Zack didn’t wake up Nicole before he left for the clubhouse the next morning. He’d heard her up moving around with Liam in the bedroom before sunrise and he figured she needed the sleep. Besides, he didn’t really want either of them at that clubhouse, especially while the question of who would be the new president was still up in the air. He knew that things were going to be tense, especially since his mother was involved.

As he rode the bike Skeeter had brought him the two miles to the clubhouse, he thought about the day his father had presented him with the little house. Zack was no psychologist, but he’d diagnosed both of his parents as sociopaths long ago; still, he supposed he had to give his father credit for having some kind of feeling for him, since the house was a bribe to try and keep him around. Zack had always had a smart mouth, but his father scared him growing up, so around Swinger, he had kept it in check. One day after going on a run with his father and the rest of the crew and watching his father kill a man in cold blood, he finally realized that he couldn’t keep his opinions to himself any longer. Out of respect, he tried talking to Swinger about it in private. His father shut him down, every time…so instead of being content with keeping his mouth shut like the rest of the ass-kissers in the club, he started calling him out in church. Zack knew that had he been any other man, Swinger would have seen to it that he died a horrible death. Then when Zack had finally had enough, Swinger had the little house built for him. The day he took him out there to show it to him he said that maybe all he needed was to move out of the clubhouse and have his own space. Maybe they spent too much time together and that was why they didn’t get along. Zack knew that wasn’t the case. By that time, he’d lost all respect for his father and his mother and Tammy was gone, so other than a handful of men in the club that he still felt a kinship to, there was really nothing there for him any longer. Zack lived in the house for about six months, because he hadn’t had the heart that day to tell Swinger he knew it wasn’t going to work. But all the house served to do was to ultimately make him feel more trapped in a life he hated and in a place that no longer felt like home.

He pulled the bike up in front of the clubhouse, noting the row after row of Harleys that were already there. As soon as he pulled open the door to the clubhouse he saw that the great room and bar were standing room only. The chapters in the outlying areas had all sent representatives for the service and of course everyone from the Medina chapter was there. Zack’s eyes scanned the room for his mother as he made his way across it and had to stop every few seconds to say hello to an old acquaintance or friend. He saw a few old enemies as well, but he ignored those for the time being and finally found his mother in the kitchen. She was wearing a black leather skirt, thigh-high black boots with a heel that didn’t even look like it should be holding her up, and a black vest with short, red-lace sleeves. She had her back to him, stirring something on the stove and barking orders out to the other old ladies and the club girls. Zack watched her and wondered what she was going to do once this service was over and her title of Queen Old Lady was laid to rest, as dead as her husband. It was obvious that most of the other women didn’t like her. Zack knew that she thought they were just jealous of her, but sadly he also knew that there just really wasn’t much to like. She was a cold, calculating bitch.

“Zack!” She finally turned and saw him standing there. “You’re late.”

Zack drew his brows together and said, “Late for what? He’s still dead and buried already, right?”

“Please don’t start with that mouth today of all days. This day is about respecting your father and all he did for us and this club.”

“Fine, but the memorial doesn’t start for another hour – what is it I’m late for?”

“You and I need to talk before it gets too chaotic around here.”

Zack folded his arms and leaned into the doorway. “Okay, I’m listening.”

She made a face at him. “Not here. Come on back to my suite.” Zack bit back a laugh. Swinger was too controlling to build his own house and live off the grounds of the clubhouse, and he also loved being able to just walk down the hall any time of the night or day and find a willing woman to suck his dick. He had knocked out walls between three of the rooms to satisfy Mona and from then on she’d called it a “suite,” like they were at the Waldorf Astoria or some shit instead of an MC in Bumfuck, Texas. Mona had already turned on her spiky heel, and was marching out of the kitchen. Zack followed her, stopping to say hello to a few of the ladies and accepting their condolences, as if he believed they were sincere. By the time he got to the suite, Mona was pacing back and forth and tapping her heels into the tile floor. “Finally. I thought you got lost. Close the door.”

Zack closed it and then said, “What’s this all about, Mona?”

“Why won’t you call me Mother?”

Zack laughed. Mona glared at him until he finally got it under control and he said, “That’s what you want to talk to me about?”

“No. But since I never get to see you anymore, I thought I'd better address everything all at once. When you were a teenager and started calling me by my first name I just thought it was a phase. But you’re a grown-ass man now and you’re still doing it. It’s disrespectful.”

Zack folded his arms and raised an eyebrow. He didn’t want to get into this discussion with Mona, but since she had brought it up he said, “Was there something you did, Mona, that you thought I should respect you for?”

She narrowed her blue eyes at him and he could almost see smoke coming out her ears. “You are an ungrateful…” She stopped there. Zack smiled. She’d almost forgotten that she’d lured him here with the idea that she could talk him into accepting the nomination for president that she’d somehow finagled…and if he was voted in, she could still be queen. “Never mind. We have more important things to discuss.”

“Such as?”

She reached out for his hand. When he didn’t give it to her, she went over to the couch and sat down. “Come sit down…please.”

Zack figured the sooner he let her have her say, the sooner he could get out of there, so he sat. She reached for his hand again, this time covering it with her own before he pulled away. Her hands were cold, like her heart, but she was a hell of an actress. Her face and her eyes looked completely sincere as she said, “Zack…I love you, and life around here without you the past three years has been hell. For the first month after you left, I cried myself to sleep every night. Now that your father is gone, I’m lost. I’m all alone. I need my boy.”

Zack pulled his hand away and chuckled as he sat back against the couch. “How long did you practice that speech, Mona?”

“Zachary! Why must you be so cynical all the time?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Because that’s the way you raised me…Mother. Let’s cut to the chase here and save us both some time. Your manipulation worked and I came home for this bogus service because even after thirty years of shit, I wanted to believe this was the one time you sincerely needed nothing from me other than my support. But once again you made a fool out of me, didn’t you, Mona?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Her blue eyes filled with tears. Zack wasn’t affected by them; she did that on demand.

“You don’t? Hmm…well, what was it you wanted to talk to me about?”

“I don’t know what that little fucker Skeeter told you…”

“You know exactly what he told me. You have been ‘campaigning’ for me without even asking me if I wanted the position of president of this club. Had you asked me, I would have said no. Now that I’m here, that hasn’t changed.”

“Zack, I only want what’s best for you. Think of all the advantages that being president would give you. And I have no power here. If you’re nominated and voted in, it will be because these men know that you’ll do a hell of a lot better job than Randall would. You could run it the way you wanted and we…I mean, you, could have whatever you want.”

He chuckled again and stood up. “You entertain me, Mona…but only for a few seconds at a time. Now that the truth is out and we both know you only wanted me here to try and secure your place in the palace, I think I’ll skip the memorial. I’m not up for a bunch of murderers and druggies telling me how sorry they are that my piece-of-shit father is dead. I’ll stop by and wish Randall luck on my way out.”

Tears rolled down her face as she stood up too. Those were probably real, but they were for no one but herself. “You’re really going to pass up this opportunity…for what? You like being a nobody at that club in Tennessee? Your name means something here, Zachary!”

“To answer your questions, in order…yes, I’m turning it down. Yes, I love being a ‘nobody’ in that club in Tennessee. So, Mona, I’ll be going now.”

“And what happens to me? You know that Randall has never liked me. He won’t hesitate to put me on the street and what will I do then?”

“Frankly, Mona, I don’t give a damn.” Zack turned and walked out of the room. He had to stop and take a deep breath after he closed the door. He heard something hit it from the inside. Mona was having a fit. When she was finished, she’d fix her hair and make-up and she’d put whatever backup plan she had into motion. Zack knew she had one. As he walked through the great room and out to his bike for what he was sure would be his last time, he wished that he was as unaffected by it all as he pretended he was. He didn’t even stop to see Randall. He didn’t give a shit about this club, or who ran it. But, unfortunately, even at thirty years old, he wished that he had a mother and a father who really loved him. But wishing didn’t make it so…so he did what he’d been doing his entire life, he sucked it up and moved on.

* * *

Mona was fuming when Zack left. She hadn’t honestly expected him to agree to her plan for her, but she’d hoped he’d stay for church and that then the encouragement of all the men he’d known his entire life might do it. Now she was fucked…unless her backup plan worked. She shuddered at the thought of it…but at this point, it was her only choice. She was eighteen years old when the twenty-five-year-old president of the club, Swinger, had noticed her. She’d been high at the time, and dancing on the bar in the club. By that time, she’d fucked nearly every man in the room…except for him. He was the one she’d been waiting for. The rest of them were just stepping stones and backup plans. Mona always had a backup plan. She had come from nothing. Her mother was a junkie and her father was in and out of jail her whole life for one offense after the other. When he was home, he was a mean, abusive S.O.B., and she’d grown up hating both of her parents and plotting her escape. She left when she was sixteen, and she and a friend started hanging out with the bikers. Her friend eventually went back home, but Mona realized she’d found where she belonged. She loved the club life and she saw opportunity there…especially that first night when she saw the way Swinger was looking at her. She knew that she’d hit the lottery. Their relationship went from almost constant, hot, passionate sex, to something of a partnership over the years. Swinger told her everything, and there was nothing that shocked or disturbed her any longer. The violence was part of the gig and her husband had been man enough to know that. The only thing that bothered her about him was the way he satisfied his overactive libido with any little slut he could find. She wouldn’t have even cared about that, if he’d been discreet about it. But Swinger liked everyone to know that he had the power to stick his dick wherever he wanted to. Mona had swallowed a huge amount of pride over his sex-capades, telling herself that the rest of life as the old lady of the president was worth that sacrifice. She at least didn’t have to fuck him three times a day any longer at that point, but whenever she was in the mood, he still gave it to her.

Mona finally pulled herself out of her memories and went into the bathroom. As she brushed her long, dark hair, she reminded herself that she still had more assets than most women her age. Her hair was soft and shiny and hung down to her waist, and her fifty-year-old body was hot…if she did say so herself. She had very fine lines around her blue eyes, but that was it; otherwise her skin was smooth and unblemished and she could pass for a much younger woman.

She stepped back from the mirror so that she could see more of her body and unzipped the leather vest, just low enough to let the swell of her cleavage show through. She applied dark red lipstick to her full lips and again thought about her dead husband. Swinger loved her lips. He said they were what attracted him to her in the first place. His favorite thing was to have them wrapped around his dick last thing at night and first thing in the morning, at least before the novelty wore off and he’d gone back to fucking the other little bitches that hung around the club. She always knew he would come back to her and when he did, Mona went out of her way to make life miserable for the little hoes that he had fucked. She knew none of the women liked her, but she didn’t care. She didn’t want “girlfriends.” Women were vile, nasty bitches and Mona had yet to meet the one who wasn’t jealous of how hot and sexy she was. The men in the club liked her for the most part. She knew they all liked to look at her and fantasize about fucking her. Mona hadn’t been with another man after she got together with Swinger, but she knew she hadn’t forgotten how to please a man. She was sure she could do what she’d done all those years ago to snag the presidency of the MC again…she had just hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

She sprayed herself lightly with the expensive perfume she favored, the one that had driven Swinger wild with passion, and left her suite. She made her way down the hall and up to the third floor of the clubhouse, where Randall stayed. She didn’t doubt that she could use her hard body and golden pussy to convince him that he couldn’t live without her. She and Randall had hooked up once, back when she was just a club girl, and she’d driven him wild with her talented mouth. She’d be willing to bet that he hadn’t had it that good since, especially when he was with that uptight bitch from the city that he had married.

She took a deep breath and thought about growing old alone until her big blue eyes filled with tears, and then she knocked on the door. Randall looked confused when he opened it and found her there. She blinked hard until the tears began to roll down her cheeks and then she said, “I’m sorry, Randall. I just need someone to talk to. Can I come in?”

Randall’s eyes were on her chest as he stepped back to let her in. He closed the door behind her and she smiled. He was about to get really, really lucky and afterwards, she’d have everything she wanted – she was sure of it.