Nashville (Blackhawk Disciples MC #2)

Chapter One

Nashville

Usually, when my phone rings, I’m quick to answer. It’s never a social call, it’s always work. Damn, I’m fucked, I can barely open my eyes, and where the fuck am I anyway? I peek open one eye and recognize my surroundings.

At least I’m in my own bed, and one glance behind me tells me I’m alone. So why do I feel like I’ve been clocked on the head instead of sleeping.

The phone stops ringing, giving me time to groan, wipe my eyes and stretch out like a starfish.

There is nothing like a good back crack when you wake up, even my toes pop. Rolling over, I pick up the phone and check the display, squinting again. With one tap on the base, the lamp comes on, it’s on the lowest setting so I don’t burn my retinas.

Last time I checked, it was Tuesday. Today is Thursday. Well, fuck me, I actually did sleep for two days. It’s a miracle no one bothered me. Technically, I haven’t slept the whole time, a man’s gotta eat. But I do need a shower.

It’s been a hell of a few weeks. And the problems the club is facing aren’t fixed yet, so nothing is going to let up.

The call was from Rebel, my VP at the Blackhawk Disciples MC.

As an officer, I’m expected to be available at any time.

Luckily, checking the call log, I’ve not missed any other calls.

Rolling onto my back and fussing with the pillow to get comfortable, I hit redial and try to sneak the yawn out before he picks up.

Rebel is a good guy, we get on, but he is super serious. Guess he has to be holding the role he does. Sometimes he’s more of a hard ass than Nero, our president, and that guy is really something when he’s out for blood.

After what happened with his son, who none of us knew existed till this week, and his new woman, he’s shown a different side to himself.

Most of the officers at the club are good guys, given what we do. Occasionally there are some arguments, but we always have each other’s backs. Then there is Stryker, our Reaper, the man who deals with the really fucked up shit no one else wants to.

We were at his farm outside of the city just a few nights ago, getting information from one of the assholes who attacked Nero’s house.

I’m just glad I left before the body was thrown to the pigs.

I’m not as squeamish about it as Nero or some of the other guys, but I did watch them once.

They don’t even care they’re eating clothes.

Enough of that shit.

“Need you at the clubhouse.”

No preamble from Rebel as normal. “What’s up?”

“The other issue Nero had us on, it’s time.”

“Give me fifteen.”

Rebel hangs up. Fifteen minutes to shower, grab a pop tart and get to the clubhouse. Doable. Maybe. It actually takes twenty-five, but I’m only the fourth person to arrive, so I feel somewhat vindicated. At least I smell fresh as a daisy, even if my stomach is empty.

“This is that college kid?” Beast asks.

He’s sitting at the table already, drinking a cup of coffee. Bastard. He’s a big dude and he’s been here a long time, but only became the Tail Gunner when Nero took over.

Some might say it's not one of the sexiest roles to have in an MC, but the tail gunner is really fucking important on runs. Anyone comes up behind you, trying to ambush or sneak attack, Beast is the first line of defense for the whole crew.

I sit next to him and lean over a little to sniff his coffee. He elbows me.

“Pots full over there, asshole.”

He scowls at my grin. I go over to grab some and raise the pot at Blaze when he comes in. He nods, and I make him one too. He’s the club secretary/treasurer, but also the guy who knows how to do all the technical stuff we use these days.

Like finding this college kid.

In all the hubbub with Storm, the ex-member who is causing us shit, dealing with this kid has been put on the back burner. Nero will never forget it. The dipshit attacked Taylor, Nero’s woman. The stupid son of a bitch has been marked and doesn’t know it yet.

We protect our own, and sometimes what we do is just mild retaliation, or a warning. Putting hands on a woman, especially the President’s woman, well that is a fucked up offense.

The other man in the room is Fury, our enforcer, no need to explain his job. He beats the shit out of people. Although no one does that quite like Stryker who is nowhere to be seen.

“Sit down,” Rebel says.

Razer, Nero and Stryker aren’t here. We do as he says, Rebel standing at the head of the table. He won’t take the chair, that is Nero’s. His is to the right, but for whatever reason, he wants to stand today.

Shit, none of this is important. I do like to watch people though.

Studying folk is a pastime I’ve had since childhood.

My role here, sergeant-at-arms, means I’m in charge of dealing with any issues inside the club, if any brothers get out of line, anything I need to keep an eye on.

Also, to make sure Nero is protected at all times.

That is kind of hard when he’s avoiding me. Well, not avoiding me. He’s spending time with his family after their ordeal. Would have thought he’d be here for this.

“You all know what this is about. Only two of the bastards got held over and charged with the attacks. The other three got off because of their rich parents, but they did what we wanted. They’re pissed at Morris and think he turned them in. That little fucker has been hiding. Blaze.”

We turn to him when he starts to talk about where Morris has been hiding out. Some fancy second home down in Severna Park.

Beast whistles. He’s right too. That’s an expensive neighborhood, with houses worth upward of five million. And not exactly easy for a group of guys on motorcycles to roll up on.

It has heavy security around it, given Morris is the son of a judge.

“Any way to lure him back?” I ask.

Blaze shakes his head. “This isn’t a beatdown.

Nero wants it to look like he’s disappeared on his own to avoid his partners going after him.

There are a lot of messages between the three assholes who got off.

They’re morons,” he shakes his head. “It’s a fucking miracle they managed to go undetected so long. ”

“They weren’t expecting us,” Fury smirks at Blaze.

These animals have been using motorcycles to rob unsuspecting pedestrians.

Last few weeks, it has escalated from snatching phones and bags as they drive by, to attacking people.

I’ve seen the video of what they did to Taylor.

No woman should be punched in the face three times and knocked to the ground over a goddamn phone and purse.

The police hadn’t been able to track them down, but Blaze knew who they were a couple of hours after Nero asked him to find the fuckers. It surprised me they went down the arrest route. Until it was explained they were setting Morris up by leaving him out of it.

Our contact at the Baltimore PD slipped the others some hints that they were turned in by one of their crew…

And of course, that would be the only one who wasn’t brought in for questioning, or subsequently charged. His friends will believe his judge father pulled strings to keep him safe.

The rest is history. Another reason to admire the way Nero’s mind works. This kid is a big deal, him disappearing for no good reason would have caused a shitstorm in the press.

We’re setting up his so-called friends. No one is gonna come looking for us.

“So, field trip?” I finish off my coffee.

“Ronin and Ratchet are up there keeping an eye on him.”

“We’re gonna let them grab him?” I ask somewhat disappointed.

“No, you dumb fucker,” Rebel smirks.

He doesn’t mean it, so I wink, and he looks away with a heavy sigh.

“Nero wants this far away from us. He’s not going to the farm.”

That’s news to all of us. The pig farm does a good job of making anyone disappear, so why would we take him somewhere else?

“It’s what Nero wants.”

Who are we to argue with that? Rebel tells us we’ll be driving up close to Severna Park tomorrow night, we’ll be keeping a low profile. Which means cages instead of our bikes. That doesn’t bother me the way it does some of the other guys in the club. I like driving a car now and then.

We break up the meeting, and I go in search of food. The bar next door serves after midday, so I head through there. Raven is behind the bar on her phone, she smiles when I come in, then frowns when I let myself behind the bar and walk over.

She covers the end of the phone. “What?”

“I’m hungry.”

“What do you want me to do about it?”

“Is Curly in yet?”

“No, stay out of my kitchen.”

My grin stretches and she tries to grab me, but I hop out of reach and go through the door to the little kitchen. They don’t serve big meals, just easy food. I help myself and make a giant sandwich then walk back through and sit at a booth in the corner.

Raven glares, but I smile back until she shakes her head and focuses on her phone call.

She loves me really. A couple of the local community college students come in and sit a few tables away.

They keep sneaking glances at me. Most likely because of the cut, but I like to think my mug is handsome enough to draw attention.

I’m not in the habit of flirting with girls that young though, so I finish up, then head to the kitchen to wash the dishes.

They’re still looking when I come back out, so I throw them a wink and disappear into the back.

There is a short hallway through to the clubhouse that only the officers have the code for.

Until we head down to Severna Park tomorrow, there isn’t much for me to do. Beast is just leaving, so I catch up and ask where he’s headed.

“Elegance. There’s an issue with one of the dancers.”

“Sounds like you need a hand.”

“Why are you suddenly so interested in hanging out at the strip club?”

“I wouldn’t say I’ve been hanging out.” I pull a bemused face at him. “I’m just bored.”

“No blow jobs.”

“Honey, I don’t think you can handle me.”

I get a punch in the gut for that, but laugh as he gets on his bike and rides off. I really am at a loss, and I know he doesn’t mean to be a grump, so I get on my bike and catch up to him. He eyes me but says nothing.

When we arrive, I’m pretty sure he’s glad I came along. Ellie is screaming at one of the other dancers, and three more are standing back watching. It’s not like Ellie to get this angry, so it must be serious.

“You wanted to come with,” Beast looks at me.

I hold up my hands. “Strip club is your business.”

“Fucker.”

“Oh, shit,” I point and laugh.

The woman with the dark hair just tried to sneak attack Ellie with her bright red claw nails, but she bats her away and slaps her face so hard she spins around, loses her balance, and falls on her ass.

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

While I watch him go into the fray, more of the girls come from the back. One of them is the new waitress. She’s dressed in civilian clothes this time and is wide-eyed at the fight. Not in a scared way, more like she can’t believe how stupid they’re being.

She has the kind of face that is hard to look at, but difficult to look away from too. Her figure is slim but stacked, like a pin-up girl.

Damn, another woman who is close to Ellie has jumped in and grabbed the downed woman’s hair.

This shit isn’t normal, Beast only hires the best here, and scrapping isn’t something he has had to worry about before.

Maybe it isn’t so funny because this isn’t your standard bitch fight, this is claws, feet and punches.

I wade in to help, and he gives me a grateful look.

“Bet you're glad I came now.”

“Shut up, dickhead, just get her out of here.”

“Why do I have to take the hellcat?”

“What’s wrong, you can’t handle it?”

For a second, I study how to go about it, getting in between all the flailing limbs and hair pulling.

Then a loud crash startles everyone. Including Beast. He’s on his feet in seconds, his hand going for the holster under his cut. All the women stop, and I step around them, ready to take on whatever just walked in while we were occupied.

Well, shit.

It’s the cute little waitress. I mean, it did the job.

She just smashed a three hundred dollar bottle of champagne on the floor.