by Lynn Burke
Without a word, Jonny and I tilted back at the same time, downing our shots.
“You serious about growing more pot and opening a retail store?” he asked while wiping a thumb across his lower lip.
I nodded, glancing at the door as it squeaked open.
Shelly.
I turned back to my empty shot glass, the mere sight of her turning my stomach. “I don’t want to slave in the club’s kitchen for the rest of my days, and seeing as how I always wanted to be a chef where I’ll actually make some money…” I lifted a shoulder and let it drop. “Legalizing marijuana will open a lot of doors. I plan on applying for a retail license the hour they become available.”
“I’d think being a Glider would raise a red flag.”
“I’ve got a squeaky-clean record. Figured if I ran into trouble that you might know of a string or two that could be pulled.”
He stared at me with his dark eyes, probably assessing and probing into my soul, but I couldn’t tell what the fuck he thought. The man’s face was unreadable as always.
“Looks like you boys could use some company.” Shelly sidled up to me, pressing her tits against my shoulder, her lanky blonde hair tickling my bicep. “Need some help forgetting whatever’s on your mind?”
“Nope.” I shifted away from her overpowering, flowery perfume, filled my glass, and motioned toward Jonny’s shot glass with the bottle.
He dipped his head, his intent study of my face broken. I poured as Shelly moved into his personal space and ran her fingertips down over the tight t-shirt covering his chest. “How about you, Jonny? Need help relieving some tension?”
“Your mouth couldn’t get me off yesterday,” he grumbled. “What makes you think today will be any different?”
“How about we go into your office and I ride you until you come?” she asked, her painted lips sending a shiver over me.
So fucking gross.
“The thought of your pussy isn’t even making my dick twitch,” Jonny said, his voice still low.
“You haven’t taken me in the ass for a while,” Shelly continued, trailing her finger down over his chest again. “And you know how much I love having your cock in my tight hole.”
“How ‘bout you go bother someone else, Shelly?”
She stalked off with a huff and muttering under her breath about being dismissed. A club whores since before I’d earned my colors, she knew better than to lash out at a brother if one pissed her off. She knew better than to cross the president, too. She’s lucky he didn’t hear—or just didn’t seem to care—about her bitching. He’d toss her out on her ass faster than she could blink, to hell what other brothers might think of the readily available pussy, ass, or experienced mouth on her.
“Fucking whore,” Jonny muttered.
I glanced at him from the corner of my eye. He downed his shot, a scowl on his lips. Rumor had it, no one had gotten Jonny off for one hell of a long time.
“Need to get some new blood in here,” I said, repeating what I’d heard Hawk and Digger say a handful of times before their old ladies swept into their lives and turned them into faithful bastards. Ball and chain, I reminded myself.
“Got that right,” Jonny grumbled.
I swallowed down another shot, relieved to find a buzz growing in my brain.
“One more,” Jonny agreed as I motioned with the bottle again. “Whores, snitches, drug busts…”
“To figuring all this shit out,” I said, lifting my glass toward him.
“I’ll fucking drink to that.” He clinked his shot glass against mine, and we slammed the drinks back.
****
Digger finally showed back up at the club, cheers welcoming him home. Maci stayed glued to his side, the bruise on her cheek from the dead asshole who had hit her almost faded, and she only moved away from him when I held out my arms. Smiling, she hugged me tight, Digger lifting his brow my way but not punching my lights out. Shelly glared enough for the both of them, her gaze on Maci rather than me.
Ignoring the whore, I hugged Maci tighter and grinned at Digger. I still hadn’t found a brother I could share women with. Most were too possessive, too insecure. Digger, though, was intimidating as fuck and didn’t have an insecure bone in his body. He towered over my six-foot height, had shoulders the width of a bull, and a cock that widened women’s eyes.
I released my hold on Maci and stuck out my hand. “Good to have you back,” I said with a grin, clasping Digger’s hand, but taking care to not bro-hug him too tight. “All healed up?”
“Good enough,” he said, his low tone serious.
I glanced at Maci, who leaned against his good side. “Taking good care of my brother?”
Pink tinged her cheeks as her lips curled up in a satisfied smile. “Always.”
“He’s one lucky bastard,” I said, still grinning.
“I’m one lucky bitch.”
We laughed together, and even Digger cracked a rare smile.
A few rounds of celebration ended with Digger, Hawk, Jonny, and me in the office, the door shut with Maci and Janie all cozy-like at the bar together, Shelly giving the two of them the stink eye as usual.
Jealous bitch needed to get over her shit or get the fuck out in my opinion.
Jonny asked for the full story—every detail Digger could remember—nothing left out, pulling my mind off the cattiness of the club whore.
The blond guy who had confronted and shot Digger—then attempted to rape Maci—turned out to be the son of one of the men who had gang-raped Digger’s mother thirty-seven years earlier. Silent Demons, all three, and one had unknowingly fathered my Fallen brother.
Fucking mess ended with Digger bashing his attacker’s head in with the butt end of a gun before using a bullet to end the other fucker’s life.
Two men dead, one his fucking blood brother. According to Digger, neither had sported tatts that named them Silent Demons, but it was highly possible considering the blond fucker’s father had ridden with our rivals, and the two had definitely looked the part.
“Janie talk to her dad since the attack?” Jonny asked, turning toward Hawk.
She’d latched onto Hawk while out in Sturgis the summer before, and Hawk claimed her as his old lady before finding out her father was the president of the Demons.
Talk about another fucked up situation. It had ended well enough, though, without bloodshed, Janie choosing to stay with Hawk and threatening her dad with spilling Demon secrets if he didn’t allow her the freedom to choose.
“She’s called him twice.” Our Sergeant at Arms sat, palms resting on his knees, toothpick between his teeth. “She called the first time on her own, hoping he’d drop some sort of hint, and again yesterday at my insistence. Speaker phone both times, and nothing.”
“No fishing whatsoever?”
Hawk shook his head, lips in a tight line around his toothpick, hazel eyes hard as always. Stoic fucker was lucky to have Janie light up his life.
Lucky … what the fuck is with that word tonight?
Grumbling to myself, I turned my attention back to Jonny, who took up thrumming his fingers on his desktop.
“Taylor isn’t going to just let this slip away under a fucking rug if those bastards were Demons,” Digger said about our arch rival’s president, his lips twisting in a grimace as he shifted on his chair.
“Think we ought to face this situation head on?”
“Fuck, no.” Digger scowled. “If they were Demons and he wants to start something, he can come up here where the cops will look the other way. Down there? Who the fuck knows what would happen with the law in his back pocket?”
“Fucking cops haven’t been looking the other way up here lately, though,” Hawk said, finally sitting back in his chair.
“New blood in their ranks,” Jonny said with a dip of his head, “with pockets that refuse to be greased.”
“What’s up with Chief Rosedale?” I asked, leaning forward, elbows on my knees.
“Talking about retirin
g,” Jonny said of the cop he considered a close friend—and paid nicely to look the other way.
“Shit,” Digger muttered.
“It’s the new recruits who have sticks up their asses, and Deputy Jenko leads the fuckers.” The cop who refused to be bought, the man who would undoubtedly be appointed by the mayor—his cousin—to the position of Chief once Rosedale decided he’d had enough… Jonny continued to thrum his fingertips on the desk. “Fucking trouble on the horizon, that’s for sure.”
A few curses and not-so-well wishes spilled from all three of my brothers as I glanced between them.
“We ought to open a couple retail marijuana stores instead of dealing opioids,” I said, the words spewing from my mouth without thought.
All three heads swung my way. Jonny’s brow raised, Hawk deadpan, Digger scowling. All hard-eyed bad-asses unlike my pansy-ass.
“Or maybe open a social club or two at one of the buildings you own,” I continued to babble at Jonny to fill the tense silence as all three continued to stare at me like I’d lost my fucking marbles. “They’re real popular in Maine. You know … we could go legit and not have to worry about the damn cops and Feds anymore.”
They continued to stare, unmoving and tight-lipped.
Palms damp, I shrugged and grinned. “Lighten up, guys. Can’t a brother joke?”
Digger snorted and turned away. Hawk shifted his attention without a crack in his facade.
Jonny, however, lingered in, studying my face until I shifted on my chair. “I’m not going to confront Taylor,” he finally said, changing the topic, thank fuck.
Digger nodded.
“And the drug raid on Wednesday?” Hawk questioned.
“The driver has his lawyer—and knows better than to talk—but other than that?” He chewed on the corner of his lip and shook his head once. “We have to find the fucking rat.”
“Give me the word,” Digger said.
“Sweep the club for bugs again,” Hawk said, “and we can poke around enough to stir up shit that needs to let off enough stink we find the fucker spilling secrets.”
“We’re going to have to handle the other brothers with care.” Jonny rubbed a hand down his stubbled cheek. “We start interrogating, and colors will be dropping on the floor. The brotherhood isn’t what it used to be.” He glanced at Digger. “Use tact when poking.”
Digger dipped his head in agreement, but the hint of a smile pulled at the scar on the left corner of his mouth. “Tact is my middle name.”
Hawk snorted, the closest to a laugh I’d ever heard pass his lips.
The ridiculousness I’d tossed out seemed to be forgotten, and we left the office not long after to down a couple shots together.
Helina
Turned out, I didn’t need that morning-after pill. My monthly friend came calling a mere two hours after I’d kicked Capone out of my office while I’d stalked around my office, wide awake and pissy as hell. I realized that explained my mood, my need to treat him so shitty.
It’s best that way, though, I told myself—for the tenth time—a few days later while sipping my coffee and leaning on the kitchen counter, the local news filling my ears with the lack of an update on the whole opioids bust and not having anyone to blame except the dealer they’d cuffed.
The guy was screwed. Getting caught with that kind of stash in a car, with obvious intent to sell…
Snorting under my breath, I flicked the TV off and strode back the hallway to the bathroom. I so didn’t need that kind of shit in my life. Didn’t want it.
But.
I couldn’t stop thinking about the kiss that set my life off its axis. The gentleness, the tender emotion, never mind the soft fullness of his lips, his sweet breath I inhaled as deeply as possible, trying to pull him inside of me.
“Fuck.” I whispered the curse with more anger than I truly felt. Trying to force my mind on my one client—my one source of income at the moment—and how to build my firm, I climbed into the shower.
Whether I wanted to admit it or not, Capone’s “bullshit” while at the cooking class had given my self-confidence a boost. The man didn’t know me that well, but his assurance, his certainty of what I would accomplish… A near-stranger, and his encouragement had given me the boost I needed to get my backbone straight again.
Two hours later, I sat in my office, staring at my computer screen, still pissy, still torn—trying like hell to work rather than daydream. Capone haunted my mind, the memory of him like the most stubborn witness who refused to be broken.
Needing to get my thoughts off Mr. Hottie Pants and his tongue, I picked up my phone and dialed Sarah since she’d gotten home from their short honeymoon the day before.
“Helina!” she answered, breathless, with a smile in her voice.
“Hey.” I found myself smiling in return. “How was Nova Scotia?”
“Even better than I expected. Cold—don’t ask me why David wanted to go there.” Her light laughter faded my smile so damn quick, I frowned in a heartbeat. Her asshole husband had insisted on heading north after their spring wedding. Who the fuck wanted to go to Canada in April?
“There’s still snow clinging to the ground in spots. And the winding Cabot Trail … just gorgeous.”
“I’ll bet it’s even nicer in the summer when you can keep the windows down for the drive.”
Sarah sighed. “A sandy resort in the Bahamas definitely would have been better.”
I bit my tongue.
“We had a good time, though,” Sarah continued, “and David really wanted to go there. His bucket list, you know.” Her smiley voice sounded forced to my practiced ear. God knew, I’d heard enough of her excuses for her asshole man over the years.
I’d tried countless times to talk her out of marrying her high school sweetheart. A narcissistic prick who treated her like shit, like a doormat, a servant to cater to his every whim. Exactly the type of man who had donated sperm to my mom. I hadn’t called him “Dad” since I was little. I never would ever again.
My teeth found the inside of my lip at the thought I might be falling into the same cycle my mom had. Beyond those eyes and hot body, was I attracted to Capone’s badass reputation? His dominant nature? Just like Mom—twice over—she fell for men who controlled her, manipulated her into doing what they wanted rather than chase her own dreams.
I closed my eyes. I can’t get involved with a man like him… I need to stay strong.
“Still there?” Sarah asked, drawing me back to the present.
“Yeah.”
“So, how’s your firm doing? All moved in?”
I blew a breath between my lips, slumping back in my office chair. “It’s been one hell of a tough, bumpy ride, but I’m here now. Moving into the apartment upstairs in a couple weeks.”
“Any new clients?”
“Just my cousin’s divorce.”
“Damn,” she whispered. “What can I do to help?”
The sincerity in her voice eased the dent between my eyebrows. “You’re the most giving person I know, Sarah.”
“I’m serious.”
“Okay.” I found myself smiling. “I could really use a cheap secretary for a couple weeks—months.”
“Oh. Well.” Sarah cleared her throat. “David doesn’t want me to go back to work.”
I sat up. “What?”
“We’re trying for a baby, and—”
“Already?”
“Yes, and he thinks we’ll have a better chance of conceiving if I’m at home keeping house. Less stress, and all that.”
My frown reappeared. “Is that what you want?”
“It’s not what I’d prefer, but if we’re going to start a family, I want to do it right. David’s mom was a stay-at-home mom, and he wants the same for me.”
Yeah, I’ll bet he does. “And what makes David happy makes you happy,” I repeated what she’d told me a thousand times.
“Yes,” she breathed the word as though relieved I understood her reasoning.
Again, I bit my tongue.
“So … after the wedding … you and Jeremiah?”
My eyes fluttered shut on their own as I once more slumped in my chair. I tapped my fingernails on the desk a few times before finding words. “Not really.”
“I hear a ‘but’ in there…”
I heaved a sigh. “We made out. Met up again a week later, had sex, and I kicked him out.”
My short but sweet confession must have rendered her speechless.
“You’re not going to preach at me?” I asked when she didn’t give her opinion on the matter.
“At least you got rid of him.”
“And that’s the problem.” The words flitted through my brain and escaped before I gave them proper thought.
“What?”
I shrugged even though Sarah couldn’t see me. “I can’t get him out of my brain.”
“He’s no good, Helina.”
Oh, but he is… I cleared my throat. “I know that, but my body hasn’t figured that out yet.”
“He’s that good in the sack?” Sarah’s whisper tugged on my lips.
“I’m not going to discuss David’s brother with you.”
“You know,” Sarah’s voice dropped even further, “I always thought David was jealous of him. He always treated Jeremiah like shit.”
Too bad she couldn’t see David’s treatment of her. “Is David any good in the sack?”
“Best I ever had.”
“He’s the only one you’ve ever had.”
Sarah giggled, but I failed to see the humor. One man, with nothing to compare him to… I couldn’t imagine. It was no wonder she stayed with David. I should have gotten her drunk enough to sample some of the other fish in the sea, helped her realize how a woman should be treated.
“So what are you going to do?” Sarah asked.
“You said it yourself, he’s no good. Just like the bastard who fathered me. Bad boy biker, deals in drugs, probably enjoys beating the shit out of people—”
Sarah’s snort cut me off.
“What?”