Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
Eazy
Frost clings to the bar’s windows as snow begins to fall, covering the streets of our small town, Ember Falls. Inside the dimly lit bar, the soft glow of string lights strung across the wooden beams of the ceiling mingles with the warm radiance emanating from the lamps suspended above the pool tables. The bar is packed with patrons’ rowdy chatter, glasses clinking, and the faint melody of country rock music playing in the background. I watch my club members mingle with the locals, with women draped over their laps as they share drinks and shoot the shit.
It wasn’t always like this—laid-back and easygoing for the club. We’ve been through our fair share of danger, always looking over our shoulders for enemies and the law. My dad, the previous president, led the club through years of illegal activities before deciding to slowly cut ties with the old ways and lead the Devil’s Punishers toward legitimate opportunities. It’s how the bar came to be. Brewer’s makes suitable legal money, as does Rooster, our road captain’s mechanic shop, and the town’s only tattoo parlor run by Poet, our sargeant at arms. All the businesses are used to generate income for the club. The best part is not having the law breathing down our necks all the damn time.
The club is known for being brutal and ruthless, but my old man knew we could do more. We could be better. We still deal with unsavory situations and, from time to time, partake in morally questionable activities when necessary. Still, it is a far cry from how far the club has come.
I sit alone on a couch at the back of the bar, the smooth leather pressing against my back as I sip my drink, observing. Smoke hangs heavy in the air, thick with the smell of cigarettes and cheap whiskey, adding to the gritty atmosphere. On the inside, Brewer’s is a typical biker hangout adorned with dark wooden walls covered in patches, old motorcycle parts and memorabilia, worn leather couches, and pool tables.
I run a calloused hand through my hair, the ink on my arm catching the dim light. I look down at the tattoo of the Wolf I had done in memory of my dad because Wolf was his road name. I smile, thinking about my old man. He was a loud-mouthed hardcore ballbuster who loved his family and club. He took shit from no one and protected his own, and I wouldn’t have had it any other way.
Where my old man was loud and robust, I am the complete opposite. My dad gave me the road name Eazy because of my calm demeanor. He used to say nothing could shake me, and that reserved level-headedness, along with my fierce loyalty and love for family and the club, would make me a great man and president someday.
For as long as I can remember, the club has been a fixture in the small mountain town of Ember Falls, Montana, protecting it from outside threats and keeping the peace within. Better yet, the people accept us as we are.
I look around at the other club members, filled with pride. These men are my family, my brothers. We may have rough edges and wild ways, but we always have each other’s backs.
I take another sip of my drink, the whiskey burn warming me from the inside out.
On the other side of the bar, a group of women gathers. I glance at the clock on the wall, watching as the hands tick closer to nine p.m., knowing Poet will soon take the stage for his last set of the night. My brother has a shit ton of talent but no desire to make it big. He prefers the club life and playing for the small crowds here at Brewer’s.
Poet approaches the small table off to the side of me, his guitar in hand. “Prez.” He props it against the wall, spins the chair, and straddles the seat.
I can’t help but smirk as a group of barely dressed women approach him, giggling and batting their eyelashes. They are here to see him perform, gushing over him like teenage girls at a boy band concert.
Poet accepts the attention with a confident grin. “Ladies.”
“Um… could I have your autograph?” the long-haired blonde woman in the bunch fawns.
“Sure thing.” He takes the Sharpie from her. “Where you want it, sugar?”
The woman spins around, lifting her skirt, revealing her bare ass. “You mind?” the woman’s eyes sparkle.
“My pleasure, sugar.” Poet scribes his name on her skin and then gives her ass cheek a playful slap. “Now, you and your friends go over to the bar and tell Brewer there, the big guy with the beard, your drinks are on me.”
The women giggle among themselves and walk away.
Rooster strolls past the women on his way to us after watching the scene unfold. “You plan on sharing any of that attention with the rest of us, or are you going to hog it all for yourself?” he jests.
I chuckle at my brother’s comment, knowing Poet doesn’t share his women.
Brewer looks across the room at us from behind the bar, getting confirmation about the drinks. Poet nods, letting him know he has the women’s drinks covered. The women turn, continuing to eye fuck my brother.
“You know, you could learn a thing or two from me when it comes to handling the ladies,” Rooster says, his eyes twinkling mischievously as he leans against the wall, drinking a beer.
“The only thing bigger than your reputation is your ego, brother,” Poet banters.
Rooster chuckles. “That’s where you are wrong, brother.” He looks out across the crowded room. “My cock is bigger.”
My eyes fall on Charlie, one of our servers, as she approaches the table with a glass of beer. On the way, a patron reaches out and slaps her ass, causing Charlie to stop in her tracks. Charlie is a beautiful woman with curves in all the right places, fiery red hair, and a temper to match. I wait a beat, knowing Charlie can handle the situation herself.
“Oh, shit.” Poet turns his chair for a better view.
Charlie flashes the man a sweet, seductive smile and shouts above the noise-filled room. “Can I help you?” She remains calm and polite.
The man stands, dragging his drunken gaze up and down her body while licking his lips. “It’s my birthday. How about you give me a present, sweet thang.”
Charlie steps in close, her tits pressing against the man’s chest. I see the lustful anticipation in the man’s eyes and know it’s about to be extinguished. Charlie drives her knee into his groin so hard the man is guaranteed to choke on his nuts. His face twists in pain, and he stumbles backward, coughing, then falls to the floor.
Charlie peers down at the unfortunate asshole. “Happy fuckin’ birthday.” She blows the bastard a kiss, then walks away.
The club’s enforcer locks eyes with me a few feet away, and I nod. Grabbing the poor motherfucker by the scruff of his neck, my brother escorts him outside.
With an extra sway in her hips, Charlie continues her approach. “Damn, that felt good.” She smirks, then sits Poet’s beer on the table before him.
“Remind me never to piss you off, darlin’.” Poet lifts his beer. “Thanks.” He downs half of Brewer’s finest draft we offer.
More people are filtering into the bar, and it hasn’t gone unnoticed that Shelly, the new girl we hired last week, is nowhere to be seen. I look at Charlie. “Where the fuck is Shelly?”
“Not here and not in Ember Falls.” Charlie starts clearing empty bottles from a nearby table. “From what Dave told Lisa, who told me, she has done up and left that piece of shit man of hers for a tall, dark-haired trucker who was passing through town.”
I shake my head. Living in a small town means you can bank on gossip spreading like wildfire, and secrets are hard to keep. Somewhere, someone is always watching.
It’s a good thing we never take the HELP WANTED sign down, not that it does us any good tonight.
As my attention shifts across the room, I notice a woman entering the bar. Her long, dark hair cascades down her back in waves, framing her face. Her gaze nervously surveys the room. I can’t tear my eyes away as she checks around, a slight frown on her face before momentarily, her eyes lock onto mine, sucking all the air out of the room and sending an unexpected shiver down my spine. The spell is broken the moment her gaze shifts toward the bar. What the fuck was that?
I watch as she makes her way to the bar. She leans against the counter and grabs Brewer’s attention. He leans close to her—too close for my liking—and smiles. I don’t like it.
I watch intently as Brewer points in my direction. She turns her head, and our eyes meet again. As she makes her way toward me, I can’t help but notice the way she fidgets and looks nervous, as if unsure of herself and her surroundings.
She hesitantly stops and stands before me, her eyes reflecting uncertainty. “I, um... spotted the HELP WANTED sign outside,” she murmurs softly. “The gentleman at the bar referred me to you.” Her gaze unwaveringly stays fixed on me.
Rooster chuckles. “Brewer, a gentleman?” He shakes his head and pushes off the wall. “Gotta drain the lizard.” He disappears down the nearby hallway.
I eye the hazel-eyed beauty. “How old are you, sweetheart? Can’t be hirin’ or entertainin’ no minors in this establishment.”
She holds my gaze with determination. “Old enough to walk in here and ask for a job.” Her bold yet nervous response further ignites my curiosity.
“Do you have any experience?”
“I’m a quick learner,” she promptly replies.
“What’s your name, sweetheart?” I inquire.
“Noelle,” she says with a little twang.
Noelle.
“Where are you from, Noelle?” I strain to place her accent.
“Texas.”
“You’re a long way from home, sugar,” Poet adds as he stands with his guitar. “If it were up to me, I’d hire ya. We could use another pretty face around here.” He winks at Noelle, and it makes me want to put my size thirteen boot up his ass. And to make matters worse, Poet notices my slight irritation, which never happens, before he strolls off toward the stage, smirking.
“Come on, Eazy. I could use the help,” Charlie pleads as the band starts to play and the crowd grows louder. “ Please ,” she begs, drawing out the word.
I nod and lean back in my chair, studying Noelle carefully. I know nothing about this woman besides her name and where she is from, but I can see desperation in her eyes. “Can you start tonight?”
“Yes,” she says eagerly.
“We will discuss permanent employment tomorrow if you make it through the night. Charlie here…” I wave her forward, “… will show you the ropes.”
Charlie hands our new girl the cluster of empty beer bottles she had in her hands. “Don’t worry. You’ve got this. Oh, and fair warning… sometimes these men can get a little grabby, and if that happens, you just?—”
“You tell me,” I let out a possessive growl.