Chapter Six
CHAPTER SIX
I SAT SLUMPED in my chair, my fingers thrumming the old oak table that was older than me, waiting on Devil to join me and the rest of the men sitting around the table. I had been the club’s Sergeant at Arms for five years now, and I knew every single by-law by heart, the words ingrained into my memory. Mystic was the Enforcer and my right-hand man, helping me maintain the rules and safety of the club.
Devil walked in, his white, blond hair combed in its usual ‘I should be in an office’ way, his strange red eyes taking in the room as he dropped into his seat. The room fell into a heavy silence, each man sitting a little straighter, the weight of club business pressing down on all of us.
“Alright, let’s get this shit started,” Devil growled, his voice smooth and confident, commanding attention.
Thunder, the club’s Tail Gunner, and always the first to speak up because he was a busybody, leaned forward, his silver hair catching the light, his black eyes serious. “Drago’s been making moves. Word is he’s trying to push into our southern border, testin’ our response.”
Chain, the vice-president, was sitting to Devil’s left, grunted in agreement. “He’s got his men causin’ trouble close to our territory, and word, as you already know, is they’re trying to squeeze us out. If we don’t hit back soon, they’ll think we’re gettin’ soft.”
Devil nodded, his red eyes flicking to each of us in turn. “We can’t let Dragon Fire think they can just roll up on our land. But we’re not rushing into this blind. Their club is new, only a year old, we have no history to go on. We need intel—what they’re planning, how deep they’ve got their claws in, their numbers and whatever information we can get.”
“Gatsby,” Devil called out, turning to the quietest man at the table, “You’ve got your connections. What can you dig up?”
Gatsby was our tech guy and with his spiked blond hair and innocent hooded blue eyes, gave him the look of a man who could blend into any crowd, gave a tight nod. “I’ll see what I can pull. Might take a few days, but I’ll get us something solid.”
The tension in the room crackled as we all waited for Devil’s next move. My fingers stopped thrumming as I met his gaze, knowing what was coming.
“Bolt, Mystic, Thunder and Gearhead,” Devil continued, “I want you three to start patrolling our borders. If Drago thinks he can outmaneuver us, he’s got another thing coming. But I want this to be surgical if we spot them. No unnecessary bloodshed, not yet. That would draw the wrong eyes. We send a message, and we send it loud, but no one hears but us.”
“Consider it done, Prez.” Mystic cracked his knuckles, always ready for a fight. Mystic was built like a giant, face scarred from burns, the freakiest eyes—one gold, one blue—and a man of few words. If he didn’t know you, he didn’t talk to you. The sweet butts avoided Mystic, not that he gave a fuck, or it seemed, anyway.
Devil’s gaze shifted to me, the weight of his stare pinning me in place. “Bolt, it’s on you to make sure every man is ready. No slack. We’re heading into a shit storm and I need to know our men won’t come out needing a box.”
I nodded, my mind already running through the preparations. “I’ll have ‘em sharp, Devil. We won’t be caught off guard.”
“Spinner, you have every road in and out of territory memorized. If it can be accessed, I want to know about it,” Devil ordered. Spinner was our Road Captain, and he nodded he understood, but Spinner knew every road, every path and hidden corner in this whole damn state. Brother was a walking road map.
Satisfied, Devil leaned back in his chair, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly as he looked around the table. “We’ve been through worse, and we can always call in backup, but that doesn’t mean we take this lightly. Drago’s got it in his head that he can take us down, avenge what our club did to his granddaddy up in West Virginia, but he’s about to learn the hard way what happens when you corner a devil.”
The room hummed with silent agreement, each of us ready to do whatever it took to protect what was ours.
For the next forty-five minutes, we updated Devil on all the businesses the club had a hand in, Jaybirds Garage just down the road, High Voltage, a bar just outside of town, Devil’s Ink—a tattoo studio, and an underground gambling house. Most of our chapters had a strip club, but we were in the bible belt and that didn’t go over good around here. These southern women are a whole other breed when it comes to keeping their men in line.
“Meeting adjourned,” Devil said, standing up with a final nod. “Gear up, hit the weight room and be ready. We move when the time is right.”
As the men filed out of the room, I stayed behind, my eyes on the old oak table. This war was just beginning, and there was no telling how it would end. But I knew one thing, we weren’t going down without a fight. Dumb fuckers should know that, but instead Drago will get them all killed just like his grandaddy did up north.
Finally, I stood and made my way out to the common room and found a table, dropping heavily into the wooden seat. My eyes immediately found Fiona. She had been here four days now and I could tell she was getting more comfortable; her bruises faded slightly. Tonight, she had her hair down, falling around her face in soft waves and was wearing jeans with a pink t-shirt instead of one of those god ugly sweaters that swallowed her whole.
I couldn’t help but notice she had a nice rack on her for such a small woman.
Stop it, Bolt. You shouldn’t be noticing that shit, so I forced my eyes away from those round beauties.
Her hand.
She was doing it again, her fingers playing at her neck. I’ve noticed she does that a lot, like she used to have a necklace around her neck that she played with and now it’s gone. My fingers went to the chain that held the lock around my neck, engraved with the words ‘Locked Down’. A reminder to myself to not let anyone inside. It was important to me and I’m sure she feels the same way about her missing necklace. What happened to it?
“You’ve been acting so strange, Bolt,” Jenny purred, sitting on my lap, her lips brushing against my ear as she spoke. “Is it somethin’ I can help you with?”
I forced a grin, turning my attention back to her, trying like fuck to act normal. “Just enjoyin’ the view,” I said, letting my hands rest on her hips.
She giggled, taking that as a compliment meant for her, and leaned in closer. Her perfume was strong, a cloying scent that made my nose twitch. I tried to focus, tried to let myself get lost in her touch, but it was no use.
My eyes betrayed me, sliding back over to Fiona once more.
She was laughing at something Gearhead had said, the sound soft and fleeting, but it lit up her face in a way that caught me off guard, changing her deep blue eyes to a different shade of blue. It was the first time I’d seen her smile, and damn if it didn’t do something weird to my chest.
“Hello? Earth to Bolt?” Jenny’s voice was sharper now, irritation creeping in as she followed my gaze across the room. Her body tensed when she realized who I was looking at, and she pulled back to glare at me. “Seriously? You’re eyeing the damsel in distress now?”
I sighed, rubbing a hand over my face. “What I’m eyeing or anything else about me is none of your business, and I’m getting damn tired of remindin’ you.”
“Well, you better get in line,” she shot back, pointing at Gearhead as she slid off my lap, standing up. Her hands went to her hips as she glared down at me. “You know, if you wanted that little mouse, you could’ve just said so.”
“Jenny,” I warned, my patience wearing thin. The last thing I needed was a scene and for Fiona to hear this shit. “Don’t insult her ever again or your ass will be out the fucking door,” I hissed low for her ears only. “Fiona is club family, and you best remember it.”
She huffed, flipping her blonde hair over her shoulder. “Whatever. Call for me when you’re ready to have a real woman again.” With that, she stalked off into the crowd, disappearing among the throng of bodies. Jenny was being possessive of something that didn’t belong to her and never would.
Me.
I let out another sigh, slumping back in my chair.
A chair scraped against the floor beside me, and I looked up to see Chain lowering himself into it, a knowing smirk on his rugged face. He took a swig of his beer before nodding in Jenny’s direction. “Trouble in sweet butt paradise?”
“Don’t start,” I muttered, reaching for my own drink. “She overstepped, and I called her on it.”
Chain chuckled, his eyes following mine across the room to where Fiona sat. “She jealous of our new guest who has your attention... along with a few others. There’s always that somethin’ a woman like Fiona brings out in us men.”
I shot him a warning look, wanting to punch him for confirming it wasn’t just me, but I mumbled, “It’s not like that.”
“Sure,” he drawled, clearly unconvinced. “Just admirin’ from afar, huh?”
I didn’t bother responding, taking a long pull from my bottle instead. The truth was, I didn’t know what the hell I was doing. Or thinking . Fiona was... different. And not in a way I usually went for. She was a commitment, and I had never committed long enough to a woman to even make it to my bed, fucking them against walls, tables, in chairs, on the ground. I wasn’t known as the hit and quit, done in fifteen minutes guy for nothing.
Plus, she was weak, and way too fragile for me.
Yet, I couldn’t get her out of my head.
“How’s she holdin’ up?” I found myself asking, surprising even myself with the question.
Chain shrugged, leaning back in his chair, running his fingers through his dark hair. “About as well as you’d expect. Brenda’s been lookin’ after her, and Horse hasn’t left her side much. She’s tough, though. Stronger than she looks.”
I nodded, not convinced of his last statement as I watched Fiona listen attentively to whatever story Gearhead was telling now. Her smile was small but genuine, and there was a light in her eyes that hadn’t been there a few days ago. Why is Gearhead hanging around her so much? Seems like he was always in her orbit.
“Think she’s gonna stick around?” I asked, trying to sound casual.
“Hard to say,” Chain replied, studying me with a curious gaze. “Why? You thinkin’ of making a move?”
I scoffed, shaking my head. “You know me better than that.”
“Do I?” He raised an eyebrow. “Because from where I’m sittin’, looks like our resident roaming wolf has his eye on the wounded lamb.”
“Cut the shit, Chain,” I growled, but there was no real heat behind it. Mostly because he wasn’t entirely wrong. “Don’t you have some ghosts to chase?” Chain was convinced this place was haunted, and swore he’d seen ghosts around the place. We’re convinced he just drinks too much.
He chuckled again, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, I’ll quit, but just remember who her daddy is, Bolt. Horse will kill you if you hurt his precious girl, with Brenda bringin’ you back to life for the opportunity to kill you again.”
I didn’t respond, my eyes drifting back to Fiona once more. She was standing now, collecting the empty beer mugs from the table and making her way toward the bar. As she weaved through the crowd, she kept her head down, trying to stay out of everyone’s way. Despite that, a few of the guys greeted her warmly, and she offered small smiles in return.
As she reached the bar, she struggled to balance all the mugs in her arms. Before I realized what I was doing, I was on my feet, moving toward her.
“What are you, a busboy now?” Chain called after me, laughter clear in his voice. I ignored him, closing the distance between me and Fiona in a few strides.
“Here, let me help you with that,” I said, reaching out to take a couple of the mugs from her precarious grip.
She looked up, startled, those big blue eyes locking onto mine. Yes, they were a different shade today, lighter. Up close, I could see the bruises on her face were fading, but still very noticeable. Despite that, she was... pretty.
“Oh, um, thank you,” she said softly, her voice barely audible over the noise.
“No problem,” I replied, setting the mugs down on the bar. “You didn’t have to do that, you know. We have the sweet butts to clean up.”
She offered a small shrug, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I just wanted to help. Felt like I should do something useful.”
I frowned, leaning against the bar as I looked at her. “You’re a guest here. No one expects you to do anything.”
“I know,” she said, eyes dropping to her hands. “But sitting around all day makes me feel... useless.”
There was a sadness in her voice that tugged at something inside me. I found myself wanting to say something, anything, to make that look go away.
“How are you feelin’?” I asked, keeping my tone soft because I really wanted to know.
She glanced back up at me, surprised by the question. “Better. The creams Rune gave me helped a lot.”
I nodded, recalling the herbal concoctions Rune was always whipping up in his building out back. “Good. Glad to hear it.”
An awkward silence settled between us, the noise of the party fading into the background as we stood there. I wasn’t sure what else to say, and it seemed she didn’t either.
“Well, I should probably get back,” she finally said, gesturing toward the table where Horse was watching us with a scrutinizing gaze.
“Right. Of course,” I said, stepping back to give her space. “If you need anything, just let me know.”
She offered a small smile, and for a moment, her eyes seemed to brighten. “Thank you, Bolt.”
As she walked away, I found myself watching her again, unable to tear my gaze away. There was something about her, something that drew me in despite myself. And fuck, her ass was just as round and full as...
“Makin’ friends, are we?” Horse’s deep voice rumbled behind me. I turned to find him standing a few feet away, arms crossed over his chest, eyes narrowed. Damn, he had snuck up on me.
“Just helpin’ out,” I replied, meeting his gaze evenly.
He studied me for a moment before his expression softened slightly. “Appreciate you lookin’ out for her.”
I shrugged, trying to play it off. “She’s family. We take care of our own.”
“That we do,” he agreed, but there was a hint of warning in his tone. “Just remember, she’s been through a lot. Last thing she needs is more complications.”
I nodded, understanding his meaning loud and clear. “I get it. No worries.”
He seemed satisfied with that, clapping a hand on my shoulder before moving back toward the table. I watched him go, then turned back to the bar, signaling for another drink.
As I took a swig of the cold beer, I couldn’t help but glance back at Fiona one more time. She was laughing again, and again it was that fucking Gearhead that made it happen. Was he just being nice, or was he interested? Horse didn’t seem to mind him sitting there laughing right along. That pissed me off. Yes, Gearhead was younger than me and didn’t hit and ditch as often as I did, but he fucked around just the same.
I gave myself a mental shake. Shit, I sounded like a jealous boyfriend; I need to get a grip.
GEARHEAD WAS FUNNY , the kind of funny that made you forget everything for a while. His jokes came so easily, and he had this effortless way of making people around him laugh. His golden eyes were warm, kind, and when he smiled, they crinkled at the corners, lighting up his whole face. With his dark hair and easygoing nature, he was the kind of handsome that put people at ease. Which was nice, since I needed the distraction.
The laughter .
Anything to push thoughts of James out of my head, if only for a few minutes.
James .
No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t completely block him out. Dad and Brenda took me to the courthouse only to be told that North Carolina only allows for no-fault divorce and James and I have to be separated for a year. A frigging year! I cried all the way back to the clubhouse feeling so defeated.
And he was looking for me.
James had tried to call, sent text messages wanting me to come home, saying he loved me, and we could work this out. When he got no reply, he pretended to be concerned that something bad had happened to me. Dad had smashed my phone under his boot, not realizing I had it, and gave me another one to use.
That wouldn’t stop James, and with every second that passed, I knew his anger was festering, growing, and it terrified me. That fear lived just beneath the surface, always there, always creeping in. I forced myself to look up from the table, trying to shove those thoughts away.
And once again, my gaze landed on Bolt.
He was standing by the bar, beer in hand, watching me. He always seemed to be watching me. Out of all the men here, Bolt confused me the most, and that’s why I got tongue tied when he approached me. He was wildly attractive, magnetic in a way that made it impossible not to notice him. There was always a woman by his side, usually the sweet butt named Jenny.
And I hated to admit it, but I was attracted to him. Every time I saw him with Jenny, something ugly twisted in my stomach. I barely knew him, but the jealousy was there all the same. It made no sense to me. Jesus, I was still dealing with my last beating from James and getting ready to navigate a divorce. Where were these feelings for Bolt finding room to grow?
“Fiona?” Brenda’s voice broke through my spiraling thoughts, full of concern. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”
I blinked, forcing myself to focus. “I was just thinking,” I said, trying to shake off the storm inside my head. “Did you ask Josie if I can use the kitchen?”
I wanted to start baking again and selling my items at farmer’s markets. It’s what I used to do before James put a stop to it and everything else because of his jealousy that kept me from having a life outside the walls of our house. If I was to become independent, I needed an income. Dad had paid for me to go to culinary school and during that time, I found baking was where I excelled.
A job at a restaurant or a bakery wasn’t for me. I tried it and found I hated the pressure of deadlines and quotas; it took the peace and fun out of baking, so I decided to be self-employed. Between selling at Farmer’s markets and independent orders from connections and repeat customers, I had made enough to live comfortably.
Plus, baking was a part of who I was, and I loved it so much, so when James put a stop to it, it was like losing a part of me. Of course, that was exactly why James forbade me to do it.
“Josie doesn’t mind,” Dad assured me, nodding toward the kitchen. “Go talk to him about what you need, and he’ll take care of it.”
“Thanks,” I said, standing, leaning down to kiss dad’s cheek and then giving Brenda a peck. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“And you’ll never have to find out,” he replied, his eyes softening in that way only a father’s could.
“I’ll walk you over,” Gearhead offered, standing up and stretching his long legs. “The guys around here might not know better than to keep their hands to themselves.”
Dad chuckled and smiled at him. “Good idea.”
I smiled too, but I couldn’t help feeling like Dad was trying to push Gearhead and me together. He was nice—genuinely sweet and a good distraction. But that’s all he was. He wasn’t for me. Not that I was looking for anyone. And even as that thought hit my brain, my eyes once again clashed with Bolt’s.
Jesus, Fiona, knock it off.
I followed Gearhead through the club, weaving through the crowd of the party. The music was still loud, people laughing, flirting, some already a few drinks too deep. A few men glanced my way, but no one gave me more than a passing look. I wasn’t like the women who hung around the club. They were confident, sexy in a way I’d never been, and had no desire to be.
The kitchen was tucked away in the back, and as we stepped inside, the noise from the party faded to a dull throb.
It was a huge, no-nonsense space, built for feeding the entire club without any frills. The centerpiece was a long, industrial-grade island in the middle of the room, topped with thick butcher block counters worn smooth from years of chopping, slicing, and pounding out meals.
On one side, a massive stainless steel stove with six burners and a double oven dominated the wall, its surface cluttered with pots, pans, and the aroma of Josie’s latest creations. Above the stove, a heavy-duty exhaust hood whirred, pulling away the steam and smoke that inevitably filled the space during cooking.
Large refrigerators and freezers were tucked into one corner, stocked with everything from fresh produce to slabs of meat, ensuring Josie always had enough to feed the hungry crew. The walls were lined with open shelves, stocked with spices, canned good, and dry ingredients. Cooking utensils hung from hooks for easy access, ready to be grabbed at a moment’s notice.
Brenda said that Josie had to have been a chef at some fancy place at one time, but he was tightlipped about his past.
In one corner, a massive dining table stretched out, built from reclaimed wood and sturdy enough to withstand the heaviest of men. It was surrounded by mismatched chairs and benches, each well-worn and I noticed were often claimed by specific members. The table could easily seat two dozen men, with room for more when needed. Plates, mugs, and silverware were stacked at one end, ready for the next meal.
Josie was there, leaning against the counter, while watching a pot on the stove that smelled like heaven, Barbie, one of the sweet butts, leaned beside him. He glanced up as we entered, flashing a warm smile that instantly made me feel at ease.
“Hey Fiona,” he said, turning to face me fully. “Heard you needed the kitchen for some baking.”
Josie looked to be around thirty, a prospect for the club, and unlike most of the men in the clubhouse, he had a calm, steady energy about him. Handsome, too, with short brown hair and a strong jawline, deep brown eyes. Brenda said the women around here paid him extra attention and I can see why.
“Thanks, Josie,” I said, feeling relaxed in his presence. It was the first time I had gotten close enough to speak to him. “I just want to get back into baking so I can make some money. I promise not to get in your way.”
“My way? You’re no bigger than a babydoll,” he said, waving me off. “The kitchen is open as long as you need it, plenty of room for both of us. It’s good to see someone using it for something other than feeding these bottomless pits.” He grinned, jerking his thumb toward Gearhead, who rolled his eyes good-naturedly.
“Hey, I’ll have you know I’m a connoisseur,” Gearhead said, kissing his fingers and pulling up a chair and settling in at the counter. “I only eat at the most upscale establishments.”
I laughed, and it felt good. Like a weight lifting off my chest, knowing I was truly welcome in his kitchen. Josie had a friendly smile, a kind smile. He had that same charm Gearhead did, but there was something deeper about him—something that made me feel like I could actually talk to him.
“So,” Barbie said, leaning back against the counter, “what kind of baking are you into?”
“Cakes, pies, breads, you name it,” I replied, pulling out my phone to show them a few pictures of my past creations. “I used to sell at local farmers’ markets before...”
I trailed off, not wanting to get into the mess that was James. Josie didn’t push, just nodded thoughtfully as he looked at the photos. “Damn, these look amazing. I can see why you want to get back to work. You’re talented as hell.”
“Thanks,” I said, smiling, soaking up praise I had been denied for so many years.
“They really are amazing looking,” Barbie said with a smile. I liked Barbie. She was pretty with short dark hair, model tall. She made me feel like a kid next to her.
For the next few minutes, we talked easily about baking, food, and everything in between. Gearhead chimed in occasionally with his jokes, and I could tell Josie was watching me. I could feel the warmth of his attention, but it wasn’t overwhelming. It felt nice. Safe. Non-romantic.
Unlike Bolt .
I glanced toward the kitchen door, half-expecting him to walk through it, his intense eyes locking on me like they had earlier. He hadn’t said much to me since I got here, but every time I saw him, there was that spark. That pull. And I hated how much it affected me.
As Gearhead cracked another joke, making Josie and Barbie laugh, I let myself relax, just for a little while. But in the back of my mind, I knew this peace wouldn’t last.
Not with James still out there.