by Ada Stone
“Say we take this shit deal. The club gets two percent of all their dealings, but—and it’s a big ass but—we have to fucking give protection? We have to ride with those assholes and cover their asses? Now, we as a club agreed years ago not to do dive into the hard shit. Medical marijuana is one thing. Doesn’t hurt the civilians and helps those who need it. We don’t do anything to hurt the civilians. That’s what we’ve done since the beginning of this club, and I think we should keep on doing just that.” Approving grunts went up after Sniper had his say, and Michael nodded along with them. That was what their club did, no harm to anyone outside the MC life.
“But two percent…fuck, that’s a lot of dough. I don’t want to be working like a dog ’til the day I die. That would give us some cushion. Make a nice retirement fund,” Daniel, an older member of the club, spoke up.
“That’s easy for you to say, Danny boy. You’re not going to be going on these runs, putting your ass on the line, and risking jail and whatever else for that two percent.” Daniel was past the age that he would be expected to go on jobs anymore. He worked garage detail when it was his turn and took a smaller chunk of the club income that came from the house and the runs.
“Let’s also look at the downfall of saying no.” Michael shook his head when Sniper started to open his mouth to argue. “I’m not saying I like this; I’m saying what happens if we say no. Devil’s Nest isn’t going to just say okay and walk away.” He jabbed his finger into the table. “They aren’t going to like it. And when those fuckers don’t like something, they get a little rowdy. Even if we say no, there could be shit coming down this way. There could be shit happening that could very well hurt this town.”
“We say yes, and we are going to be a part of that shit. Coke in the grammar schools. H running through the high school. No. Fuck that.” Sniper pushed back from the table and crossed his arms over his chest.
“I get it. I’m just saying we need a plan for any blow back for sticking to our guns.”
“That’s our fucking plan. Sticking to our fucking guns.” Sniper jerked a thumb at the cabinets lining the wall behind them. Part of their armory was stocked in the meeting room, for the unlikely event that something went down while they were all in church.
“Okay, okay.” Michael waved his hand over the gavel. “Enough bullshitting. Let’s just get to the vote. We all know what’s at stake, so let’s go around.” He looked at Sniper seated to his left.
“Nay. Fucking Nay.” He slammed his hand on the table.
Michael watched as one by one the vote came to him. Completely a formality at that point as his brothers had already voted against it, but he gave his vote anyway. “Nay.” He kept his eyes on Sniper as he gave his vote and received a satisfied nod in return.
Craig gave his own vote in rejection of the idea and clanked down the gavel. It was done. They would need to prepare for the fallout, but it was something they, as a brotherhood, would stand against. With the business concluded, the meeting ended, and the men started to pour out into the lounge area again.
Michael waited for Sniper outside the door, catching glimpse of Candy over at the bar. “Once Devlin finds out how the vote went, we are going to start seeing some hostility. What he won’t be given, he’ll try to take.”
“Yeah, I know it.” Sniper ran a hand over his head. “You heard Craig, everyone’s on alert. Any shit gets pulled and we go on immediate lock down.”
Michael pulled out his phone. “I need to head over to Belle’s house. Make sure she’s okay.”
“No word still?”
“She’s been working and hanging out at her mom’s too much. She’s probably sleeping.” Michael nodded toward Candy. “I’m glad things are working out for you two.”
“Yeah, me too. I see the gals already gave her the patches.” Michael noticed it as well. Candy was wearing a denim cut with the club’s logo on the back. On the front of the cut was Property of Sniper.
Michael stared at it from across the room, thinking about Belle. Would she ever wear his patch? Would he even want her to? It looked good on Candy, looked fitting, but for Belle, it didn’t feel right. Something seemed off about her wearing an old lady kutte.
“I gotta run.” Michael slapped Sniper on the back and left him to tend to his woman.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Belle heard the roar of Michael’s bike and braced herself. She’d avoided him for as long as she could, it seemed. He’d want answers now, and she still wasn’t sure what she’d tell him.
Telling him about Devlin’s veiled threats would only send him in an overprotective fit. He might go after him or start some fight between to the two clubs. The last thing she wanted or needed was to be responsible for any of that crap.
Besides, maybe she misunderstood him. Maybe she was just being paranoid because of the stories she heard about him.
“Belle!” His voice carried through the front door louder than his insistent knocking.
Rolling her eyes at his impatience, she opened the door and stepped aside to let him in, as he didn’t appear to be waiting for an invitation. He barreled through the door, letting the screen door slam behind him.
“Hi.” She forced a pleasant tone and threw on a smile.
The darkness in his gaze made her stomach clench. He walked into the living room and turned back to her. “I’ve been calling and texting. Where the fuck have you been?”
“Nice to see you too, Michael.” She slipped the bolt in place on the door and turned back to him, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Belle.” The warning in his tone sent a shiver down her spine. The heated look, his low voice—she couldn’t help but notice the dampness beginning in her panties. Damn, the man made her body react even when he was acting like an ass.
“I’ve been at work and Mom’s. I just got home, in fact. I was going to re-heat some dinner if you want.” She walked past him and into the small kitchen near the back of the house. His boots fell heavy over the wood flooring as he followed her to the kitchen.
“You canceled last night, and then I don’t hear a word from you. What happened?” He leaned against the counter, watching her as she went to the fridge to dig out the bowl of pasta. After canceling on him, she decided against a big dinner and threw together spaghetti when she got home from her mom’s house.
Placing the bowl down on the counter next to him, she looked at him. “Michael…” She paused, not sure how to proceed or if she wanted to. “I…this…it’s not working.” There. She said it. Her insides clenched, and she was pretty sure she was going to throw up, but at least she’d gotten the words out.
“What exactly isn’t working?” If possible, his voice dipped lower, became softer as he moved to stand in front of her, placing his hands on the counter on either side of her and effectively trapping her. She wanted to scoot away, put distance between them, but he knew that about her already. In such a short period of time, he’d gotten to know so much about her that no one had ever taken the time or desire to learn before.
“This…us.”
“Why?” He leaned closer to her, and she could smell the faint scent of leather from his well-worn kutte. He hadn’t shaved. Stubble covered his face, giving him an even more menacing look. As though the man needed to look more dangerous than he already did.
“It’s just…well…” How was she supposed to think with him hovering so damn close? “My mom needs me, and I’ve been spending more time away because I’ve been with you.” If her mom could hear her spewing the line of bullshit, she’d smack her.
His gaze grew hotter, and his nostrils flared a bit with his quickened breath. “That’s bullshit. Your mom has the best care, round the clock. You see her every day. That’s not it, so try again. And this time, the fucking truth.”
“What’s going on with Devlin and his club?” She sidestepped the issue, just for a second. Hoping to prove to at least herself she was doing the right thing.
He pushed away from the counter, running
one hand through his hair. “Nothing. The club voted down his proposal to do business.”
“What sort of business?”
“The sort you and I don’t talk about.” He raised an eyebrow.
She shook her head. “See, that’s what I mean. There’s a whole part of you I don’t get to know about. Is this how it is? We come home at night, and I ask how your day went, and I get a one-word answer because you can’t fucking tell me?”
“One, watch your mouth. Two, not everything is off limits, just club business.”
“Right. The part of your job that you can’t talk about, but I have to watch my damn back because of.” She shoved away from the counter and picked up the pasta bowl. Stomping to the fridge, she ignored his confused look and tossed the bowl back in the fridge. “I’m not hungry anymore.”
“What do you mean you have to watch your back? Did something happen? Did someone say something to you?” He was at her side, pulling her into his arms.
“No, I mean, yes, but it was nothing. It opened my eyes is all. You’re dangerous. Your life is dangerous, and I’m having a baby. This baby has to come first.”
“You’re having my baby. And that little guy does come first. And you.”
“Not when the club’s involved,” she said quietly.
“What happened?” It wasn’t just a question; it was a demand. She’d heard that tone before, knew it meant he was reaching the end of his patience.
“I ran into Devlin yesterday at the mall. Literally, ran right into him when you were trying to call me. I was digging in my purse and wasn’t watching where I was walking.”
“Wait. What? I thought you didn’t go to the mall. Candy said she couldn’t get a hold of you.”
“I never got a call from her.” Belle shook her head. “I just stopped to get a pair of pajamas for Mom. I ran into him, and he walked me to my car.”
“What?” he growled and stepped back from her, clenching his fists at his sides. “All of it, tell me everything.”
She sighed and shook her head. “Don’t go off halfcocked.” She pointed a finger at him. “He just walked me to my car, said he didn’t want anything to happen to me.”
“What else?”
Blowing air out, she blinked a few times. “I don’t remember everything. I was scared, Michael. He was holding my arm and wouldn’t let go. He kept talking about safety and making wrong decisions. I was only half listening.”
“Fuck.” He kicked his foot backward into the cabinet door, almost breaking the pressed wood. “Why didn’t you call me? Why did you cancel dinner?”
“I went to Mom’s. I didn’t want to see you. I wasn’t sure what to tell you or what to do. I can’t be responsible for some sort of war between you guys, and I don’t want to get caught in the middle. Your world is dangerous, Michael. Too much for me. Too much for this baby. So we have to stop before it gets any more serious.”
“Stop?” He looked at her with wide eyes, then his lips cracked upward into a smile, and he started laughing. “Babe, you don’t get it, do you? You are my world. You are part of everything I do. No way this is over. No way we stop.”
“You don’t make that call.” She fisted her own hands, tired of his bossiness. He couldn’t keep her trapped in a relationship if she didn’t want one. “I told you from the start, no expectations.”
“And I told you, you’re mine. End of story.”
# # #
When he got his hands on Devlin, he’d squeeze his throat so fucking tight, his eyes would bug out of his fucking head. That bastard had the balls to touch his girl? To threaten her? Fuck, no. Fuck that. He was a dead man.
First, he had to contend with his stubborn lady. She really thought she could just shoo him away? If he thought for one second she really wanted out, really wanted nothing more to do with him, he would walk. It would fucking break him, but he would do it. At the very least, he’d give her some space.
# # #
Belle’s eyes filled with tears, either from frustration at his stubbornness or fear of what would happen if he actually meant what he said. It didn’t really matter what caused them, he didn’t like seeing her so damn upset. Devlin was a dead man. He signed his own death certificate the moment he put a hand on Belle. Walking her to her car or not, he touched her and he threatened her. Fuck yes, the man would die.
“So you’ll just keep hounding me if I say no? If I say I don’t want to see you anymore? How is that better than Devlin?” She wiped the back of her hand across her eyes, stopping the tears before they fell down her soft, flushed cheeks.
“Belle, I know it’s hard to not be in total control. You have no control over your mom’s condition, and you have no control over my club. But you have a huge say in what happens between us. I don’t talk club business with you because it’s not a worry you need to have. You need to concentrate on your mom, on our baby. I’ll take care of the rest of it. It’s not your load to carry.”
Her eyes narrowed on him. “What if I want to help you carry that load? I can’t, right? Because I’m a woman and only good for a fuck?”
“Where the fuck do you get this shit?” He tried contain his anger, but her attitude was wearing him down. “I never said word one about women having no value.”
“No, but that’s the MC life, right? A woman becomes an old lady, gets her property patch, and she’s to sit down and shut up, only to be seen and not heard. Isn’t that right?” A hot anger flashed in her eyes.
“In some clubs, yeah, that’s the way it is. Not my club, not my life.” He pounded his fist over his captain patch. “Yeah, our women wear property patches. It’s a symbol; that’s it. It means she belongs to him, but it fucking means he belongs to her as well. It’s protection for her. No one will fuck with her once she’s got that patch on.”
“So the guys in your club, they’ll fuck with me until you’ve branded me?” Her hands pumped into fists at her sides. She was so worked up, she wasn’t sure she was even listening to what he was telling her anymore.
“No, that’s not what I meant.” He let out a ragged sigh. They weren’t talking about the real issue, and he needed to find out what Devlin was really after. “It’s a tradition. To some clubs, the women are just there for fucking and serving drinks. In our club, it’s not like that. No, we don’t have women members, but we treat our women with respect. Every fucking one of them is loved by the club. They aren’t something we sell or trade for. We don’t use them and abuse them, and we sure as fuck don’t abandon them when they’re carrying our kid.”
“That’s what this is all about. The baby. Just another possession to you. That’s all it is.” He wondered if she even knew what she was saying anymore, her eyes were wild with anger and worse—fear.
“I can’t tell if you are purposely trying to piss me off or you really don’t get it. I am with you because I want to be with you. The fact that our baby is what brought us together means nothing. Even without the baby, I’d still want you; I’d still love you.”
She opened her mouth but snapped it shut, blinking a few times, as though his words were a slap. Her features softened and new tears rolled down her cheeks. She didn’t wipe them away this time. “You what?”
His lips curved, and he felt the tension roll out of his muscles. He knew that’s how he felt. Hell, the woman never left his fucking mind. When he wasn’t thinking about her, he was talking to her. He’d been with plenty of women, but none of them could hold a candle to Belle. None of them deserved to even be in the same room as his Belle. Of course he loved her. He’d never felt it before, never even thought it possible, but he loved her, and there was no fucking way he was letting her ditch him when he finally found someone he could say that about.
“I said I love you. Because I fucking do.” He took a step closer to her. “So you can forget this shit about us ending things.” He took another step, and when she didn’t back away, he took another. “Do you understand me, Belle? Do you get that this is how things are—you are mine, and I
’m yours?”
She gave a slow nod, as though she didn’t even know she was making the motion. He pulled her into his arms, hugging her tight to his chest. “I’m not wearing a property patch,” she mumbled into his chest.
He couldn’t help but laugh. “No, you won’t. You don’t have to. I don’t want you to. I want you just like you are, untouched by my club or any other club. Plenty of members keep their private life separate from the club. Not everyone brings their wife into their club life.”