maha‘oi

➸ Ginger ☆

Rumor has it criminals whisper my name, fearing I’ll hear them and appear like the bogeyman to punish their evil deeds. I don’t blame them for pissing their panties. My ugly reputation took years to hone. Being a violent woman in a world of violent men forced me to embrace my inner monster unless I wanted to end up feeding someone else’s.

Despite my reputation, I don’t think Heretics club president Osiris Savo or his MC brothers will wet their blue jeans in my presence. They’ve been running this area for too long to worry about a girl. No doubt I’ll need to treat them as threats rather than partners. Men always need to witness a little violence. before they agree to behave.

The Rusty Cage Bar & Grill acts as the club’s base of operations. The non-descript tavern blends in with the other brown and green buildings located on the city block in a mostly residential part of Rawlins, Arkansas.

Even open for lunch, Rusty Cage is nearly empty when Clove and I arrive for our meeting with Osiris and his people. This meeting isn’t my idea, and I doubt Osiris asked for it either.

Back in Blytheville—aka Little Memphis—my crew worked with the local motorcycle club. When their president, Joker, made a pact with this fellow Arkansas club, he decided the Rawlins guys needed more muscle. Osiris agreed if only to gain access to the influx of cash from Little Memphis. No way did he expect Joker to send the Everything Nice Crew.

I stop at the hostess station to see if anyone will guide us to the Heretics. Next to me, Clove wraps her long, brown hair into a messy bun. She’s prepping for a fight as usual, but I won’t need to worry about her mouthing off. It’s why I brought her along rather than Yarrow. Our youngest member and men do not mix well.

“Help you?” squeaks a girl I suspect is days out of high school. With her shiny red smile, she’s the epitome of the kind of women who fawn over club men’s every fart.

“We’re here to see Osiris.”

“Does he know why you’re here?”

“Tell him Ginger and Clove are here, and we don’t have a lot of time to wait.”

“He’s busy,” she says protectively.

“We’re busier. If he doesn’t see us in the next five minutes, we’re bailing. You be sure to tell them that, will ya, Dee?”

The girl shoots me daggers, which only sends Clove into a fit of laughter. Dee spins on her heel and hurries away. She’s a dumb, oversexed kid. If she doesn’t fuck her life up in the next few years, she’ll look back one day and view this time as a growing experience.

“I forget how stupid the club girls are,” Clove says while stretching out her long, toned arms. “I spent too much time around the old ladies back in Little Memphis.”

“Joker said most of the Heretics dicks are ringless, so there’ll be no old ladies to soothe us.”

“This place is a dump.”

Frowning at her, I whisper, “You knew that before we agreed to move here.”

“It seemed less trashy before I started forwarding my mail here.”

“Are you having second thoughts?”

“No. I just want to complain to pass the time.”

We share a smile that ends as soon as Dee returns with a lump of tattooed, long-haired muscle following her.

“He’ll see you now,” Dee says.

“Are you him?” I ask the lump.

“I’m Glitch.”

“Of course, you are. Let’s get on with this,” I say and gesture for him to lead.

Glitch doesn’t move right away. Though I shouldn’t assume he’s stupid, his frozen facial expression makes me think he’s currently attempting to jump-start his brain.

“I’m going to walk around you now, Glitch,” I say when he only stares.

Once Clove and I start moving, the lump follows close behind. We walk past a line of empty tables, the bar counter, and small dance floor before reaching a back room. Behind double doors rests a long table with five lounging men.

The seating arrangement with violent men always tends to have the leader at the end of the table. If he’s not at one of the ends, the other men will still have their chairs slightly faced to his in a sign of submission. Also, whenever a possible threat approaches—in this case, me—they’re quick to glance at the man in charge and mimic his reaction.

Based on this fact, Osiris is the exotic-looking gigantor leaning back with his feet up on a chair and a huge beer mug in his right hand.

He doesn’t sit up when we arrive at the table. The other men continue to lounge too. I don’t know if they’re putting on a façade for our benefit or if they’re really this clueless. Either way, I have my work cut out for me.

“Which one of you is Ginger?” Osiris asks, gesturing between us with his beer-holding hand and spilling some of his drink in the process.

“I am. This is Clove. The rest of our crew is waiting to get settled, so we should make this quick.”

“Yeah, quick. Let’s jump right to the only question I have. What can a gang of foxes bring to the table that my guys can’t?”

Did he seriously just call us “foxes”? Okay, I totally get the bravado that goes into being a leader. I also understand how a man with his massive size and striking good looks is accustomed to saying stupid shit without anyone calling him on it. Of course, he’s never met me before.

“From what I understand, Osiris, most of your older members are dead or locked behind bars. The rest of you are rookies with less than five years at the top of the pyramid. My crew provides experience, a well-established violent reputation, and a sniper.”

I emphasize the last word, which doesn’t go unnoticed by Osiris.

His full lips curl into a smirk. “What I like about this bar is how there are no windows to allow peepers to keep an eye on us.”

“My sniper isn’t stationed here. She has someone else in her scope.”

“And who would that be?” he asks, revealing a hint of uncertainty in his rich, brown eyes.

“That doesn’t matter unless we have a problem here.”

“Do you see this shit?” he asks the brawny blond to his right.

“He does,” I reply. “They all do. They’re shocked but mostly amused by the fox mouthing off. Now that we’ve established I’ve walked into your bar and shown you disrespect, can we finish up? I have unpacking to do.”

Osiris stands up, revealing a few more inches of height than I expect. Unfortunately for him, I’ve been around large men for a long time. If he hopes I’ll quiver at the sight of his massive male presence; he’s about to be disappointed.

He walks past his men and stops a foot from me. I very obviously size him up before nodding approvingly. Osiris narrows his eyes and then nods.

“You’re sporting the balls of a bull, kid, but this is my club and town. You’re here as a favor to Joker.”

“Is that what he told you?” I ask, smiling up at him. “Because the version he told me was different.”

“Why, what did you hear?” he asks, tilting his head back and forth as if he’s working out a muscle kink.

“I don’t think I should tell you,” I say and exhale deeply. “There’s no reason to cause trouble and make you insecure.”

His dark eyes study me with the goal to tear past my indifference shell to discover the juicy meat at my core. I show him what I show every man.

Nothing.

Finally, his lips lift into a smile. “This ought to be fun,” he says in a rough, deep voice as if we’re sharing a secret.

“I’ll be in touch once my crew is settled in. Until then, keep your boys from crossing my path, okay, Osiris?”

“People around here call me Oz, and I promise nothing regarding what my men do.”

“Interesting indeed,” I mutter and turn to leave.

Clove waits an extra thirty seconds before following me. She doesn’t want them seeing me signal my sniper to stand down at Oz’s house. By the time I slide a leg over the seat of my Harley, Pepper responds to my order with a winking face.

Once Clove joins me outside, she surveys our new town. Based on her smile, she’s warming up to Rawlins already.