TOMMY

Three Prospects I've barely spoken to are digging large holes in the ground in front of the Nest. They're for planting a row of trees, which might actually make this place look less like a deserted warehouse, and more like an actual club. It's one of the only good ideas Shade had since taking over the club. They all stop working as I get off my bike, mutter hellos, but I don't stop to chat.

All the execs are already gathered in Shade's office, sitting around the oval desk my grandfather hand carved himself when he started the MC back in the 1960s. One of the legs is shaped like a pin-up girl, complete with huge breasts. I've been told he had a tattoo just like it, but I've never seen it since he died some thirty years before I was born. It's pathetic the shit that makes me nostalgic these days. But there it is.

"You being VP now means you arrive to meetings early," Shade snaps at me as I take my seat at his right. I used to sit at the end of the table when I was still Secretary and my brother Blade was President. He got that nickname by winning a gun fight with a knife when he was about twenty, so it's kinda fitting he died from a stab wound to the heart. In a poetic way, not the practical one. I'm not even fighting the sentimentality this time, just letting it wash over me. It's never gonna be the same again. I might as well miss it, if I can't have it.

"I'm on time, ain't I?" I snap, matching Shade glare for glare.

"I said early."

"Alright, I'll be early from now on, Prez" I say and lean back, folding my arms over my chest. From the corner of my eye, I see Sarge bristle at my disrespectful tone, but I don't think I have to worry about his Enforcers teaching me a lesson in respect out back later. Blade's only been dead for less than two months and we're all still getting our bearings, adjusting to the new leadership.

Shade slams the javelin against the table with unnecessary force, since no one's talking anyway.

"We have lots of shit to discuss, so we better get started," he says loudly, and I do my best to ignore the cramps starting in my stomach.

"Blade had noble ideas of turning this club around, mixing legit shit with other endeavors and slowly phasing the latter out," Shade says, bringing this stuff up plainly for the first time since he took over the presidency. "That's never been my vision, and I don't think it has as much merit as Blade believed. Either way, I'm not the President to carry that out."

You can say that again.

Shade's pale green eyes find mine like he heard me, and I focus hard on not letting a single muscle in my face twitch to betray what I'm really thinking. He has my father's eyes, and I don't enjoy that reminder.

"But it's also true that the ATF is up our asses too far to dislodge anytime soon," Shade continues. "So the time to diversify is now. I propose a two-tiered approach. Whores and drugs. Blade and my father, may they rest in peace, were both against the latter, though whores were my late father's specialty, as some of you remember well."

He shares a knowing grin with Sarge and Treasurer who've both been around since my dad was Prez, but I also feel the cold lick of a look he casts my way. Yeah, dad was into running whores, that's what this MC was founded on. But that ended with my mom's death, and I have no nostalgia for that day, only a cold seething rage I'll never make sense of, or get over.

"I suggest we start with whores, since that's a lot more fun," Shade continues. "Then work our way up to drugs. Blade made no friends keeping this town free of that stuff, so setting up routes and labs could take some time."

"You're talking about manufacture?" I ask, bolting upright. "Fucking shit, Shade, Blade's grave hasn't even settled yet."

Sarge slams his fists against the table, and stands up, glaring at me. He may be pushing sixty, but I still don't want either of his meaty fists anywhere near my face. But he sits back down at a placating wave from Shade.

"Let's all cool down. Brains here is still in mourning," Shade says, which earns him a wave of chuckles.

Brains. I hate that nickname. And it's not sticking, no matter how many times Shade calls me by it. They've begun calling me Viper long before Blade died. It started with the sly way I got the new Sheriff on board with looking the other way, and it's only gotten firmer by me finding ways of keeping the ATF off out backs. But Shade will never let me assume our grandfather's street name, and I don't want it either. Brotherhood and unity mean a lot to me, the importance of it was bred into me. I believed in what Blade was doing, turning this MC from an outlaw one into a legit business. But I can't get on board with Shade's plan.

"We'll need a vote on this shift you're proposing," I hear myself say. "Full attendance."

That should buy me another month to get all my affairs in order. This club has about two hundred members scattered across the country, and I'll insist every one of them is here to cast their vote before I let Shade fuck up everything Blade tried to build. I won't get my way, that much is evident from just the poisonous way Shade's glaring at me right now. And the fact that none of the other execs are backing me up. Shade has them all in his pocket. But he'll have some maneuvering to do before he gets past this stipulation of the Charter. Maybe it'll be long enough to convince Crystal it's over, that she needs to get her girls away before they all becomes whores. Needs to get herself away too.

"Alright, a vote it is," Shade finally says. "As for full attendance, we'll see."

"Tommy's right," the Treasurer says. "It's a big shift, the drugs part even goes against the Charter."

Finally, a voice of reason.

Shade's face is completely frozen, the way it always gets before he blows up.

"Fine, we'll discuss it at Assembly," he says, and I can practically hear his teeth grinding together.

"And while we're on the subject of altering the charter," I say, leaning against the desk and casting my gaze over the others. "I say we let Bear retire."

All I get in response is a bunch of bored mutters.

"Not this again, Tommy," Sarge says. "The rules are the rules."

"Yeah, Ride 'til Death," Shade growls, pointing at the engraving of the club's motto along the wooden tabletop. "No one fucking retires. I don't want to hear any more about it."

His eyes are literally shooting daggers at me right now, but I couldn't give less of a shit. "Fine. But I will put this before the assembly too. Let them vote on it. It's an archaic rule, made when the founders were young. Things change."

Bear is the closest to a founder this MC still has. I'd rather he died in some retirement village and not in the war Shade's new plans will inevitably spark. Bringing in whores will likely do that all on it's own, but drugs on top of it, well, that shit just makes everyone go crazy. But no one in this room is afraid of a fight, so I won't even bring that point up.

Shade is still staring at me like I just destroyed his favorite toy, but the rest are murmuring among each other and it sounds like maybe they're starting to see it my way.

"Fine, you bring your forward-thinking idea to the Assembly, see how they take it," Shade finally says. "But right now we have actual business to take care of. The Vagos are moving a truckload of guns right through our back yard tonight, thinking we're still too rattled by the loss of Blade to notice. But we're gonna teach them to think better next time. And if we get real lucky, that motherfucker Bandido will be among the crew. Then I'll personally skin him alive for killing Blade."

His words are met with a roar of approval and the sound of fists hitting the wooden table. I join in too, since I know when to go along. But I don't think Bandido was just stupid drunk and acting in a flash of rage when he stabbed Blade. I think it was all planned. And as much as I hate to even consider it, I think Shade was in on it.

He's putting on a show of starting a war with the Vagos to get revenge, but it's not a very effective one. And we seem to be in a truce right now.

Shade's no longer looking at me, he's grinning at the men he just spurred into action, and it's not wise to want it, but I fucking yearn for him to know that I know.

* * *

We rode to intercept the weapons shipment after the meeting, but it never happened. I'm almost certain Shade just made it all up, so it would appear like the MC's doing something to fuck with the Vagos. And I came dangerously close to calling him on it, but there's really no point adding fuel to his hatred of me. And without anything to back it up, an accusation like that would justify him killing me in the eyes of the other club members. I have no proof, just this nauseating gut feeling that's been giving me nightmares for the past two months. And I want to live.

I already made my decision. I'm leaving the club. What Shade does with it after that is no concern of mine, as long as he leaves me in peace. Blade's dead, nothing will bring him back. It's been weeks since I missed him this acutely, it feels like he just died. All I want right now is a hot shower, a slow blowjob and sleep.

The Lounge is nearly empty when I get there, but the lake of cigarette smoke hanging just below the ceiling suggests thousands are inside.

"Air this place out once in awhile," I bark at Ten, causing him to jerk up from where he'd been dozing off by the door.

Simone is working the pole and judging by the state of her undress she's almost done. Our eyes lock while I scan the room, and she gives me a sultry half smile. But Simone likes it fast and rough, and I couldn't keep up with her tonight. Lola with her skilled little mouth would be perfect.

A girl I've never seen before is working behind the bar. Her eyes are glazed over as she gazes off in the direction of the stage, the light over the bar making her full, plump, perfectly shaped lips glisten. Even under the straw colored bird's nest of a bun on the back of her head and the harsh undercut, hers is a face that belongs on the cover of some magazine, not behind the bar of this sorry joint. And her lips should be wrapped around my dick.

"Who's the new girl?" I ask Ten.

He shrugs. "Crystal hired her tonight, beyond that I have no idea. She said you should talk to her when you get in though, explain the rules and such."

"She ain't a stripper?"

"She look like a stripper to you in that butch dyke get-up?" Ten spits on the floor. "She's here to watch, if you ask me."

"Don't fucking spit on the floor," I bark.

He's probably right about the girl. She's wearing a black and red plaid shirt and a pair of baggy jeans, an outfit that makes her look a lot like the truckers who frequent this place.

I spot Lola nodding off in the shadows at the far side of the bar as I approach, but I ignore her hopeful smile as I rap my fingers on the counter to get the new girl's attention.

"What…what can I get you?" she asks, but she actually recoils from me.

She's either stoned or simple minded, and neither will do her any favors here. But that face. I swear I could just look at her for hours. Especially if her big blue eyes were fixed on me just like they are right now, like I'm the only one in the room. Less fear in them would be preferable though.

"You can get me a beer," I tell her, ignoring the weird trip my mind just took. I'm not looking for a girlfriend. Never did and never will.

She scurries to get a glass, casting glances at me over her shoulder as she pours it. Her clothes are at least five sizes too big for her, but something tells me there's a body to go with those sexy lips under all that cloth. Maybe it's the way what little light there is in this place attaches to her. Might be worth it to keep her around just to find out, if I'm right.

But no.

I don't need any more of Crystal's pet projects to worry about after Shade starts tearing everything down.

I take hold of her wrist as she places the glass of beer in front of me. The mixture of surprise and pure terror in her eyes hits me like a punch to the stomach. I almost apologize, tell her everything is gonna be alright, that I personally won't ever let anyone scare her like this again. What the fuck am I thinking?

"I'm Tommy, and I run this place," I tell her instead and only afterwards release her arm, kinda sorry to be letting go of her soft, velvety skin. "Why you wanna work here?"

"I…I…I need a job," she manages, her eyelashes batting something fierce. Only thing missing from this picture is my cock down her throat. She licks her lips like she's thinking the same thing, causing my cock to strain painfully against my zipper. Only one or two of the sweet goodie-two-shoes girls back in college ever had me reacting this way. In as much as I have a type when it comes to women, it's the good girl next door. And without the manly clothes and the manlier haircut, that's exactly what this girl would be.

"What's your name?" I hear myself delivering the question that's always worked better than any ten pickup lines combined for me.

"Tara," she mutters, shaking slightly as she licks her lips again. She's not doing it to entice me. She's still scared of me, but there's really no need. I'd make her feel so good she'd never be frightened of anything ever again.

"You wanna work here, there's some rules. You don't talk to any of the customers, you keep your head down and do as you're told. Don't talk to me or any other member of Viper's Bite MC unless you're asked a question, and generally be as invisible as you can."

I watch Tara's eyes cycle through a million different emotions, from fear to defiance, finally settling on cold resignation.

Lola's smiling at me across the bar, winking each time I glance at her. But she's smart enough not to interrupt, she knows the rules.

"And wear something sexier from now on," I conclude and get off the stool, waving Lola over. She perks up, practically skips over to my side.

Tara's eyes flash at me like lighting illuminating a glacier. "This is all I own."

"Buy some new ones then."

"I'm broke," she shoots right back, the scared creature I saw before completely gone, replaced by this ice queen that knows exactly what she wants.

"Then borrow," I tell her, wondering what other surprise she has in store. "And don't argue with me."

Her eyes settle on defiance as she glares back at me. And all I really know right now is that I want to grab her by the hair and drag her to my bed so I can learn all her secrets the old fashioned way. It's a primal urge, caveman instinct kicking in, and if I don't leave her presence now I'll act on it. The urge to make her mine is that strong, stronger than I ever felt for any other woman.

Lola's swaying beside me—if she were a dog, her tail would be wagging. But she won't do tonight. I need to fuck like I haven't needed to in a long while, and I'm sure Simone will oblige.

I leave Lola by the bar, and go pluck Simone off the stage before she disappears behind the curtain, practically drag her through the door that leads to my apartment. She's giggling as she stumbles along, her full breasts bouncing.

But all I really see are Tara's steel eyes piercing me like swords right before the door closed. She's the first woman I ever met that I couldn't figure out at a glance. And I want to peel back all her layers until nothing but the truth remains.

Which is pure fucking insanity.