“I’m not moping, you’re moping.” - Grinder.

 

 

Stepping down from the treadmill, legs rigid from fatigue, Grinder had nothing good going on inside his head other than burning out his frustration, snarling like a mad man to himself, muttering curses like he was a priest exorcising a demon. His uncle was big on religion and would probably thump him in the temple for that, whatever, he was still in a bad mood and he couldn’t shake it. No amount of booze and weed last night had gotten him to relax and then three of the groupies who hung around had sidled up to him in the kitchen with the fake lashes and seductive tits… The less said about that the better.

“You get locked up for that, bro.” Snake announced his presence straddling the weight bench, his tattooed fingers braced out in front of him. He wasn’t dressed for working out so he’d come solely to needle Grinder or gossip. Blinking out of the Luxe part of his brain, he knew he had a case of infatuation going on and didn’t do a thing to stop it other than whine to himself like a fucking harping bitch.

“Yeah, so Preacher likes to tell me. You bastards will all end up in the next padded cell so I won’t be lonely.”

Snake laughed, but Grinder noticed a strain around his eyes, the humor didn’t reach all the way to the top floor today. “You good, bro?”

“Yeah.” He nodded rubbing his face.  As much as Snake was known for being the class clown, he was also the caretaker, he made sure everyone in the club was mentally sane, that ship had sailed for Hawk and Law, but still, the sentiment was always appreciated from the brothers, he always seemed to sense when a brother was going through some shit and was there for them. “You’re coming to the cookout tonight, right? Pretty-boy’s picking up the new strain of green to try.”

“Yeah? The Irish grow some good shit. I’ll be there. I got nothing else to do.” Not as though Luxe showed any indication she wanted to see him again, she’d hit and quit his bed so fast he had whiplash.

“Looked like you had your hands full last night,” he smirked, reminding Grinder of the groupies trying to coax him into a foursome, or was that an orgy when it was more than three? Women, when they traveled in packs, were ferocious man-eating bitches, Grinder was lucky to get out of there with his beard intact. Truth was, none of them even stirred a lick of arousal in him, they were good looking women, probably tasted like sweet heaven If he got his mouth on their tits, and he knew some of them were adventurous in the bedroom, real dirty shit, they were the most loyal groupies who were around most days, and more so when there was a party hoping to rope in an outlaw of their very own, why they didn’t go for a banker or a factory worker he didn’t know, those fuckers were more likely not to cheat on dear ole Cherry, but the MC reputation spoke to chicks.

“Yeah, not my scene, bro.” He left it at that. The chicks didn’t have hurt feelings, they’d soon moved on to get their fun elsewhere, Grinder had spent the rest of the night smoking out by the sheds like a damn loser.

“Seriously, G. What’s the matter with you these days, you’re not yourself. Is it a drink problem? Caught an STD? You in debt to that donut place?”

Huffing a snort. Jackass. He cast his gaze over. “I got woman problems and don’t you even fucking laugh or I’ll knock you out.” He hissed with fair warning, finger pointing.

To be fair Snake tried really hard, what with the way he pressed his lips together and gulped a few times making his massive chest heave from exertion and his shoulders shake with a silent laugh. Grinder scowled and picked up the weights again. “Oh, fuck you.”

Snake just began cackling.

“I’m sorry, man, but I’m kinda liking all you jolly-fuck-monkeys falling like trees, it leaves more groupies for yours truly. I might make a harem. Should I have a brand name? welcome packs?”

Grinder laughed. Have at ‘em, he wanted to say, none of the chicks who hung around the club on the regular were doing it for him, it was like he was staring at lamp posts with hips.  

The curl of weights burned his biceps, air exerted out of his body in hard groaned huffs, veins lifted under his skin, but he kept on going, went on lifting, sweat pouring down his chest and back, keeping his mind on the task rather than wondering if Luxe was all cozy in Fort Springs with Steele instead of crawling her ass into his bed and staying there.

Hell, he was gonna drive himself Hawk crazy if he continued that path. He dropped the weight, grabbed towel to do a dry down. The lust coiling inside him wasn’t lazy, it lay dormant while he worked, while he rode out of town to grab some info on a new prospective client who wanted to use the bunkers. Rider always got the lowdown on the guy first before any deal was struck, so while that was going on he was able to kick back on any feelings he had, but the indulgent need forever simmered in his background.

One night with her was not enough.

Two days, and he’d needed to jerk off this morning so hard it was as though he’d been in space for ten years without a climax. She’d been gone from his bed only two days and the come shot out from the tip of his cock like a bullet from a gun and though the edge had been taken off, the pressure was left behind, he needed Luxe to feel that bone deep satisfaction.

He didn’t have to be a bleeding record.

He could track her down.

Hell, it wouldn’t be the first time, he was an old hat at stalking his woman now.

“Come, on, mopey bastard, Rider called church.” Snake clapped him on the shoulder. After a fast shower that didn’t include any handjob action he strode up the basement stairs and along the far hallway leading down to the last door on the end he walked into the sacred church only his patched brothers could step over the door to. If a prospect dare push his fat head through that door he was likely to get a couple dozen knuckle sandwiches and his prospect vest ripped off him.

Rider ran a tight ship and everyone followed the rules. Respect the rules or don’t let the door hit you on the way out.

Finding everyone already in their respective seats he took his next to Preacher. With his hair still in wet tufts, he stuffed his beanie hat in his pocket, folded his hands on the table and waited to see what the change of schedule meeting was all about.

“You going to this party tonight, or the Mrs won’t let you out to play?” one half of his mouth quirked turning gray eyes on his buddy. The asshole didn’t even have the decency to fake being pissed off. Preacher was happier than a pig in fresh horse shit. Married life looked good on him, really fucking good, there was a time there he’d been worried his buddy would take a road he couldn’t come back from.

The love of a good woman, how fucking ironic when it was a woman leading him around by the balls in hopes of catching a glimpse of her to soothe his ego.

“We’re both coming, but can’t stay, don’t wanna leave the kid too long with my folks, it’s Rube’s only night off.”

“And you don’t wanna waste it by being around a buncha morons when you can be home under your old lady.” He finished for him.

Preacher wiggled his big brows.

He was jealous of the asshole.

Oh, not of his Ruby. Good looking woman, heart of gold, but no attraction there, thank god, Preacher would knock his head off and bury him in a swampy grave.

But having someone to go home to. Grinder was starting to think that might be nice.

“Are you bringing your thief tonight?” Preach brought Grinder out of his Sally-homemaker dreams and before he could rein himself in, a scowl marred over his face at his long-term friend and had the unnatural urge to growl.

Only he could call her a thief.

Oh, there was no derision in Preacher’s tone, the guy wasn’t like that, didn’t judge people for what they did and he wouldn’t ever, say a bad word against a chick, so Grinder’s instant reaction was way out of line, but it was there, niggling at the back of his skull to defend his...his, to defend Luxe, she wasn’t just a thief.

She was smart, so fucking smart, and funny with a dry wit sharp enough to cut glass, sarcastic with it and her teasing side was about as much as Grinder could take at any one given time, she riled him up, she stirred him and pissed him off more than any woman ever had before and that list included a woman who had dumped his younger self and never looked back.

She was his thief.

“Luxe. And nah. It’s not like that.” It should be like that. His mouth quirked, meeting Preacher’s upturned brow while the other brothers around them made their own noise. “She only wants one part of me, bro, I doubt she wants to sit down and have chow time.”

“Brutal.” Laughed Preacher clapping his shovel hand hard on his back, lucky for Grinder he didn’t need that part of his spine.

More fortunate for Grinder and his sob story, Rider called the meeting in order and soon as it was wrapped up it would be time for work and maybe tonight he’d get drunk and not think a second of a bewitching thief.

“So, on top of the Russian’s being up our asses, I got word the Diablo’s are having trouble from the ATF with a plague of anonymous tip-offs. Three of their boys have caught jail time in the last month. I spoke to Axel.”

“I bet that was fun.” Interrupted the Butcher, a dark twist of sarcasm lacing his usual even toned voice. The only man who had gone up against the president of the Diablo Disciples MC once upon a time, a smaller crew outside Colorado, and lived to tell the tale.

“Like a prostate exam, his boys got lifted for petty shit, stuff the ATF shouldn’t even have eyes on. He suspects a snitch. I’m putting the word out to Steele tomorrow.”

“The fuck for?” Grinder asked before he could stop himself. Every pair of eyes came at him, surprised with his outburst. Shrinking back in his chair his brows bunched in the middle and he lifted a hand to tug the beanie he always wore and found only hair up there. Fuck.

“Because, you evil shit, he’d do the same for us. We’re trying to play in the same sandpit if you’ve forgotten. I’d rather keep the other MC’s on side.”

Grinder made a noise, a verbal eye roll. “I don’t know what the fuck for, Prez. They all know we’re the biggest club, we don’t owe them anything, it should be them on their knees to us.”

“I think that’s Nate’s kinky side showing.” Lawless smirked dryly from his side of the table, one hand going back and forth on his shaved head. He was wearing a black wifebeater that showed off the full effect of his neck/collarbone tattoo. That thing was creepy as fuck.

Grinder ignored in favor of focusing on what he was hearing, that his club was about to do favors for Steele. What the fuck ever. Dickhead.

Steele who might be right now with his ... Not his… woman. Okay, he could breathe through this shit.

He felt Preacher knock his massive shoulder into his, and ask silently with his eyebrows what the fuck he was doing. He shook his head.

“Maybe the Diablo’s are just crazy stupid.” Offered Snake. “I mean, who’s to say they’re not talking about the shit they’re doing, that gets the law on the watch, those punks are trying to get in the arms trade last we heard, it’s for morons. It doesn’t take much and the cops are all over your stink.”

“Charlie Timmon’s young deputy, you know the one, wet behind those massive ears of his, is always lurking in his little patrol car. Little twat thinks he’s gonna grab one of us and he’ll be promoted to deputy fucking dawg. I’m telling ya, always gotta have eyes in the back of your head,” supplied Tag. Prince Charming, as the boys penned him was sprawling his 6’3 self at the other end of the table, fingers tapping a tune only he could hear, hair as blonde as his eyes were teal blue, not utilizing his particular set of skills at the moment since he neither had a gun in each hand or a woman sitting on his face. Instead he was nursing a cup of coffee as big as his head, from the smells of it, it was one of uncle Jed’s fancy pants coffee. Fuck, Grinder loved that stuff Jed got in for Z-girl before she got knocked up. He should have swung by the main room first and grabbed one.

“What does this mean for us?” Tag added, slurping the coffee without the table manners his mama would have beaten into him.

“It means when we go to collect the green we’re extra vigilant. If we have meets for the bunkers we double back to make sure we aren’t bein’ followed. The shops all have a veil of legal about them so I ain’t too worried for those, besides, Tex here keeps them straight,” said Rider at the head of the table. “I thought Axel might be bullshittin’, what with him not likin’ us much.” All eyes flipped to the Butcher who sat stony faced. The only indication he was taking it all in was the tick in his jaw.

“Fuck you all, seriously.” He muttered.

“Hey, we’ve all been there, brother,” smirked Arson in the process of scraping his shoulder length hair with his fingers he tied it back. Fucking hell, was church becoming a beauty parlor, Grinder mused with a grin. “Though, poking the baby daughter of a rival club… can’t say we’ve done that. Even my dick knows there’s some places you just do not stick it to.”

“She was legal, fuck you.” Snapped the Butcher with color highlighting his cheeks.

“You mean there’s a pussy you haven’t been in, Arson? Unfuckingbelievable, we thought that shit was just an urban myth.”

Arson fired Snake a shit eating grin.

Rider scowled his mean prez scowl. “Why the fuck do you assclowns descend to talkin’ about your dicks? Can we have one church without dicks as the main topic? Thank-fuckin’-you,” he waited a second for the roars to calm down. “As I was sayin’ thought the guy might be talkin’ out his ass, they’re careless, not carin’ who sees what they do, but Jed reported he’s been followed twice this month. Looks to be an unmarked car.”

The table erupted in loud what the fucks. Grinder sat up straighter in his chair. Who the hell was messing with Uncle Jed? One of the senior retired members who hung around couple times a week and besides switching up his coffee recipes he was straight as they come, Rider didn’t involve the old man in anything other than being a confident.

“Do you think they’re still watching us because of Hades?”

“Grinder?” Rider turned eyes to him and Grinder shook his head.

“From what my guy in the bureau said his case is mostly open and shut, they assume he’s took to the wind in light of them thinking he torched his own club and killed everyone inside. Only those around this table and Hawk, know Hades is dead and not being found any time soon. Speaking of which, I need the readies to pay my guys.” Rider nodded towards the treasurer giving him the okay to sanction the sort of cash that was requested. Grinder greased a lot of hands for info.

“So, we’re back to what … the ATF are watching all MC’s for fun, on the off chance we slip and fall on our faces with a confession?” Asked Pretty-boy. If there was anyone who was too normal-looking to be attached to an outlaw set up it was Mace, and yet, Grinder thought, the guy was absolutely one of them. The deep rumble of his tone showed just how irritated he was. Same went for every man around the table. Cops were so fucking nosy.

Not the first time they had the law after them, not the last, he reckoned, but with the Russians in town it was possibly the last thing they needed. It meant they had to be extra cautious with just how they dealt with Grigori.

From the opposite side of the table, right next to a silent Texas, Capone posed a question Grinder and Rider had discussed many times. “Hermano, can you get anyone inside the ATF?”

“I’ve tried. They’re locked up tighter than Snake’s jockies.”

Guffaws.

Texas cleared his throat, his head hanging over his clenched fists, otherwise he didn’t chime in. “Something to add, treasurer?” Asked Rider.

All eyes turned to Texas who took about a week to reply. “No, Prez.”

“Okay. So, be extra vigilant, you got it? I ain’t bailin’ one of you jokers out. That goes for you, Law, you’ll just have to make someone your prison bitch.” Directed Rider with a dirty smirk.

To which Lawless fired back. “I don’t mind. Might be nice for a vacation. Do you think I’d get a double cell?” He was such a freak.

The meeting broke up after jobs for the day were handed out.

Grinder was working in the shop all day. He’d rather be working under Luxe, without it being an option he was stuck with engines.

Scowling to himself for putting the dirty rotten thief back in his frontal lobe he got to his feet and made his way to the door, only to be nearly floored by Texas shoulder checking Grinder in his haste to get out. “Watch the fuck out, brother, I like having two shoulders.” He laughed lightly.

Texas turned ruddy, swerving half of his body. “Hell. Sorry, Nate. Just in a hurry for ... Catch you later, yeah?” and he was gone in a long-hurried stride. Damn, maybe the treasurer was on a pussy promise. About time since he never saw him play with the chicks.

Even Grinder would power walk if he had a call from Luxe.