“Evie, your parents run the strip club, so you spend a lot of time there. Surely you know what it looks like by now,” I scoffed at her, amused when she reached into her clutch purse for her lipstick to fix the damage her teeth had just made.
“I know what Body and Souls looks like, Shiloh, and this is not Body and Souls,” she said, exasperated.
I shuffled forward in the seat the best I could considering the tight-as-hell dress I had on and perched myself at the end of the bench seat to look out the glass.
It had been a good week since I visited the strip club for business in my role as VP or just to pop in and say hello to the dancers. I knew them all and was close to several of them. This place we were currently parked in front of was definitely not Body and Souls.
“Um, where are we?” I asked, more than slightly confused.
My hens’ night was supposed to take place there, not here, wherever here was.
“Mum, any idea?”
My mother smoothed her light blue cocktail dress over her knees, ever the ballet dancer, and stared at me with a shocked expression.
“No, sweetheart, none at all. Maybe your maid of honour has more details.”
I smirked at the way my mum didn’t use my maid of honour’s name, electing to take the high road rather than say what she really wanted to call her. Not that she was my maid of honour, but she seemed to think she was. No matter how many times I told her that Evie, Lacie, and Meagan were to be my attendants, she refused to take notice of that memo.
Hayley was not my mother’s—or my father’s, for that matter—favourite person. Hell, the whole club wasn’t fond of her, and sometimes, I wasn’t fond of her, either. Zander just straight up hated her.
She and I were friends for most of our teen years, but to be honest, we didn’t spend much time together since leaving school. Hayley had been a bit of a troublemaker and not the fun kind of trouble Zander and I used to get into. More of the bitchy kind.
She liked that the club was so open to visitors and always tried to get me to sneak her into club parties. I only did it twice, and both times got me grounded. Hayley hadn’t cared at all that she got me into trouble, all she cared about were the cool stories she could tell the kids at school the following week.
So why were we friends, and why was she the one organising my hens’ night? Buggered if I knew was the most honest answer, the other being my three attendants were not good at party planning, their idea of a good night out was makeovers while watching re-runs of the nineties classic show Friends.
They were more than happy to hand over the planning to Hayley. Plus, she did have her good moments, and when she did, we got along just fine. I guess she got me through school without too much of the spotlight on the fact that I was an MC kid. She wanted me for what I could offer her out of school, but at school, she was the main attraction, not me. At the time, that suited me just fine. Any attention taken away from me was good.
We stayed in touch on and off after that. She went off to university, and I went and did my mechanic’s apprenticeship at trade school and the bike shop. Her interest in the club wanned after she got the hint from the single members that they weren’t interested in a relationship of any kind with her.
Then she came back, and voila, she named herself my maid of honour even though I kept telling her she wasn’t, and then she took over the hens’ night. Of course, she had been given strict instructions not only from my father and fiancé but also all the officers of the club. The main rule being the party must take place at Body and Souls.
I knew there was something up with Hayley when she said she was going to meet us at our next destination. She said she had to set up a surprise for me, but now I was starting to think Hayley was as evil as Zander tried to tell me.
Her first foray back into the club was not looking good.
Effing hell.
Chapter 16
Zander
“Your turn to break, brother,” Mannix said, the pool cue in his hand.
“Seriously, Mannix, we just played five games in a row. Don’t you get sick of playing?”
Mannix’s pool playing was legendary around the club, and he insisted on dragging any brother into a game with him. He always fucking won, so I couldn’t understand why he bothered. Just play on your own, dickhead. I kept that thought to myself. I might be bigger in stature than the enforcer, but the man’s fighting skills bordered on violent. The last time I went at it with him, he cracked one of my ribs.
Mannix laughed, and the eye patch he wore made him look menacing despite the huge smile he wore.
“You have no idea, mate. Before you were born, this was my favourite place—well, here and between Rainn’s thighs.”
“Really, brother! I don’t need to know my beautiful sweet aunty has sex,” I protested loudly. Sometimes my club brothers shared far too much.
“The twins haven’t given that away?” Mannix scoffed. “And sweet isn’t exactly the first word that comes to mind when describing my vixen, Lady,” he added with a wink.
“Whatever. I need a drink. Want one?”
Mannix used his pool cue to point to a bottle of bourbon sitting on the far end of the table.
“All set thanks, mate. Don’t want to drink too much tonight, not with my ladies out on this hens’ fucking night,” he grumbled. Obviously, Mannix was not overly keen on the idea of not only his wife but his twin daughters going out tonight.
Not that I blamed him because I wasn’t thrilled this party was happening only one day after the run. I wanted it to be postponed for a week, but Rainn and the rest of the flock said absolutely not.
Once our engagement came out, the women kicked into high gear and organised our wedding to take place next weekend. Apparently, having a hens’ night the night before the ceremony was bad. Seemingly, it was also the case for the bucks’ night, which was happening now, I think.
I looked around the main room and saw nothing special that even resembled a bucks’ night, just the usual occupants doing the usual thing. My best friends, Gabe and Sebastian, were here for only a few more hours. They would be leaving to complete the rest of their training and were still waiting for permission to get leave next week for the wedding. My brother Cole was going to miss the wedding for sure, and that really pissed me off—he was the closest in age to me, and we had a good bond. We trained together at the flight school, but his dream of following our father’s military footsteps called to him. Dane, Chase, and Willow would be there, so I guess I had to be satisfied with that.
The other reason I hated the hens’ night was that Shiloh’s friend Hayley was involved. As soon as she heard about Shiloh and I getting married, she came out of the woodwork and thrust herself back into Shiloh’s life.
I fucking hated that chick and with good cause. In high school, she used Shiloh’s connections at the club to get herself invites to the club parties, only with one agenda in mind, to bag herself a biker. Typical spoilt little rich girl wanting the perfect accessory on her arm to piss off her rich daddy. What better than a tatted-up biker?
I didn’t trust her then, and I still didn’t. The gleam in her eyes when Shiloh agreed to let her organise the hens’ night made me very suspicious. She was up to something, I was sure of it.
“Why didn’t the flock organise something for Shiloh again?” I asked Mannix.
“Because they are too busy doing the wedding,” Steel yelled out. “And just so you know, my wife and daughters better not be seeing any male strippers tonight or have any dicks thrust in their faces.”
My fists clenched at my side, a vision of some arsehole grinding himself on my fiancée’s lap, his satin-covered dick in her face. Fuck!
“There will be none of that fucking shit going on, brother,” I assured Steel, but a small niggle told me Hayley might just go down that road.
“Better fucking not. Annie is only seventeen. The only reason I let her go is that it is at Body and Souls, and the place is closed to the public.”
“She wants a fucking tatt on her hip, brother! No fucking slimy fucking tattoo guy is seeing that area of my baby girl. Fucking arseholes,” Steel exploded, then turned his head to look over his shoulder. “No offence, Doc,” he told Doc, a patch of the club, who also happened to be one of those slimy tattoo guys. He ran the newest business the club opened twelve months ago, Souls and Soldiers Tattoo Gallery.
Doc was neither slimy nor an arsehole. He was actually a former soldier, who got out and was looking for the same type of brotherhood he had in the military. He found it here with the Wounded Souls. He liked the solitude it allowed him when he needed it, and the support offered to him by the members that understood the horrors he still faced with his PTSD. Prying wasn’t my thing, so I didn’t ask him why he always wore long-sleeved tops, even in summer, and didn’t ask why he preferred to sleep down the back of the property in a two-bedroom bungalow away from the other brothers who lived at the compound full-time. If he wanted me to know, then I figured he would tell me.
“None taken,” Doc replied dryly, his glass raised in salute.
“Anyone heard from them?” I asked the room in general. I had a sudden urge to get on my bike and go get my woman.
“Heard from Stella about ten minutes ago. They are on their way to Body and Souls now after they went to some spa to get their fingers and toes done. By the sounds of my wife, lots of champagne has been consumed already,” Booth informed me.
“Fingers and toes? What the fuck does that mean?”
“Manicure and pedicure,” Deck piped up, his eyes narrowed at the laughter he received. “Fuck you all. Charlie gets them all the time, so that’s how I know.”
“Sure, brother, whatever you say,” Dad said from his place on the couch.
I took a light beer from the bar since I, too, didn’t want to drink too much tonight just in case Shiloh needed a ride home. I made my way over to the bank of couches and plopped myself down into the plush cushion.
“Hey, old man, what’s up?” I asked, hiding my smirk behind the can.
“Fifty-six ain’t old. I can still whip your arse, Apollo,” he grumbled.
“Yeah, only if I’m having an off day, Apollo,” I quipped, enjoying our banter. Dad really hated that name, but every time my mum called him by it, the smile in his face told a different story.
“Heard from Mum?”
“Yeah, she sent me a voice message not too long ago. She’s having fun, got her nails and toes done, some pampering and shit. Sent me a photo,” he said and pulled out his phone. Dad found a smartphone for Mum that she could speak her commands, no buttons or swiping the screen, she just used her voice. He also made sure we downloaded a special app so we could voice message instead of a text.
He held the phone out so I could see the picture of her nails, which were pink with little gems glued to them. Her honey blonde hair was swept back from her face, and behind her ear was a big tropical-looking flower. In the photo, she was posing, one hand on her hip and the other one blowing a kiss to the camera.
“Wish she could see herself. She looks so happy, so pretty,” I mused. I didn’t do that often. Mum had been blind since she was seventeen, but her sight or lack of it never fazed her, and I mean ever. She raised five kids with the help of Dad, of course, and never complained once. Sometimes, like on special occasions when photos were being taken, she would get this sad look, but Dad had this way of telling her in great detail what was going on. His explanations were so good, she said it was better than actually seeing.
“That she does, son, fucking gorgeous,” he agreed but said nothing about my comment on wishing she could see.
I continued to look at the screen while Dad swiped each image. I stilled when one particular photo came up.
“What the fuck is she wearing?” I shouted, looking at a photo of my soon-to-be wife, her hair long, thick, and shiny against her bare shoulders. The fucking dress she had on in the photo looked nothing like the one she had on when she left the house.
“I believe that is what we men like to call a napkin.” Dad chuckled.
My head shot up, and I glared at my father, not appreciating his amusement.
“It might as fucking well be a napkin. It barely covers her arse cheeks or her fucking tits.” I growled at the image again while my dick swelled in my pants. Fucking hell, she looked exquisite in the blood-red, filmy, nearly see-through material. It was sleeveless with a neckline that wrapped around her throat, a big peekaboo gap showing off far too much of her cleavage. Those beautiful globes were for my eyes only, so it was lucky for her that the strip club was closed to the public tonight, or I might have had to cut some pervs’ eyes out.
The dress floated down to the tops of her thighs and stopped. There was no more material covering her deliciously sexy legs. Shiloh wasn’t tall, by any means, but the shiny black stilettos with heaps of tiny silver stud-looking things all over them on her feet made her legs look a mile long.
“Who’s up for a ride?” I shouted, getting to my feet and quickly downed the last of my beer.
Most of the guys put up their hands, yelling, “Yeah” and “Sure, why not.”
I hurried to grab my cut and helmet, eager to get on the road. I was going to fuck my woman in those sexy heels and nothing else.
***
“What the fuck do you mean they aren’t here? Where the fuck are they?” Booth boomed after we entered the Body and Souls main door to find the place nearly empty with only the staff on duty there.
I tensed on the spot. I fucking knew something was going on. I just knew Hayley was behind this.
“Dunno, Pres. Been waiting for them to turn up but no sign of them yet. Maybe they are still at the spa place,” Jake said with a careless shrug.
I wanted to reach over the bar and wrap my hands around his scrawny throat. Fucking idiot.
“You didn’t think to ring the compound, ask questions, tell us they hadn’t arrived yet?” I asked instead of killing the prospect. Though that may still happen.
“I didn’t know that keeping tabs on your wives and daughters was part of my job,” was Jake’s stupid response.
Deck pushed past me and grabbed the imbecile by his leather jacket, fury etched all over Deck’s face while fear was on Jake’s.
“What fucking job? Take off that cut and get the fuck out. You’re a bloody disgrace and have no business being in this club any further,” Deck shouted in the prospect’s face.
“That’s not fair. I am a biker, not a babysitter. All I do around here is follow around the females, taking them shopping and seeing to whatever you tell me to do for them. It’s fucked up, and I am sick of it.”
I took a step back from the bar, shocked at his audacity and stupidity. The guy just dug his own grave with the bullshit he just spewed out.
“What did you just say?” Booth asked quietly, and I could hear the menace in his tone. Things were not going to go well for young Jake.
I watched as he gulped and retreated away from the bar and Booth’s reach.
“You heard me, and what kind of MC has a fucking female VP? You are making us look like a fucking joke in the eyes of the real clubs. The Devil’s Advocates are disgusted with the Wounded Souls. Did you know that?”
At the mention of that club, I surged forward, put my hands on the bar and vaulted over it, and then grabbed Jake in a headlock.
“You fucking cocksucker! Have you talked to them, told them anything about us, the women, Shiloh?” Rage built up inside me, blinding white rage. If this arsehole had given out any intel on the club to the Devil’s Advocates, he was going to lose more than his cut.
“You’re hurting me. Let me go, Zander,” Jake protested, but I wasn’t listening to him. Choking the life out of him was the only thing on my mind.
“Zander, Booth, let’s go,” my dad called out, his phone in the ai
r. “I know where they are.”
I let Jake go with a hard shove, and his feet went out from underneath him, sending him crashing into the bar. A satisfying crunching sound brought an evil grin to my lips.
“Seb, stay here and find out what this fucker told the Devil’s Advocates. Use any means to get him to talk, then call Jason or James and explain the club wants charges brought on this prick. I’m sure one of them can come up with something if being a fucking idiot isn’t a crime yet.” Booth gave the idiot a death stare, then spat on the floor. “You are the disgrace here, son. The Wounded Souls could have been your family. Now you ain’t nothing more than a piece of shit on the ground, not worth my time. Go find a club where brains and morals aren’t necessary,” Booth said, then took off for the door.
I bent down, grabbed a handful of Jake’s hair, and wrenched his head backwards.
“If something happens to my woman, my mother, or any other lady belonging to the club, I will come back, and you will find out what happens when you cross the Wounded Souls,” I promised him, then let him go with a snarl. I hopped over the bar again in one fluid motion and ran to catch up with my brothers.
I should have kept Shiloh at home, in bed, and been deep inside her. Where she was safe.
My fucking heart could not take it if anything happened to her.
Chapter 17
Shiloh
“This is not good,” my mum said from her perch on the very uncomfortable stool. Her eyes were wide and crazy looking as they darted around the room that we were trapped in.
“Oh, thank you, Charlotte. We didn’t know that already,” Rainn drawled with more than a hint of sarcasm to her voice.
I rolled my eyes. Why was it whenever the flock got together, drama ensued? It was a given any other time, so why not at my hens’ night?
“What is going on, Shiloh? Tell me,” Memphis demanded. I had her tucked close to my side, and her hand fisted in the skirt of my dress.
Her Prince (The Wounded Souls Series Book 6) Page 13