CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“What an afternoon.” Z stretches, showing off, and takes a good look around the bar.
“Why don’t you just stick a sign on your forehead that says ‘I need to get laid?’ It’d be more subtle.”
He laughs and slaps my arm. “I’m going to do a lap around the bar.”
“Wear a condom,” Wrath yells as Z walks away.
Z not-so-discreetly flips his middle finger in our direction.
Wrath gives the bar a more critical look. “I might call some of the guys and have them meet us here,” he says watching a group of loud-mouthed men in the back corner. Their colors aren’t visible, but there’s a good chance they’re bikers.
“If Z can manage not to hit on someone’s ol’ lady, no one should bother us.”
“Doesn’t mean shit and you know it.”
“Fuck this. I’m ready to go home.”
“Best thing you’ve said all week, Prez.”
“What happened to us?”
“Uh.” He glances around. “We’ve been here. Done this. And it’s fucking old.”
“We’re fucking old.”
“Speak for yourself.” He levels a sterner look at me. “I ain’t in the mood to carry you through some midlife crisis, Rock. So, go fuck your girl or do whatever you gotta do to reclaim your youth. But knock this shit off.”
My mouth twists into a grin and I slap his chest. “That’s what I keep you around for.”
He shoves me toward the bar. “Buy me a drink.” He wags his phone in my face. “I’m gonna make a few calls.”
I step up to the bar and order our drinks, keeping my eyes on the back hallway for Hope.
“Hey there, Prez,” a high, sickly-sweet voice greets. I don’t recognize the voice or care for the familiar way she addresses me so I answer without even looking.
“Keep moving.”
“Aw, come on. This is supposed to be party week.”
Ignoring her, I tap my fingers against the bar. The movement must draw attention to my wedding ring.
“Wifey didn’t choose to join you? That means it’s time to party, right?”
Christ, what is it with this chick? I turn to glare at her and find five-feet-nothing of blonde hair, and big tits dressed in black leather grinning up at me.
“Not. Interested.”
Persistent, she pouts and touches my arm and I shake her off. This time she’s more blunt with her come on. “I can give a blow job that will blow your mind. Best you’ve—”
“It’s a shame a girl your age has already suffered such terrible hearing loss.” Hope interrupts. Even dripping with irritation and sarcasm, her warm, silky voice wraps around me and chases away my foul mood. She rests her hand on my shoulder and presses the weight of her body into my side. I slide my arm around her waist.
“Huh?” the girl says, eyeing Hope up and down.
“My man politely told you to get lost.” Hope leans forward with her face inches from the shocked bunny. “Now, I’m telling you. Not so politely.”
The girl blinks up at Hope.
“There are plenty of bikers here.” Hope gestures to the area around us and then wraps her hand around arm. “This one belongs to me. Got it?”
“Uh…”
“Nod so I know you understand.” Hope remains calm and focused. My stealthy lioness protecting what’s hers.
The girl bobs her head. “Sorry,” she mumbles before slinking away.
“Friend of yours?” Hope asks with an arched brow.
Christ. How had this never occurred to me? She’s probably wondering if we’ll run into some random ex-hookup of mine while we’re here. “She was probably in grade school last time I was here,” I growl.
She squeezes my arm. “I was teasing.”
I slide my hand down, grabbing her ass until she squeals and slaps her palm against my chest. I yank her closer and nuzzle against her neck. “Love when you’re all feisty and territorial.”
She leans in and hums against my ear. “I felt more violent than feisty when she put her hand on you.”
“Your hands are the only ones I want on me.” This craving for my wife never seems to lessen. I lean in closer. “And your mouth is the only one I want wrapped around my dick.”
Her eyes spark with desire. “That can be arranged, Mr. President.”
I lean past her, pretending to check out the hallway leading to the bathrooms. “Any privacy back there?”
“Hmm,” she answers, distractedly, staring across the room. I follow her line of sight to the persistent little bunny as she chats up Z. “I think I’ll lose what little respect I have for Z if he invites her back to his room,” she murmurs.
I snort and take the drinks the bartender places in front of me. “Surprised you still have any.”
“Aw, don’t pick on Z,” she says, completely contradicting her earlier statement. Love her for it too. The way she looks out for and worries about all my brothers. Even the most degenerate of them. “He came to rescue me when I was in the bathroom.”
My glass hits the bar with a thud. “Rescued you from what?”
“Sorry. I was so rage-blind when I saw that girl talking to you, I forgot to tell you what happened.”
I snort. “Rage-blind? You’re the sweetest person I know.”
“Not when it comes to you.” She pats her vest. “Came close to yanking my little pepper gun out and blasting her with it. But I didn’t want accidentally spray you.”
Laughter rumbles out of me. “Fuck, I love you.”
“Oh.” She leans in, lowers her voice, and explains the strange encounter with the woman who sounds an awful lot like an undercover cop. A bad one. I don’t want to say that to Hope and freak her out, though.
She takes a sip of her drink and sets it on the bar. “I’m guessing she’s a narc?”
I almost choke. “I don’t know if anyone says narc anymore. But yes, sounds like it.”
“Well, she was pretty obvious. Maybe they need to send her back to narc school.”
I laugh even harder and she narrows her eyes. “I’m not that funny.”
“You’re fucking adorable.” I rub my knuckles over her cheek. “Wanna go?”
She tips her head Z’s way. “I think we should stay with him.”
A few minutes later, a heavy arm lands on my shoulders, yanking me to the left. I lean back and find Z’s flushed, happy face inches from mine.
“Hope fill you in?”
“Yup. You investigate?”
“Not much to do. She went out the back door and got into a black sedan and left.”
“So much for the biker chick,” Hope mutters.
“What else is on your mind?” I ask Z. I glance at his other arm, still draped over Hope’s shoulders, hugging her to him.
“Something ain’t right with that persistent little bitch,” he says, tipping his head to the side.
Hope snickers and takes another sip of her drink. “Respect maintained,” she mumbles.
Z quirks an eyebrow at her, then glances my way. “Should I fuck her to find out what she’s up to?”
“Respect lost.” Hope shakes her head. “Easy come, easy go.”
“Do whatever you want with your dick,” I growl, shrugging his arm off my shoulder and knocking his other arm off my wife. “Just stay alert and out of trouble.”
“She’s not really my type,” he says, glancing over his shoulder.
“You have a type?” Hope deadpans.
“I’m getting more discriminating in my old age, Hope,” he assures her.
She presses her index finger and thumb together, forming a circle. “Oooo-kay.”
Like the asshole he is, Z shoves his finger through the hole, into Hope’s hand. She laughs and pushes him away. “Rock’s right. You’re a degenerate.”
He grins even wider. “Worked hard for that title.”
“It’s not a compliment,” I grumble.
Z straightens up. All serious VP again. “I swear she had a “property of” tramp stamp.”
Hope rolls her eyes. I fix my “don’t start” stare on her and she wrinkles her nose. While she’s accepted her own property patch and what it means to my club, the idea of other clubs treating girls as communal property still irritates her. This trip’s illustrated many things I’ve tried to explain in the past.
“If she’s property of another club, then definitely stay away,” I warn, surprised Z would consider being so careless.
Hope still seems annoyed and I reach out to capture her hand, dragging her closer and bumping Z out of our way. “You my girl?” I say low enough for only her to hear.
She slings her arms around my neck. “Yes.”
Z shuffles a few steps away from us. “This is getting annoying.”
I raise an eyebrow and he shrugs. “You, Wrath, Murphy, Teller. Got no one left to—”
“Aw,” Hope coos. “You can’t possibly need a wingman, Z.”
He rolls his shoulders and grins at her. “No. I don’t.”
“Where’s Dex?” she asks.
“Fuck if I know. Probably in his room sulking.”
Irritation about the girl who approached Hope in the bathroom and that another club might have sent one of their girls after us won’t leave my mind.
Except for the brief altercation outside, we’ve done a good job of blending in—as much as a crew that includes several six-foot plus bikers can blend in—with the rally crowd.
Yeah, I’d had to meet up with Priest and a few other brothers, plus a few members from different clubs several times. Then there was the stress of Sway still being held in Alabama.
Shit.
“Wrath come back yet?”
Z nods over his shoulder. “He’s in the corner.”
“Stay with Z,” I say to Hope. I stare at Z, hoping to sober him up. “Watch her.”
Curious, he frowns but says, “Okay.”
I kiss Hope’s cheek and stalk toward Wrath.
“What’s got you so worked up?” he asks.
I slide into the chair across from him and motion him closer. “Hope got approached by an undercover in the bathroom.” I tilt my head to the side where the obnoxious little bunny is now hanging out with a different group of bikers. “And that one—”
“Wanted to climb on your dick?”
“Do you see me laughing?”
“What’s this about an undercover?”
I relay Hope’s story to him and his default scowl deepens. “That ain’t good.”
“Z said she left. But that combined with the tart who couldn’t take no for an answer—”
“I don’t like it.”
“Here’s my problem. Sway and Shadow got arrested—”
“No way.” He slams his bottle on the table, obviously figuring out what I’m about to say. “Sway annoys the fuck outta me for sure, but he bleeds Lost Kings. I can’t see him snitching.”
“What about Shadow? We don’t know him that well. He hasn’t been a member that long. Don’t forget, now he’s VP.”
“Murphy says he’s a real asshole too.”
“Interesting.” Murphy’s a pretty good judge of character. “Priest hasn’t been able to find out shit about what Sway’s being held on either.”
“That’s not good.”
His phone vibrates against the table and he picks it up. “Trinity.”
“Take it.”
“I gotta go outside. Can’t hear shit in here.”
“Go on.”
I turn to signal Z and Hope to join me, but there’s a greasy, out-of-shape old biker in my way.
I lift an eyebrow. “You need something?”
He blinks and backs up at the hard edge to my question.
“You were rude to our girl when she was just trying to be friendly.”
Fuck this shit.
I slide out of the chair and stand, pulling my shoulders back to emphasize how much he doesn’t want this to escalate.
“Your girl needs to learn manners.” I flick my eyes toward the group he’s with. “Doesn’t she have enough to keep her busy?”
He glances over his shoulder at his crew, then slides his gaze toward Z. A slow smile spreads over his grimy face.
If he’s thinking he’s got me outnumbered, I feel sorry for him. Z and I have taken on more than this ragged bunch and come out on top. Not to mention Wrath’s right outside.
What I don’t want is Hope in the middle of any of this, so for that reason alone I keep my fists curled at my side. Ready and alert.
“I’m only giving you the one warning.” He puffs up his chest like he’s accomplished something. “Next time be more polite.”
Years of fighting instinct coil in my muscles. “Do I look like a give a fuck about your warning?” I’m still a little jacked up from the earlier fight and ready to put this guy in his place.
When his fist comes flying at my face, I’m not even surprised. The blow glances off my shoulder, but I barely feel the impact.
Instead, I pummel him with my fists.
As soon as I lay him out, two more come my way. Their hostility doesn’t incite fear, it fuels my murderous anger.
Consumed with the situation in front of me, I don’t even bother looking for Wrath. He’ll be here any second.
The next two don’t waste any words or bother with a warning. One pulls a knife, raising the stakes to our scuffle. My own knife rests in my pocket, but I don’t want to squander time going for it.
Z better have hustled Hope out the door.
The asshole with the knife thrusts it at my face. I weave to the side and grab his wrist, giving it a vicious twist. The knife clatters against the floor. My foot shoots out, kicking the long, pointed blade under the table.
I’m pretty sure I broke something in his arm, but I punch him twice in the face and once in the throat just for being an asshole.
His friend launches himself at me headfirst, hitting me in the side. I grunt from the impact, but handle him by grabbing a fistful of his hair and slamming his face into the table.
Almost too easy.
Blood stains my knuckles. It’s possible I’m enjoying myself a little too much.
White heat surges through my veins, heart thumping, blood pounding, my wild eyes search the immediate area, primed for the next opponent.
Z’s busy flirting with the pretty bartender when a hefty old biker takes a swing at Rock.
“Shit!” I smack Z’s arm as I slide off my stool.
“Oh fuck.”
“I’m gonna call the cops,” the bartender says.
“Shit, Z.”
That’s the last thing Rock needs.
Rock seems perfectly at home knocking the guy out and the other bikers who come at him. It’s honestly a little terrifying to see my husband so comfortable being so vicious.
A short scream jumps out of my throat when one of the guys pulls a knife.
Rock handles that too.
It all happens so fast.
Z tugs on my arm, trying to push me toward the back door, but I dig my heels into the dirty wood floor. “I’m not leaving without him.”
“Hope,” he warns.
“Where’s Wrath?”
Some patrons flee out the front door, while others use the fight as an excuse to start their own trouble.
Two more bikers head Rock’s way.
I pull out the little pepper blaster and Z laughs. “What the hell are you gonna do with that?”
“Shoot those guys.”
“Hope,” he says, grabbing my arm again. “Let’s go.”
“Z, I can either shoot you or them.” I snap the cartridge in place and slip the extra one in my pocket. “I’d rather not shoot you, but I will if you don’t let go of me.”
“Goddammit,” he mutters, releasing my arm. I’m halfway across the room, when Wrath bursts in the front door.
“Hope, don’t.” He motions me toward him. “Let’s go.”
But two more guys are approaching Rock, one with what looks like a broken chair leg clutched tightly in his left hand.
I aim the plastic gun in his direction first. My finger pushes the white, plastic safety to the side.
“Hey!” I shout to get his attention.
He turns, and oh fuck, I pray this stupid little thing works because he’s a scary asshole and now he’s coming my way.
Deep breath. Just like Rock’s taught me, aim for right between the eyes and slowly squeeze the trigger.
A loud pop bursts from the gun and the glob of pepper spray lands in the middle of his scraggly, gray beard.
Huh, guess my aim is off.
The liquid spreads, soaking his beard as well as dousing the guy to his left enough to make him stop.
The one I nailed drops to the ground, clawing at his throat. The chair leg thumps to the floor.
Happy it worked, I smile in triumph and grab the second cartridge.
Wrath’s already in the thick of things with Rock. I’ve witnessed what Wrath’s capable of doing in the somewhat controlled environment of an underground fighting ring. Here, with no rules at all—he’s absolutely savage.
“All right, let’s go, Hope,” Z says.
I can tell he doesn’t want to leave. He’s struggling between staying with me like Rock asked or helping his brothers.
“I’m fine. Go help them.”
“Woman, I swear to—”
A bearded blur storms through the front door. “Look, Murphy’s here. I’ll go with—”
Too late, Murphy’s already joined the brawl.
“Fuck. Stay put,” Z says.
I glance at the bartender who’s on the phone, probably with the police.
We’re all going to end up being carted off to jail tonight.
“Bitch,” someone snaps to my right and I whirl around.
The girl who hit on Rock earlier advances on me with a beer bottle in one hand.
Cold fear swirls in my stomach. I’m not a fighting type of girl. Never have been. I squeeze the gun in my hand, very aware I only have one cartridge left.
I flick my gaze to the corner where Rock, Wrath, Murphy, and Z have neutralized most of the threats. Everyone else has fled the building.
The girl in front of me seems to realize her backup is either beaten to a pulp on the floor or gone, leaving her behind.
I casually snap the cartridge into place. “Did you have something to say to me, short stack?”
She blows out a breath. “Uppity cunt.”
“Not the first time I’ve heard that, sweetheart,” I mutter, raising the gun and aiming for her mouth.
She pauses and cocks her head, maybe trying to figure out if the gray and red plastic gun is an actual threat.
“Last chance,” I warn.
“Fuck you.”
That seems pretty hostile. My finger twitches and the gun fires. The blob of pepper spray lands in her cleavage, spreads across her chest and drips down her shirt.
“What the fuck is that?” The girl screams, scooping up the goopy stuff with her long coffin-shaped nails.
It must sting because she shrieks even louder and dances around like a possessed marionette.
I don’t feel as bad about it as I probably should. After all, I tried to warn her. Not my fault she wouldn’t listen.
“What the fuck, Hope?” Teller shouts. He races over from the main entrance and grabs my hand. “We gotta go. Now.”
“Rock!” I yell as Teller drags me to the door.
Breathing hard and covered with sweat and maybe a little blood, he looks up and scowls. “Get her out of here,” he barks at Teller.
“Cops are on their way!” the bartender shouts. “Get out while you can.”
“Go, Rock. I got this,” Wrath says, shoving him away.
The group who earlier outnumbered us by quite a bit lies scattered on the floor in groaning, bloody heaps.
Teller’s clamps down on my arm harder, determined to get me out of here whether I like it or not. “Ow. Watch it with the iron grip,” I yelp.
He ignores me and pulls me into the parking lot.
“We gotta get out of here,” he says, pulling me toward Murphy’s truck.
“Where’s Trinity and Charlotte?”
“Back at the beach house.”
Wrath, Z, Murphy, and Rock burst out of the front door just as sirens sound in the distance.
“Move!” Rock yells, running toward us as if the bar’s about to blow up.
My boots slap over the hard pavement, jarring my bones. These weren’t meant for running. Teller opens the back door and lift-shoves me inside. I scoot to the other side as fast as I can to make room for the other guys and end up jammed against Alexa’s car seat. Rock jumps in next, followed by Z.
Teller climbs behind the wheel and Wrath hoists himself into the passenger side.
“Where’s Murphy?” I ask.
Wrath jerks his finger over his shoulder and I turn. Murphy taps the back window and gives us a thumbs-up.
“Let’s roll, welterweight,” Wrath rumbles.
“I’m going. Gonna be a little suspicious if I peel out of here, don’t ya think?”
It’s maddening, but Teller takes his time—even uses his blinker—as he slowly pulls out of the parking lot and onto Main Street.
Several police cars pass us, lights flashing, sirens blaring, but none of them slow down or turn around.
Once the police are a good distance behind us, Teller finally speeds up.
Everyone’s breathing hard and excitedly recapping the night’s events.
Rock grabs me by my hips and pulls me into his lap. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.” I search every inch of his face, neck, and chest to make sure he’s not hurt. He hisses when I touch his shoulder and push his leather cut to the side. I peel his shirt away and gasp.
“Jesus, Rock,” I breathe out. His skin’s already reddened and turning purple in places. “Can you move your arm?”
“Got you into my lap, didn’t I?”
I’m too worried to joke around. “Be serious.”
He shrugs and rolls his shoulders for me, clenching his jaw the entire time.
“All right. Nothing’s probably broken. But we better ice it when we get back to the hotel.”
“You think it’s wise to go back there tonight?” Teller asks. “Everyone in that place probably saw our colors. The cops will come looking for you.”
“Everyone in there also knows we didn’t start that shit,” Z says. “Doubt the bartender will say anything.”
“What about the other club?” I ask.
“Fuck them,” Wrath growls. “They want another beating, I’m happy to deliver it to them.”
Rock lets out a dark chuckle. “Not quite how I wanted the night to end.”
“Hope’ll tend to your boo-boos, Prez,” Wrath says. “Don’t worry.”
“Are you okay, Wrath?” I ask, twisting around to touch his shoulder.
He reaches back and pats my hand. “I’m fine. You did good, Hope.”
“What about me?” Z asks, shaking out his hand.
I grab his arm and check out his scraped knuckles. “You’ll need some ice too.”
Rock must be tired, he doesn’t even object to me fussing over Z’s injuries.
Teller drives back to the house where we clean up. Once she’s sure Teller’s okay, Charlotte disappears into one of the bedrooms with Alexa and doesn’t ask any questions.
Trinity’s all over Wrath the second she sees him.
We call to check in with the rest of the guys who’re partying at a bar across town without issue.
When everyone’s been taken care of and we’re sure all of our brothers are safe, I grab a blanket and take Hope down to the beach.
“It’s dark,” she says, following me into the soft sand.
“We’ll know when we hit the water.” I point to the moon, glowing soft silver over the water. “Besides, it’s not that dark.”
“Oh.” She stops and gasps. “It’s so beautiful.”
It’s low tide, but I stop and spread out the blanket far enough from the water that we shouldn’t get wet anytime soon.
I pull her down with me and she immediately pushes an icepack against my aching shoulder.
“You need to slow down,” she murmurs, kissing my cheek. “Let me take care of you.”
“It’s my job to take care of you.”
“Well, you can’t do that if you’re injured, now can you?” she sasses right back.
My mouthy lawyer woman.
I run my hand over her hair. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” She grins. “My pepper gun worked. But I need new cartridges.”
“Think we’ll grab those tomorrow.” I turn my head to the side and let out a dry laugh. “Obviously it comes in handy.”
Her hand with the icepack falls away and she sits back. “That was… surreal. One minute we’re hanging out joking around with Z and the next—”
“This is the reality of our world, Hope. Damn ugly at times.”
She inhales deeply and tilts her head toward the ocean. “But sometimes it’s beautiful.”
“You’re beautiful.” And now I’ve further tainted her with the shit in my life, exactly what I never wanted for her.
She watches me for a few seconds before speaking again. “The violence I felt when that girl was flirting with you was nothing compared to how I felt when those men…” her voice trails off and she shakes her head. For a second I think she’s about to tear up but her voice is clear and firm. “I wanted something bigger than a pepper spray gun to beat them with.”
“Look at you so vicious under all that innocence,” I tease, even though I don’t feel like joking.
Her gentle fingers settle under my chin forcing me to look at her. “When it comes to you, yes.”
As if she heard my earlier thoughts, her voice hardens. “And don’t think it’s because you somehow tainted me or turned me into something I’m not.” She taps her chest. “That desire to do whatever I can to protect what’s mine comes from deep inside.”
The air leaves my lungs and I pull her closer for a kiss.
She breaks the kiss, her mouth turning down. “Unfortunately, I feel pretty useless in a situation like that.”
I cup her cheek, rubbing my thumb over her lips. “You did good. I wish you’d left with Z when I asked you to, but I should’ve known better.”
“Leave you behind.” She snorts. “I don’t fucking think so.”
“Fuck.” I take her hand, guiding it to my lap and the erection she’s given me.
Her eyes light up and she squeezes gently.
“See what you do to me?”
Soft, husky laughter falls from her lips. “I’m pretty sure a stiff breeze would get you hard.”
“Yeah, if it’s carrying your scent.” I shove my nose into the crook of her neck. Inhaling her scent like it’s the cure for everything wrong in my world.