Room One Hundred and Four: Shock and Awe

CHAPTER 1

As I look around the room, pride fills me. This is my home, my family, and being surrounded by my brothers is where I belong. I grew up with the Devil’s Saints MC as my family for my entire life. That’s what happens when your father is the Prez, and you grow up with uncles who have motor oil and chrome flowing through their veins.

I wouldn’t have it any other way.

From a young age, I fell in love with bikes. The sound of them. The feel of them whenever Dad, or Purgatory as he was known as by his brothers, took me for a ride. The power underneath me when I earned enough for my first one. The time I was able to spend with Dad and my uncles pouring over fixing and understanding how the bike works.

Learning how to be a boy and then a man surrounded by leather, stoic faces, and gray areas of legality wasn’t always easy, but it was the only life I was given. I’ve made the most of it and I don’t apologize for the way I live my life.

Why would I?

If someone is going to judge me, they can fucking get in line.

I know who my brothers are. I know what my purpose is in this life. I feel the weight of leading my brothers, of the trust they put in me, on my shoulders.

I’ve felt it there since the moment I got patched in because I knew that one day I would hold the gavel in my hand and have the Prez patch on my cut. There was no other option in my mind, and I looked forward to it.

There were times when I had to prove myself and my loyalty because nothing less would be acceptable to my brothers. I was more than okay with it and up for the task.

My willingness to be on the front lines of anything the club had going on while I was coming up through the ranks to sit as the right hand of Purgatory gave me quite the reputation. I had no problem being ruthless and bloodthirsty. My best friends, Crucify and Rites, were right there with me.

We earned our positions in blood and violence, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. Ten years ago, the path of the club took a slight turn when one of our Prospects, who is now our brother Monk, found his sister had gone missing.

Even though we found her and shut down the trafficking ring she was pulled into, the trauma ended up being too much for her. Do I wish it had ended differently, especially after seeing the way it impacted Monk? You better fucking believe it, but it also ignited a fire within me and the rest of the club.

We’ve spent the last ten years working against those who want to use women and children. It’s caused us to see some horrific things and be exposed to some of the worst people this world has to offer.

But it’s also allowed us to see the resilience of humans and the way they can fight against trauma and degradation. It never happens overnight, and none of us expect it to, but we’re stronger men and more compassionate people because of what we’ve seen in the last ten years.

When I feel manicured fingernails against my arm, I look over to find Tiff and Brianna, two club angels, standing next to me at the bar with big grins on their faces. They’re beautiful women, not gonna lie about that shit, and I’ve had fun with them in the past.

I won’t ever fucking apologize for having a little fun and blowing off some steam. Why would I? I deserve that shit for leading the fucking degenerates I lead and love. It’s not an easy job and the hard decisions are always on my shoulders. Just because I wouldn’t change it doesn’t make it easy.

“Ladies,” I greet them before grabbing my glass of Hammond whiskey and draining the last of it. When I set it back on the bar, our newest Prospect, Huxton, is right here and pouring me another drink. I give him a chin lift before giving the angels my attention again. “Up to no good tonight?”

Tiff giggles and winks while Brianna shoots me a smile that she probably thinks is saucy or sexy. It’s really not, but I don’t need the angels to flirt with me. When I’m interested, I make it known, we get down to business, and then they walk away.

There’s nothing more to it and I don’t want there to be.

More than a few of my brothers have found their old ladies in the last year around here. I’m more than happy for my brothers, but I can’t imagine the right woman coming into my life like they’ve experienced. Being the Prez’s old lady is a whole other level.

Hell, I have no fucking idea how Purgatory was able to keep my mom happy for all the years they’ve been together. Mom is the strongest woman I’ve ever met, and she stood by her man and the club through so much shit. I don’t think there’s another woman out there who could do the same as she did.

Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe there is someone out here for me, but I doubt it.

I’ve seen my brothers who have found their women find even more of a purpose in their lives and I’m damn happy for them. I don’t need more of a purpose, nor do I need someone in my life who could become a liability because being involved with me would put a target on their back. No, that wouldn’t be a good idea at all.

“We just wanted to wish you a happy birthday, Prez,” Tiff practically fucking purrs.

Brianna’s smile grows as she pushes in closer to my side. “And we wanted to make sure you know we’re here for a little birthday fun later,” she coos. “We could show you a good time.”

My eyebrow arches and I take a moment to look over both women. It wouldn’t necessarily be the first time I fuck two women at the same time and both angels are dressed to fucking impress and entice. I should be taking them up on the offer, but there’s something about the idea of taking them up to my suite that leaves me feeling cold.

Huh.

That’s a new fucking feeling. I’m not sure I like it very much.

Maybe I just need to get a few more drinks in me and it’ll go away.

Still, I find myself forcing the words past my lips, “Both of you?”

“Of course,” Tiff twirls her hair like she’s a fucking schoolgirl even though she’s far from it, “Spark. We have to keep our Prez happy.”

I know I should, but I don’t bother correcting her about me not being the angel’s Prez. Not really. I lead my brothers and while the angels are an important extension of the club, none of them will ever wear a cut.

While I’ve heard about one of the angels out of the New Orlean’s chapter being claimed as an old lady, that shit doesn’t normally happen. And we all know why—there’s something disingenuous about claiming a woman who has had all your brother’s dicks in at least one of her holes.

From what I’ve heard the old lady in NOLA is a different story. She had exclusively been with three Prospects and was more like a sister to the rest of the brothers. They all claimed her the moment they all had their cuts.

But she had already run off. When they tracked her down, she was very fucking pregnant. They took her back home from the small town that they found her, claimed her, and she gave birth to their little girl not long ago. I’m not one to judge someone, but I’m not sure if I’d be down to share my woman with anyone like that.

Not fucking long term.

That’s not the same thing as spit roasting an angel. Ya know?

My dick isn’t taking much notice in the women in front of me, but that doesn’t mean I won’t be down later. There’s no reason to turn down the offer without a second thought. Not yet at least.

“That’s quite the offer, ladies. I might just have to take you up on it.” I flash them a smirk and they light up like fireworks.

Internally I roll my eyes at their reaction. Since everything went down with Heather and her men, the angels have this renewed notion that they might end up wearing a property patch and cut one day. I don’t see that shit happening anytime soon in this chapter. Honestly, not in any of the chapters.

That was an anomaly.

“We’ll be waiting for you,” Brianna leans toward me, putting her tits, which are barely covered by the top she’s wearing, right in my line of sight.

Do I glance at them? You bet your fucking ass I do. She does have a great pair of tits and I’ve always been a boob man.

Don’t get me wrong, I like a nice juicy ass on a woman as well, but there’s something about burying my head between some breasts or watching them jiggle as a woman rides me.

That shit is hot, and no one can tell me otherwise. Too bad my cock doesn’t even twitch at what she’s offering.

Before I can say anything else to Brianna or cop a feel of what she’s clearing offering—she wouldn’t mind if I did it in the middle of the clubhouse at all—Rites and Crucify saunter up to me at the bar. I glance their way while grabbing my glass and taking a sip.

“Prez,” Crucify’s voice has an edge of excitement in it that I haven’t heard in a long fucking time from him. He’s been off for a while, and I’ve suspected it’s because his sister up and left Seattle without any fucking warning to be married to some guy she barely fucking knew in the mountains. I’m a little bit afraid that his moodiness runs a lot deeper than Lake running off.

When Crucify found out where she was and that she was getting married, he immediately went after her. I thought for sure he would come back to Seattle with his sister, but he was alone.

Of course, I asked him about it, and he told me, “She’s happy.” He ran a hand over his face. “Gannon’s a good man and will look after her. I don’t know how it’s possible, but she left and found right where she’s supposed to be. Can’t fault her for that,” his words rung true, but there was a wistful quality in his voice that had me on edge and worried.

I’m still on edge and worried months later.

But tonight he seems to be in better spirits, and I almost breathe a sigh of relief because of it. I’ve been missing my best friend. I knew I couldn’t force him to stop being listless and to focus on the club. It wouldn’t have fucking worked.

The angels step away from me and the bar, their heads bent together like they’re making plans as they giggle. It makes my hackles raise slightly, but hopefully they’re just talking about how they’re going to show me a good time for my birthday later.

If they’re plotting anything more than that, I’ll find out about it eventually. If it’s anything that puts the club in danger, I won’t hesitate to take care of the threat. I don’t give a single fuck if I’ve dipped my cock in them or not.

The club comes first. Always has, always fucking will.

“We’ve got a surprise for you,” Rites tells me with a small smile.

“A fucking surprise,” I groan. “You know I don’t like surprises.”

And I don’t. Not when club business and life can blindside you and give you surprises every fucking day. Those surprises fall on my shoulders, and I have to be the one to take on the burden without complaint, without even fucking blinking.

I like knowing what is about to happen. I like solid plans. I like looking forward and being able to anticipate problems.

Crucify smirks, “Come on, Prez. This is a good surprise,” his words become weighted, “a birthday surprise.”

“Fuck,” I growl, “fine.”

I slam my glass down on the bar and Huxton is quick to fill it up before my brothers lead me to the other side of the large common room. I notice that the stage, which isn’t used often and usually has a few tables set up on it, has been cleared and there are rows of chairs in front of it.

How the fuck did I not notice this earlier? I wasn’t all that engrossed by Brianna’s tits.

Fuck, maybe I’m losing my touch.

I sit down in the middle of the front row with my Rites and Crucify sitting on either side of me. The stage is right next to the hallway that leads toward my office along with a few other rooms before it takes you to where the brothers all have rooms. On the opposite side of the building are the angel’s rooms.

The rest of my brothers are rowdy as fuck as the file into the seats surrounding me and I hear bits of their conversations asking about what’s going on. I guess this isn’t just a surprise for me.

I hope like hell they haven’t talked one of the angels into stripping for us. That could happen any night of the week and would not be a surprise at all.

When the lights dim, I see a figure slip out of the hallway and onto the stage, but it’s hard to make out anything more than the curves of a woman’s body. As she sets some things down around the stage, my breath catches, and I have no idea why.

The stage is set up for entertainment and we’ve had a few live bands play for parties over the years. It has its own lighting rig and as a dark orange light bathes the stage, I get my first glimpse at the woman standing there with a cape covering her while clinging to her body.

A feeling buzzes along my skin, one I’m not at all ready to acknowledge. And I don’t know if I ever will, but that doesn’t mean I can look away from the siren on stage as the music starts to pump through the speakers and she starts to move.

I’m completely entranced by her, barely even noticing when someone sits on my lap. Why would I care anyway? The angels will never hold a candle to the woman on stage before me. There’s not a woman on earth who could hold my attention. Not anymore.

Who is she? How can I get my hands on her? Will she even want a rough biker like me?

Does my life have room in it for her? Or will I have to stay away for her own protection?

The last thought feels like a spike through my heart, probably because that’s the reality I’m going to be facing now. The DSMC is no place for a woman like her and I can’t change who I am.