Chapter Eight
The sun set over the mountaintops as the blue sky merged with streaks of pink, orange, and gold. The MC members entered the main room, glancing around for their drinks and their club women. Both were waiting for them: glasses and bottles on the counter and scantily clad women smiling at them. Sangre went over to the counter, grabbed his shot, and threw it back. Church had been a bitch. Some of the members didn’t think the club should get involved with buying real estate. They thought they may be spreading the club’s money too thin, and the other half was all for it, thinking it was a great investment. In addition to the bickering about the club’s financial goals, Diablo had given them the disconcerting information that the Deadly Demons MC had formed an alliance with the Satan’s Pistons MC.
“You look bummed out,” Kelly said as she brushed against him. Of all the club girls, Sangre felt the closest to her. When her younger brother had been beaten to death, Sangre asked the club to pay for his funeral. He’d also driven her to Minnesota for his services, and when she’d broken down at the gravesite, he’d held her tight. After that, a bond formed between them, and he’d tell her shit he’d never tell a dude. In a way, he was trying to replace the friendship he’d lost when Isla had left. It hadn’t occurred to him before, but now that she was back in his life, he could see it clearly.
He shrugged. “Not much going on. I’ve just been pulling some long nights with this new job I have.”
She pressed her tits against him. “I heard that your new gig involves a singer from a rock band.”
Smiling, he nodded.
“And”—she ran her fingernail up his bare arm—“she’s your long lost friend. True?” She pressed her lips on his cheek.
“Don’t need the fuckin’ tabloids around here with the way news travels. Yeah, Isla is my friend from years ago. I didn’t know it when I took the job, but now that I do, it’s cool to be back together again.”
“So, she’s just your friend?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“Because I wanted to have a bit of time with you before you do something stupid and get involved with another girl you’re gonna break up with. You’re good for a few months before you do that.”
“You sound like Army, and that’s not a fuckin’ compliment.”
She laughed. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to.” She took a sip of her drink. “Do you wanna go to your room and relax a bit? I can give you one of my massages that you love.”
He ran his eyes over her full breasts, rounded hips, and toned legs, that made his dick twitch. Since breaking up with Skylar, he hadn’t screwed anyone, but he had too much on his mind at the moment and knew all that shit would get in the way. “Another time. I’ve got too much going on.”
“Okay. Just remember, I’m here when you need me, even if you just wanna talk.” She walked away, and his gaze zeroed in on her swaying hips and firm ass as a thread of regret wound around his dick.
He spun around when a hand clapped him on the back. “Hey,” he said to Paco. “It didn’t go so well in there. I thought the membership would be down for a strip mall. Some of these bros don’t know shit about business and making money.”
Paco clutched his beer bottle. “It took me and Steel off guard too. Your job is showing the numbers and how they add up.”
“I’m doing that. The reason I brought it up was just to get a feeling of where we stood as a club. I’ll make sure to show them just how wrong we’d be not to invest.”
“You guys talking about the fuckin’ news Diablo shared with us about those damn Satan’s Pistons?” Shotgun asked, joining in on the conversation.
“I was just getting ready to bring that up,” Sangre said.
“We gotta be ready for some trouble at Sturgis if the Pistons go, which I’m sure they will.”
“I say we need to crush those bastards once and for all,” Muerto said, standing next to Sangre. “I talked with Jerry, and he said the Insurgents don’t like it any more than we do. They don’t think the fuckin’ Demons will risk breaking the truce with the Insurgents, but he said they’re concerned that some shit may go down at Sturgis between the damn Pistons and us. The word is they’re vowing justice for what we did to their clubhouse. Fuck them. We’ll be ready.”
“Damn straight,” Diablo said, his jaw jutted out.
“Hawk and Banger are worried that with the Demons watching their damn backs, they’re gonna try to set up shop selling drugs in our neck of the woods.” Muerto took a swig of beer.
“They better not try anything. After the shit we went through with the West Avenue assholes in Silverado, there’s no fucking way anyone is getting near our county or the surrounding counties with any kind of dope. If we have to have an all-out war, we’ll do it. I know the Insurgents are on board to help, and they’d bring in a lot of their chapters as backup,” Paco said.
“Fuckin’ right about that.” Goldie raised his fist in the air. “Night Rebels forever, forever Night Rebels,” he said, his voice loud and clear. Soon the whole room was on their feet, chanting, fists held in the air.
As Sangre looked around, a small lump formed in his throat. He was so damn proud to be part of the brotherhood. No matter what went down, business or personal, each member knew they could count on the club to come through. They were united through love, respect, and loyalty.
After several minutes, the din of voices died down, and Paco picked up the shot one of the prospects had put in from him and downed it. “I heard you’re friends with the singer in Iris Blue,” he said to Sangre.
“Everyone’s heard that. Why’re you asking?” He took out a joint and lit it, hoping it would calm the urge to go over to Army and punch him in the face. Many of the brothers gossiped way more than the club women, but Army was a million light years ahead of the pack. He was the club’s version of Entertainment Tonight.
“Chelsea’s really the one asking. I guess she’s been following the band on social media for the past six months and loves their music.”
“Oh yeah? That’s cool. Maybe she’d like to meet Isla. We can go out to dinner sometime this week.”
Paco’s face broke into a full smile. “She’d love that. We were in Denver the night they had a show. She was so damn bummed.”
“Isla told me they’re having another one next week. I can get tickets for it.”
“Awesome. I’ll tell her.”
“That should get you a long night of lovin’,” Sangre said, nudging his elbow against Paco’s arm. Nodding, the vice president laughed.
“I’ll let you know what night works with Isla.”
“Sounds good. I’m gonna head out. Later.”
“Paco’s not staying for the party?” Army asked, swinging his leg over the barstool before sitting on it.
“Doesn’t look like it since he’s walking out the door,” Sangre replied, picking up his shot glass.
“You staying?”
“Maybe.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
Sangre shook his head and turned toward Chains. “Can you find out some information about property values in East Alina in the last five years? I want to know how much rent, land, and business values have increased.”
“Just shoot me an email telling me what you want, and I can have it all compiled on spreadsheets. Hell, I can even put it together in pie charts with different colors and shit. When do you need it by?”
“In a couple of weeks. I’ll send you all the details.”
“So, you’re gonna hang out with your friend tonight?” Army asked.
Sangre glanced at him. “Are you still on what the hell I’m gonna do?”
“What’s the problem here?” Skull asked as he and Brutus came over.
Sangre’s jaw tightened. “There’s no problem. Army just isn’t getting the answers he wants from me.”
Army glared at him. “I just asked if you were staying for the party, and you’re getting all butt hurt.”
“I’m not getting anything except fed up with your stupid, fuckin’ questions. I told you maybe. What the hell don’t you understand about that?”
Skull laughed. “He’s got a point, dude. Maybe is pretty easy to get.”
Army turned his back to them, facing the bar. “You just wanna hang out with your friend who really isn’t your friend. Just come clean, dude.”
“Are you guys talking about that singer chick?” Brutus asked.
“I’m not, but Army seems to be,” Sangre answered.
Army swiveled back around facing him. “What I can’t figure out is how you can be just friends with a chick. I’ve never been friends with a woman, especially one built like Isla Rose. There’s no way you aren’t looking at her and wanting to get inside her pussy.” He took a swig of beer.
Sangre finished his drink, leaned over and put the bottle on the bar, and then locked his gaze on Army’s. “What I can’t figure out is why anything I do is any of your fuckin’ business, and why the hell you’re obsessed with me and Isla.”
“I’m not obsessed.” Army scowled at him.
“Then quit talkin’ about it.”
“I’m with Army on this. I think it would be hard to be friends with a chick. I couldn’t do it,” Brutus said.
“Me neither,” Shotgun added.
“Same here,” Skull said, motioning Ruby to come over.
“I mean, how could you not think about her tits and pussy?” Chains replied.
“We’ve been friends since we were kids. We climbed trees together and caught daddy long-legs. You guys just don’t get it.”
“But didn’t you ever think of her as a girl when she started growing tits? Or in high school?” Shotgun asked.
“Nope.” Sangre lied. “I gotta make a few phone calls.” He walked away, ignoring the kissy sounds the guys were making behind him. If he were to bet who they were, he’d say Army for sure, and Brutus and Skull a close second and third. They don’t know what the hell they’re talking about. They knew nothing of the friendship he’d shared with Isla ever since he was the new kid on the block and she befriended him.
Stepping out back, he took out a joint and lit it, inhaling deeply. The last remnants of the sun descended over the craggy peaks, turning the western sky a smoky purple as a few stars glimmered above. Leaning against a concrete column on the back porch, he smoked his joint and stared at a raccoon scampering across the yard. He smiled, the sight of the masked mammal brought back a memory of when he and Isla had snuck out of their houses one summer night to find a raccoon that she thought had been injured. She’d seen some blood by the trashcans one morning and was convinced a raccoon had been cut on the glass bottles inside the trash. Isla had been enamored with raccoons ever since she’d seen them, the first summer they went on a night walk through the brush and woods near their neighborhood.
The night they’d gone in search for the supposedly injured “raccoon,” they’d ended up finding a skunk instead who was not happy about it. He’d told her it was a skunk and that she should stay back, but she’d been convinced it was the raccoon. When she’d gone after it, the frightened animal sprayed her and she cried out, stumbling backward. For almost a month, he had to pretend she didn’t stink like hell. He laughed, remembering how many tomato juice and vinegar baths her mother made her take until old Mr. Haskell down the street told her mother about a concoction of hydrogen peroxide, baking soda, and dishwashing liquid. That had seemed to work the best out of all the others.
Too funny. I wonder if she remembers that.
“Hey,” Goldie said as he stepped out on the porch. “Need some down time from the craziness that’s starting inside?”
Nodding, he pulled out a joint and handed it to him. “Have any of the Fallen Slayers come yet?”
“Brick, Tats, Knuckles, Tequila, and Skeet just got here about fifteen minutes ago. Roughneck, Patriot, and the others couldn’t make it. Steel’s glad about that because Breanna wanted to go to the festival in town tonight. Hailey does too.”
In the outlaw world, a president and vice president of the MC that’s hosting a club party have to be in attendance if other MC officers come. Since the Fallen Slayers’ president and vice president couldn’t make it, Steel and Paco weren’t obligated to be in attendance.
“I forgot that was going on. So you heading out?”
“Yeah. We’re gonna meet up with Steel and Breanna. I’m pretty sure Muerto and Raven are gonna be there.”
“Probably Paco and Chelsea. He took off a while ago. Do you miss the freedom of going to club parties whenever you want?”
Goldie stubbed out his joint. “Not really. I loved going to the parties and getting shit-faced and fucking different chicks all the time, but it started to get old and boring. I didn’t enjoy it as much.”
I know what you mean.
They stood in silence, listening to the sounds of the night: crickets’ high-pitched melodic chirps, the low rumble of distant thunder, the clink of bottles in the clubhouse, the echo of the freight train’s whistle, the hum of traffic.
“I better get going.” Goldie took out his keys and walked toward the parking lot.
Without thinking, Sangre took out his phone.
Sangre: Hey. Do u wanna check out the festival?
He waited several minutes before his phone buzzed.
Isla: Glad u texted. Feeling bored. Let’s do it!
Sangre: B there in 1 hr.
Isla: Sounds good. See u then.
Smiling, he put his phone back in his pocket then went back inside.
* * *
Each weekend during the summer, blinking white lights, a conglomeration of music, scents of buttery caramel corn and grilled onions, and the electric energy in the air transformed Main Square. Reminiscent of a Norman Rockwell painting, the tree-lined square and wooden bandstand beckoned locals and tourists alike. Rides and a small carousel that glimmered under the day’s sunlight came to electrifying life at night.
Everywhere Sangre looked, the painted faces of children grinned at him while clutching neon green, red, yellow, and blue glow sticks in their hands. That night the place was packed, and people crowded before the bandstand, their faces shimmering in anticipation as the band set up their equipment.
“This would be a good gig,” Isla said in his ear.
“You guys should do it.”
“Maybe I’ll talk to the band about it. I think I’d be a little freaked out with so many people around. I mean, I’d feel vulnerable. I still don’t know who’s sending me those letters.”
“I’d be there to protect you,” he said, her hand in his. “Have you received any more letters?”
“No. It seems to be working now that your guards are always around.” She shivered and pressed her body against him. “I don’t want to think about anything but having a good time. Deal?”
“Deal.” She felt warm and soft against his arm, and he made a deal with himself right at that moment: Think of Isla only as his childhood friend, not as a sexy, beautiful woman.
They strolled around the area, checking out the booths, eating cheeseburgers and caramel corn, and laughing a hell of a lot. As they walked toward the bandstand, a woman bumped into them, her soda spilling all over Isla.
“Shit!” Isla yelled as she jumped backward.
“I’m so sorry,” the woman said, handing her some napkins. “I didn’t see you.”
“Let me get you some paper towels,” Sangre said before rushing to one of the food stalls. He came back in seconds and handed her the paper towels. The front of her camisole was soaked through and he could see her sheer bra. Knowing he should divert his attention, he tried, but he couldn’t. He was mesmerized by her perfectly cupped breasts and their pebbled nipples. All he wanted to do at that moment was slip her soiled top over her head, release her round tits from the bra, and draw one of her nipples in his mouth as he pinched and flicked the other. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath.
“Does it look all right?” she asked him, throwing her shoulders back which pushed her chest out.
“They look great,” he answered.
“I meant my top,” she said softly.
Dragging his eyes away from her tits, he looked at her. “The top looks good too.”
She shook her head, giggling. “You’re too much.”
“I’ll pay for a new top if you can’t get the stain out. I’m just so sorry,” the woman said, bringing his and Isla’s attention back to her.
“That’s okay. Stuff like this happens when there are so many people.”
“Jordan? Is that you? It’s me, Lexi. Oh my God. I didn’t recognize you at first. How’ve you been? It’s been like forever.”
Isla gave one of those smiles that said she was only being polite. “Lexi. Wow … it’s been years.”
“Are you here on vacay or did you move back?”
“I’m just visiting. It was nice seeing you.” She gripped Sangre’s arm and started to walk.
He could see she was not all that thrilled with this Lexi chick.
“Do you remember me, Steve? I know that’s not your name ever since you joined that biker club.”
He ran his gaze over her face. No spark of recognition lit inside his mind. “I don’t. We gotta go.”
She reached out and placed her hand on his. “Lexi Strobe. I was in Jordan’s class.”
A blank. “Nope.” He pulled his hand away.
“Jordan?”
“Her name’s Isla, and I don’t think she wants to go down memory lane with you.” Sangre gave her a hard look that seemed to dampen some of her enthusiasm.
“I know we weren’t the best of friends in high school, but I didn’t know you changed your name,” she said to Isla.
“Now, you do,” Sangre said at the same time Isla responded, “No worries.”
They started to walk away when Lexi clasped Isla’s arm. “I did hear you were in a band. Is that true?”
“Yes. Iris Blue.”
“That’s so awesome. I’d love to talk to you about it and just catch up. Are you open to going for lunch? It’s on me.”
“I’m not sure what my schedule is, but you can message me on Facebook. My name is Isla Rose.”
Tired of Lexi’s annoying prattle, Sangre pulled Isla away and guided her toward a booth that sold T-shirts.
“You didn’t look like you were too thrilled to run into that chick.”
“I’m surprised she was so friendly. When we were in high school together, she was a real witch. She went out of her way to try and make me feel insecure. I can’t believe you don’t remember her. I complained about her to you many times. Lexi belonged to the popular group.”
“I sorta recall the bitch now. I’m surprised you told her to message you.”
“That was a long time ago. I’ve so moved on from all the high school drama. Anyway, people change.” Pointing at a couple next to the cotton candy stand, Isla smiled. “They’re my next door neighbors. Do you want to meet them?”
Sangre jerked his head back. “No. Why would I?” She laughed as he tugged her in the opposite direction.
Later that night, as they sat on a bench watching the fireworks, the burst of lights in the sky brought him back to the summer before his senior year. It’d been a hot as hell summer that year. His family and Isla’s had met up at the Fourth of July picnic in Liberty Park. For the first time in weeks, there’d been a light breeze rustling through the trees, delaying the firework display by over an hour.
Isla’s mother had asked her to go to the car to bring the extra cooler, and he’d volunteered to help her. She’d had an open bottle of water in her hand, and as they walked to the car, he’d started teasing her about something—he couldn’t quite remember what it was. For whatever reason it had irked her, or at least she’d pretended it did, and she poured the bottle of water on him and ran away. He’d run after her and snagged her around the waist, both of them toppling onto the soft grass. Hovering over her, he watched as she giggled and tried to get away.
He bent his head lower and kissed her glossy lips: feathery soft at first, then hard. She put her arms around his neck and kissed him back, and when she parted her lips, he slipped inside. Soon their tongues twisted together, darting in and out of their mouths. He placed a hand over her breast and squeezed it. It’d felt so soft and round, and he had to grind his hip into her to take some of the pressure off his hard dick.
She must’ve felt his hardness because she pushed him away and he fell on his back on the grass. She jumped up and headed toward the parking lot. He’d been ready to go after her, to apologize for touching her breast, but his friend, Jay, intercepted and said her mom wanted to know what was taking so long to get the cooler.
Without even a backward glance at him, she’d wrapped her arm around Jay and they sauntered away. Rising to his feet, he watched them fade into the shadows of the trees as the first burst of light lit up the sky. That was the summer she’d left without even saying goodbye to him.
“I know it sounds corny, but I love fireworks.” Isla’s voice brought him back to the present. She waved her hand outward. “I love all of this. The sense of community. I remember all the times we went to community events. LA is so big. So impersonal. You could die and your neighbors wouldn’t know for months. It can be so lonely in a city of millions. Crazy.”
With the memory fresh in his mind, the heat of her body pressing close against him, and the enticing scent of her perfume, he put his fingers under her chin and gently turned her face toward him. “Do you remember the Fourth of July in Liberty Park?”
She licked her lips and cleared her throat. “Yeah. They were all fun. The fireworks were always my favorite part.”
Taking her hair in his hands, he moved it over her shoulder and leaned in close to her ear. “I’m talking about the summer you left.” He felt her shiver against him, and it made him glad that he’d caused it.
She turned her head sideways and their lips almost touched. They were that close. “That time we kissed? I’ve never forgotten it.”
“What the fuck!” a male voice boomed.
Isla jerked away from Sangre. His head snapped toward a tall man with angry eyes. He recognized him as one of the band members.
“I thought you told me you were going to stay in tonight. Not fuckin’ cool, Isla.” Glaring at Sangre, he pointed. “Who the hell is he?”
Sangre stood up and heat flushed through his body as it tensed. “You point your fuckin’ finger at me again, and I’ll break it.”
Benz’s eyes widened and he stepped back. Looking at Isla, he grabbed her hand. “Let’s go.”
She pulled out of his grip. “Hold on. Sangre’s an old friend.” She turned to him. “Sangre this is Benz. He’s the drummer in the band.”
“And her boyfriend,” he said, his arm curling around her shoulders.
Sangre cracked his knuckles then flexed his arm muscles and stared at the asshole.
Isla slipped away from Benz and stood off to the side, her arms folded across her chest. “It’s too damn loud to talk. Why don’t we all finish watching the fireworks?” She sat back down on the bench, and Sangre sat to the left of her and Benz to the right.
All he could see was red. Crimson red. Blood red as in Benz’s blood. And all he could think about was how he was going to hurt this jerk who thought he was hot shit because he played the damn drums. He had no idea what the hell Isla even saw in him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the wannabe rock star glancing at him on and off, and if Isla hadn’t been there, Benz would be sprawled on his back with Sangre straddling him as he rearranged the asshole’s face.
After the show was over, people started heading out of the square toward the large parking lot. Isla looked at both men and smiled. “That was good.”
“Let’s go,” Benz said in a hard voice.
“I wanted to tell you about how Sangre and I got back in contact, but it was too loud before. Anyway, his company is the one watching over me. I had no idea, but it turns out that Sangre is Steve. I’ve mentioned him to you, remember? It’s such a small world. So Sangre is on duty tonight.”
“And you decided to hang out with your bodyguard at a public place where there are a ton of people and any wacko could off you? Smart.” He tapped against her temple. “Real smart.”
Sangre growled. “No one’s gonna hurt her when I’m around.”
“Isla. You forgot to mention that you have Superman guarding you. Bullets and shit can bounce off him.”
In less than a second, Sangre had the front of Benz’s T-shirt crumpled in his fist, as he shook the pale drummer hard. “I don’t go for any fucker disrespecting me, especially sniveling pansy asses like you.”
“Sangre! Let him go. He didn’t mean anything, I promise. Benz has a caustic tongue sometimes.”
“I don’t like it, ass wipe. Next time, think before you fuckin’ speak, or I’ll rip that caustic tongue right outta your big mouth. Got it?” He threw Benz on the ground, and Isla bent down next to him, taking his hand and helping him up. “Keith will take over my shift.” He whipped out his phone and called him, then looked at her. “I’ll drive to your house and leave when Keith shows up.”
Wiping off the dust from his jeans, Benz shook his head. “She’s coming to the hotel with me. I’ll watch her.”
“What the hell did I just warn you about opening your mouth? I don’t give a shit what you have to say.” He turned to Isla. “This is your call.”
Looking at the ground, she shrugged. “I’m going home.”
Benz pulled her to him and wrapped his arms around her. “I’m going with you.”
His pulse sped and he bared his teeth, but Benz avoided looking at him.
“Whatever,” Isla muttered and began to walk toward his Harley.
“I have the rental car. You’re going with me.”
Sangre followed them as they drove to her house. When Isla opened the front door, she smiled at him, and he lifted his chin at her. For reasons he couldn’t explain, he was madder than shit at her. He wanted nothing more than to drag the ass wipe out of her house and send him on his way. I’m acting like a damn pussy. She’s dated this asshole for a while. Why shouldn’t he be with her? Why the fuck does it piss me off so much that he is? Grrr! He pounded his fist on his handlebars, anxious for Keith to come and take over.
The living room curtains moved, and he saw Isla peeking out, her nose placed against the glass. Ignoring her, he looked up into the inky darkness covered in sparkling stars. The rumble of an engine focused his attention behind him, and he saw Keith’s blue Suburban driving toward him.
Sangre shook hands with Keith then jumped on his bike. The roar of the engine garnered another peek from behind the curtain. Pulling away from the curb to make a U-turn, he glanced at the window, but she was gone.