Chapter Five
Olivia
“I’m going on lunch,” calls Ann, my boss.
She hired me exactly five years ago, when I decided I needed to rely less on the club and make a life for myself and Bully.
From the second I met her, we hit it off.
Her love for all animals, not just dogs, matches my own, and the second she let me wander around the rehoming unit and she saw how much I loved the dogs, she offered me the job.
Our aim is to rehome every single dog we take, and we’re good at it.
“There’s a guy coming in any time,” she says, turning the appointment book towards me.
“He only called half an hour ago, said he wanted to rehome an older dog.” We exchange an excited look.
It’s not often we get someone looking for the older dogs.
Everyone wants a puppy these days. “Exactly,” she says with a smile. “That’s why I got him straight in.”
I laugh. “Okay, go, I’ll be fine.” She heads for the door. “Be back before one. I have a lunch date, remember.”
“Promise,” she calls back.
It took all my courage to pick up the call I got this morning from an unknown number.
Bria pushed me into it, knowing it would be last night’s guy.
She then proceeded to listen in on the call, pinching me when I tried to get out of lunch.
And even though I’m not looking for anything, and I seriously am not ready to move on, I know she’s right.
I have to start moving forward and leaving Bully behind.
Besides, as she pointed out, it takes some balls to call over texting, and I liked that he put in the effort.
The door opens, and I glance up. My heart stops beating as Bully saunters over with that stupid cheeky grin in place. “What are you doing here?” I ask briskly, pushing to stand. The guy is seriously pissing me off with his selective hearing.
“I booked an appointment,” he says, holding up his hands.
I scrub my hands over my face. “Jesus, Bully. Give me a fucking break.” When I look at him again, his expression has changed to sadness, piercing my heart.
“I want a dog. I thought this would be the best place to come.”
“You’ve never wanted a dog and now suddenly you do?”
“How do you know I didn’t want a dog?” he asks, frowning. “When did you ever ask me that question?”
I press my lips together in a fine line. “You’re not suitable.”
“You’ve not done the assessment.” I arch a brow, and he smirks. “The woman on the phone said you have to do one.”
I groan in annoyance as I snatch a clipboard off the side and thrust it towards him. “Fill this out,” I snap, and he takes it. I practically chuck a pen in his direction, and he catches it then takes a seat and begins to fill in the paperwork.
I sit back behind the desk, staring at my computer even though my mind is full of him. Just like always. How am I supposed to concentrate when he’s sitting right across from me looking fine?
“Where’s the jacket?” I ask, noting he’s missing his leather kutte.
“I thought my colours might give your boss the wrong impression.” It seems like such a small thing, but it’s a huge gesture. He’d usually not take his kutte off for anyone. I bite my lip to stop the small smile as I pretend to tap away on the keyboard like I’m busy.
Ten minutes later, he approaches the desk and places the board down. “All done.”
I take it and glance at his answers. “I don’t think we have anything to match you,” I say, shrugging. “But if we get anything, I’ll call you.”
“Maybe I can speak to the woman I talked to on the phone?” he asks, arching a brow.
“Look, we both know you don’t want a dog and you turned up here just to see me. I’m not going to give you a dog because I know you’re here for all the wrong reasons.”
His scowl deepens. “Yah know, Liv,” he mutters, leaning closer and fixing me with a penetrating look, “not everything is about you.”
I lean back, crossing my arms. “So, you really want a dog?”
“I really do.”
I sigh. “Fine. Follow me.”
I drop the latch on the front door then lead Bully through to the kennels out back. The dogs immediately become restless, all rushing to the bars and barking. “We have three Staffordshire bull terriers,” I tell him, “all over the age of six.”
“What about that one?” he asks, stopping by Misty’s kennel.
I stop too and smile. “Misty is a crossbreed, Chihuahua and something else. She’s been here two years, since her owner died of old age. We think she’s around nine herself.” She holds a special place in my heart, and she’s so sad here. I’d have taken her myself, but my building doesn’t allow pets.
“I’ll take her.”
I frown. “She isn’t a match,” I argue.
“Let me in to say hello,” he demands.
“She’s quiet and withdrawn. She’ll hate the clubhouse.”
“Or she’ll love it.” I groan as I unlock her cage, and Bully slowly goes in, sitting on the floor.
I wait, watching in surprise as Misty pushes to her feet and steps from her bed.
She sniffs the air, and Bully holds out his hand.
“That’s it, old girl,” he whispers. “Come and say hello.” The dog moves towards him, and her tail begins to wag.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” I mutter as she allows him to stroke her. “Don’t you want a bigger dog . . . one that’s more you?”
He scoops her up and holds her to his chest, letting her lick his face. “That’s stereotyping,” he says.
“I just know you and I know the club. A staffy would suit you.”
“Misty is perfect,” he confirms, standing.
“You want to take her now, like right now?”
“Is that okay? I don’t want to walk away and make her think I didn’t choose her.”
My heart twists as I glance from Misty and back to him. “Fine. Whatever.”
He follows me out to the front, and I get out Misty’s file.
He takes a seat while I run through everything, then he signs the paperwork.
“Any donations are welcome,” I tell him, passing him a card to scan.
We always push for donations, even after our fees for each rehoming. They barely cover the vet bills.
“Have you had lunch?” he asks, sounding hopeful. “You could come to the clubhouse and help me settle her.”
I run my fingers through Misty’s soft hair, smiling as she snuggles against Bully’s chest and closes her eyes. “I already told you, I have plans.”
“With?”
“My friend.” When he arches his brow, I add, “Female.” I don’t know why I choose to lie. Maybe it’s to save the headache, or maybe it’s because I desperately regret this morning’s decision to have dinner with the guy. In fact, the minute Bully leaves, I’m going to cancel.
He steps close, and I tip my head back to look up. “I love you so much, Liv. More than you’ll ever know. I just want a chance.” My heart twists. Doesn’t he deserve a chance? Do I really want to give up everything?
The knock on the door makes me jump, and I spin to see Ann waving. I laugh and head over to unlock it. “Sorry, I was out back for a minute, so I locked it.”
“I also found this young man waiting around,” she adds, glancing back.
I freeze at the sight of last night’s guy.
“He’s got a date with you,” she adds, smirking mischievously.
I feel my cheeks burning with embarrassment as he steps into the reception area.
It suddenly feels too small, and my chest tightens as I glance back at Bully, who’s glaring at me.
“It’s not a . . . erm . . . it’s not . . . oh god.”
“What you’re trying to say is, it ain’t a fucking date because you’re married,” snaps Bully.
I gasp for breath, wincing. “I’m not married” is all I manage to spit out.
“Are you okay?” Ann asks, her face full of concern.
I shake my head frantically, my eyes wide, begging her to save me somehow. Darren looks just as concerned, and he steps closer, placing a hand on my arm. I let out a squeak, but it’s not enough warning for the force that is Bully, who shoves him back.
I’m mortified, but the guy doesn’t look at all put out. Instead, he smirks, straightening his shirt and squaring his shoulders like he’s ready to fight.
“No,” I shout, stepping in front of Bully, who’s still holding Misty under his arm. “Just leave.”
His eyes fall to me. “What?”
“Please, just go.”
“You’re not fucking going on a date with another man,” he roars, and Misty growls like she’s backing him up. Like she’s suddenly found her strength. Traitor.
“I know,” I say, and I glance at the guy. “I meant to call, but time got away from me. I can’t make it. I’m sorry to mess you around, Darren.”
He gives a slight nod. “Okay. Call me.”
“She ain’t calling you,” Bully yells. Darren gives another smirk before leaving. “Prick,” Bully mutters under his breath.
Ann gives a sheepish grin. “I’ll be out back,” she mutters, rushing off.
“Well,” I mutter, “that was awkward.”
“I can’t believe you.” Shame washes over me. “You jumped out of my bed and made plans to go on a date?”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“You’ve changed.”
His words hurt, and I fight my tears. “How dare you, after everything you’ve done to me,” I cry. “You cheated and stayed in my bed the entire time.”
He rolls his eyes. “Get over it, Olivia. It was years ago.” I watch as he heads for the door. “I’m so fucking sick of apologising for that.”
“Where are you going?”
“To settle my new dog in,” he snaps, pulling the door open.
“I thought you wanted to talk?”
“I don’t have the words right now,” he mutters, leaving.
Bully
Turns out Misty is a natural on the bike. The second I put my kutte on and stuck her inside, she snuggled down with just her head poking out. And she stayed still the entire ride.
I pull up outside the clubhouse and get off the bike, unzipping the jacket and placing Misty on the ground. She immediately finds a spot to pee before following me inside.
Taz looks at her. “Pres, there’s a rat following you.”
“She ain’t a rat. This is Misty, the new club dog.”
“Most presidents find club whores, but you bring us this?”
I grin. “She’ll be more faithful, and you’ve got less chance of catching anything.”
He raises his eyebrows. “I dunno about that. She looks a little . . . worn.”
“Get one of the prospects. I have a list of shit this thing needs.”
Sparrow, our newest prospect, knocks on my office door, and Misty barks to alert me. She’s fitting in just fine. “VP said you need some stuff picked up for a rat?”
I laugh. “Meet Misty.” He crouches down, and she rushes to him for a fuss. “You like dogs?”
“I grew up around them,” he tells me.
“Perfect. Here’s some cash. Go grab me everything I need to keep it alive.” I chuck a roll of notes on the desk.
Boss enters as Sparrow leaves. “The ride out is this afternoon,” he tells me, placing a piece of paper on my desk. I take it and look at the route. “Right past the Scorpion’s new clubhouse.”
I grin. “How’d you get the location?”
“Not hard,” he says with a shrug. “I called the hospital to arrange a toy donation for the sick kids. They asked if I was the bikers from the warehouse on Main Street. I had a ride in the area and spotted an old nightclub. It closed down years ago. Bikes all outside, they’re not hiding.”
“Perfect. Is the word out on social media?”
He nods. “Local news might even make an appearance.”
“Have Brains come up with a little speech in case. I don’t wanna talk to anyone.”
It’s almost three o’clock when we ride out of the club gates. Boss is the perfect man for Road Captain, always managing to pull off this shit at the last minute, and as we fall into formation, cars make way for us to pass through.
We ride all the way to the hospital without a hitch.
Then, we spend some time passing out the toys and books that the prospects spent all morning buying.
We chat to the staff about funding cuts, and Tally promises to look over our figures to see where we can help with donations.
And then we head back, taking the route through Main Street.
I slow right down, revving as we pass, and as the Scorpions step out, I lock eyes with the guy from earlier.
He gives me the same smirk that almost lost him his face, letting me know that he knows exactly who I am and exactly who Olivia is to me. Fuck.
By the time we pull back into the club’s car park, I’m seething. Taz jumps off his bike as I pace, throwing his helmet onto his seat. “What’s wrong?”
“He’s the guy,” I yell. “Of course, he is.”
I’m making no sense, so he shrugs. “What guy?”
The other brothers are coming over, all looking concerned. They probably heard me cursing the entire way back.
“He’s sniffing round Liv,” I say, running my hands through my hair. “He’s trying to take my old lady.”
“Pres, she ain’t on the market,” says Taz, giving an unsure laugh.
“She thinks she is,” I mutter. “I stopped her going on a date with him earlier.”
“Shit.”
“Darren,” I repeat.
“Or Dagger, as he’s known,” cuts in Ragnar. “He’s the president.”
“Fuckkkkk,” I cry, gripping my hair by the roots and tugging. “He wants a war. He’s openly asking for one.”
“Then we’ll give him one,” says Taz with confidence.
“I just got out,” I snap. “My probation ain’t even over.”
“Don’t worry, Pres,” says Ragnar. “We got you.”
“We can’t go into this blind,” I snap. “We need a plan. And I need to know every single biker in their chapter. Jameson will want to know too. Let’s get ahead of the game.”
We head inside, and Birdy stops me in my tracks, her lips painted red and her heels clicking across the floor. I scan her lace-clad body and give my head a shake. I can’t go there.
“Pres, Misty is such a cutie,” she says, holding the mutt against her ample chest.
“The Pres needs a drink,” snaps Taz, and she puts Misty on the floor and rushes behind the bar to get me a shot. I take the offered absinthe and drink it in one.
“If you need to unwind,” she offers, pouring me a second.
“What you offering?” I ask, knocking it back.
“Whatever you need, Pres,” she whispers seductively. “Everything is on the table.”
“Pity I’m spoken for,” I say, pushing off the bar. “Everyone in church,” I bellow.