Zane
I’d given Sasha some space, much as it burned me to do so. As much as she might have thought she needed me right now, I knew I’d only distract her. If it all went to shit, and I couldn’t get the money to help her mom, or I did get the money, but the treatment didn’t work, she’d be grateful that she’d spent so much time by her side—undistracted.
It had been a constant itch on my skin, though. Not having her around was like being constantly hungry. It ached and gnawed. Sometimes it would go away, and then it would be back with a vengeance. I’d never felt this way about anyone. How had she done this to me? I hoped it never stopped.
I hadn’t been idle during our time apart. After arranging to send her flowers, I’d also planned a little something special to help get her mind somewhere more peaceful. To that end, I called her two days after her mom went into hospital. I’d never heard my name said so excitedly.
“Zane?”
“Hey, sweetheart. How’s your mom?”
“She’s feeling a bit better. We’re just taking it day by day.”
The sound of her voice stirred up feelings in me that seemed to come from somewhere otherworldly. My skin tingled as if she’d touched me.
“I called your mom’s doctor and asked if it was okay if I took you away for the night. He said everything is good at the hospital if you’d be okay leaving for the night.”
“You want to take me on a trip?” she asked. Her voice was bubbly and excited.
“Yes. You deserve it,” I answered. “I just have a couple things to take care of before we go. Can I pick you up at your house around five?”
I was out behind Industrial, where it was quiet. It was always quiet out here. I think that was my favorite part about having my business in an industrial neighborhood. There were a few trucks here and there, lumbering down the street and kicking up dust, but for the most part, it was calm and quiet. That didn’t make it ideal for a business, but for a club? There was nothing better. And anyway, the club’s members drew in enough business to keep my employees busy almost constantly.
“I’ll make sure I get home and have a shower beforehand,” she said, chuckling. “I’m a mess.”
“I’m sure you look beautiful. I’ll see you tonight.”
“See you then.”
I hung up the phone and leaned against the brick wall, feeling the rough texture catch on my jeans. In between then and now, all I had to deal with was a possible traitor in my midst. Easy. I laughed to myself and rolled my eyes, pushing off the wall and re-entering the shop through the back door.
Niles, a long-time friend and trusted advisor when it came to shit like this, eyed me warily from the couch. Since the building that housed Industrial Tattoo was so large, there was room enough for a huge back area reserved for members of the Iron Reapers only. We had a pool table, of course, but I rarely used it. I liked to keep my work and pleasure separate as much as possible. It was a hard task now that I owned the business and managed the club that I used to ride in for fun, but I tried whenever I could. And I could play pool elsewhere.
The ceiling soared a good twenty feet above us. My dad had lowered the ceiling for the tattoo parlor but had left it at its original height for the clubhouse section of the building. That had always been my favorite thing about this place. Even in the constraints of club hierarchy, there was a sense of freedom that took over when I was in this back room.
Besides the pool table, the clubhouse was also furnished with a couple couches by a big flat screen TV, two lounge chairs, a long conference table used for meetings, and a kitchen area. That was where I found Grant, making what was likely not his first—or even second—sandwich of the day.
About a dozen other guys were lounging around, who I nodded at as I passed. Grant smiled when he saw me approach. “Is she excited? I gotta be honest boss, I can’t picture any girl being thrilled about being taken to that place.”
I smiled wryly. “I didn’t tell her where we’re going. She’ll find out soon enough.” I shrugged. “Besides, she’s different than most girls we know. I think she’ll like it.”
Grant quirked an eyebrow at me but said no more, taking a huge bite out of his sandwich.
I gave him a camaraderie-like pat on the back and grinned. When I spoke next, my voice was much quieter. “How did it go?”
He glanced around at the room. Nobody was paying us any attention. It was better for us to have a quick chat here than arrange to meet somewhere in private. In this case, that would arouse more suspicion that a quick, hushed conversation in the corner.
He chewed and swallowed. I watched the Adam’s apple bob on his throat. “They’re worried. All of them. Some of them are worried for you, some of them are worried about you.”
I sighed. “What kind of split are we looking at?”
He took another bit. “Sixty-forty is my best guess.”
I ran a hand over my face as if I could erase the tension from it with a quick swipe of pressure. Grant was one of the longest-running members of the Iron Reapers. He’d been a good friend of my dad’s, but had kept his distance from the hierarchy of power. He was a simple man; he didn’t want prestige or power. He just wanted to ride bikes and love his family.
Christ, how I wished I could be him.
I asked him to have conversations with the members of the club throughout the week, see how the climate favored the future of the Iron Reapers. So far, things weren’t looking good for me. Sixty-forty in my favor wasn’t horrible, unless you factored in my father having had full compliance. The club hadn’t done too many illegal things while Dad was around, but I’d still put at end to all of it. I had thought seeing their president in jail would set some of them straight, but apparently, I was wrong.
I didn’t have someone to pass the business on to like my dad had. If the club were implicated in something illegal, I’d go to jail and the business would be gone. We’d already spent so much in legal fees trying to keep my dad out of prison. There wasn’t any more room for error.
But apparently, forty percent of the guys didn’t understand that.
“And do you think any of them are conspiring? Or is it a matter of grumbling without acting?” I asked.
Grant was halfway through the damn sandwich by now. There were crumbs in his mustache. “I’d say there are maybe one or two people you need to keep an eye out for.” He flicked his gaze quickly to the couch then back to me. At first, I thought he was referring to both Niles and David, who were watching the game with beers in their hands. Niles had been a good friend to me for a long time; I doubted he would turn against me now.
“Not both?” I asked.
Grant gave a silent shake of his head. “But one’s enough. I worry about Brent too, but he’s more likely to join up with someone else than to actively gun for your job.”
I resisted the urge to go over and smack David upside the head. He had been a good friend of my dad’s as well. The fact that he was gearing up to wrest the club out of my hands—or at least could be—was enough to make my blood boil. My dad had taken that asshole in when he was just a kid, younger than I was now. He’d fed him and given him work. And look how David was repaying him?
I sighed and thanked Grant for his work. “But that’s enough now,” I added. “I don’t want you getting hurt because I can’t do my own damn reconnaissance.”
Grant’s laughter bellowed through the room, causing heads to turn. I gave him a flat look, but he waved it off. “Oh, as if that could happen, old friend.” He walked away from me, chuckling still, and I began to make my rounds of the room.
I was always conscious of the fact that most of these men were both older than me and had been closer to my dad than me. Whenever guys came to hang out at the clubhouse, I liked to go around and see how they were all doing. I considered it a part of my job, just like how customer service was a factor in the running of my business. The club’s members were customers of a very particular brand, and that brand had changed. It was my responsibility to make sure everyone got on board with that change.
I made sure to get to David and Niles neither first nor last—though David was my prime target. When I came up next to the couch they sat on, neither even looked at me. Both David and Niles shared a passion for hockey, something I had never enjoyed more than the fighting aspects of it.
“How’s it going?” I asked, passing each of them a beer.
“Aw, thanks, boss!” said Niles, cracking his open. He grinned at me. He always looked like a teenager when he did that.
David simply inclined his head in my direction. It was all I could do not to clench my fists at my side. No, scratch that—it was all I could do not to knock his fucking teeth in.
“Hey,” I said to David, firmer this time.
He leaned his head on the couch to look up at me. His hair was still brown, but it would start to turn gray soon. His wide jaw and narrow eyes always made him look like he was angry. Maybe he always was.
“Hey,” he replied gruffly. “Thanks for the beer.”
“How’s the shop been?” David was a tattoo artist by trade. He and four other members were the main artists in the shop.
He shrugged, looking back at the TV. “Don’t you do the books? You should know.”
Fury gripped its claws in me, and all thoughts of reconciliation went out the window. “Do not fucking talk to me like that,” I snarled.
All at once, it seemed like every eye in the room snapped to the tableau unfolding in this corner. Niles looked over in shock, slowly standing from the couch and walking toward the bathroom. I gave him kudos for trying to make it look casual.
David stood and squared up with me, setting his beer on the side table as he did. “What are you going to do about it, huh? Are we going to work out our differences through non-violent protest?”
He was a big guy, but he wasn’t as big as me. One second he was taunting me, and the next he was pinned to the wall by my hand on his throat, like that pathetic stalker of Sasha’s had been.
“You might not like that I’m in charge, dickhead, but I am,” I spat. “It’s time for you to fucking get with the program or get out.”
He struggled against me, but I knocked him back until he stopped. Then I knocked him again for good measure, before releasing him to fall, sputtering, to the floor.
I turned to my audience. “That goes for the rest of you as well!” I announced.
I thought about making more a speech, but I was too goddamn angry to even think straight. It was either leave now or kick David’s rat face in. I chose the former.
Sasha’s face looked like pure sunshine when I picked her up. It cut through any and all of the unpleasantness of my day, filling me with something else. Something happier. And something more primal.
“When you say five o’clock, you mean five o’clock, huh?” she asked, chuckling as she walked down the front steps.
I looked at my watch. Five on the dot. Just as I’d said.
“Just because I’m a big, tough biker doesn’t mean I can’t be punctual,” I countered.
She came straight for me, planting a big kiss on my lips. I pulled her in tight, supporting the bike with both legs. Truth be told, it was going to take tremendous self-control not to just take her right now over the back of it. God, I wanted to. But we were in her driveway. She had neighbors. And we had quite the ride ahead of us.
“So what’s the plan?” she asked, parting from me. “Where are you taking me?”
I handed her my helmet and smacked the seat behind me, urging her to jump on. “I’m taking you to my favorite place in the world,” I said. “I hope you like frogs.”