Chapter 2
Chapter Two
The one thing I liked about the diner was the distance from the clubhouse. On days like today, a nice short walk and a breath of fresh air could really clear my head. It was late afternoon, just before rush hour, so the traffic was picking up.
Turning the corner, I spotted the perfectly straight line of motorbikes in front of the building where I spent most of my nights. The sun was hitting them at just the right angle to make the polished chrome gleam. It was a sight to behold. The urge to climb on my bike and hit the open road was overwhelming. Riding on the highway through the mountains was probably the most free I had ever felt.
It wasn’t like my life held me back, or anything, but sometimes I needed an escape.
Regardless, I wouldn’t have it any other way. I enjoyed what I did, whether or not it was at the clubhouse. When I wasn’t working full time for the Reapers, I was at university. My life was never boring and no matter what fresh hell I was dealing with, it was usually rewarding.
The Reapers purchased an older three floor hotel for a steal. The previous owner was behind on property taxes, so it had gone into receivership. Three quarters of the bottom floor served as our bar and the other was where we had our meetings, or Church. The bar, aptly named Reaper’s Roadhouse, served as another form of income for the club. There was no point in naming it anything else because everyone knew this was our clubhouse.
The first part of the building our patrons saw looked like one of those old time saloons. It had a large wraparound porch that was well used in the warm summer months, but all the other times it sat empty. The design of the front was where western styling ended. The back of the building, which was where we were all housed, was an old hotel that had been renovated.
The large wooden double front doors were to the right of the bar which gave whoever was behind there a perfect view of whoever entered our domain. Granted, there was always one or two burly bikers at a table near there to serve as bouncers when needed. Usually, we didn’t concern ourselves with those entering the bar because whoever stepped over the threshold understood what they were getting themselves into or were too scared shitless to cause a ruckus.
No one wanted to end up dead in the dumpster out back.
When we had the clubhouse bar renovated, I had some say in what we did with the bar. I didn’t want anything fancy, but it needed to be functional. The top and front of where we served drinks was constructed completely of wood, except for the brass foot rail around the bottom. Wooden stools butted up against the rail from one side to the next. Each of those seats never stayed empty for long.
I didn’t enjoy the quiet, so the distraction of the patrons who sat at the bar telling stories over a beer was a welcome distraction. Our bar was a little more simplistic than most. We served beer, both draft and bottled, and hard liquor, straight or mixed. There were no blenders for a fancy Bellini or a martini shaker. Behind the bar was a mirrored wall of alcohol bottles. The wall itself reflected the lights as it bounced off the glass bottles. We didn’t have much of a choice for draft beers, but what we had was dispensed from taps with worn out brand logos.
My legal position at the bar attached to our clubhouse was manager. I spent most of my evenings behind the bar serving drinks, or in the back working on the books, unless we had a contract. As such, I had an office behind the bar where I disappeared when I needed to get away from the madness. The only people who worked in there were me or Erik.
The usual suspects were sitting at one of the tables when I walked through the doors. Kujo (my older brother), his best friend Hunter (the bane of my existence), and Gunner (our Road Captain) were kicking back drinking beers. Some of the other guys were playing pool, drinking, and listening to music. It was the same thing every night, but most of these guys weren’t married and didn’t care to be tied down by an old lady, so instead they hung out down here.
All three of them were a sight to behold at well over six feet tall. Hunter and Kujo were tied for the tallest at six foot five. All of them were wearing their cuts over short sleeved shirts that showcased some of their ink. I could look objectively at my brother and Gunner. Yet every time Hunter entered my orbit, I was transfixed by his eyes. There was a kindness there that, to my detriment, he seemed to reserve for me.
“Hey, Hellcat. How’s it hanging?” Hunter asked as he glanced up from his beer.
“A little further down than yours and a bit to the left,” I answered with a straight face.
Hunter tipped his head back and barked out a laugh. “So ladylike.”
Whenever he laughed like that it did something to me inside. I wasn’t ashamed to admit his muscular body all tatted up had been the star of many of my dreams.
“Kujo, I don’t see any ladies in here, do you?” I asked.
“Not since the last time Hunter wore a dress,” he quipped.
“Hardy har, asshole,” Hunter responded.
I walked over behind the bar and opened a bottle of beer, then took the empty seat at their table.
“How did the meeting go?” my brother asked.
“He was an asshole, just like I expected him to be,” I replied, then took a swig of my beer.
“I didn’t say you had to like him.”
“I definitely don’t,” I responded. “He acts like he shits gold.”
“That must hurt,” Hunter responded.
“I made sure we sat in the corner booth.” I laughed. “Figured the Armani could use a couple more creases.”
“Not the one with all the gum under the table.”
The corner booth was always empty, so it was rarely cleaned. It was the closest to the bathrooms, and for some reason, it seemed to attract kids who liked to put their gum on the seats and under the table. It was a pretty laid back atmosphere, so usually their parents didn’t supervise them and they were left to run around wherever they wanted.
“I wasn’t there to make an impression, but it sure felt good to have him sit across from me in his overpriced suit.”
“Harleigh,” Kujo groaned.
“What?” I shrugged, completely not concerned with moneybags getting hot pink bubble gum stuck to his pants. He deserved to look like the moron he was.
“He’s a paying client.”
“He’s a chauvinistic prick with more money than brains.”
“Money he’s gonna be wiring our way this week.”
“I seriously hope his background check doesn’t come back clean,” I told them.
“Getting a little bloodthirsty?”
“After one meeting with him, all I want to do was punch something.”
“So why aren’t you down in the gym?”
“Because I’m here drinking a beer with you idiots,” I responded.
“Tell us how you really feel,” Hunter responded.
“I’d tell you how I really feel, but then I’d have to kill you,” I told him.
“When does Mr. Moneybags want the contract carried out?”
“He said by the end of the week. I think if we wait any longer, he’ll find someone else to do it for him. He’s agreed to all the conditions, so we should have a money transfer in the next day or so.”
“What else has Liam found for us?” Gunner asked.
“There are a couple of postings, but they aren’t in our area. We might have to farm them out.”
“We still get a finder’s fee, so no big deal there,” he responded.
“When’s Erik coming by tonight?” I asked.
“It’s date night tonight, so he’s not coming,” Kujo replied.
“They’re so cute.”
Ana and Erik met a couple days after my mom died and I came to live with him. In part, I might have been the reason for them getting together, considering he hired her to be my nanny. He could have easily pawned me off on one of our father’s other women, but he didn’t. His mom, our father’s wife, had two sons: Erik and Edward. Edward (AKA Eagle), was four years younger than Erik and was the Reapers’ VP. John (AKA Jack), our Sergeant at Arms, was six months younger than Edward, obviously a brother from another mother. Brandt (AKA Bear), who was born to another woman five years after John, was only a patched in member because he chose not to be as involved with the Reapers. Kyle (AKA Kujo), who was also a patched in member, was born to another woman six years after Brandt.
“Don’t let the Prez hear you call him cute. You’ll be on bathroom duty for a week.”
“Everyone is so worried about emasculating him,” I responded.
“Just because you can use the big words does not make you immune to his punishments.”
“He wouldn’t punish me. I’m his favourite.” I was the youngest at four years younger than Kujo. There were twenty years between Erik and I, which made him old enough to be my father.
“Just cause you’ve got tits instead of balls,” Hunter responded as his gaze went down to my chest.
“Don’t talk about my sister’s tits,” Kujo warned.
“My bad,” Hunter muttered an empty apology.
Kujo glared at him, which had become the norm whenever someone pointed out I was a chick. My big brothers would always be overprotective of me.
* * *
After several drinks and further annoyance from Hunter, I packed up and went up to my room. Most nights I stayed up past two so I could close down the bar. We could hire someone for the job and we have, but I was a bit of a control freak and liked everything just so. None of my classes at the university started early in the morning, so it didn’t really matter what time I went up. It worked well for the clubhouse business and all of our side projects.
Why did I consider Hunter to be the bane of my existence, you might have wondered?
It was pretty simple. Hunter, first name William, was best friends with my brother Kujo, or Kyle, if you wanted to ask what was on his birth certificate. For as long as I could remember, Hunter had been a fixture of wherever I was living, whether it be my older brother Erik’s house or the clubhouse. He was uber annoying until the point I realized boys didn’t have cooties. Then he was the object of all of my desires.
Too bad he was too dense to notice.
Over the years, no matter how many times I hinted at my interest, he had treated me like I had the plague.
Until one night, he didn’t.
The first time I met Hunter, he was nine, and I was five.
Everything was changing around me: my mom died, I was uprooted from the place I lived, there were strange people taking care of me and the amount of children I was around increased.
Hunter probably wanted absolutely nothing to do with a little blonde girl who was obsessed with following her newly discovered older brothers around. That never deterred me though. I was hellbent on following him around. There was something about him that drew me in, even then.
Too bad I was too young to know what it meant.
Fast forward to when I was ten, and he was fourteen. I didn’t know what crushes were because I was too young to think about anything like that. Hunter was just starting to fill out and I couldn’t keep my eyes off him. I thought my brothers were disgusting, but Hunter, he hung the moon.
What an idiot I was.
I would never forget when I was fourteen, and I told him I wanted him to kiss me. It was the one and only time I allowed myself to feel the vulnerability of a teenage girl on the cusp of becoming a woman. I wasn’t na?ve enough to be blind to the attention he received from all types of girls. I couldn’t understand why he wasn’t picky with them, but wouldn’t touch me. It was only a kiss; I hadn’t been asking him for marriage or a commitment.
To this day, I didn’t know if it was the alcohol he was drinking or the tears welling up in my eyes.
It didn’t matter.
It might have been a pity kiss, but I would remember it until the day I died. The problem with Hunter wasn’t that I hated him. As much as I wanted to, my fourteen-year-old self who crushed so hard on her older brother’s best friend wouldn’t let me.
Hunter was my first kiss.
Too bad the asshole ruined the moment by telling me he could only ever see me as a little sister. What I felt for him was entirely opposite. Being a fourteen-year-old girl who already had five older brothers, meant I didn’t want a sixth.
Especially not him.
Eventually, at the age of eighteen, after my last-ditch attempt to entice him, my self-preservation kicked in and I had to protect my heart. I compartmentalized the crush I had for him so I wouldn’t continue to feel overwhelmingly disappointed by the number of girls going in and out of his room, which happened to be just down the hall from mine.
It wasn’t like I was na?ve enough to believe none of the guys in the clubhouse were getting laid. Hell, I had the unfortunate displeasure of seeing half of them getting a blow job or pile driving one of the biker groupies into the pool table while I was closing up the bar for the night.
Since I started working here, I had seen more balls than I cared to see in a lifetime. Thankfully, my brothers took their conquests back to their rooms. Ever since I started hanging out at the club more, they attempted to keep me in the dark about their escapades. Erik, being twenty years older than me, lived with his wife and their children off-site. Ed, John, and Brandt didn’t show any desire to settle down, but Erik met Ana while he was taking care of me. They fell in love, had three children and the rest was history.
Thankfully, Hunter wasn’t on the list of guys who liked to get their dicks wet in full view of all the surveillance cameras and the bar.
Which was my roost until after hours, when I made sure the books were right.
Yet another reason I often found people in flagrante delicto.
Which was exactly why the only place I would eat any food was in my office behind the bar or the diner down the street.