Chapter Twenty
“There’s CCTV here?” I tried to hide the squeak in my voice as my heart jolted to life in my chest.
Shit.
“Yeah. I installed them.” Fury shrugged, grinning like a fucking schoolboy. Crystals of rain sitting in the loose strands of his long hair.
“And you didn’t fucking tell me?”
I glanced at the doorway to the church, where the priest had disappeared inside a few moments ago. What if he was checking his CCTV now? My cheeks burned.
“I didn’t really give it much thought until you’d mentioned that truck. Don’t worry, doll. I’ll get it cleared.”
I stood there watching him. Waiting.
“What?” he asked, confused.
“Well go on, then. Get that CCTV wiped.”
“I can’t just swan into the fucking church and ask Father Leverett to hand over the recordings.”
“Well, you’d better do something. And quickly, before he has a heart attack.”
“The only heart attack he’ll have is when he wanks off to it later. I’ll get it wiped, babe. But later,” Fury continued when I scowled at him.
“How?”
Fury tapped the side of his nose, smirking. I never really got the urge to punch people, but fuck me, I wanted to put my fist through his smug face right now. And the fucker couldn’t have looked sexier if he tried.
“Fury,” I warned.
“Later, doll.”
He passed me the black helmet that had been hanging on his handlebars. The one I’d caught swinging in my peripheral vision as he’d fucked me from behind in full view of the fucking CCTV cameras.
“What am I supposed to do with this?” I stared at the shiny black helmet with the black visor.
“Put it on. It’s illegal to be on the back of a bike without a helmet.”
“That’s fine. I’ll not be on the back of a bike.”
“You will if you want that CCTV. We’ve got a wake to get to,” he added when I stood and glared.
*****
The motorbike vibrated angrily, the sound of the engine drowning out nearly all the other vehicles that we passed. Mercifully, the pub we pulled up to was just round the corner and the vibrations that were thundering up and down my spine stopped. The same sea of motorbikes covered every bit of tarmac outside of the pub. Every bike the same, save for a different colour or a design on the tank. They were spotless too, like they’d just been polished, the chrome sparkling even in the dull, grey day.
Music bounded out from the venue, thick, heavy rock, and as I peeked through the doors, all I could see was a mass of bodies crammed in.
“We’re going in there?” I asked, pulling off the black helmet that squashed my hair to my face and freeing a strand that was working its way to my mouth.
“Aye, doll. Welcome to the Northern Kings’ clubhouse.”
I glanced up again at the sign. Newly painted, it was stark against walls where the render was chipping off in large patches and exposing the brick underneath. The windows were already covered in condensation from God knows how many sweaty bodies.
“The Dog on the Tyne ,” I said aloud.
“The one and only.”
“Not very biker sounding.”
“It’s a play on words, babe.”
I looked at him blankly.
“Lindisfarne?” He shrugged, watching me.
I shrugged back.
“They’re a band. You haven’t heard of them?”
“Thought you were talking about the place up north.”
“Well, that’s also the connection. Ste’s one true love lives there. Grace, Indie’s mam,” Fury continued when I said nothing.
“Oh. Right. We’re going in then?”
Fury nodded, taking a step forward to push the door open and then flourishing his hand at the gap in an overly gentlemanly gesture. But then, as I went to step into the crowd, he caught my arm, pulling me back into him.
“Just before you go in there,” he started, his expression serious. “Stay close to me, and whatever you do, don’t touch anyone’s back patch.”
“Back patch?”
“Aye. The badges on the back of jackets. It’s a cardinal sin. Don’t touch the back patch.”
“What happens if you do?”
“Carnage. That’s what happens. Just don’t do it.”
He stared at me for a moment. The dark eyes boring into mine. There was so much depth to them. They were so much more than dark orbs. There was a hint of chocolate, and a touch of gold, and the extra colours made them look textured, like a luxury velvet.
“Heidi,” he prompted.
“Yeah. Course. Don’t touch the back patch. Got it.”
“Come on then, doll.”
The air was hot inside, a surge of bodies bustling, hardly a space in between them. Fury guided me through, gently nudging shoulders, and I watched as his hand never went to a person’s back, always the ball of the shoulder. It didn’t take him much to work through the crowd and with each nudge, people moved, some reaching to shake his hand, some fist bumping, others simply moving. And no one, absolutely no one, patted him on the back.
Eventually we were at the bar, swallowed up by the group with the three laughing skulls on their backs and a mix of women of all ages.
“What you drinking, doll?”
“Double vodka and coke, please?” I asked without hesitation.
Fury looked at me, raising an eyebrow which arced perfectly, pulling the same side of his mouth into a lopsided smile, before nodding some sort of approval. When he handed the drink back to me, it took all my effort not to gulp down half of it. It had been a funny sort of day. A biker funeral, a weird truck, a church yard fuck and now here I was, surrounded by leather and alcohol. What the fuck I was doing, I didn’t know.
“Come on, Heidi. Let me introduce you to some folks,” Fury shouted over the music, the vibrations of both his voice and the heavy beat thrumming in my ears like a dull bass.
He pointed to a table just a little way from the bar to a mix of men in leather and normal looking women.
“This is Indie,” Fury pointed at the man with the greying hair clutching a pint, his other arm wrapped round a petite woman with light ginger hair. She shifted uncomfortably, the shadow of a bruise on her cheek, make-up caked over the spot, but I could see through it.
Next to them was Demon. I’d recognised him from the funeral, but the woman sat beside him I’d not noticed until now. She had long brown hair and rich caramel eyes, but on the right side of her face ran a heavy scar all the way across her right cheekbone. I wasn’t up on wounds, but at a guess it looked like she’d been slashed across the face, and recently. The scar was mostly heeled, but in some places, it looked raw.
And across from them was another petite woman. She was older than the others. Late thirties, maybe even early forties. Blonde hair tumbled into thick blow-dried waves, but she looked tired. No drained. As if something was getting her down. The man she was with cradled her legs over his lap, his hand clutching her leg protectively, or controllingly, I couldn’t tell.
And behind them, at the table with aging men, sat a slim brunette. Her hair went on and on, and I couldn’t see the end at this angle. The vest top she wore pulled tight round her tits, and nearly all her skin was inked, bright and colourful. She glanced across, the man next to her saying something in her ear and both of them looked in our direction. Their eyes landed on me first, before Fury, and back to me again, the tattooed woman glaring now like I was her mortal enemy. I took a long gulp of my drink, the space beside me becoming very empty as Fury stepped away behind me.
“Don’t worry about Tori,” a light voice from beside me broke my thoughts, only just audible over the music. “Come sit with us.”
I hadn’t seen her stand up, my attention taken up with the woman in the other booth that looked like a feral dog, and I was chewing on her bone. The woman tugged at my elbow, gently leading me towards the table and nudging her man’s legs. He stood up, moving out of the space he’d been sitting in moments before.
“Aye, don’t worry about Tori,” the man said as I passed him, as if he’d been involved in the conversation I’d just had with his woman. “She’s just after another brother, now that’s Ste’s gone.”
He reached across me suddenly, grabbing the little blonde by the collar, dragging her towards him, kissing her suddenly. And passionately, right in front of me, mere inches away from my face like I was caught in some sordid biker party threesome. I recoiled, dropping to the cushioned booth, watching the duo suck on each other’s faces above me.
No one around me seemed concerned, bothered, or even remotely interested, as if it was a normal occurrence. I took another gulp of my drink, watching Fury a little further away, talking to two men near the bar. Two identical men. I raised my glass up, studying how much I’d drunk. Maybe they’d given me an extra shot. I fucking hoped so. I was out of my depth here. Seriously out of my depth.
The crowd to my left surged again, moving aside, someone emerging through the herd of leather and back patches. I needed no more light than the dull orange, and the bright bouncing colours of electric blue, purples and reds from a disco ball somewhere overhead, to see she was stunning. Tall and slim. Dark hair falling in long curls all down her back. The black jeans were slit across the thighs, a chain looping across one hip, a tanned torso on show on almost olive skin. Fury turned as she came through the crowd. His face transforming. A huge wide smile taking over, so wide that there was no way to miss those dimples under his beard. I’d never seen him smile like that in the short time I’d known him. Never. This girl meant something to him.
And for the first time in years, I was jealous. A deep, raw, flesh splitting stabbing right in the middle of my stomach. I watched on at the arms that embraced her, as he stooped down slightly, grabbing her tightly, pulling her off her feet. My cheeks burned, and my throat itched. I took another gulp of my drink.