Blood & Ash (Saint’s Outlaws MC: Deadman’s Beach, AL #1)

1. Chapter One

Chapter One

Goose slaps a palm against my door. “Yo, Blood. Your Pops called church.”

I rub my hand along the curve of Shelby’s ass. “I’ll be there in a second.”

Goose grins, doing a shake of his head as he walks off. The two of us grew up in this club together. My old man and his joined what was once a riding club that started picking up some runs to earn a little extra cash after Desert Storm ended. One thing led to another and eventually they patched over to the Saint’s Outlaws MC. Pure 1% in ‘94.

This club is all I’ve ever known.

Was born in it.

I’ll die in it too.

“Time to vacate, sweetheart. You ain’t gotta go home, but you can’t stay here.” I slap her ass, and she moans.

“Five more minutes,” she mumbles, hugging my pillow tighter. The tan lines from her bikini prominent on her sun kissed shoulders.

I scrub a palm down my face and rub last night’s sleep away. Grabbing the hair of the dog off the nightstand, I take a hard swig, then smack my jaws. My old man will kick my ass if I’m late. I tug on the first pair of jeans I spot off the floor and grab a t-shirt off the top of the pile stacked on the chair in the corner. I live in one of the apartments over the main clubhouse. Formerly the Mermaid Motel. Where there once was a mermaid sign on a weathered building, there’s now the club’s insignia painted on the side. A skull and clovers, a display of the original member’s Irish heritage.

The place was a real money pit, but my father saw the potential. The repairs and renovations done to the property over the years to make it what it is today cost a whack and then some. Came decked out with a great bar, though.

Plus, he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to own beachfront property on the strip. There’s nothing like it. Like being on vacation every day of your life when you wake up to the view I’ve got.

Shelby rolls to her back, giving me another view of something nearly as pretty. Propping herself up on her elbows, she stares at the ceiling as I hop around, struggling to get one of my boots on. Fuck me . What a gorgeous sight to start the day to. Her perky titties, stunning baby blues, and freckle dusted cheeks. Blonde tangled hair dangles over her shoulders. Look up beach bunny and you’ll find her picture as a prime example.

I lean down and kiss her lips. “I’ll get up with you later.”

“Yeah. Sure.” She grins. “I work nights the rest of the week.”

“Right.” Shelby spends most of her time answering phones at the emergency services dispatch office. I shrug my leather cut on and slick back my hair out of my face. “This weekend then.”

“All right. This weekend.” She blows me a kiss.

I pretend to catch it and shove it down in my pocket as I look for my cell phone and a lighter.

“On the dresser,” she tells me, knowing my habits better than I do.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“All right. I won’t.”

She flips me off and I nearly trip over my other boot. I’m so out of it I nearly forgot to put the damn thing on. I need to take a damn leak. Leaving her to laze about, I glance at the time on my phone. I’m going to be late.

Fuck it. I can’t stand my teeth feeling all scuzzy.

Rushing through the motions, I gargle some mouthwash as I drain my bladder and spit it into the toilet as I flush.

Shelby’s already fallen back asleep.

Wishing I could crawl back into bed and nestle my face between her thighs for breakfast, I head downstairs to church. I pass by the framed mugshots lining the stairwell walls up and down both sides getting a kick out of the latest addition from Slasher’s latest drunken weekend when he was locked up for disorderly conduct. Dumbass got to drinking and thinking about his ex and missing the daughter he’d helped raise for three years. Brother flipped when he found out she wasn’t his and broke things off. Now he has regrets because she moved in a new man.

He sobered and remembered why he broke things off to start.

Momma Tee waits for me at the foot of the stairs with a mug and a cigarette. Her purple hair teased out big. The bigger the hair, the closer to God is what she says when any of us give her shit about it. Woman is stuck in the damn 80s. Bet she’s had that same hairstyle since she was in the seventh grade.

“Thanks.” I kiss her cheek, accepting both.

“Don’t mention it.” The woman has been taking care of me as long as I can remember. When my mom split, the old man hired her to babysit me, which lead to her being at the clubhouse. She started out as one of the first club hangarounds after the patch over. A Muffler Bunny. As the years went by, her role here changed. Now she manages the bar and the other girls who all show up hoping to one day work their way up to being an Old Lady. “Is that Shelby in your room?” Her judgmental gaze narrows on me.

I grin, and she shakes her head.

“I’ll change the sheets,” she mutters under her breath. She’s never cared much for Shelby. Doesn’t see her as one of us. But I think it’s mostly the pregnancy scare that rocked us when we were in high school that pushed Momma Tee over the edge. In her eyes, Shelby was trying to trap me. Lock me down with the promise of a kid.

Wouldn’t have mattered if the kid was mine or not. No way in hell would I have put a ring on her finger. Still wouldn’t today.

Was never happier in my life when Shelby told me it was a false alarm. I like her well enough, but neither of us needs a kid. We aren’t together like that. She’s here for a good time, not a long time. The way I like it. We have one of those off and on, mostly off relationships.

Guess you could say we’ve been fuck buddies since tenth grade.

Now we’re well past that, but some shit changes while the rest stays the fucking same.

She doesn’t ask questions about who or what I do, and I offer her the same courtesy.

We’ve just recently switched back to on again.

I take a few sips of the coffee and hand it back to Momma Tee. Fuck knows how or why she puts up with all our bullshit. She’s always been a beautiful, voluptuous woman. Gorgeous smile. Nice curves. Respectfully. Neither of them would ever admit shit, but I know her and my father fuck around. Guess that’s why she’s never moved on from us or the club. I wouldn’t say she’s holding out for him to make an honest woman of her, but she’s not letting go of the idea either.

Isn’t any of my business, though. She seems happy enough with how things are.

“You’re the best.” I light up my smoke and drop my cell phone in the bin outside the doors where Goose waits for me.

Most of the guys are already inside. My Pops, aka War, sits at the head of the table, worry lines etched across his forehead. The words ‘Fuck You’ tatted across his knuckles are all you need to know about the man. He takes no shit and dishes it out, no questions asked. My old man is the type to shoot first without asking any questions. He’s one tough mother fucker you don’t want to mess with.

His dark eyes that match my own meet mine.

Shit . Nothing good ever comes from him wearing that grim expression.

Goose and I share a look as he drops his ass into the chair next to his father, Eightball. Got his name because he loves him some cocaine. Bastard’s nose has a constant drip. He’s had two surgeries to correct the shit he fucked up internally from all the blow he’s snorted. These days, his poison is the drink. Not that it’s much better. Now he’s destroying his liver.

Quiet murmurs pass around the table.

“Everyone accounted for?” Pops glances around the table, doing a headcount. “Where’s Hemlock?”

“With Lanora. Doctor’s appointment. Scans aren’t good,” Kevlar tells us.

Lanora is his mother. Skin cancer. All that fun in the sun has taken its toll.

“I’ll have Momma Tee reach out. See if there’s anything we can do and get some of the old ladies to bake or some shit.”

I laugh under my breath. My old man wouldn’t know the first thing about what the old ladies do. Been too damn long since he’s had a steady woman in his life. Bastard fucks anything that walks outside of when he hooks up with Momma Tee. Can’t say that the apple fell far from my tree, though considering my relationship with Shelby basically follows the same model.

“On to old business. We received our payment on that last shipment. Minus your dues, of course.” He nods to Poor Boy, who flashes us a smile as he hands out our pay day. “See that this gets to Con’s old lady.” My old man tosses an extra envelope my way. “For Heather or Hannah or whatever her name is. Dentist is giving her shit about removing her braces for nonpayment.” He shrugs.

Con is serving ten years for the club. Took the fall on a bust. Didn’t help his case that he assaulted two officers and tried to flee the scene. That scene didn’t go down in Deadman’s. If it had, he’d have gotten a slap on the wrist. We own this town and everyone in it. Local PD is on our payroll. No one fucks with the SOMC.

“Goose and I’ll ride by after church.” I stuff the envelope in my cut along with my own.

“While you’re at it, drop by Peg Leg Randy’s. He’s late.”

“I’ll come with,” Gotti volunteers.

“Good idea. His boys are likely to get scrappy.”

“They can try it.” Goose bumps his fist against mine.