Chapter 58
Chapter
Fifty-Eight
The club house is packed. And it’s huge. The place is dark when we step in, the music blaring. On one side of the room there’s a couple of pool tables set up along with old school pinball machines and a dart board on the wall. A really old Harley Davidson acts like a partition separating the fun zone with the tables and chairs. A jukebox is set up, and there’s speakers in between the rafters along with club flags, old cuts, and Fallen memorabilia.
It is undeniably King’s domain, I can see his influence, and the photos on the wall.
As soon as he walks in the room the conversation dries up. Although it’s not really a conversation it’s more interrogation, because the rows of chairs that face the bar, and the guys I just had dinner with, are full of women dressed in all different club gear.
A tremor of nerves makes me feel sick, but Tyson’s hand on my back and a squeeze of King’s hand soon alleviates that. Given the fact I just told my man to weapon up, I feel an itty-bit bad for what’s coming to the bitches that sold me out until the guilt I feel is burnt by the memory of what they did. They purposely crashed into my car with the intent of kidnapping me. Theypressed a rusty blade to my face and they humiliated me. What they did will haunt me as much as what Rex did.
My pack stays behind the crowd, but they’re armed just in case. King walks me past all the rows of seats, past his wall of muscle before he drops his hands to my waist and lifts me up to sit on a stool at the bar in front of everyone. The audible noise from nearly every person when he does, lets me know wherever I’m sitting is a big deal. I lift my eyebrow at him in question.
King leans down, his mouth trailing a line of fire up the side of my jaw to my ear where he spills, “No one’s ever put their ass on my seat, the whole time it’s been here. Besides Raney. But even when she’s visiting, killer, that is your seat from this moment on.”
I smirk just for him before I get my game face on. I let him tug the neck of his shirt down, knowing he won’t flash my tits at anyone but they will see his name on my chest. He starts stripping slowly, handing me his cut first, before he pulls off his t-shirt, picking up my hand so it falls on my name on his huge ass chest.
“So hot for an old man. I’ve never told you that,” I tease him quietly.
“Fuck me, Tristan, you just earned yourself a sore ass.” King barely finishes speaking and the shutters come down in his brown eyes as he becomes King, The Fallen MC President.
“Club sluts do three things when they walk in the doors of my house asking to join. They sign a fucking contract my lawyers approved, and let’s not forget I even set you a time with our lawyer so you don’t ever pull the ‘stupid card’ on me later. If you’re still keen, next you dance on the bar so we can all see your tits and ass before the doctor gives you the all clear. Fucking STIs are no joke.”
There’s a rumbling of movement and noise from everywhere but King ignores it as he walks until he’s standing front and centre of the rows of chairs. “And you learn that no means fucking no. It seems some of y’all need a fucking reminder. Club Slut is a title and a place… you are a slut in my club. Sluts take cock. Period. There ain’t any fancy dates or flowers, no plans for a future. You are literally a hole to fuck… but here’s the thing, you’re here cause you want to be. You want to ride Fallen cock.”
King stops talking when Steel starts walking from the back slowly towards him, which was part of the deal. Because while King knows all the Club Sluts at The Fallen, Steel’s seen most of the Death Riders’ women. He is deliberately slow in the way he looks at them and takes his time before turning his back on them and walking up to King to say a few words to him. His eyes are on mine though, and much like King is in work mode, Steel has a coldness to his grey eyes that sends a chill down my spine even though I know it’s an act.
“Shit,” King says, talking loudly so everyone in the club can hear. “Steel here just reminded me I didn’t even tell you what all this song and dance is about.”
Instead of coming to stand at the bar with me, Steel stands next to Joker making another point without opening his mouth. King has new people in the Club and they’re as important as his officers are. But he can also do what he wants without explaining to anyone what he’s doing.
“This is about punishment. You had your fucking chance of coming clean.”
King shrugs before he walks behind the bar. And I lock up in stress because this part brings way too many reminders with it, but I insisted it be done too. He draws the moment out, by reaching up to the top shelf and pouring me out a shot, sliding it and the bottle closer before he carries back the chair I was tied to and slams it to the ground in front of the women. The echo as it hits the floor matches the pounding of my heart.
Twisting around I snap back the shot of bourbon and pour another before I face the front again. My eyes jump down to Maverick and Tyson, their urge to come closer floods our pack bond but they won’t, unless I ask them to.
“Who’s sitting here first?” King asks, so much fucking Alpha menace in his voice that I have to start breathing with my mouth open.
There’s a stretch of silence, broken when Steel whistles, his eyes locked on one of the ladies. He flicks his head at her indicating she needs to move.
The woman shakes like we’re in the middle of an earthquake, her guilt makes her burst into tears.
“Now, are you Margaret or are you Mary?” King asks, his voice way too soft for the level of aggression in the room.
“Ma…Ma…Mary.” She stays in her seat.
“Ma…Ma…Mary, huh?” King taunts cruelly before flicking his hand to the seat in front of him. “Do you need a hand?”
She shakes her head but still doesn’t seem to have the ability to stand. Steel doesn’t wait for her to even try, closing the distance with frightening speed.
Joker follows behind Steel and the two of them literally pluck her off her seat, bringing her to the one in front of King. The President of The Fallen stays in front of her looking down at her, like he really does come from a line of royal nobility. He rubs his chin staring down at her before he looks at Joker, being a complete asshole. “Can’t say I remember her at fucking all. You?”
“Give me a second.” Joker’s tone is clipped, his mood frigid as he pulls her head back, shoving his fingers in her mouth. “Pretty sure I used this mouth a few times.”
And it is humiliating the way these two are feeding off each other but there is no way I’m jumping in to save this woman; she brought this on herself.
Joker continues jamming his fingers in her mouth and the only noise in the room is her gagging around them. He does it longer than necessary. This is a punishment but it is also a reminder. Once Joker is satisfied she’s regretting all her life choices he removes his fingers, wiping them dry on her face. “Ah, now I remember. Ma…Ma…Mary also goes by Ree Ree. Weirdest thing ever, I kicked her fucking out of our club because she had her hand in the till, stealing your money.”
King nods his head slowly, and then Steel stands next to him and kicks her legs wide to look up her skirt. He shudders before holding his hand to his mouth pretending to dry heave. “Sorry, King, but that is as offensive as it was the first time I saw this mutt flashing her gash at me from the back of the Death Riders’ President’s bike.”
This time it’s not just the women who make their shock known. There’s a rumbling of nervous energy as Steel outs himself as associated with the Death Riders. But King ignores them all, clapping him on the back. This time Steel comes over to me and puts his back to the room, dropping a hand on my leg before stealing my drink.
Yeah, there’s a dozen or so important things being shared in The Fallen clubhouse tonight; King’s got a queen, there’s new faces and those new faces are mine.
Steel rests his back on the bar and reaches out for my hand. Thankfully, because it’s about to get messy.
“Anything you want to say?” King asks her slowly. “Anyone you want to out? Anything before I send you on your way?”
Mary/Ree Ree shakes her head, but King scoops down low to look at her eyes, being as condescending as hell as he assesses her.
“See, I got it on good authority that there were two Club Sluts involved. Two skanks being shady as fuck behind my back, putting lives in danger, taking things that don’t belong to them. Hands out, Ma…Ma… Mary”
When she refuses to hold her hands out, King looks at me and I give him a small nod. He mouths off ‘I love you’ as he levels the gun he had tucked in his jeans and fires it without taking his eyes off me.
A couple of the women scream, a few start crying and Maverick starts clapping. Both King and I, along with half the crowd in the room look back at him.
“What? Dirty slut wronged my girl. Oh shit, you don’t think I’m clapping for her, do ya? Fuck that, I’m supporting your queen is all.” He stops and looks down at Mary, whose blood is now puddling under the seat she’s in, before he too comes to stand with Steel and me at the bar.
Much like Steel intentionally ratting himself out as an ex-Death Rider, Maverick is too, looking hot and seriously bloody lethal in a pair of training pants and a t-shirt that declares him winner of an MMA fight night not that long ago.
King shakes his head at Maverick, but he’s not pissed except then his mask slips back on again. For the last time hopefully for a while. He kicks Mary’s arms out before prodding her hands with his feet, looking for his ring.
“All right, boys if you don’t mind,” he flicks his head and two of the guys from dinner come over and drag Mary by the feet and out the door.
Yes, it is gratuitous and unnecessary demoralising, but I don’t think it is unwarranted. Once the two of them make a big song and dance dragging Mary’s body out of sight, King turns and faces the women still sitting.
“Momma Cass, anything?”
A woman jumps instantly to her feet. She’s fit but the heavy make-up isn’t thick enough to hide her age. “Only thing I know, King, is that Marnie’s always had it bad for you.”
Joker mutters under his breath, his eyes up at the ceiling before he shakes his head. “Fuckin’ serious? That sloppy bitch? Where is she, Cass?”
“Not sure. Apparently Joker approved a transfer for her to come stay with the Northern boys for a bit. She was due to arrive but never showed. The boys down there haven’t told me they’ve seen her either but…”
“We’re looking for Margaret,” King says, his back to being quiet in his anger. “Guess it ain’t a stretch if she’s a lying cunt. Boys, let all our associates know we’re on the lookout for our old barmaid. Send photos since she clearly uses a few names. I want her brought to me. And I want to know her connection to Ma…Ma…Mary.” King’s pissed off. “Right, anyone else got fucking anything to say, cause now is the fucking time.”
None of the women make a noise, they barely move at all. He takes his time to look at each one of them, before he looks further into the crowd. “What about your pricks? Anyone got news I need to know about?” He’s greeted by stony silence. “Anyone need a run down on the rules of my fucking club again?” he bellows. His voice is packing a punch, but it’s made that much worse because he drops the shields around his Alpha and the aggression that explodes out has men stumbling and women whimpering.
I hop off my seat, filling a shot for my Alpha before sashaying my way to him in skyscraper heels that make my hips flow from side to side. I can feel the press of his designation like a thick heavy presence cautioning the world, but it glides over my skin in a soft caress. “Hey, baby.” I bury my hand in his pocket to help stop the shakes before I take the shot for him, pulling him down for him to take it from my mouth. The difference in our size doesn’t matter when he picks me up and I wrap my legs around him, so I’m taller than he is.
“Fuck me, killer, you trying to kill me?” He chuckles against my lips once he swallows, before putting me back to my feet. King keeps his hand in mine, showcasing our matching finger tattoos to the room. “Next time someone tries to dethrone my queen, I will do more than kill a bitch. We clear?”
The wave of voices agreeing or pledging or whatever it is that bikies do is so loud I nearly have to cover my ears.