3. NYX
IT HAD BEEN shitty of me to talk to Giulia like that, especially when, later on that night, I found out from her brothers that they’d been traveling from Utah, hadn’t stopped much on the journey, and that their mother had only just died a few weeks ago.
I felt like a cunt. But then, I usually felt that way.
No change there.
But I felt even worse than usual about it when I woke up the next morning.
Staring at the ceiling, I thought about the way her eyes had darkened at my gruffness, thought about the fact I might have hurt her feelings, and wondered why I gave a fuck.
I’d granted more a ‘buck 50’ smiles than I could count on two hands, and lynched monsters without blinking, but putting a woman down when her momma had just died somehow felt like my biggest sin.
Especially when I’d compounded it by ignoring her as I’d walked the trio over to the bunks. Though she’d tried to ask if I was okay—me? Okay? I wasn’t okay. I was the exact opposite of okay. But she’d tried to be nice, and I’d blatantly ignored her, mostly because the sight of her reminded me of a time I really wanted to forget. I’d had the biggest crush on her mom, and sometimes, that crush had been the only thing that got me through the fucking days.
Cammie moaned at my side, reminding me she was there. I’d fucked her hard last night, hard enough to make her scream—not necessarily in a good way. She’d come though, clenching down on my cock like she was a vise… which diminished some of the guilt I felt on that score. What was left wasn’t enough to stop me from shoving her arm away and muttering, “Go back to bed.”
She mumbled, “In bed already.”
“Wrong bed,” I retorted. When she started to close her eyes so she could fall back asleep, I shook her harder. “Cammie, fuck off back to your own bed.”
She squinted at me, then pouted. “Don’t be mean, Nyx. I can make you feel good later,” she whispered, more sleepily than sexily.
“I don’t want to feel good later,” I told her dryly, then I smoothed over my harshness by tapping her on the ass and saying, “Go on, get.”
With a huff, she rolled off the bed, grabbed her shit together, and barely took a moment to slip into her shoes—couldn’t blame her, only a fool would walk about this place barefoot—and limped off toward the door.
Without a backwards glance, she disappeared into the hallway buck naked and shameless. But then, why would she feel ashamed? She wouldn’t be the only clubwhore wandering the halls at this time of the morning.
Rubbing a hand over my face, I yawned and stared at the clock. Rex was a sicko. He liked to be up and about before eleven—didn’t matter if we’d been partying hard the night before or not. And because I was on the council, that meant I had to be up too.
In fact, I was so fucking used to his dipshit ways that my own circadian rhythms knew to be awake at this time—it was ten-forty.
Grunting as I rolled into a sitting position, I scrubbed a hand over my hair as I scanned my room. A lot of my brothers were pigs, but not me. Everything in here was spotless, except for the clothes I’d tossed on the floor last night and the wet condoms that hadn’t hit the trashcan.
If anything, that was what had me shuffling off the bed. I tied knots into them before shoving them in the trash, and yeah, I knew it was weird, but I grabbed the packet of disinfectant wet wipes I stored in my bedside table for just this occasion, and bent over to clean that mess up.
The rest of the house might gleam under a black light, but not this fucking room. I was too accustomed to keeping shit clean after a kill to let my DNA out on the loose.
Making a mental note to get Cammie to change my sheets later on, I headed for the bathroom. After I took a piss, I shaved, then dove into the shower. I hadn’t shaved in at least five days, and I didn’t even want to think about why shaving was suddenly imperative.
Ten minutes later, I was just in time to make it to Rex’s office. His was the biggest in the place, and it had a conference table in there. It was where we held council meetings. Church, on the other hand, went down in the bar.
Around a yawn, I headed for his desk where a large tray had been placed. There was coffee, Ibuprofen and aspirin, a few cinnamon buns, and some bottles of water.
Ignoring some of my brothers who were already at the table, I grabbed a coffee, some aspirin, and a bottle of water, but stared at the cinnamon buns with definite surprise. They not only looked freshly baked, but they smelled it too, and no one, as far as I knew, baked around here. Certainly none of the skinny bitches we fucked on the regular.
“I’m sweet enough,” I commented, eying the treat which, I had to admit, would have been appetizing if I hadn’t been shitfaced from the night before.
Rex grunted. “As far as I’m concerned, you could eat a thousand of them and not be sweet enough. Maybe that’s the key to getting you in a better mood. We need to force feed you baked goods.” He laughed. “Like in Seven?”
I grimaced at the memory of watching that movie back when we were twelve and had to sneak around to watch that shit. Even I wasn’t sick enough to force feed someone until their stomach exploded. Go me. “You’re all fucking heart,” I retorted, then eyed the door when I heard some squeaking sounds out in the hall. Knowing what they meant, I muttered, “Mav’s late.”
“Ain’t he fucking always,” Rex grumbled, casting a glance at the clock.
A few minutes later, the sound of swearing hit us loud and clear, followed by a few bangs as Mav used his crutches—crutches he only used as battering rams to get about inside the clubhouse—to push the door open before quickly wheeling inside the room.
He wore his usual scowl, a cut, and jeans. With his chest on show, I could see scars and tats. Because he could have worn a clown suit for all I gave a fuck, I never asked him why he always had his scars out on display, just wasn’t surprised at the sight of them anymore.
First time I’d seen them? My initial reaction had been shock—not at the sight of them, but that he’d survived in the first place.
Fucker always had been stubborn, and if there was a God, I’d thank him for that. Maverick was one of the best.
Even if, ever since he’d come home, he’d been ornery as fuck. And when I said ornery, I meant it. He’d make a bear who’d been disturbed mid-hibernation look fucking cheerful.
“When are you changing the fucking door?” Mav growled at Rex.
“Why do I need to change my door? Nothing wrong with it.”
Rex folded his arms across his chest, standing there like Solomon, like he could wait forever for Maverick to change his ways without having to move an inch.
“Would make my life a lot easier if you made it a swing door.”
“You’re in that chair by choice,” I pointed out. “The second you start pulling your weight with physical therapy is the second you’ll be back on your feet.”
Mav didn’t reply, just scowled at me, then wheeled over to the desk. He grabbed himself a cinnamon bun and took a bite that was close to defiant.
“I ain’t the one who’s gonna get fat sitting down all the time,” I told him cheerfully, enjoying his glower while everyone else was still settling into their positions.
Making Mav feel something was number one on everyone’s to-do list. The poor bastard had PTSD from his time served overseas, and if we let him, he’d just curl up and die.
That was why he was Treasurer.
As soon as he’d woken up after his last surgery in Bethesda, Rex had dumped the role on him and told him to get better, because the club’s books were a mess after Boney had been looking after them—a lie because Boney was one shrewd motherfucker.
Four years later, he was still in the fucking chair, though the doctors said there was no physical reason for him to be handicapped, and while Boney had ceded the role to help a brother out, he’d never asked about taking the position back either—even though being on the council earned him forty percent more of a cut in earnings.
Everyone knew being Treasurer was the only reason Mav got up in the morning. That, and the shit he did for me too. We were both on a mission, didn’t matter that it wasn’t government sanctioned… Someone had to take out the trash.
“Who made ‘em?” Link asked, gracing us with his attention as he looked away from his phone.
From the smirk on his face, he’d been sexting. Only God knew about what. Link was unusual where sex was concerned, and that was being goddamn kind. We’d all heard the rumors, and I didn’t need confirmation. Even if he had a habit of oversharing when we were in the gym.
Rex pursed his lips. “That’s a long story.”
“I don’t need the fucking recipe.” Link’s eyes lit up at almost the same brightness as his phone which pinged with a notification. “Just a name.”
“That’s exactly it,” Rex retorted crisply. “We had some visitors last night. One of them made us the buns.”
My brow puckered at that as I figured out who was behind the baking. The twins had come with me to party, and I had no doubt they’d be gracing the porcelain God this morning, which meant… “Giulia made them? When the fuck did she have time to do that?” I knew she had to be exhausted after that trip, but not only that, from the shadows under her eyes—eyes I’d done my best to avoid during most of our interaction last night—it looked like she hadn’t been sleeping that well for a while. The idea of her jumping up and pulling a Stepford wife routine put me on edge.
No one did shit without a motive in mind.
What was her game?
Rex shrugged. “This morning. I think she’s trying to prove she can be useful.”
“Well, they’re a fucking wet dream,” Mav growled around a mouthful, his eyes bright sparkling dimes as he chowed down. “If she can bake like this, she’s more than fucking useful.”
“I’ll be sure to tell her she has your vote,” Rex said, making me laugh into my coffee.
“Why does she think she has to be useful? She’s family,” I pointed out. “Not like we’re going to toss her out.”
“Wait, wait, wait,” Link interjected, finally turning his phone face-down and giving us all his attention. “Who the fuck is Giulia?”
“Dog’s daughter,” I informed him. “She and his boys came in last night during the party. I took them to the bunks, told Rex about them, and that’s about as much as I know.”
Well, that and she was the spitting image of her dead mom. The woman I’d jerked off to more than once when I was a teen.
Except, if I was being honest, Giulia was like a pimped up version of Lizzie. She had bigger tits, a smaller waist, and rounder hips. Her skin was that Italian olive that was close to gold, and her eyes were shielded by the thickest fucking lashes I’d ever seen.
Cammie had those beetles she got stuck on the lids every month. Giulia was the opposite. Everything about her was natural, from her curves to her features, which had been makeup free last night. Her hair wasn’t dyed, and unlike her mom’s, it was longer, and it had a curl to it that made me think about wrapping it around my fist, which led to thoughts I had no right to be thinking.
Not about Lizzie’s girl.
Rex rubbed his chin as he leaned farther against the side of his desk so he could cross his feet at the ankle. “Where the fuck are Storm and Steel? I’d prefer not to have to tell this twice.”
“I’m here! Sorry I’m late. Tink wanted to suck my cock, and who am I to disappoint a lady?” Storm came swirling in like the storm he fucking was. His grin was as wide as the Cheshire Cat’s, and he clapped me on the arm as I moved toward the table, jostling my coffee.
“Fuck off, man, some of us didn’t have enough time to get blown,” I snapped at the pain in the ass who, as usual, was oblivious to the chaos he left in his wake.
Storm just started whistling, which irritated me even more. He fist-bumped Rex—he had to lift Rex’s fist to bump it—and grabbed a coffee, which he slurped halfway down, before topping it up and beaming another grin at us.
Motherfucker was just asking to be punched.
“Jesus, since when was Tink good at oral?” Steel complained as he shuffled in, squinting at the window. It didn’t surprise me when he headed over to it and closed the blinds.
When we were sitting in the semi-dark, almost everyone but him and me began to laugh.
“How the fuck are we supposed to discuss business in the goddamn dark?” Rex retorted, but he was amused too. That much was clear from his tone, as well as the fact he didn’t undo Steel’s work and left the room in a haze of shadows.
“Don’t care,” Steel grumbled, slumping over the table and dragging his arms over his head, “but fuck if my eyes are going to work in the light.”
Rex huffed but switched on his desk lamp. Always made me laugh when he did. Hard ass Prez of a biker with a fucking banker’s lamp of all things gracing his desk. The one with the gold stand and the green glass?
I shook my head at the sight, especially when he twisted it around so that Steel, who’d slouched against his chair, was in the spotlight. Rex just grinned at his groan, then tipped it back down so there was a golden glow in the middle of the floor.
“Now that we’re all here… Late is better than nothing, although you know I’ll fucking dock your goddamn cuts if it happens again?—”
A chorus of “Yeah, yeah, yeah” sang at that. Not because we knew he wasn’t good for his word, but because sometimes, it was worth being goddamn docked. Even for me, this was way too early.
“We have some news.”
Steel peeped out of one eye. As the MC’s Secretary, he needed to keep his finger on the pulse—well, when his brain wasn’t full of vodka, the fucker’s drink of choice. “Of the good or bad variety?”
Rex hitched a shoulder. “Neither, really. Just information.”
“During the party last night, Dog’s kids showed up,” I announced to the table, keeping my eyes on my coffee just in case I revealed something I didn’t want to. I could be found in the dictionary under the definition of expressionless, but Lizzie and Giulia were a match made to fuck with me. It was like my past and present were combining into one explosive package, and I hated explosives.
They were Sin’s forte. Not mine.
Storm raised his brows as he sipped his coffee. “Dog’s and Lizzie’s, right?”
“Good memory,” I murmured. “She’s dead. Heart attack.”
“So they came home?” Link rubbed his chin. “Can’t blame them.”
“Why? Dog’s an asshole,” Storm said with a snort. “Even more useless a father than he is a brother.”
While he wasn’t totally wrong, I was compelled to defend the fuck just because he’d worked on my hog last month and it was now purring like a tiger.
The run this past week had been bliss—and not just for the wet work I’d undertaken.
“That’s not fair. Dog’s good at some stuff,” I argued.
“Yeah? Like what?” Link retorted.
When he looked like he was waiting for an answer, I just rumbled, “Grunt work. Someone has to do that kind of shit. Plus, he can tune up a bike better than some of the mechanics.” That last part I said tongue-in-cheek as Link was the best mechanic the MC had.
When he flipped me the bird, I just smirked.
Rex input, “He has you there, Link. Dog’s a fucking wizard with my hog,”
Steel agreed, “Anyway, what’s the problem?”
“The boys want to patch in.”
“They old enough?” Link asked, brow furrowed.
“They’re nearly thirty. I think they’re fucking old enough,” I commented wryly.
“How the fuck was I supposed to know that?” Link flipped me the bird.
“But what about the girl? She wants to be a sweetbutt?” Steel questioned, sitting up slightly. His eyebrows bobbed with his interest. “She hot?”
“Fuck off. She ain’t gonna be a clubwhore,” I hissed, before Rex could even get a word in.
There was no way in fuck I was going to allow that. When I thought of those big, chocolate-brown eyes that had stared at me from an angel’s face, there was no way I could?—
Everything in me rejected the notion of her lying flat on her back and thinking of her grocery list just to get through the next fuck.
“Since when do you have a say in this?” Storm retorted, biceps bulging as he started to get mulish—the dickwad had such a shitty attitude that sometimes, I didn’t know why Rex put up with his ass. He’d been worse since Keira, his Old Lady, had fucked off. Not that I could blame her. “Fuck, that might be her lifelong dream. Taking after her?—”
“Don’t say another fucking word,” I growled, aggression lacing every single word. “Lizzie wasn’t like that.”
“She wasn’t, Storm. You know that, so don’t start shit.”
“From the way Dog used to whine?—”
“Dog wouldn’t know how to piss in a straight line,” I countered, angrier than the subject really called for. “Lizzie would be doing the fucking salsa in her grave if she thought her daughter was whoring her snatch out for the club.”
Link pondered our argument for a second. “Wasn’t that why she took off in the end? She got sick of the clubwhores, right? I was only fucking twenty-something, so I don’t remember that much, but I think I remember that… the blonde. Big tits with nipples like she’d painted them in red lipstick. That huge eagle tattoo on her ass.”
Despite myself, I had to laugh. “Yeah. Cherry.”
He clicked his fingers. “That’s it. Cherry. She took mine?—”
“She took everyone’s,” Steel joked, making most of the table snicker.
“And she and Dog were a thing for a while,” I pointed out. “Remember? Lizzie found out, and there was that huge clusterfuck?—”
“Christ, yeah.” Steel slid his hand over his head. “Lizzie trashed his bike when she found out, didn’t she?”
“Yeah, and he nearly fucking throttled her. I remember now!” Link declared.
I slouched in my seat because I remembered that morning like it was fucking yesterday. “She took off later that day.”
The urge to make Dog pay had been heavy, but I’d been a kid, and he was a brother. You didn’t kill brothers. Even if you really goddamn wanted to.
“Okay, less of the reminiscing,” Rex growled. “I don’t need a history lesson, and I sure as fuck don’t need to know who sucked your virgin cocks this early in the morning.”
“You’d be down for the dirty later on though?” Steel hooted, then instantly grabbed his head and held it as though the throbbing in his skull was going to split it in two.
“Fuck you,” Rex retorted, but there was laughter in his eyes. “Anyway...” He extended the word. “Giulia doesn’t want to loan out her cunt to the club. I never said she did.”
“What does she want then?” Storm queried, like there was only one use for females around the MC—snatch.
As much of a dick as I was, I wasn’t that fucking bad. Keira was better off without this fucker.
“She wants to feed us.” Rex snickered when everyone eyed him like he’d just pulled on a Santa outfit and started ‘Ho, ho, hoing’ all over the fucking place.
“Feed us? What are we, a soup kitchen?” Steel replied with a scowl.
“I’ll tell her I’m homeless if she’ll feed me more of those buns,” Mav added hopefully.
“Trust me, she made me breakfast this morning. She’s good, guys. Fucking good, and I don’t know about you, but I’m sick and fucking tired of JoJo’s sloppy eggs, and the shit the other sweetbutts serve ain’t much better.”
“How anyone can fuck up sandwiches, I don’t know,” Maverick groused, rubbing his abdomen like he was a starving man.
Anticipation welled in me.
If Giulia had a purpose here, then she’d be able to stick around, and that was a topic I didn’t particularly want to broach. Not even in my own head. Because I wanted her to stay, and yet, I didn’t.
Trying to hide my nerves, I eyed Rex and asked, “You down for that?”
“I am. She’s family. I shoved her into the kitchen, told her to make the best of it?—”
“Shouldn’t we have voted on that?” Storm interrupted, scowling at the Prez like he really wanted his ass kicked today. And that was something I’d be down for.
Hell to the fucking yeah.
The dick had a date with my fists.
Only the fact he was VP meant I hadn’t beaten the shit out of him before now. We’d always butted heads, but ever since Keira had kicked him out he’d been worse than a bear with a sore paw.
Temper clearly stirring, Rex narrowed his eyes on Storm. “Since when do I have to discuss shit like that with you? She’s family,” he repeated. “Dog might be a useless turd with MC business, but as we’ve already said, he’s good with the bikes, which as far as I’m fucking aware is how we run most of our businesses,” he growled, his scowl darkening when Storm looked even more belligerent rather than apologetic as he should rightfully be. Then he continued:
“I threw her in the kitchen, told her to write down whatever she’d need to make us a decent dinner, and then we’d finalize things tonight.
“If her food is anything like what she made me for breakfast, then we’ll all be piling on the pounds.”
Steel snorted. “Maybe that’s why the whores feed us junk… so they can keep us ripped.”
“Could be.” Link chuckled. “More like they want to keep their own asses skinny and have no idea how to make jack shit in the kitchen.”
Nodding, Rex rubbed his chin. “There’s only one problem.”
“Only one?” Storm questioned.
“Yeah.” The Prez scowled at him. “Okay, scratch that. Looks like we have two problems. One being the fact that you woke up in a piss-poor mood. You can either fuck off back to bed or I can kick the shit out of you.” He balled his hands into fists. “Whichever would suit me.”
Storm sniffed. “Bad hangover.”
Like that was a fucking excuse when Steel was evidently suffering after last night, and he wasn’t being a dick.
“Worse attitude,” I retorted, stirring things up and not even giving a fuck. I only sneered at him when he shot me the bird.
“What’s the second problem?” Mav demanded, his attention on Rex.
“We need to tell Dog they’re here.”