Chapter 11
Bishop
I didn’t know whether to laugh or simply start swinging. What the fuck was Peckerhead doing here? After what he’d pulled Evie’s last day at Cantiville, I knew she hadn’t invited him to her apartment. He sure as shit hadn’t texted her to come over either. I’d been with her all night, and I hadn’t seen her check her phone once. It was clear to me this was an unplanned visit and I was rip-shit about it.
How the fuck did this cocksucker even know where Evie lived? He’d better not be stalking her. After my sister had gone through hell last year with her own stalker, I wasn’t about to go through round two with this piece of shit prison guard!
The man was carrying the cheapest flowers an uncaring douchebag could wrangle up at a gas station at such a late hour. Dressed in fucking khakis, he wore a polo shirt and an apologetic smile. I bet he thought he was something special. Well, I was about to show him he wasn’t. And damn, was I going to fucking enjoy it.
Tossing open the door, I leaned casually against the jamb and said, “What the fuck are you doing here, Peckerhead?”
The look on Becker’s face was priceless. It ping-ponged from shock, anger, frustration, and disgust, in a matter of seconds.
His eyes bulged and took in my wet hair, bare chest, boxers, and large glass of water with total revulsion. “I could ask the same of you, inmate Wilmont,” he bitterly choked out.
“Ah, come on, John, I think we both know what I’m doing here,” I answered with a shit-eating grin. “I’m hanging with my girl watching some TV, among other things.”
Becker worked his jaw like he was trying to chew back the awful taste in his mouth. “Your girl, huh? Since when? You just got out of Cantiville last week.”
I shrugged. “That doesn’t matter. The moment I saw Evie, she was mine. Plain and simple. Thankfully, it didn’t take long to convince her of that fact,” I said, taking a large chug from my water glass. “But then again, I always knew she was a smart girl.”
The prison guard’s eyes were burning with rage. “I thought she was too. But I guess I overestimated her and should have realized she was that kind of girl. Better late than never.”
I stepped over the threshold. I’d be damned if I let this shithole talk bad about my woman. “And what kind of girl would that be, Peckerhead?”
“The kind that fucks scumbag, biker trash,” John returned, an ugly grin splitting his lips.
I laughed. “Is that the worst you can do, cocksucker? Let me tell you something about Evie. She’s worth ten of you, and me, combined. It doesn’t matter though. What does matter is that she can spot a lying pervert when she sees one. That”s why she rejected your pathetic ass from day one.”
“Is that so?” Becker returned. Dropping his wilted flowers onto the stoop at his feet, he freed up his hands as though he were getting ready to fight.
“It is,” I replied coolly. “And don’t think I’ve forgotten what you did to her, or me, while I was on the inside, John. I’ve got a long memory and a shit-ton of patience.”
Becker’s face became mottled with rage. “Is that a threat? Are you and your little gang going to jump me in a dark parking lot when I least expect it, Pretty Boy?”
I slowly shook my head. “I don’t need my Club to beat the fuck out of you, limp dick. When we finally settle this score, it’ll be one-on-one using my bare fists. I’m not like you, John. I’m not a sniveling coward. I look a man in the eye when I’m fighting, and I handle my own business. I don’t send a troop of Nazi bitches to do it for me.”
Becker’s face turned even more red. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about!”
Sure he didn’t. Before I could answer, I heard Evie’s voice behind me. Dressed in her worn, plush, purple bathrobe, looking thoroughly debauched, she entered the kitchen and stopped dead. I watched her take in my boxers, John on her front stoop, and his discarded flowers littering the ground.
“Is everything okay?” she checked the expression of horror on her face letting me know she knew it wasn’t.
Snagging the tie of her robe, I pulled her close and kissed her on the top of her head. “Of course, Babe. You got nothing to worry about with me around.”
Evie blushed and tried to put some distance between us, but I wouldn’t let her.
Watching me stroke her back, Becker shook his head with absolute disgust. “I thought you said you didn’t have a boyfriend.”
Evie began to tremble in my arms. Before she could defend herself, I stepped in. “She didn’t then. She does now. I know that feels like a complicated timeline for someone of your limited intellect to follow, John, but give it a moment. It’ll eventually sink in.”
At first, I thought Becker might escalate the issue. Hell, I was praying for it. But he didn’t. Instead, as was his custom, he took an underhanded approach.
He smiled smugly. “I wonder what your parole officer would say about this budding romance. I’m sure he wouldn’t like the fact that you two met in prison. Bet he might even say that’s a violation of your terms of parole, Wilmont.”
I smiled right back at him. “Nope. Don’t have a parole officer. Didn’t you hear? The Feds dropped their charges against me after my lawyers threatened to sue them for witness tampering. I’m a free man in every way, Johnny Boy.”
That didn’t sit well with Becker. He snarked, “That gang of yours must have paid off the right people then. Figures that biker scum would have the means to do that.” He addressed Evie then, “Did you know that your boyfriend trafficks in guns, sweetie? That’s who you’re choosing to shack up with. No-good, gun-running, biker trash.”
I felt Evie tense up and inwardly cursed. Becker wasn’t wrong. The Devils did sell weapons. But I wanted to explain that to her myself when she was ready to hear it. Not like this. Standing at her front door and being shouted at about it by an angry, petty, rejected suitor.
“I suppose you think she should date someone like you, Becker? Someone who hires Nazi thugs to handle your business?” I shot back.
John’s mouth opened and closed like a fish who’d been suddenly hauled onto dry land. “You can have the slut. I was just looking for an easy lay and it seems you beat me to it. Either way, she ain’t worth it,” he angrily retorted, before turning on his heel and walking back to his car.”
“What the fuck did you just say?” I shouted at his back, taking a step in his direction.
This time, Evie held me back. “No! Just let him go. It doesn’t matter what he said. He’s angry and embarrassed. Don’t make it worse by going after him.”
That wasn’t an excuse, but I didn’t want to upset Evie any more than I already had. Starting a fistfight on her doorstep wouldn’t help matters any. Besides, what I was going to do to Becker would be planned out and private. I’d meant what I’d said. When I settled my score with him, I intended it to be with bare fists and somewhere no one could hear the fucker scream. My girl didn’t need to witness that.
Closing the door and locking it, I stared into Evie’s eyes. “Let’s talk,” I said before she could make up an excuse to shut me out again.
Evie solemnly nodded. “I think that’s a good idea.”
* * *
Evie
“I think that’s a good idea,” I told him.
My heart sank at the thought of losing Matty so soon after letting him in. But I didn’t see how this could work. He was a criminal, despite the Feds dropping their charges. And like Becker had pointed out, he was in a gang that was into some really heavy stuff. I couldn’t be a part of that no matter how much I liked watching TV with him, or how good he made me feel with my clothes off.
When we got back to the bedroom, Matty stepped into his jeans. Reminding myself not to stare at his mouth-watering body, I somehow willed myself to keep my eyes above his belt. However, just knowing what lay beneath that denim made me grow hot and wet all over again.
Matty faced me then, sitting me down on the bed with him. His simple, innocent touch was enough to make my pulse tick up and blood to flow south. This man had far too much power over me. No matter what he did, I liked it and wanted more. There was a name for that. And it wasn’t pretty. Addiction. And he was fast becoming mine.
“Ask,” Matty encouraged me then.
“Ask what?”
“About my childhood. About what just happened with Becker. About my prison record. About my Club. If you want to know it, and it’s my business to share it, I will. I don’t want there to be any lies between us, Evie. Not now, not ever.”
Wow. How was that for honesty? I’d rarely met a man who could tell me the truth about what I meant to him, let alone open up completely about his life story. I was on virgin territory, and I didn’t know how to proceed.
“Let’s start with Becker,” I began carefully. “Why was he at my front door tonight?”
Matty gave me a knowing look. “That’s an easy one. Like most men who have eyes in their head, Becker thinks you’re hot. He figured he could make up for assaulting you at Cantiville with a handful of droopy flowers and old khakis. He’s an asshole and a predator, Evie. The men in Cantiville didn’t respect him for the same reason. I’m only glad you weren’t alone tonight when he showed up. Now he knows I’m in the picture, he’ll leave you alone. If he doesn’t, he’ll wish he had.”
I thought that through. Though I was caught off guard by John showing up tonight, I was grateful that Matty had been here. I remembered the way the guard had tried to make a move on me in the prison when we’d been surrounded by others. What would he have felt comfortable doing if we’d been alone? I wasn’t eager to find out the answer to that question any time soon.
Since Matty had been honest with me, I decided to do the same with him. “I’m not sure what this says about me, but I’m glad you were here tonight, too. I don’t know what I would’ve done if I’d been the one to open that door and saw Becker standing there.”
Matty put his finger under my chin and lifted it. “You won’t ever have to find out, Babe. Becker got the message tonight. You’re off limits. He might be a dumb fuck, but he doesn’t have a death wish.”
I nodded, satisfied with that particular question answered. “You said something about him making friends with Nazis. Is that true?”
Matty’s eyes flared with an unspoken memory from his time at Cantiville, but he quickly suppressed the emotion before I could decipher it. “There are two types of COs in prison, Evie,” he explained. “One minds his own business, keeps his word, and is generally an all-around good dude. The other is like John Becker. A cheat, underhanded, and spiteful.”
I watched my handsome biker unconsciously brush his left eye where the shadow of a bruise still lingered. I gasped when I put two and two together. “John is the one that beat you in prison!”
Matty barked a laugh. “Nah, babe. He isn’t tough enough for that.”
“The Nazis then,” I reasoned, knowing now that my instincts had been right all along. John couldn’t be trusted. He was a predator of the worst kind. Preying on those in his care.
“Yeah,” Matty spoke blandly. “But, as you can see, I’m fine.”
“Why would he do something like that? It seems such a foolish risk to take?” Matty didn’t speak a word, but his steady gaze said it all. My hands flew to my mouth. “Because you stood up to him after he attacked me outside of our class!”
“Babe,” Matty soothed, “Becker hated me from day one. He would have found any reason to set those Nazis bastards on my ass. This isn’t your fault.”
But I knew it was. Becker might have hated Matty, but I’d been the reason he’d hurt him. Tears filled my eyes as I stroked his cheek. “I’m so sorry.”
Tangling his hands in my hair, Matty pulled my face toward his and sealed our mouths together. The kiss began slow and soft at first but soon blossomed into something more.
After a few seconds, he reluctantly pulled away. “If we start that, Babe, I won’t be able to stop.” He shifted the evidence of his words to the side in his jeans. “And then I won’t be able to answer your questions.”
I blushed, feeling the same way. “I’m sorry.”
“Christ!” Matty moaned. “Don’t apologize. It turns me the fuck on how quickly you get wet for me.”
I could feel my face scorching then. I cleared my throat and launched into my next question to avoid my embarrassment. “I’ve never asked, as I wasn’t sure it was any of my business,” I prefaced, “but why were you in Cantiville?”
“I’m not going to lie, Evie. I’m not a saint. I’ve done a lot of illegal things in my life. But the reason I found myself in Cantiville was because some asshole cop was obsessed with my sister and he wanted to use me as leverage to hurt her. He trumped up some phony charges with the Feds about human trafficking just to bone me and my Club. After the dust had settled, all of those sick as fuck accusations were proven to be lies and I was released with my record expunged. If you need proof, it’s all there in the public records. Anyone can get a copy of them at any time.”
He was right. Criminal records were open to the public. I know because of my dad’s inability to get a stable job the few years he wasn’t locked up when I was a kid.
“And your Club,” I asked then. “Are they dangerous?” I didn’t know how else to put it.
Matty hiked a brow. “Hell yeah, the Devil’s Riders are dangerous! But not to you, Babe. If you’re with me, they’re the best fucking protection you can have in this world.”
I could see he prided himself on being in his Club. As someone without any family or strong bonds outside of my friendship with Bobby, I got it. Everyone needed connections. Relationships that anchored them down and made them feel safe. Accepted. Needed. I wanted that, too. That carrot being dangled in front of me now was the hardest by far to ignore.
As I contemplated what he said, his phone buzzed. Lifting it off the nightstand, he glanced at the screen and swore.
“Shit! My phone’s blowing up. My sister wants to know where I am and why I’m not answering her call.”
“Call her back,” I said, needing some time and space to think. “She’s probably worried because you just disappeared without telling her where you were going.”
Matty scanned my face and then nodded. “K. When I get back, we’re ordering some food. I’m starving and need to find out what happened on Suits at that damn dinner party!”
I smiled, but it didn’t reach my eyes. “Sure. But good luck finding a place that’s still open at this time of night.”
“I know a place that’ll deliver,” he confidently relayed, before placing a hard kiss on my mouth and stepping out into the living room to call Amelia.
* * *
Carter, Nevada
Bishop
“I don’t know anything,” the beaten and bloodied man pathetically whined.
“Don’t lie to me,” Reaper said, giving me the silent signal to proceed when the man refused to talk.
Not holding back, I swung my fist so hard I felt two successive snaps against my knuckles. The fucker’s ribs broke easier than a goddamned dollar-store toy. Taz screamed and thrashed in place, his body shuddered from his hairline down to his toes as he registered the magnitude of the pain.
Reaper held up his hand to get me to stop. “That’s enough, Bishop. I think he got the message.”
And, lucky for us, he did. The piece of shit junkie confessed to having kidnapped and raped three under-aged girls before selling them off to an even bigger piece of shit pimp than he was.
“Where are they now?” Reaper demanded, his face as cold and remote as Mars.
“I don’t know, man,” Taz cried. “I don’t exactly send them postcards once I sell them.”
Not bothering to wait for Reaper’s signal, I backhanded the man across his already bruised cheek. His nose immediately broke open like a faucet, pouring down and staining his filthy t-shirt.
Ever since our MC had been accused of trafficking women and children a few months back, our Club President, Reaper, had decided to check into what was actually going on. Though we were no saints, we didn’t put up with shit like this. And doubly so when our names were attached.
After we’d kicked over some pretty big rocks, we’d discovered more than a fair amount of snakes beneath them. It turned out that there were scumbags doing the exact thing the Feds had tagged us for doing, and that just couldn’t stand with the Devil’s Riders. We got busy taking names and kicking asses in retribution for these unforgivable sins and we weren’t about to stop any time soon.
To put a stop to this shit, Reaper had declared it open season on any motherfuckers tying our names to these horrific crimes, as well as any rapist, pedo bastards we happened to discover along the way. We figured it was our way of giving back to the community. It saved the taxpayers a shit-ton on housing these rat bastards in prisons across the state until they finally got shanked by someone with big enough balls to permanently clear them off the gameboard.
“Why do I keep hearing your name every time I step out my front door?” Reaper demanded. “It’s come to my attention that you’ve been feeding all the stray girls you can find over state lines to perverts and sex fiends in exchange for free product. Now why would people keep telling me that if it wasn’t true?”
“It’s all lies,” Taz choked out through a mouthful of blood. “I only sell a few here or there when my business isn’t doing well. You know, even the score a bit.”
What I think Taz meant to say was that he kidnapped and raped women when he consumed too much of his own product and needed to make up the difference to his dealers.
I snorted. “Yeah, ‘cause everyone knows that junkies stop buying their drug of choice whenever we’re in a recession.”
Reaper snorted. “Doesn’t sound right to me. Bishop, remind this sack of piss what happens when people lie to the Devils.”
Tying a plastic bag around the man’s swollen head, I held it tightly in place until I knew his lungs would be screaming for air. Allowing several more precious seconds to tick by, I pulled it off his head and watched the man’s eyes slowly come back online and roll back into place.
“Who gave our names to the Feds?” Reaper pressed, spreading his feet wide and folding his arms across his chest.
“All I know is that one chick who turned on you guys. The stripper that used to work at the Happy Ending. I don’t know anything else,” Taz blurted out in a rush.
Flecks of bright red spittle flung out in all directions as he talked, and I stepped out of reach to avoid being covered in it.
“Come on, man!” Taz begged. “Why would I have that kind of information? I’m a nobody. People don’t tell me shit!”
Well, we at least agreed on that. This cocksucker was a nobody. And since he was nothing, I wasn’t going to mind dumping him like the trash he was when we were done with his sorry ass.
Reaper barked an unamused laugh. “While I don’t disagree that you are less valuable to me than the shit I scrape off my boots, I don’t fucking believe that you don’t know things, Taz. Someone’s whispering in your ear, and I want to know who.”
When I stepped forward to deliver another round of blows, Reaper raised his hand to tell me to hold up. After a few seconds of the rat considering his best options, Taz finally caved. “I heard the story from Penn when I was making a deal for some ice.”
“The heroine dealer?” I clarified, as that was the only one I knew by that name.
“Yeah, that’s the one,” Taz replied, liking me better when I was talking than when I was silently beating his ass.
Reaper tilted his head to the side. “What exactly did he say?”
Taz licked his dried and cracked lips rapidly like a nervous lizard. “He said that you had a rat in your club. That he was causing you all sorts of trouble and that you couldn’t figure out who it was.”
I had to still my hands from lashing out at the beaten man. Though I wanted nothing more than to curb-stomp his face for saying that shit about my Brothers, I needed to listen to what he was saying. Though I might hate hearing it, we’d suspected for some time that there might be someone on the inside who was a traitor. The cop that had kidnapped my sister had said as much before Hawk had beaten him to death and scattered his remains in the desert. We’d also had a problem when Reaper’s woman was sold back to her piece of shit cult leader by someone who had inside information on where she would be. Denying it was pointless. Both of those deceptions had spelled corruption from within.
Prez looked at me hard before he turned back to Taz. “What else did Penn say?”
Taz shook his head. “Nothing. Just that there was a rat. That it was on the inside of your club. That he’d been there for a while and you couldn’t find him.”
Reaper considered his words before repeating, “That’s all?”
Frantically, Taz searched his crack-fried brain for more, knowing it was best to keep us talking so we couldn’t fill our time with other things. Like slitting his throat and burning his corpse. Both of which we planned to do once his intel had been exhausted.
“If you let me go, I can dig up dirt for you. It’s like you said, people tell me shit. I’m mostly invisible, man, but I have my uses. I can work for you. Be an asset and?—”
The sound of gurgling preceded his final word. Reaper had silenced him permanently with the knife he’d been toying with during the interrogation.
Taz’s eyes bugged out as he belatedly realized what had happened. His body jerked, his feet kicked, and he paled to the color of his shirt as he bled out onto the tarp-covered floor.
We watched him until the last sign of twitching, and then Reaper looked at me. “What do you think?”
“I think we can’t deny it any longer. We’ve got a rat in the Club. And, if we don’t figure out who it is soon, they’re going to bring the whole damn MC to its knees.”
After the prison time I’d done, I wasn’t interested in going back. I was motivated as hell to figure out who the scumbag traitor was.
Reaper scrubbed an enormous hand along his bearded face. “Yup. It’s a real fucking problem.”
The stink of Taz’s corpse drew my attention. When Reaper had cut his throat, the man had shit himself. He’d already pissed himself earlier, so now the funk was really getting interesting.
Something popped into my head then. “You heard what Taz said,” I began, thinking it through as I started to work at the knot that tethered the dead man to the post.
Reaper handed me his knife so the process could go faster. “What part?”
“The part about gathering intel from unlikely sources. Hell, the bastard just might be onto something.”
Reaper’s gaze sharpened. “How so?”
“I think we need someone like Taz who”s accepted into the darkest circles but isn’t really seen when traveling through them. Someone who people talk around, but largely goes unnoticed.”
“That’s not a bad idea,” Reaper agreed. “Got anyone in mind?”
Freeing Taz’s limp body, I watched it crumple to the floor onto the plastic sheeting we’d laid out beneath him. “Nope. You?”
“Maybe. But I’ll float it by Hawk and German. See what they think.” He smiled brightly. “You sure are smart for someone so pretty.”
I flipped him off before cigar-rolling Taz into the tarp. “With all due respect, Prez, go fuck yourself.”
“I’ll get right on that, dick face,” he shot back, before changing topics. “By the way, where’d you go last night?” he asked, as he walked over to help me with the disposal process. “Your sister was pissed when she couldn’t find you. She got Angel all worked up as they searched for you around the Clubhouse. Since you got back from Cantiville, Amelia gets nervous as shit whenever you disappear.”
I’d noticed. But, hell, I couldn’t be mad at her. She cared. And there were worse fates for a man than that.
“She’ll settle down after I’m home for a bit,” I said dismissively.
“Not likely,” Reaper returned. “You of all people know women don’t work that way. And don’t think I didn’t notice you ignored my question, asshole.”
Nothing got by Prez. He was as smart as he was ruthless. “I left to hang out with someone.”
Reaper studied me as I bound up the plastic on my end so Taz didn’t accidentally slide out. The last thing we needed was for his blood, piss, and shit-covered body to leak all over us during the disposal process.
“Is that someone the hot chick who cooks for us at parties?” he asked observantly.
I shrugged noncommittally. I was keeping my mouth shut until I could lock that shit down and make her my Old Lady.
“Since you don’t care either way, I’ll let Hammer know he can take a run at her. He has a major hard-on for the girl. Loves her cookies and wants in that pussy something fierce. He keeps nagging me to ask Angel for her number so he can give her a ride on his Harley.”
My eyes angrily shot up. “Tell Hammer both her cookies and pussy are off limits. Evie’s mine!”
When I calmed down enough to stop seeing red, I noticed Reaper was laughing at me.
“That’s what I thought,” he said and chuckled. “I can’t say he won’t be disappointed. But based on your reaction, he’ll just have to find someone else to be his house mouse.”
Angry beyond reason, I fastened the other end of the plastic while I attempted to get my rage under control. “If he values his life, he’d better.”
Reaper laughed even harder as he helped me hoist the dead weight between us. “I’ll let him know how you feel. I don’t think he’s ready to die over the bitch or anything.”
Carrying the body to an old laundry chute that the factory had long since decommissioned, we carefully fed the plastic burrito once known as Taz into it. We watched as the black, shiny material slithered down to the pit below. We’d have one of our guys who hauled cargo for the Devils on cross-country trips collect it in the morning. From there, he’d drive him out to a remote part of the desert and scatter his remains for the coyotes to feast on.
When we got back to the Clubhouse, I went straight up to my room for a shower. Amelia was sitting on my bed, staring at her phone, when I walked out of the bathroom.
“People don’t knock anymore?” I teased, having already gotten dressed.
It seemed prison had established a routine for me. Get in the shower, wash as fast as possible, then hop out and get dressed. No need to linger around naked. Ever since I’d come home, I’d adhered to this standard. Some habits were hard to break.
Amelia smiled up at me and tucked her phone into her back pocket. “I had a few hours to kill before I returned to the salon and wanted to check in on you. See how everything was going. We haven’t had a chance to talk since you came home.”
I remembered a time when that was my job. Checking in on her. But it would seem that Cantiville had changed my beautiful sister as much as it had me. And like me, it wasn’t for the best. I could see that she was worried. That she feared what happened while I was on the inside. It killed me to know that my prison stint hadn’t just been hell on me. It had been torture for her as well.
“Anything you want to talk about in particular?” I asked, knowing she had something in mind. Hell, I’d helped raise her. I knew that serious face she was wearing. It meant business.
Amelia stood, needing to move as she talked. “Not really,” she hedged. “I just want to know that you’re okay and let you know that I’m here for you if you need anything.”
“I know that, kid,” I told her, feeling as though life had come full circle. “I’m good. You don’t have to worry about me. I promise.”
She nervously cracked her knuckles. “Anything you want to share with me?”
I knew she was pushing for details about Evie, but I didn’t have any to give her right now. Our relationship was so new, so fragile, I didn’t want to jinx it by inviting other people to comment on or critique it.
“Nope,” I said, combing my hair into place and dabbing on some cologne.
“Oh, okay,” Amelia returned, sounding a little disappointed. “Well, just so you know, I’m going out tonight. Hawk’s out of town and I need to get out of the house. Unwind a bit.”
I eyed her suspiciously. My sister never felt the need to explain her plans to me. The woman showed more independence than an American flag on the fourth of July. So what was she up to now?
“Okay,” I said slowly, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
“I’m taking my friend out to a local bar. You remember, Evie, right?” she added slyly.
I turned, giving her my full attention then. “Yes, I know who she is,” I returned dryly. “And she’s not going out with you to the bar tonight. She already has plans,” I informed her moodily.
“How would you know that?” Amelia asked, a touch too innocently.
“Because she has plans with me,” I answered, tired of the games.
Folding her arms across her chest, Amelia looked like a miniature version of her fiancé, my VP, Hawk. The two of them were spending way too much time together these days.
“Oh really?” she challenged. “You might want to tell her that because she’s already agreed to go out with me.”
My temper skyrocketed, but I fought hard to suppress it. “You’re misinformed. Evie’s not going to some sleazy bar where men can ogle and hit on her all night.”
“Why does it matter to you?” Amelia coyly demanded.
I had to hand it to her. My sister had trapped me into talking this time. “Because she’s my girl, and I say she’s not going,” I answered mulishly.
Amelia smiled brightly, knowing she’d won. “I’m glad you think so, stud. But you don’t own Evie. There’s a little thing called civil liberties in this country. And women, like men, can do whatever they want, whenever they want. And Evie wants to get dressed up and get wasted with me tonight!”
My sister had manipulated me like a goddamned pro! She’d made me confess my feelings for Evie, and managed to put me in my place, all in one fell swoop. I felt sorry for Hawk. The man had to deal with her sass and fiery temper for the rest of his life. Good thing he loved hers more than his own.
Amelia walked toward my door victorious. “If you’re a good boy, I might even let you know where we’re going. If not…” She shrugged and shut the door behind her.
* * *
Green Lake, Nevada
Evie
Amelia picked me up at my apartment at nine. When she pulled up and texted that she was in my parking lot, I grabbed my keys and overnight bag and met her outside.
To my surprise, she wasn’t driving. A man I didn’t recognize was. The backseat window rolled down and Amelia waved me inside the oversized SUV. “Get in the back with me, Evie.”
Doing as I was told, I crawled into the hulking, black Mercedes. “Nice ride,” I told her, admiring the dark, leather interior. Nothing in my home could compete, let alone my brokedown Honda Civic.
“It belongs to the Club,” Amelia explained. “Along with the man,” she tossed over her shoulder to the biker behind the wheel. “Boots, meet Evie. Evie, Boots,” she introduced.
Boots, a handsome, muscular guy with a high and tight and a square jawline, smiled into his rearview mirror. “Nice to meet you, Evie. Always nice to meet one of Amelia’s hot friends.”
Amelia reached out and playfully swatted him in the head. “This is my brother’s girl, stupid. No flirting.”
Boots’s brow rose. “Bishop’s got a girl? Just one?” he replied, disbelievingly.
Amelia struck him again. “Yes! And stop scaring her before she leaves my brother and he goes back to his whoring ways!”
“Why are all the good ones taken?” Boots grumbled, turning left onto the road that led to the highway.
I listened to their playful banter, wondering how much time these two spent together. It seemed like a lot. They sounded like family. Close family, in fact. A stinging pain of longing shot through me then. I don’t know what it was about seeing happiness in others that made you realize the glaring deficit of it in your own life. But it did.
Swinging a black bag out from between her feet, Amelia set it between us. “I brought some makeup with us so we can get ready in the car together.”
Amelia’s makeup was flawless, per usual, so I was assuming she was being kind by using the word “we”. Let’s be real. It was just me. I hadn’t worn any makeup tonight. I was going au naturel, but apparently that wasn’t going to last.
“I’m thinking a bold eye and a pouty lip will do nicely for Magpies,” she said, digging through that cavernous bag of hers to find what she was searching for. “That’s going to make Bishop really jealous and territorial as hell tonight.”
“Why are we doing this again?” I asked, biting my bottom lip nervously.
“Because I like you and so does my brother. In order to lock things down, I’m showing him how much he stands to lose if he fucks it all up,” she explained matter of factly.
I saw Boots roll his eyes in the rearview mirror. “Are you seriously meddling in your brother’s love life now that yours is squared away?”
“Mind your business up there,” Amelia reprimanded, turning my face to hers. “Look down,” she instructed, as she began adding a very smooth lotion to my face. “I see that you’re a natural beauty, and that’s great. But let’s give Mother Nature a little boost to make you shine tonight,” she said and winked. “We’re going to play up those beautiful eyes of yours and those amazingly pouty lips.”
I noticed a second bag on the floor by her feet. “What’s that?” I asked curiously, as she began adding a spectrum of brown and purple shades to my upper eyelids.
Amelia glanced down at the bag and a puckish grin slid across her perfectly lined mouth. “That’s your wardrobe for tonight.”
I looked down at my t-shirt and jeans combo. “Um, is there something wrong with what I’m wearing?”
“Nope, I just figured we could have some fun, is all. You know, make my brother really work for your attention tonight.”
“You know you’re cracked in the head, don’t you?” Boots shot at her.
“You have one job here, Boots. You’re our wingman. You drive, look out for trouble, and keep all of our secrets. Think you can handle that?”
Boots flipped her off. “First, that’s three things. Secondly, I’m not your wingman. I’m your bodyguard until I finally get my patch, which happens in a little less than a month by the way. And then you’ll have to torment some other poor bastard after that.”
“Only a month,” Amelia said, doing some quick calculations in her head. “We’re going to have to throw a party for you then. Evie, do you think you could cater it?”
Trying to keep up with the verbal volleyball, I said, “Yeah probably,” as Amelia artfully stroked some blush onto my cheeks.
“Cool. I’m thinking a “My Little Ponies” themed party. What do you think, Boots?” she teased mercilessly.
Boots grunted. “I’m thinking I’d rather it be a stripper, liquor, and unlimited blowjobs themed one instead.”
“Gross,” Amelia replied, drawing out a thin black pencil for my eyeliner. “Be careful on the turns, Boots. I’m working with eyeliner right now.”
I was still as I could manage as Amelia outlined my eyes with the pencil. Using her thumb, she smudged it a bit to add a shadowing effect.
“There. That looks perfect!” She dug into her second bag then and pulled out some slinky-looking fabrics. “Did you shave?”
I exploded into laughter. “I did,” I answered nervously.
“Good, that means that everything I brought is an option. Do you want to wear pants tonight or a dress?”
I thought it over. “Pants,” I answered, feeling like I was on some odd game show I didn’t quite understand the rules of.
She tucked away some of the unqualified options. “All right. Are you in the mood for something black or something colorful?”
“Dealers choice,” I answered, not caring either way.
Amelia tilted her head. “Boots,” she called up front when she couldn’t decide on her own. “What kind of pants turn a guy on most?”
“The kind that come off at the end of the night,” Boots quipped back shamelessly.
“Well that was helpful,” she grumbled.
A shiny, stretchy fabric caught my attention then. “I like these.” They weren’t my usual style, but there was something about them that appealed to me. And they looked like yoga pants, so they’d probably be comfortable, too.
“Great choice,” Amelia complimented, pulling the pants free from the pile.
Boots casually glanced back to see what I’d picked. “Are they tight? Bishop is a man with a working dick, so tight is always a good choice.”
Amelia rolled her eyes. “They’re the pants I wore last year when I dressed up as Sandy for the Halloween charity event. Do you remember those?”
Boots groaned. “Yeah, I remember those pants. I remember them often when I’m in the shower. But if Hawk asks, I don’t,” he said with a sly grin.
Amelia ignored his response. “Here. Wear these. Bishop will love them. Apparently, all men do!”
Amelia was much thinner and taller than me, but that was the beauty of yoga pants. One size could fit a multitude of figures. Yet another reason to love this miracle material!
“Evie needs to change, so don’t look back here, you pervert,” Amelia warned, keeping a watchful eye on the flirty biker.
I was kind of shy, so I wasn’t used to changing in cars while guys were present. Shimmying out of my jeans, I swapped them out for the sleek black pants and began inching them on. And boy were they tight! It took a minute to get them up and over my hips. But from what I could see, the finished product was well worth the trouble.
Amelia held up two similar-looking shirts. “Which one?”
One was a pink tank top and the other was a purple off-the-shoulder crop top that was really cute. “The purple.”
Amelia tossed the shirt in my direction. “Good choice. It’ll go great with your eyeshadow.”
As quickly as I could, I exchanged one shirt for the next. When I was situated, I asked, “How do I look?” I was showing way more cleavage than I was used to and I was just a little self-conscious about it.
Boots glanced back and gave me a thumbs up. “It’s definitely shower material.”
“He’s not wrong,” Amelia agreed. “Your boobs look fantastic in that!”
Boots moaned again. “Would you stop talking dirty to each other! My jeans are getting tight over here. If you guys start kissing, I’m going to pull over and watch. Club be damned!”
Amelia slingshot a tube top in his direction. “Watch the road, Prospect!”
Subconsciously, I hiked up the low neckline a bit. “Are you sure it’s not too much, um, skin?”
“Nope,” she returned, pulling the elastic free from my ponytail. “It’s just the right amount. Now for your hair. I’m thinking we should leave it half up, half down. Go for a tousled, bed-head look.”
I was game. I couldn’t do hair for shit. I usually just put it back and left it to air dry. “Sure. Whatever you think looks best.”
Jumping into action, Amelia quickly twisted and knotted into a style that was both functional and sexy. Pulling out a spray bottle from her bottomless bag, she spritzed the hair that cascaded over my shoulders and scrunched it.
Handing me a mirror, she asked, “What do you think?”
It was way better than anything I could have done, and she’d managed it in under five minutes. “I love it! I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. Please come home with me, Amelia, and do my hair and makeup every day!”
“For the love of God, ladies, my pants!” Boots shouted at us and we both dissolved into giggles.
“What’s wrong, Boots? You’ve been particularly on edge lately,” Amelia inquired.
“Well, that’s because I’m hard all the time. As a Prospect, I don’t have access to the Club girls like the other guys do,” he stated matter-of-factly. “Plus, I’m always too busy to get my dick sucked at Club parties because I’m on duty.”
Amelia wrinkled her cute nose. “Double gross. Those girls are like walking used condoms, Boots. I’ll never understand why guys do that,” she groused to me. “Do yourself a favor and find yourself a girl that you and your buddies don’t share. Then you’ll be happy.”
I looked down at my hands as I contemplated what she’d just said. It was clear that Bishop didn’t have such restrictions when it came to Club girls. Hell, I’d seen him practically mating with two of them at his party when I’d presented the cake.
Club girls or not, the twins were beautiful, experienced, and every man’s fantasy. How could I compete with that? I couldn’t, and I knew it.
“Well, if you brought around some hot friends that weren’t taken by my Brothers, I wouldn’t have to resort to such depravities,” Boots teased, taking a turn into the parking lot of Magpies.
Seeing me suddenly looking sad, Amelia asked, “What’s wrong? You don’t like your hair? The clothes? We can choose something else if you want.”
I didn’t know how to articulate my feelings to such a confident, beautiful woman like Amelia. “I’m just nervous,” I confessed, trying not to sound weak or pathetic.
She looked at Boots and said, “Can you give us a second?”
“Sure thing,” Boots replied, opening the door and stepping out of the SUV.
Leaning against the driver’s side door, he pulled out a cigarette, lit it up, and began scrolling absently through his phone.
“What’s up?” Amelia asked, taking my hand in hers comfortingly as she patiently awaited my response.
I shrugged. “I’m nervous about all the women your brother clearly can choose from. As I’m sure you know, Matty’s quite a presence. Handsome beyond reason. Strong. Capable of anything. And, well, I’m no one. I’m not half as beautiful or experienced as those twins he… dated. No amount of clothes or makeup is going to change that.”
Amelia looked me dead in the eye and said, “Bullshit! You’re incredible, Evie Wild! Beautiful, hard-working, and kind. All things that appeal to Bishop or any man worth having. As for the twins,” she gave a derisive snort. “There might be two of those sluts, but there’s only one of you. Lord knows I love my brother, but he isn’t Mr. Perfect. For all his beauty and charm, he has his faults. As his sister, I say he’s damned lucky to meet and keep a girl like you! And I know he thinks that, too.”
Tears pricked behind my eyelids, but I refused to let them loose to destroy the beautiful makeup my friend had just completed. “Thanks,” I said, clearing the frog from my throat with a little effort.
Amelia gave me a big hug. “Now, let’s go have some drinks and fun!”
We stepped out of the car and Boots looked me up and down, making a sharp whistling noise as he took in Amelia’s handiwork. “Bishop’s going to like that outfit. Those pants never disappoint!”
“See!” Amelia said cheerfully. “I told you, you look smoking hot in them, Evie. Let’s go inside and show you off, sexy!”
Boots looked disappointed. “What? No kiss for good luck to start the night off with?”
This time Amelia flipped him off. “Come on, Wingman. You’re on drink detail!”
Magpies was a dive bar but full of character. I loved it. Rich wood everywhere, dim lights, and cheap drinks. All aspects of nightlife I appreciated.
Boots steered us toward the bar as soon as we entered. “What are you ladies feeling like drinking tonight?”
“Margaritas!” Amelia cheered, the biggest smile spread across her full, glossy lips.
I didn’t care. I was just happy to be out of my apartment and to have made such wonderful new friends. “Margaritas sound good.”
“Coming right up,” Boots said, turning to the bartender to order our drinks.
Two hours and four margaritas later, I was really starting to have a good time. The liquor had gone straight to my head and I was feeling no pain.
Boots dropped off our fifth drink of the night, handing Amelia hers first. He paused when he saw the glassiness behind my eyes. “You want water instead, lightweight?”
I frowned at his paternal question and Amelia smacked his arm. “Don’t be that guy, Boots. Evie’s old enough to decide when she’s done drinking or not.”
“Just barely,” Boots groused, watching me closely. “And I don’t need Bishop pissed at me for making his girl sick.”
“I’m fine,” I told him, swiping the drink out of his hands and taking a large sip to prove it. The floor swam a bit, but it righted itself after a second or two.
“Let me know if you’re going to be sick,” he warned. “Until I get my patch next month, it’s still my duty to clean the Mercedes if anyone pukes in it.”
A fast song with a raging beat began to play overhead and Amelia squealed with delight. “I love this song! Come on, Evie. Let’s dance!”
Boots groaned. “Every time you dance, Amelia, I got to beat some guy up. Can we just cool it for one night?”
Amelia beamed back at him. “Nope. I want to dance!”
Pulling me onto the dance floor where a bunch of girls were already shaking it, we joined the throng of undulating bodies. Like everything else she did, Amelia was an exceptional dancer. I wasn’t bad, but I was nowhere near as good as she was.
The alcohol and Amelia’s tutelage helped a lot though. Soon, I was relaxing and letting go. The music poured over and pulsed through me. I felt free and weightless for the first time in a long time.
Amelia danced beside me, swiveling her hips back and forth. Her long blonde hair was done in fat barrel curls and swung loosely around her body. She was wearing a red tube top and fitted jeans. On her feet were spiked red heels that made her tower over my diminutive five-foot-two frame.
When our song finished, Amelia shouted, “I need some water. How about you?”
I nodded my agreement and she took me by the hand, leading me toward the bar. A group of bikers that I didn’t recognize were standing on the edge of the dancefloor, watching us with hungry looks that left nothing to the imagination.
Boots was staring in their direction, his phone pressed to his ear when we arrived. “We’re leaving,” he spoke, brooking no arguments.
“Why?” Amelia pressed, not ready to end the good time train.
“Because I spot trouble and I’m outnumbered,” he answered frankly.
Looking over her shoulder, Amelia clocked the guys in question. “Who are they? I’ve never seen them before.”
“The Watchmen,” Boots informed us. “And they aren’t friends of the Devils.”
The person on the other line picked up then and Boots began to explain the situation. He was quiet for a moment before he said goodbye and hung up. “Come on. We’re leaving,” he ordered, ushering us toward the door.
Unfortunately for us, several of the Watchmen had anticipated our next move and were blocking the exit when we got there.
“You’re not leaving,” the one whose patch read, “President,” declared.
Boots shoved us behind him, and said, “Get the fuck out of my way, Maze! This is Devil”s Rider territory. You do not want to cross this line!”