Chapter 1
Cameron
Four years later
“Got a problem,” Slider said to the open room, glancing around to the brothers gathered. There were at least twenty of us, young and old, new and seasoned. Some of us had dealt with “problems” before, some looked like they were going to shit their pants, some looked bored.
I felt… ready. I knew I could handle it, whatever it was. I’d gone through too much for anything to surprise me.
“Got some assholes down from Salem, makin’ noise,” Dragon cut in, leaning against the bar top. “Tryin’ to take over territory that’s belonged to us for over thirty years.”
“We can handle it—” Poet said confidently.
“Can handle it, but we need to be keepin’ an eye out,” Slider finished.
“Are we lockin’ down?” one of the younger brothers asked. His name was Mack and I knew he had a girl and a brand new baby at home. He was sweating.
Christ.
“Not lockin’ down,” Slider said with a small shake of his head. “No reason to think we need to—not yet. Been quiet so far.”
“So, what do we do?” another guy called out.
God, they sounded like a bunch of pussies. I rubbed the back of my neck in annoyance.
“You tell your women to stay alert.” Grease finally spoke up. His jaw was locked as he glared. “You keep your kids home.”
Grease’s woman, Callie, had gone through some shit when they were young, dealing with a gang out of Southern California. It was clear by the way he stood that he didn’t like whatever we were dealing with, but he was calm. Far more calm than my adopted dad, Casper.
Casper looked like he was ready to explode.
“Go on home and keep an eye on things. Quickest way for shit to go south is fuckin’ loose women, so from here on out, no bitches inside the gates except old ladies,” Dragon ordered, making the crowd groan and grumble.
“And no callin’ some gash yer old lady to get her in here. I’ll toss her out on her arse,” Poet warned, pissed at the complaining going on.
As people filtered out of the club, I moved to a stool and took a seat. I didn’t have an old lady, and at the moment, I didn’t even have a house. I slept at the clubhouse most nights, or at my parents’ house. The shit hole I’d been renting got fucking condemned and they’d booted my ass out.
“Hey, boy,” Casper said quietly, thumping me on the back as he sidled up to the bar.
“You okay?”
“Yeah. Hate when shit like this happens, but it happens. Just have to deal.” He reached over the bar top and grabbed two glasses and a bottle of Jack, pouring us each a couple of fingers.
“You already talk to Ma?”
“Yep. Her and Rose got things covered, keepin’ an eye on the girls and a hand on their guns. Farrah’s a crazy bitch when she’s protectin’ her own, not worried about that.”
“Yeah, no shit,” I joked, remembering back to a time when Farrah had stepped between me and armed policemen, screaming about how she’d have their jobs.
Grease and Dragon moved in behind us, so I turned to face them, leaning back against the bar. Poet and Slider had moved to some chairs across the room and were talking quietly, their faces and bodies tense.
“Got a bad feelin’ about this,” Grease said softly, running his hand down his beard.
“Callie and the kids?”
“Sent Will home to his mama. Pissed him off, kid wanted to stay here, but I feel better if he’s there.” Grease shook his head and looked down at the floor. “Pissed that I’m thinkin’ about the panic room I built in the house.”
“You think we should be callin’ everyone in?” Casper asked, tilting his head to the side.
“I’m thinkin’ we don’t know enough. Makin’ the hair on my neck stand up.”
“I’m not feelin’ good about shit, either,” Dragon finally admitted, reaching up to tear the rubber-band out of his hair before scraping it back up into a knot. “Got Leo and Brenna inside the gates, but Trix is still at school.”
My stomach rolled.
Shit between Trix and I was so complicated, it was a joke.
After she’d caught that chick giving me a lap dance when she was a teenager, things had never been the same between us. At first I’d been pissed, but eventually, it had just become our new normal.
She didn’t want to be around me, and as long as I knew she was okay, I let her do her thing.
I still didn’t understand why she’d cut me off like she had. We’d gone from talking a few times a week to complete radio silence in the matter of a few hours. It was bullshit. But fuck, I wasn’t going to beg her.
“You gonna bring her home?” I asked, trying to act as if I wasn’t crawling out of my skin.
I couldn’t imagine anything happening to Trix. I didn’t want to imagine it.
“She’s got graduation comin’ up. Can ask her to stay nights at our place, but since we’re not goin’ on lockdown, she’s gonna bitch.”
“So, let her bitch,” I said darkly.
“Unless I fuckin’ kidnap my own kid, not a lot I can do if she says she ain’t comin’ home,” Dragon shot back. “I throw my weight around, she’s gonna do the opposite of whatever I tell her.”
“I’ll take care of it,” I blurted without thinking.
“What’s that?” Grease asked in amusement.
I glanced at Casper to find his lips twitching. “Fuck off,” I growled, making him laugh.
“You don’t have a place—” Dragon mumbled.
“I’ll stay at hers.”
“Want your throat slit in your sleep?” Dragon asked incredulously.
“Fuck, she wouldn’t wait ’til he was sleepin’,” Grease chimed in.
“Yeah, it’s real funny,” I growled, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of my pocket so I could flip one over my fingers.
“We’re not laughin’ at you—” Casper said, trying to stem his chuckles.
“Nah, man. We are,” Grease cut him off, nodding his head.
“I hate every single one of ya,” I said, accidentally snapping my cigarette between my fingers.
“If ya think ya can handle her, have at it,” Dragon mumbled through his smile. “Been a while since that happened.”
“I get to do it my way,” I warned, meeting his eyes.
Years ago, when she was younger, I’d been careful. Out of respect for Dragon and Brenna, I’d played by the rules and kept my hands off what had belonged to me since we were kids. But Trix was no longer a child. Our age difference no longer mattered.
And if I was taking responsibility for her, I’d be doing that across the board. Dragon would have to hand over the fucking reins—because she wasn’t going to be crying to her papa when shit went sideways, which I knew would happen at some point.
I was surprised by the fist that slammed into my face.
What was it about that family that made them fucking punch me without warning?
“The fuck?” I asked, turning my face back toward Dragon.
“Had to get at least one in,” Dragon said calmly, watching to see if I’d hit him back.
“It is tradition,” Grease agreed.
“Nobody hit me when I got with Far—” Casper started to argue before taking a shot to the face.
“Yeah, ’cause Slider didn’t wanna piss her off,” Grease said, shaking out his hand before pointing at Casper. “You had that comin’.”
Casper punched Grease back, splitting his lip, then followed it with a hard blow to his stomach. “You fucked my sister—think you had it comin,’ too.”
I stepped down from my stool as Grease tried to catch his breath. While I knew they had each other’s backs, Grease was a fuck of a lot bigger than my dad, and any fight between the two would not go well.
“Jesus Christ,” Slider called out, walking toward us with a scowl on his face. “Knock it off, you idiots. We got enough on our plates.”
“You get a hold of Eastwood?” Poet asked as he made his way to the bar. Mark Eastwood, or Woody, was the son of one of the original members. Doc hadn’t had a medical degree, but he’d patched up Aces until the day he died of old age. Most of us hadn’t even known Woody existed until after Doc died and the boys had stepped in to support him. He’d grown up in Salem with his mother, and he’d rarely been around the club until he was already half grown—but he’d sure as hell fit in.
We were hoping that he’d heard something around his hometown, but the little fucker wasn’t answering his phone.
“Nah. Hasn’t called back yet,” Grease said, wiping the blood off his lips with a dirty rag from his pocket. “I’ll call Sherry in a couple hours—see if she’s seen him.”
“Make sure he’s not been an asshole to his mum,” Poet ordered. “Last time I checked, boy was in trouble again at school.”
“Leo’s doin’ the same shit,” Dragon said, shaking his head.
“Not the same. Leo’s got a pop and a gramps to knock sense into him. Sherry’s got no man to keep the kid in line,” Poet reminded him.
“I gotta run for some parts,” I finally said, bored with the conversation.
I didn’t give a shit what Woody was doing. The kid was cool, but he was still young and he acted like it. Eventually, he’d get his shit together or he wouldn’t. I didn’t give a fuck either way, though I knew that Poet and Slider felt a responsibility to their old friend’s kid.
“I’ll head to Trix’s place,” Dragon told me with a chin lift. “Give her a bit of warnin’ before ya show up.”
“Tell her I’ll be there around—nah, just let her know I’ll be by.”
“Will do.”
I smacked Casper on the shoulder and nodded to the boys before spinning toward the door.
“Good luck!” Grease sang out.
I flipped him off, but didn’t pause. I had shit to do.
* * *
“Hell, no,” Trix snapped, glancing down at the duffle in my hand.
I’d finally stopped working on an older Ford Taurus when it started getting dark, packed my shit, and headed straight for her apartment. She’d moved into the sweet two bedroom place the year before. It was in the same complex my adoptive parents had lived in when I’d met them, but in the past five years, the owner had given the place a hell of a facelift. New windows, wood floors, appliances that weren’t purchased during the Reagan administration, and countertops that weren’t scratched to shit meant that the place always looked clean and inviting.
Like a home.
Not that I’d been there enough to get a good look at it. When Trix’s stepdad died before Brenna had divorced him, all his money had gone to her. It wasn’t something anyone talked about, but I knew that Dragon hadn’t wanted to touch it—so they hadn’t. Instead, they’d put it into a college fund for Trix, so she wouldn’t have to work during the school year. Trix didn’t seem to have any problems with using the dead fucker’s money. I guess she figured they deserved it after what he’d put her mom through. I’d helped when she’d moved in and I’d only been let in twice since then. Once when she bought a new couch, and the second time when she’d bought a new bed.
I’d been having dreams about that bed for the better part of a year.
“Gonna let me in?” I asked, taking a step forward.
“Nope.”
“Wasn’t really a question, Sweetbea.”
“Don’t call me that.”
I ignored her scowl and kept moving forward until she had no choice but to step out of my way or be pressed up against my chest.
“Is this really necessary?” she asked, shutting the door as I walked farther into her living room.
“Yeah.”
“I don’t want you here.”
“That’s pretty clear,” I replied, walking down her hallway. I knew she had an extra bedroom that she kept for when her brother spent the night, and I found it easily. I remembered which door held her bedroom—it wasn’t something I’d ever forget, but I figured I’d get a lot less fight out of her if I didn’t put my shit in her room.
“If there’s an issue, why aren’t we on lockdown?” she asked, trailing behind me. “I mean, that I could understand. I don’t know why you have to—oomph.” She rocked back as I tossed my bag on the bed and turned into her. My hands came up to grasp her hips to keep her steady, but within seconds, she was taking a huge step back.
“Jumpy?” I asked, a small smile pulling at my lips.
“No.”
“Alright.” I nodded and stepped around her. “What’s for dinner?”
She sputtered and stomped after me as I made my way to the fridge. Even though I’d barely ever been to her house, when I opened the door, I found a six pack of my favorite beer in her fridge. Interesting.
“These old?” I asked, lifting one up before setting the neck against the edge of her countertop.
“Don’t!” she yelled, startling me. “Those counters are new, you idiot.”
I watched her silently as she searched for a bottle opener, finally finding it in the bottom of one of her kitchen drawers. She obviously hadn’t used it in a long time.
“No, they’re not old,” she mumbled, reaching to grab the beer out of my hand and opening it with a flick of her wrist before handing it back. I took a long pull as she tossed the top into the garbage.
“You get ’em for me?” I persisted as she pulled a package of raw pork out of the fridge.
“Obviously.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it.”
I took a seat at her kitchen table as she moved around the kitchen, cutting vegetables and stir-frying them with pork in a big wok while she grumbled.
“You live with Rose, so you’ll have to cut me some slack,” she told me over her shoulder. “Her food is insane.”
“Christ, I can’t eat there much or I’d be as fat as I was in high school.”
“You weren’t fat!” she argued, spinning around to glare at me.
“Oh, yeah, I was.” I chuckled. I’d been so glad when I’d been able to burn off the extra weight once I got a little older.
“No, you were the perfect size.”
“Perfect, huh?”
“Shut up. You know what I mean.”
She spun back around just in time to keep the food from burning and put another pot on the stove so she could steam some rice.
We were quiet as she brought me a second beer and finished cooking, and a little while later, she was setting a plate full of steaming food in front of me.
“So, how’s this going to work?” she asked as she poured herself a glass of water and sat down across from me. “You’re staying here? For how long?”
“Holy shit, that’s hot!” I moaned, covering my mouth so I could open it to cool off the pork burning my tongue.
“No shit, Sherlock. I just took it off the stove,” she replied, rolling her eyes.
I scowled back, finally swallowing the food in my mouth. Damn, even hot enough to burn, it was some good shit. “You’re not going to fight me?” I asked, scooping some more food onto my fork.
“I know how this works,” she said ruefully. “I stay with my parents or you stay here. You’re the lesser of two evils.”
“Those the options your pop gave you?”
“Yep.”
I nodded. Good man. “What’s your schedule like?”
“I have classes Monday, Wednesday and Friday. Tuesdays I visit my mom, Thursdays I usually try to study most of the day. Weekends are free.”
“You workin’? Got a boyfriend?”
“Not working at the moment. I’ll start waitressing again for the catering company once summer break starts. The boyfriend status is none of your business.” She stood from the table and grabbed both our plates, taking them to the sink.
“My business if I need to invest in some earplugs,” I said, following her to the sink and stepping in behind her.
“What?” she asked, spinning to face me. “Why would you—” Her understanding dawned and her jaw dropped.
“Not gonna listen to you fuckin’ someone else.”
“You’re disgusting!”
“Just sayin’.”
“I wouldn’t have sex with someone if you were here.”
“Well, you’re not stayin’ anywhere else while we’ve got this shit goin’ on.”
“I don’t even have a fucking boyfriend!”
A smile spread across my face as I watched her get more and more riled up. “Good,” I said softly, reaching up to touch her cheek, then letting my hand fall as she dodged under my arm and walked toward the living room.
“This how it’s gonna be the whole time I’m here?” I asked reasonably as I dropped down on the couch with her a couple minutes later. “You jumpin’ around like a rabbit every time I try to touch you?”
“Stop trying to touch me,” she said flatly, turning some home improvement show on the TV.
“You know that ain’t gonna happen.”
“What is your deal tonight?”
“No deal.”
“Just because you’re staying at my apartment doesn’t mean you get some sort of perks,” she huffed, refusing to look at me. “If anyone gets benefits, it should be me. I’m the one paying the fucking rent for you to live here.”
I waited for her to realize what she’d just said, but she didn’t.
“Take all the perks you want, Sweetbea,” I told her with a slow smile.
She stood abruptly and glared at me, tossing the remote at my head with a small squeak of frustration before stomping off to her room.
I couldn’t help but laugh as I heard her bedroom door slam.
As if a flimsy door would stop me.