Chapter Twenty One
“I didn’t know you were back?” I asked the woman hanging round my neck.
“Aye. I’m back.”
“For long?”
She shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. You know me, Fury. I’ll get itchy feet soon enough.”
“Wanna drink?” I asked, detangling her arms from my neck.
She nodded, and I turned, nudging an unknown leather jacket to one side and tucking her into the gap.
“Did you get to Ste’s funeral?”
“I…I didn’t think it was wise. You know, history and all that.”
“The Notorious wouldn’t have dared do a thing about it.”
“No. But you lot might have. I’m here now, though.”
She patted me on the back patch and wriggled her eyebrows at me. I shook my head. Jazz. Always skirting the edge of danger.
I passed a drink to her, sliding it across the soaking wet bar top. Something to my left catching my eye.
The back patches stood out a mile away at the best of times. The dripping red blood on the leather designed so you could see it from afar and know you were fucked or you needed to ride as fast as you could in the opposite direction. They stood at the table I’d left Heidi at, hiding Indie from my view, their backs to me. Heidi’s eyes tracked them, her fingers closed tightly round the glass, her lips tense. And even though she didn’t know one bike club from another, she must have been able to sense they were bad news.
Demon’s face was tenser than Heidi’s, his jaw clenched, and Ciara hung on his arm now. I wasn’t sure whether she was scared or trying to keep him from exploding. But even Ciara’s charms couldn’t keep that temper at bay. She’d diluted it, but it was still as explosive as ever. And all the while, Heidi was way too close to something that would likely go Pete Tong in a split second.
I nudged a twin.
“Chaos,” I tried.
“It’s Caleb.”
“Whatever. Look over there.”
I pointed to the members of the Bloody Hand that stood in front of Indie.
“Shit,” Caleb breathed. “We gonna step in?”
“And cause a fucking riot?” I shook my head. “Watch my back. Have an exit plan for the women. And keep my sister well away from the first hint of trouble.”
“Fuck,” the blonde twin behind me cursed.
I moved closer, stepping round the man on the left, glimpsing Indie’s face. He shook his head at me, quickly glancing over his right shoulder. The man next to me turned his head.
“We’ve just come to talk to your president, here,” the man grumbled over the drawl of the music.
“Come with me. This music’s too loud to discuss business properly. Because that’s what this is, isn’t it, Razor?” I addressed the Bloody Hand, VP to VP.
Razor glanced at his President who nodded. The pair followed me, Indie standing up behind them and I led them past the bar, towards the door that led to the kitchens behind, and the living quarters above. Magnet and the Twins watched us carefully, the Kings behind them gathering as we led The Hand away, and far away from utter chaos if it all kicked off. Two we could take. An entire bar full of MCs with many allegiances in question, or completely unknown, was not clever.
“Indie, firstly our sincere condolences on the passing of your pa,” Grim started, a thick southern drawl much more evident in the quiet of the big industrial kitchen at the back of the pub. “I see you’ve been voted in as president of the Kings.”
“Aye.” Indie folded his arms across his chest.
“Congratulations. It’s nice to know who we will do business with.”
“And what business is that, then?”
“Your Pops was a good man….”
“Cut the bullshit, Grim,” Indie interrupted. “We all know what Ste was. And fucking good wasn’t one of them.”
I glanced at Razor, reading his body language. The Hand would be stupid to start anything here. In the kitchen, there were only two. Outside, only a few more. But here I was confident we could take them, out in the bar, not so much. Razor watched me, as much as I watched him, and he was as uncomfortable about this interaction as I was.
“Fine,” Grim grunted. “With your pops gone, it’s time to think of which direction you want to take the club in. Right now, you have an opportunity to join us.”
“Join you how?” I blurted, all heads now turning to me.
This club was as much mine as it was Indie’s. Both of us were born and brought up in it. I’d be fucked if I didn’t have a concern about its future.
“You want to shut your boy here up? This is President’s business.”
I tightened the fist that hung at my side. A lick of fire in my stomach, an unstable bomb needing little to set it off.
“It’s club business, Grim. And that starts with me and him. Like he said…join you, how?”
“Pledge your allegiance to us. We patch you over. You become part of the biggest MC in the world.”
Indie shook his head, his face as dark as I felt.
“No thanks. You’ve entirely wasted your time if you only came here to ask us that. Never gonna happen.”
“Thought it was club business, Indie? You can’t answer for the rest of the club. Talk to them about it. They might want something different.”
“They won’t,” Indie added.
“Put it this way,” Grim stepped forward, only a few inches between the Presidents. I took a half step closer too, watching Razor carefully, his own fists tightening at his sides, his eyes flicking between me and the Presidents facing it off in the kitchen. “You don’t patch over. We’ll wipe you out. There’s not enough room for the Bloody Hand and the Northern Kings in the UK. You might want to ask your club what they think of that?”
“We’ll show you what we think of that, Grim. Now you’ve outstayed your welcome. It’s time you were gone.”
“You sure about this, Indie? Your old Pops might have seen us off the last time. But that old crowd are long dead and gone.” Grim looked at me pointedly and I bit the side of my cheek, concentrating on the pain in my flesh from my own teeth. Because if I laid out the Hand’s President, this war we’d been waiting for would start right this very second. “Not sure you’re what you once were? You only have Demon. And once he’s out of the picture, you’ll fall like wet playing cards.”
“Goodbye, Grim. Razor.” Indie didn’t flinch, but stared. If the Bloody Hand couldn’t see his eyes were filled with venom, then they were as blind as they were stupid, coming here with their offer.
“Time you were going, lads,” I added, yanking the kitchen door open and gesturing to the corridor behind.
Grim nodded at Fury and then turned to look at me, a long slow, deliberate look, as if he were trying me on for size, wondering how tough I might be compared to the father and the uncles he once knew. Razor followed behind, but as he passed me, he reached out, his big beefy hand slapping me right in the middle of my back, across the Kings’ back patch. Not one pat, but three. Three touches of the back patch. I could have rammed the door closed on his head, I should have, but Indie shook his head, the movement catching in the corner of my eye. Instead, I made a mental note that Razor would be the first one of the Hand I would take out when the order came.
The President and Vice President of the Bloody Hand crossed into the bar, into the heavy tunes and jostling bodies. I flicked my fingers at Magnet and the Twins who were waiting just on the other side of the doors, Reap getting up off his feet in the booth opposite.
“The Hand are leaving, boys,” I shouted over the music. “Make sure they all leave.”
There was a nod in unison. The four of them knowing exactly what it meant. Magnet followed the officers, and the rest skirted away, the large crowd opening before them and swallowing them up just as quickly.
“We’re gonna need a church meeting,” Indie said from behind me.
“First thing?”
“Aye, first thing in the morning.”
“Brothers won’t like that.”
“Who gives a fuck? Besides, most of them will still be here. They’ll drop like flies in a few hours.”
Indie stepped around me, out into the crowd, shaking hands and clasping arms like the ultimatum from the Hand hadn’t just happened.
Someone patted my shoulder. For a moment I flinched, ready to respond with a fist to the face, all my senses on overdrive and my fight responses purely switched on, and I whirled, expecting to see someone else. But it wasn’t leather that stood in front of me. But those two blue eyes, and that fucking tight black suit that clung to her figure in every beautiful curve and bulge. I needed to fuck something. Her. I needed to fuck her. Because, right now, that was the only thing that would keep me thinking straight.
I didn’t ask what she wanted. I pushed my arm behind her, scooping her into me, pushing my face to hers and attacking her with my lips. She tried to push away from me, but there was no space between us for her arms to get purchase against my chest. Her lips were tight, defensive, but as I nipped on the plush flesh of the bottom one, she sucked in a breath, opening her mouth enough that my tongue could slide in. If she fought me, I couldn’t tell, because now her tongue lapped back, kissing me hard, angrily. Trying to punish me.
I wanted to fuck her here. In front of everyone, against the bar. Spread her legs and bury my head between them. The hard-on grew painfully, pushing against the rough leather bike trousers I wore, the metal zip chafing and biting, sending a flourish of fire exploding in my balls.
“I need to go home,” Heidi said against my mouth.
“Yes, we fucking do. Yours or mine?”
“No, Fury. Home to sleep.”
“You can sleep when we are done.”
“And you need to get that CCTV, Fury. Before Father Leverett wanks off over it or reports us to the police.”
“And you need to give me a reason to get that CCTV.”
“You blackmailing me, Fury?”
“Sure am,” I answered, sucking her bottom lip into my mouth, feeling the gasp of air and a little buckle of her knees. This woman loved to play rough. I just knew it. And tonight, we were going to see just how rough. Blackmail or not.
*****
“You know, I would have got a taxi,” Heidi complained as we drove through the night, streaks of light rushing by.
“Why get a taxi when I’ve got a truck?”
“Will your bike be ok left outside of the pub?”
“Why aye. No one is gonna nick it. Not from right outside our clubhouse, and not tonight. There’s too many of us around. They’d be suicidal.”
“And what would you do if they tried?” She turned, staring straight at me, the question heavily laced with something else, but I wasn’t sure what.
“We’d have a nice little chat, show them the error of their ways.” I grinned back at her.
“Show?”
“Yeah. It’s louder than words.” I chuckled. To myself apparently because Heidi said nothing more but stared straight ahead, her lips pursed together.
Newcastle was busy, the weather forcing people into cars and taxis, pedestrians looking for the driest route to the next bar. I pulled around the side of the hotel now, to where a ramp led down to an underground carpark, the loud exhaust that would have given my Harley a run for its money, echoing off the walls. Underneath, the carpark was tight, not designed for the big recovery truck, but I squeezed it in anyway, straddling two car parking bays at the far end of the space.
“Look, I…” Heidi began, drawing her mobile from her handbag and reaching for the door handle.
“You wanna call it a night?”
“I’m tired,” she answered, quietly, distracted.
“What is it, doll?”
There was something wrong.
“I…err. Someone’s watching me.”
“What do you mean?”
“They know what room I’m in. Here. In the hotel. They know what room I’m in.”
Her voice was cracking, panic seeping in between the gaps. She looked up at me. Fear in those blue eyes again. And Now I was fucking angry. Because someone was threatening my girl.
“Give me that phone,” I commanded, and she passed the device towards me.
‘ Welcome home, sugar lips. Since you haven’t fucked off back to London, I’ll see you in room 1026 in a few minutes. ’ The text message read from a number her mobile didn’t recognise.