by Lilly Atlas
“I’ll take a gin and tonic, please, Thunder,” she said. “And thanks.” She always tried to be extra sweet to the prospects. Poor guys took so much shit from the patched members, she felt obligated to bring a little sunshine to their rainy days.
“Sure thang, sweets.”
Shell studied him as he poured her drink. The guy was southern as they came. At least his accent was. Word among the ladies was Thunder was a stage nickname, and this guy had a day—or night—job as a stripper. She wasn’t sure she believed the bit of gossip. What kind of stripper had Saturday night off to attend a biker party? Unless he was a shitty stripper working with the day shift. Though, if the sexy way he unconsciously moved his hips to the music while working the bar was any indication, he didn’t suck. Sandy hair, matching beard, a body that filled out the upper portion of his T-shirt before fading into flat as hell abs…yeah, the man would have dollar bills hanging from every inch of his g-string. Or speedo. Banana hammock? What exactly did male strippers wear?
“Here ya go, darlin’.”
“Thanks, Thunder.” She sipped the drink and nodded her approval. After a quick wink, he was off taking care of someone else.
“Not sure big brother would like you ogling the baby birds like that.”
Her spine shot straight. Shit. Five years of freedom from that voice blasted away in an instant. Everything rushed back in the blink of an eye. The fear, helplessness, anxiety, guilt, shame. Every negative emotion her sixteen-year-old self had been forced to deal with while wholly unprepared. Her first instinct was to curl into a tight ball, making herself as invisible as possible. But she couldn’t cower, couldn’t show fear, couldn’t run. Facing Rusty was the only option. The frightened sixteen-year-old girl she’d been didn’t exist anymore. Shell was an adult. A mother with a daughter to protect above all else. Rusty had no power over her.
Lie.
One threat and she’d be right back where she was. Only this time, it was even worse. He now had two aces to play. Two people Shell would move heaven and earth to protect.
Copper and Beth.
Rusty wedged himself in next to her at the bar. She faced him, digging deep to gather her courage. “Welcome home, Rusty.”
“Well thanks, doll. You miss me?” Same green eyes as Copper. Same red hair and beard. Similar height. Clearly cut from the same physical cloth, the similarities stopped there. Whereas Copper was rough, raw, and fierce with a massive heart that bled for each and every man under his command, Rusty was nothing more than a narcissistic sociopath bent on satisfying his own desires at every turn.
And one of those wanted to be everything Copper was and then some.
To say Shell didn’t trust his motives would be the understatement of the year.
“Excuse me,” she said. “Copper will be looking for me in a minute. Might as well get a jump on tracking him down.” She set her drink down and took a step only to have a strong hand clamp down on her upper arm with punishing strength.
“Don’t think so, doll. We’ve got some unfinished business.” Hot, stale air wafted across her ear. She wrinkled her nose as the strong stench of stale booze and weed hit her nostril. Swaying on his feet, Rusty jerked her closer.
He was bombed. Which only made him more unpredictable. She would know.
“There’s nothing we have to talk about.” Shell tried to wrench her arm away, but the grip only intensified. Fear slithered through her, not so much of Rusty, there were too many men at the party that would never let a thing happen to her. But if Copper caught a glimpse of his brother’s hands on her? Shit would hit the fan in the messiest way.
“Sure we do, doll,” he slurred.
God, how she loathed the nickname. He’d called her doll all those years ago. It’s exactly what’d she’d been to him. A doll he could pull off the shelf and play with whenever he wanted. A toy that would take whatever was dished out and not fight back. Hearing the nickname again had her stomach rolling, and recollections she’d hoped were long buried rising to the surface.
“Been away from women a long time. Gotta lot of need stored up if you catch my drift.” Shell trembled. Her tongue thickened in her mouth, unable to form words. This was why she needed to leave. Rusty wouldn’t stop. And once he found out he’d fathered her child, he’d own her.
She had to leave. Opening her eyes, she saw Izzy making her way through the crowd toward her. Relief washed over her. Izzy was tough, so much stronger than Shell, and holy crap did she look like she was out for blood.
Narrowed eyes, flaring nostrils, clenched fists, she had it all going on. Jig called it her oh-hell-no look and warned them to run if she cast it in their direction. Right now, that look was precisely what Shell needed to bolster her confidence.
“Let go, Rusty,” Shell said with bite, ripping her arm out of his grasp. She refused to rub the sore skin. Wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d hurt the tender flesh of her inner arm.
“Hey, girl,” Izzy said, drawing Shell close for a hug. Her way of removing Shell from Rusty’s reach.
“Well, well, well,” he said. “Who do we have here?”
“Izzy.” She held out a hand. “You must be Rusty.”
“In the flesh.” He slithered next to her and slung an arm around her shoulders. “Damn, woman, that is one bangin’ body. Say bye to your friend. You and I got a date in my room.”
Izzy snorted. “Don’t think so, buddy. I sure as fuck ain’t a Honey, and you sure as fuck don’t get to demand anything from me.”
Lips curling, Rusty snarled. “Look, bitch, your ass is in my house right now. You want to stay and play, you gotta pay.”
The rolling in Shell’s stomach morphed into full-on acrobatics. Shit. This could turn ugly fast. Izzy was the type to show Rusty the error of his ways with a knee to the balls and a wicked right hook to the jaw. Shell had seen her lay a large man out flat in the ring. But Izzy was also pregnant. A brawl would not only have Jig’s head exploding, it’d put Izzy at risk. Shell prayed her friend remembered to keep her cool.
“Rusty,” Shell said. “She’s—”
“Shut up,” he barked as his arm fell off Izzy’s shoulders. Inches from her face, he said, “If you’re not in my room and on your knees in the next sixty seconds, I’ll make sure you never show your face here again. Got it, bitch?”
To Izzy’s credit, she remained calm despite the sparks shooting out her eyes. Being unable to pummel Rusty’s misogynistic ass had to be killing her. Instead of murdering him, she crossed her arms and snorted. “Pretty sure my ol’ man would have something to say about that.”
“Who the fuck’s your ol’ man?” Rusty wrapped his hand around Izzy’s arm much as he did to Shell a few moments ago.
“Jigsaw.”
Throwing back his head, Rusty laughed long and loud. Shell clenched her back teeth as well as her fists. Izzy looked to be doing much of the same.
“Jig. That’s priceless. You gonna tattle to that pussy? Think he’s gonna protect you? Pretty sure he let his first wife get murdered. Trust me, you’re better off with a real man.”
Shell sucked in a sharp breath. Jig’s wife and daughter had been killed around seven years ago in a tragic act of violence that nearly destroyed him. Only recently, with the addition of Izzy to his life, had he begun to heal and learn to live again. Rusty’s words were the lowest of blows.
Izzy grew deathly quiet. The two stared each other down, and Shell knew her friend was employing every restraint technique she knew to keep from wrapping her manicured fingers around Rusty’s throat.
A few of the partiers nearby had taken notice of the interaction and started forming a circle around Izzy, Rusty, and herself. Glancing over her shoulder, Shell searched for someone to intervene. Someone who wouldn’t fly off the handle and cause an even bigger scene.
Just as she was about to call out for help from Mav who was the closest, Jig and Copper emerged from Copper’s office. As though drawn by some mystical connection, Jig’s gaze zeroe
d in directly on Izzy. His face turned thunderous, and he immediately started shoving through the crowd, Copper hot on his heels.
“Rusty,” Shell said in a calm, even voice. “Jig is on his way over here. You might want to let Izzy go. He’ll flip his shit if your hands are on his woman when he gets here.”
Rusty turned to her, distracted for a moment, which allowed Izzy to extricate her arm without a struggle. What Shell saw in Rusty’s eyes had her shivering. Nothingness stared back at her. No anger, fear, hatred, just a blank stare, cold as ice and just as hard. “You think I give a shit? Am I supposed to be scared? I back down for no man, doll.”
“There better be a good reason you’ve got your fucking hands on my fucking woman. I’m thinking nothing short of her bleeding out and you trying to save her life is gonna be fucking acceptable right now.”
Whoa.
Never before had she heard Jig speak with such lethal intent. Rusty was a dead man if he didn’t choose his words carefully.
“Babe—” Izzy said. When Jig cut her a look she raised her hands by her head and took a step back. “Okay, do your macho thing.”
Rusty did a slow turn, a smirk on his face and not an ounce of remorse for miles.
“My bad, brother. Thought she was a Honey. Trust me when I say she was asking for it. Practically begging for it.”
“No, I fucking wasn—” Izzy started.
Jig lunged forward but stopped when Copper snagged his shoulder. “Let’s settle the fuck down here. Rust, Izzy is Jig’s ol’ lady. She gets all the fucking respect that goes with the title. Jig, Rusty has been gone a long time. Doesn’t know everyone anymore. Sure it was just a stupid ass mistake. Right, Rust?”
Rusty snorted and rolled his eyes. “Sure, big brother. Whatever you say. You’re always fucking right.”
Copper frowned, and Shell’s heart squeezed. Copper’s blind spot was far too big where Rusty was concerned. He’d be crushed when it all became crystal clear as it one day would. Too much poison flowed through Rusty’s veins for him not to ruin Copper’s image of who his baby brother was.
“Fucking animal should still be in his cage,” Jig muttered under his breath.
Quick as a striking cobra, Rusty tossed the liquid in his glass right in Jig’s face. Alcohol splashed all over both Jig and Copper. The sound of shattering glass drowned out Jig’s shocked grunt. Not even a full second later, Rusty’s fist plowed into Jig’s jaw. Jig staggered back two steps before flying forward with a punch of his own.
“Motherfucker,” Izzy yelled as she took a step forward.
Shell grabbed her arm and yanked her backward, giving her a hard stare. “Don’t even think about it, mama,” she said.
Izzy’s hand fell to her stomach. “Shit.” She stared helplessly at the men pounding each other.
“Rusty, what the fuck?” Copper cried as he wrapped a thick arm around his brother’s chest.
Rocket appeared behind Jig, capturing him under his arms and pulling him back. At first, Jig struggled, nostrils flaring like a pissed off bull. But Rocket whispered something in his ear that had Jig looking at Izzy and calming. She nodded at him but didn’t step closer.
Rusty still screamed obscenities and lewd comments toward Jig and Izzy. Finally, Copper roared. “That’s enough!” as he shoved the center of Rusty’s chest. Blinking, Rusty staggered into Zach, who was holding his trusty bat, Louie, and looking ready to bust heads.
“Rust, get the fuck in my office. Izzy, take your ol’ man home and calm him the fuck down. Want him here at noon tomorrow.” After looking around at the crowd of onlookers, Copper shouted. “Shows over. Get back to drinking and fucking. Thunder, get this glass cleaned up.”
Rusty stormed off toward Copper’s office with Zach trailing behind.
The tension of the past fifteen minutes began to seep out of Shell as Izzy hugged her and whispered, “Thanks, girl.” They made quick plans to take Beth to the playground after Shell’s Sunday diner shift, then Izzy slipped under her man’s arm, and together they headed toward the exit.
Shell raised a trembling hand to her hair, shoving it behind her ear. Even though she was used to these guys, and that meant the occasional drunken brawl, that had been more intense than usual and rattled her core. She glanced up and found Copper staring down at her.
“You okay?” He asked as he picked up her hand and tugged her close.
“Yeah. Think so. That was just a little unexpected.” She gave him a small smile.
“Fuck, yeah it was.” Copper scratched at his beard.
With a genuine smile this time, Shell reached up and stroked the soft hair. A low rumble reverberated in Copper’s chest. “You start petting me now, babe, and you’ll be bent over that bar before you can blink.” The man had one hell of a dirty mouth. Beneath her lacy bra and tight top, her nipples tightened. Not Copper’s most effective threat. He leaned down and gave her a quick, hard kiss. “Give me ten minutes to deal with Rusty then we’ll get out of here. I need my hands on you.”
Warmth pooled in her belly. Yes, his hands on her sounded like the perfect plan. She wrinkled her nose. But first… “You might want to take a shower. You smell like a distillery.”
“Will you join me?”
Warm water, steam, and a soapy Copper? Count her in. “Yes. Now go. And hurry.”
After another kiss, a little longer this time, Copper squeezed her ass and was on his way to his office.
Shell kept her attention on his retreating back—okay maybe on the tight flex of his retreating ass. There was no doubt in her mind, Rusty would worm his way out of Copper’s ill will. It was just their dynamic. Rusty fucked up, and Copper cleaned the mess, making excuses for his brother.
She sighed.
A wicked storm was on the horizon and Shell feared there was no way for her to find shelter before it made land.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
COPPER EXPECTED A period of adjustment for Rusty after he returned from prison, but disrespecting an ol’ lady and sucker punching another brother? That he hadn’t anticipated.
“The fuck, Rusty?” Copper asked as he closed the door behind him, drowning out at least some of the chaos.
For a moment, defiance flashed in Rusty’s eyes before he shrugged. “That fucker rubs me the wrong way. Always has.” With a snort, he plopped into Copper’s leather chair.
Okay, it looked like he was standing in his own office. He’d be damned if he sat across the desk from Rusty in the number two chair. Crossing his arms, he propped himself against the closed door. “Can’t go around hitting on ol’ ladies.”
Rusty opened a drawer and pulled out the whiskey Copper shared with him a few days ago. For some reason, it rubbed him the wrong way. Back in the day, Rust had at least respected Copper’s role as president. Now, it seemed he felt he was entitled to do whatever the fuck he wanted.
He’s your fucking brother, and he just got out of fucking prison.
“Didn’t know she was an ol’ lady.” He unscrewed the cap and sucked back a long swallow directly from the bottle. “And fuck that shit. Since when have ol’ ladies trumped brothers around here?”
“Brothers still come first, but an ol’ lady has always been a position of respect. They’re a vital part of the family. You ask any one of those guys, and they’d die for their woman same as they’d die for the club.”
Rusty scoffed and took another drink. He needed to faceplant in his bed and sleep it off for the next twelve hours. Alone.
He stood, bottle in hand. “We done here? Gonna go find some more accommodating pussy.” Coming around the desk, he stopped about two feet from Copper. “You gonna block my way, big brother?”
“Look, Rust, I can’t pretend to know how much it sucks to be in prison. And I have no idea how you feel being dropped back in here after five years have passed. Shit’s changed, and that can’t be easy. But you gotta take it down a notch. Can’t have you starting shit. You hear?”
They stared each other down for a moment. Something
flashed in Rusty’s gaze. A cold and rebellious glint Copper had never witnessed before. Something close to hatred. For one hot second, Copper thought Rusty might take a swing at him with that bottle. But then he blinked and it was gone. His lips curled. “Shit, Cop, I know I gotta get my head on straight. Spent five years hardening myself and proving I don’t take shit off no one.” He shrugged. “Habit by now.” He strode forward and held his free hand out. “Won’t happen again.”
Copper gripped his brother’s hand and tugged him forward. They hugged and slapped each other’s backs. “Fucking glad you’re here,” Copper said.
“You ain’t gonna cry and snot all over my shirt, are you?”
With a laugh, Copper shoved Rusty back. “No, asshole. Your ugly ass ain’t worth crying over.”
All the tension from moments ago evaporated. “Fuck you! Now get outta here and go give your woman some dick,” Rusty said.
That was a damn good idea. “Lock up behind you when you go, okay? Don’t want anyone rummaging through my shit when they’re too drunk to find the can.”
“You got it, big bro.”
After one last hug, Copper went off in search of Shell. He found her sitting at the bar, laughing at something the new kid said. Thunder seemed promising, but Copper wasn’t sure about his career choice. It wasn’t the stripping he minded, fuck if the guy could make money shaking his junk in women’s faces, more power to him, but the schedule wasn’t exactly conducive to club business. It remained to be seen how available and loyal he’d be to the club. So far, he’d been a model prospect.
Though his staring at Shell’s tits like they were a treat meant for him was something that was going to end in the next thirty seconds.
Copper snuck up behind Shell, resting his hands on her rib cage right under her tits. In a tiny gesture, no one would notice, he brushed his thumbs over the sides of the mounds that had been on his mind constantly the past few days. He hadn’t spent nearly enough time tasting them, sucking them, squeezing them.