing club business, but all his brothers’ eyes kept cutting to him. They all gossip worse than a bunch of old ladies in a quilting bee.

  Thunder did not want to discuss his personal life with anyone, let alone the pricks sitting around the table giving him judgmental looks. They’d already had a field day when he walked in with a baby face. Something prompted him to shave, and now he regretted it when he reached for his beard.

  He’d told Taps and Blast to fuck off when they blew up his phone and came pounding at his door. Fuckers.

  They’re supposed to be his brothers, take his side, but it was becoming crystal fucking clear that wasn’t the case.

  Granite ran the club on his own terms. Most days that meant all members in church. When it meant anything sensitive or might require a vote, that meant all officers. He groaned because that meant it was his fucking fault he had to be here in the first place.

  He wanted to go back to bed and forget the last twenty-four hours and sleep through the hangover he made sure he’d have by the amount of alcohol he’d consumed after Andrea had left.

  “Okay, listen up, now that all other business is out of the way, got a brother with a different kind of brother who’s got issue that could impact the club. Thunder?”

  When Granite conceded the floor to him, he groaned before speaking. Speaking hurt like hell, but so did blinking. He might as well just rip it off like a bandage.

  “Served with Flash for years. He was on my crew for two of my deployments. There with me when Heisman died. Showed up looking for me. Pretty sure he was high as a fucking kite. Said he was passing through, wanted to catch up. That was bullshit. Man never could lie for shit.”

  Thunder had to stop a grin at a memory.

  “Anyway, he’s apparently been passing through for a while. Had Whiskey pull in a favor. He’s been picked up on petty drug charges too many times to be passing through. Last charge had him on lock for a year. My guess is he got clean inside and his upline didn’t like that, so they hit him with stronger shit when he got out. Put him back out there dealing to pay for his habit.”

  They were all aware how dealers worked. “Problem is, deep down he wants to be clean, just can’t find his way out of the hole to do it. And I don’t mean just the one his lowlife supplier is creating.”

  Most of the men sitting at the table knew exactly what Thunder meant without further explanation. Most of them had been there themselves whether their drug of choice was alcohol, women, pushing people away because they felt unworthy, or a combo of all three with something else tossed in for flavor.

  If it hadn’t been for the brotherhood they’d formed with the men they served with or the brothers of the Phantoms, most of ‘em would’ve never made it out of that fucking deep dark hole.

  “He’s over with Sully now, in Bullseye’s old place. He has a real shot at cleaning himself up there. That leaves us to deal with his upline.” Thunder let his words hang in the air and waited. It didn’t take long for everyone gathered at the table to figure out what Thunder, Whiskey, and Granite already knew.

  “No?” Priest said in disbelief.

  He was almost drowned out but Taps groaning, “Fuck me sideways, Rainbow Bob?”

  And Trip shouting, “Goddammit.”

  “Yep, Rainbow fucking Bob.” They’d dealt with him in the past and let him off easy. Mostly because he was just dealing weed, hell, they’d bought weed from him in bulk before it was legal. After that though, he moved on to harder shit and meaner suppliers. Still, they’d been hesitant to really hit him hard. Partly because he was mostly dealing to tourists and stayed away from their turf. “But, I think the supply is coming in from the Sidewinders out of Arizona. That or someone is copying their mark.”

  “Yeah,” Granite took over. “The Sidewinders will have to keep. A problem for another day, so to speak. We need to worry about home. We should’ve sent Bob a stronger message when we caught him dealing with those fucking Enforcers. That’s on me, I underestimated him. Thought he was just a small-time dealer. Had Whiskey and Trip work some contacts and keyboards. Rainbow Bob has moved up in the world. Got in with some chick who’s known on the street as Petty. She is probably the one linked to the Sidewinders. With so little, they turned up shit. It’s like she just appeared out of nowhere.”

  Granite ran his hand down his beard in frustration or contemplation or both. “We all know that’s bullshit. Everyone has a past, I want y’all thinking about that. Got a customer who looks like the type who might know something, maybe feel them out. Be casual, don’t make it obvious we’re looking for her or interested in the Sidewinders, or Petty and Bob will go prairie dog on us. We need to find someone who knows something. Until then, well, there isn’t much we can do for Flash to clear up the problem Sully hasn’t got covered.”

  They all grunted and nodded in agreement. Thunder was glad he didn’t have to worry about Flash. He was in good hands. If anyone could get him on the right path, it was Sully.

  “Thunder, anything else we need to know?”

  What the fuck?

  “We dragging personal lives to the table now?” Thunder did not want to discuss Andrea. His gut was already in knots, and not just because of the whiskey he’d put away. But because he’d let his anger control his words.

  Taps leaned over to Priest, and stage whispered. “I thought getting laid mellowed you out? I guess it doesn’t work so well when they flee from your room naked rather than spend another minute in your presence.”

  Thunder stood and was a fucking cunt hair away from leaping over the table and knocking Taps the fuck out.

  “You both need to remember where the fuck you are.” Pound’s voice cut through the tension.

  Granite leaned forward. “Thunder, check your attitude and consider who you’re talking to. I was asking about info on Flash or any connections, but it seems I struck a fucking nerve.”

  Granite’s voice was hard as, well, granite. He may have a different leadership style and ideas about the club that were unconventional, but respect wasn’t one. Thunder knew he crossed the line before the words ever left his fucking mouth, but he’d knee jerked.

  “Sorry, Prez. Won’t happen again.” A quick nod from his president was both acceptance of his apology and a command to take a seat.

  “If we’re done with business, let’s get out there and have a drink.” Granite raised his gavel and shouted, “Phantoms!” calling for the informal short toast.

  “My blood, my brothers, my life.” The brothers’ voices rose in unison, save for one. A lone voice responded with, “Only your girlfriends see us coming.” Taps was rarely serious. But when he was, it was scarier than shit. Granite just rolled his eyes and dropped the gavel. As most of the brothers shuffled out, Trixie sauntered in with a tray of beer and shots. Blast hot on her heels.

  When the clubhouse was just brothers and club girls, they used church to hang out after meetings. Today, however, Thunder didn’t plan to hang out anywhere except his bed. Before he could take his leave, Pound clapped him on the shoulder and placed a beer and a shot in front of him. “Hair of the dog,” he announced as he dropped into the vacant chair next to him. Staying for a drink wasn’t a suggestion from his veep, it was a silent order. Fuck.

  Blast lowered himself into the chair next to Taps on the opposite side of the table.

  They were all giving him the stink eye. He studied the grooves in the carving on the table af
ter throwing back the shot. No way to avoid it so, might as well lube the way, so to speak. “Which is it? Parental type lecture, behavioral intervention, or commiserate drinking? Because there is only one of those things I want to fucking sit here for.”

  Either way, it was about the woman who was already under his skin. He actually didn’t want to stay for shit, but there he sat.

  He no sooner said the words when Taps and Blast started in. Mostly telling him what a piece of shit he was. He tuned them out mostly. He knew he wouldn’t get out of that room until his brothers said their piece.

  Taps took a breath and that’s when he heard Blast proclaim. “Fuck you, you asshole. I wanted to see her tits last night but not like that.”

  Maybe it was the hangover-shots combo that did it, or perhaps his words actually hit him. His brain was disengaged, but the rest of him went into autopilot. He dove across the table and went for Blast’s throat.

  Unlucky for him, his alcohol-soaked body was slow, and Pound was fast. Thunder leapt over the table, but Pound grabbed his leg right when he was within striking range, dragging him back across the carved phantom. That shit didn’t feel good as his shirt rode up.

  “What the fuck, man? You act like a grade-A asshole to a woman I invited here and then you swing on me? I should’ve kicked your ass before she even got on Taps’ sled. But she asked me not to.”

  By now they were both standing with the table between them. Pound had his hand on his shoulder in case he tried to hurdle the table again. “You’re just mad you didn’t get to hit it.”

  Blast turned his gaze to Granite who still sat at the head of the table letting his veep handle their scuffle. “Has he always been this clueless?”

  Granite raised a hand and bowed out of answering.

  “Yes,” Pound answered for him, but his gaze never left Thunder’s.

  “Dude, I knew before we ever walked through the door it wasn’t a date. She’s the most upfront chick I’ve ever met. But you threw her out of your room in her underwear. Her fucking underwear, man. Into a room full of single horny bikers who most were still lit. You yelled so loud about honesty and games, but from where I stood, she wasn’t the one playing.”

  Blast’s words were a gut punch. They had him questioning everything and reliving the past at the same time. He wasn’t ready for that. He also wasn’t prepared for his brothers to come down on him this hard. Not right now. Not today. Of all fucking days, not today. Blast didn’t know what today was, but Pound did. Which was probably why he gave his shoulder a squeeze every so often.

  Thunder had to quell the flood of emotions washing over him. If he didn’t, he’d either get blackout drunk or end up in a blackout rage. It was too late to go to Ozzy’s and get fights. So, he said words that tasted like acid in his mouth. He tried to swallow them, but his anger had surged.

  “Don’t be mad at me over easy p—” Thank God, Pound was predictable and threw one hell of a left hook. One reason his road name was Pound. It was how they’d met. Pound sponsored him into the Phantoms. He didn’t spend that kind of time with the man and not learn what makes him tick.

  “Son of a mother whore.” The double vision of Pound said as he shook three hands. “Fucker’s face got harder since he shaved.”

  Blast and Taps came around and none too gently pulled him to his feet and sat him in the chair. A loud whistle split the air and a few seconds later, Trixie stuck her head in the half-open door and disappeared. It wasn’t long before Taps smashed a bag of frozen vegetables against his throbbing jaw. “You’re lucky Trixie brought you peas, I would’ve slapped some dead cow on it out of spite.”

  “No, you wouldn’t,” Thunder slurred.

  “Of course not, cows are friends, not food. But I would’ve thought about it for a hot second. What’s with you, man? I’ve known you a while now and this ain’t you.”

  Granite came around. At least there was only one of him. Pouring shots for all, he raised the glass and repeated. After three shots down, he spoke. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m with Taps, what’s up? I only seen you this tied up in knots once, and that was over some chick from Rage Cage. You suddenly get over her after three years?”

  What was he supposed to say to that? ‘Nope, but I called her a lying slut and threw her out of my room in her underwear last night.’ Hard pass. Thunder grunted like he was still half-conscious, he kinda was. He would keep his secret. No one had to know. Thunder would roll over to Horns, ask Ripley about her. And if she checked out and wasn’t a danger to his brothers, he’d apologize, peace out, and no one would need to know Andy was her. They would never realize what a colossal mistake he’d made. What looked like a life-altering one through the cold lens of sobriety. Well, not sober anymore. Shit, she’d stolen just a minuscule piece of his soul back in that locker room, and he cast the rest of it behind her out the door last night.

  “Not over her,” Pound spoke. “Well, maybe over, under, behind. . .” He trailed off.

  What the hell is he. . .oh shit. He was there.

  Taps was the first one to catch on. “Well, I’ll be a screaming teen at a Bieber concert.” All heads in the room whipped in his direction. “What? I’m secure enough in my masculinity to admit that the Bieb can bring it.”

  No one else said anything. “Oh, y’all missed the point. Let me draw you a diagram.” Everyone, even Thunder, groaned at Taps.

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake. Andrea is the chick from the fights. She’s the one I was so obsessed with, okay? Now, can I please go to my room, Dad?”

  Granite shot him a warning glare as he stormed out. He heard Pound trying to smooth shit over. “You know he don’t mean it, Prez. We all get like this one day a year and we get a pass. This is his. It just lined up with woman trouble.”

  Pound wasn’t wrong, Granite gave everyone a free pass once a year since they all had days to get through.

  Thunder’d never cashed his in before.

  12

  Andrea

  Lexi wiggled every two seconds and huffed out a breath. It was clear she would not finish her ink if she didn’t have this conversation.

  It wasn’t like they hadn’t beaten that dead horse repeatedly over the last few days. Andy was soul tired. She spent her days listening to Lexi tell her how out of character it was for Nick, or Thunder as she learned, to say what he said. Blah, blah, blah.

  Deep down, Andy believed that, knew that. She couldn’t explain how, it wasn’t like she had the greatest track record at judging character. Between what she felt deep in her bones, along with Lexi’s dissertation, Blast’s shocked disbelief, Taps’ sympathetic and cryptic words, and even Ripley’s ‘well, that’s not typical,’ she’d accepted that Thunder wasn’t a bad guy.

  “Fine. If you’ll stop fidgeting, we can talk about Nick, uh, Thunder, okay? But you have to be still or your lace is going to look like rotten fabric, and I do not need you showing this off at Tails and having people think I’m a hack. Deal?”

  Lexi nodded her head emphatically.

  “Stop. You can’t do shit like that, you skank.”

  “Okay, I promise to be still, now. Let’s discuss exactly what he said and how he said it.”

  Andy continued with the line she was working on before pausing to talk. “We’ve been over it a million times already. You know what he said, and how he said it. Hell, I’ve given you so much detail, you probably know the exact expression he was making.”

  Lexi had the restraint to wait until Andy wiped her skin. “What I mean is, how did he look? Was he pissed-angry or hurt-angry, because those are two totally different things?”

  “Different or not, he said some pretty hurtful shit. What does it matter? He basically called me a lying, scheming slut, to paraphrase. I was no different to him than the women who live there and sleep with any of them on a whim.”

  Andy could tell she just hit a nerve with her best friend and she regretted it immediately. So, to save her friend a painful cover-up later, she lifted the needle
from her skin.

  “Okay, stop right there. First off, I am practically one of those women, even though I don’t live there. The women who live there are good people. Their bodies are not at the beck and call of the Phantoms. Not the way other club girls are or how you’ve seen on TV. They choose who they sleep with or if they do at all. They get paid to cook and clean and tend bar, shit like that. Some have nowhere else to go and no hope of another job. So do not come down on them because you’re hurt. Hell, I basically run an escort service and strip for my meals. If they’re bad, so am I.”

  Her friend relaxed back on the chair and nodded for her to continue.

  “I’m sorry, Lexi. I didn’t mean it like that, I really didn’t. Me, of all people, understand that. It was just, the way he said it was like a knife to my gut. It hurt like a bitch. And, well, talking about it hurts just as much. I shouldn’t have let my anger control my thoughts or my big mouth.”

  “Apology accepted, and now maybe you have a better understanding of my question. So, pissed-angry or hurt-angry?”

  Holyshit. “You are one smart stripper.”

  “Why, thank you. Now answer.”

  “Well, he definitely had some pissed-angry moments. A few were scary as fuck. And while I didn’t feel like he would swing at me, I wouldn’t have been surprised if he put holes in the wall.” She wiped Lexi’s abdomen under her breasts and admired her work while chewing on her thoughts. “Have a look.” While Lexi stared at her new ink from multiple angles, Andy started cleaning her station.

  “Now that I think about it, he seemed hurt. Before, you know, everything happened. When we were lying in bed and in the tub, he seemed very vulnerable. Then he seemed hurt that I didn’t buy into whatever he was selling. His genuine anger came from thinking I was there to hurt the club. I—”

  “OH MY GOD, STOP TALKING,” Lexi’s shout caused the entire shop to go quiet. It was already fairly low key since both herself and Ripley were inking boobs, so closed shop.