Chapter 9 Blade
Two Weeks Later
Gatlinburg’s got that tourist hum—families dragging kids, smell of smoked meat, sweets, and fine dining all combined and hanging thick in the air.
I barely notice. My focus is on the main entrance to the restaurant I’m in—Smokey’s Cantina.
It’s a locally owned joint and one I’ve gravitated toward since being here.
I’ve been sitting at a corner table for a good thirty minutes.
My brother is running late. That doesn’t surprise me.
I’m always early, but Bear never gets in a damn hurry.
Eventually, I see him stroll in like he owns the world.
I’ve always loved his ability to do that.
It doesn’t matter where he’s at or who is around.
Your eyes just gravitate toward him. You know he’s someone who can make your life hell if you fuck with him.
I stand up, but then I see the man behind Bear.
Holy Shit. It’s Hangman—our club’s Enforcer.
I’ve had to be away from the club for too damn long and I don’t get to see my brothers enough.
My eyes scan him, before smiling. The bastard hasn’t changed.
Broad shoulders that stretch his cut, a scar down his jaw like a battle stripe.
His eyes, ice-blue and sharp enough to cut glass, lock on mine.
The man looks like he could kill with a glance and still laugh about it over a beer.
Tattoos crawl up his neck and vanish into his beard.
Saint’s patch gleaming. He’s every bit an enforcer.
One of our enemies called him death walking and that’s precisely what he is to them.
I take the few steps to him, not waiting for them to reach me. “No fuckin’ way,” I practically growl.
Hangman grins, that wicked grin that always shows up when he’s up to no good. “Damn good to see you, Blade.” We pull each other in, pounding backs hard enough to bruise. Brotherhood runs deep, and damn, it feels good. I’ve missed this the last few years.
“Hell, yeah. Fuck, man, it’s good to see your ugly face again.”
“Women love my face,” he counters.
“That’s because it’s usually buried between their thighs,” I add and all three of us laugh. I pull Bear into a hug too. My brother is solid as ever. The smell of leather and motor oil grounds me in a way that the corporate crap I’m forced to live in never can.
When we sit, Hangman leans back, eyes raking over me from my short, expensively styled hair, pressed shirt and slacks, and pauses to take in my clean-shaven jaw. “Well, shit, Blade. Look at you. You look like you belong in a corner office with glass walls, not the shit-hole we call a clubhouse.”
“Don’t remind me,” I mutter. “I’m hating every second of this crap.”
He laughs. “I don’t know, man. Big bucks, clean record, life in the straight-but-fast lane—sounds like you have it made. Bear tells me you even found yourself a picket-fence woman.”
I shoot Bear a look. He just shrugs with a knowing look on his face.
“Like it or not, brother,” Bear rumbles out, “that’s exactly what Olivia is.
Sweet, strong, yet so soft she’s afraid of her own shadow—and no matter what the world does, she keeps holding out for a happily ever after in the suburbs. ”
Anger hits me like a match strike. “She’s not scared of her shadow. She’s a good woman. Strong. Faithful. Loyal.”
“You make her sound like a damn dog. I’ve seen Olivia. That’s not how I’d describe her at all,” Hangman argues.
Bear raises his hands. “Blade, I didn’t say she wasn’t all of those things and more.
Olivia’s one of the strongest women I’ve ever met.
But Jesus, man. You can’t be blind enough not to see she’s also been through hell and that’s left its mark on her.
I love her to pieces, but she’s not cut out for our world, and there’s no shame in that.
In fact, she’s earned her right to be happy in a different world from ours.
A world you could create for her. Hell, you could give her peace, Blade.
A good life. You should think about it. Hard.
Because if you stay on our road, there’s every chance in the world that you will lose her. ”
My jaw tightens. “Fuck, is that what this meeting’s about? Are you kicking my ass out of the club?” I ask, my insides instantly feeling raw.
Bear straightens in his seat, instantly shaking his head. “Calm down, little brother. That’s not what this is about.”
“Then what the fuck is going on here?” I snarl.
Hangman chuckles low. “Told you he wouldn’t take this well,” he says, shaking his head. “Hardheaded motherfucker—he always has been.”
“You’re fuckin’ right I’m not taking it well.
It’s bullshit. I am part of the Saints. I only agreed to play the straight-edge suit because we needed the cover for the casino deal.
We’re going up against the big boys with more casinos, a corporate name customers flock to and unlimited resources.
We have to appear squeaky-clean. I didn’t agree to leave the damn club. If that’s what you’re telling me—”
“Fucking hell, stop.” Bear’s voice crashes through the air like thunder. “Can’t you see I’m trying to make sure you have a good life? The kind you deserve. Hell, the kind Livy has always deserved.”
The waitress chooses that moment to show up, smiling way too wide. We order house beers, and our menus are left unopened on the table. When she leaves, I lean back, looking between the two men who’ve meant the most in my life.
“I am part of the Saints,” I declare quietly, daring either one of them to argue. “Being your second, Bear, and building this club into something we can be proud of—that’s all I’ve ever wanted. I don’t know what bullshit this is, but it needs to stop.”
Bear sighs. “Okay. Real talk. You’ve been seeing Livy for at least two weeks now. That girl’s falling in love with you.”
“Bear—”
“Let me finish. I know her better than you do.”
I lean back, thinking about Livy’s shy smile, her fingers brushing mine, the way she laughs when she finally lets herself forget her past. I haven’t pushed her to reveal her secrets. I’m letting her come to me. Still, the cold showers I’ve been taking are getting damn old.
“I wouldn’t say that’s true,” I lie.
Bear snorts. “I didn’t mean sexually, asshole, but she’s special to me.”
That catches me. “How’d you two get so close?”
He scratches his beard, his eyes softening. I can tell he’s thinking over his answer. “She saved my life.”
Hangman whistles. “This story again.”
“What story?” I ask, keyed up for some reason.
“Remember when I went after Eyeball alone?” Bear says. “I was stupid enough to think they were holding Mavis against her will.”
“Jesus, you were always—”
“Dumb as hell over the bitch, I know. Still, I thought she had cleaned up and we were solid again. I thought they’d taken Mavis against her will and I was going to get her—but I didn’t want to bring the club into it.”
“A mistake,” Hangman growls, while I nod my head in agreement. That’s the kind of President Bear is. If he can handle things quietly, he chooses that—even if it could get him killed. That’s just one of the reasons I’m anxious to get my role back as VP. I want to watch over my brother.
Bear shrugs, then continues his story. “Anyway, I got in, had words with Mavis. It didn’t go well since she was taking some fucker’s cock up her ass while bent over snorting coke.
I ruined her orgasm by killing the man. I’m not sure she noticed.
The bitch was too high to care. She screamed at me to get out.
I told her sorry ass I never wanted to see her again.
Those were the final words we ever shared. ”
“Why the hell didn’t you ever tell that part of the story to us, man?” Hangman snaps.
“I’ve been labeled stupid enough when it came to her,” he says with a shrug.
“Trying to hold on to my pride, I guess.” He shuts up when the waitress brings drinks over.
We order the lunch special, and she leaves.
Mine and Hangman’s eyes come to Bear, and we just wait.
I can tell that he’s dealing with a lot of memories that he doesn’t like.
The last thing I want to do is cause Bear more pain over the bitch.
I assume Hangman feels the same way because he’s just sitting there, waiting.
“Anyway, Eyeball caught me. He had three of his men hold me down while he worked me over.”
“Figures,” I growl. “The fucker wouldn’t dare take you one-on-one.”
“Since you’ve never given this much detail about what happened, are you going to spill on how you got out?” Hangman asks.
“And what it has to do with my woman,” I add.