Chapter Nineteen
King
My phone rang, and when I looked at the screen, I groaned. Answering it, I put it up to my ear and barked, “What the fuck did you do now?”
“It’s not what I did.”
I stood up and closed my office door. I’d kind of been hiding in here since we’d finished church but left the door open hoping Grace would come find me.
I sat down at my desk and sighed. “What happened?”
“Karlyn shared her story with us. It’s fucking bad, King.”
“How bad?”
I’d heard a little about Karlyn, even before I knew Ravage was my brother and involved with her. Bikers rivaled church ladies when it came to fucking gossip.
I knew she’d been raped and beaten by the president of the Satan’s Angels, whose road name was also Steele. What a fucking coincidence they both turned out to be fucking assholes.
She’d gotten pregnant, and her daughter was being raised by her brother Ink, a brother in the Golden Skulls. I’d met Ink when Reaper was here a few weeks ago.
“Everything she went through; it happened over a number of years, starting when she was sixteen. And her mother not only let it happen, but she also facilitated it.”
“Jesus Christ.” I rubbed my hand over my face.
“There were four men from other clubs, in addition to Steele, the first time,” Nav said.
I sat forward and pinched the bridge of my nose. “Who?”
“Lynch.”
“What the fuck?! Did Steele know?”
“She didn’t mention our president, but I believe he did.”
“Well, she won’t have to worry about him; Lynch is dead,” I told him as I sat back in my chair.
“When?”
“Last night. Steele showed up a few hours after you all left.”
The line went quiet, and I knew what Nav was thinking. “Freeway?”
“He’s downstairs in a cell. He couldn’t have tipped him off. In fact, I’m sure of it, because he was already on his way here to meet with Skinner when I called him. Steele’s dead too. As is Demise.”
“Fuck, what the hell happened?”
I took a deep breath and let it out before I told Nav everything. I filled him in on Indie saving my life, and Jingles getting shot. Banshee losing his fucking mind, and Zombie taking over as interim president.
“I talked to Cash and Mimic. Neither of them likes the idea, but they both agreed. Also, I told the club I wanted to extend an invitation to Indie to join the club.”
“Prospect?”
“Yeah. We treat her the same as any other. Which reminds me, we need to patch Johnny in soon. He’s more than proven his worth. Archie and Keys, too.”
“I wish we could wait until this shit was over, so we could celebrate the right way, but you’re right. All three of them have proven themselves,” Nav agreed.
“I’ll get the ball rolling with Jack and Gunner,” I said.
Nav went quiet again, and I knew there was more. We’d gotten sidetracked when I told him about Steele.
I didn’t want to fucking know who, but I asked anyway. “Just fucking tell me who else was there.”
“Nemesis, from the Gods of Mayhem.”
“Zeus’ man? Son of a bitch.”
“And Zephyr,” Nav added.
The son of a bitch’s name was coming up a little too fucking often. Morpheus needed to clean his fucking house. “And the last one?” I asked, praying to God it wasn’t a man I knew.
“Someone named Beast. She doesn’t know what club he was with. He didn’t wear colors.”
“I’ll make some calls, see if anyone knows who he is.” Someone had to know. Road names weren’t one and done. There could be fifty fucking men in this country with that name, but I would track down every fucking one until we found him.
“Ravage won’t be happy Lynch is dead. Fury killed Steele back in January. Zephyr is mine. But Nemesis is someone he can take his rage out on.”
“He wasn’t one of the men who came with Zeus, which means he’s still in Texas. I’ll work on a way to get him up here. Tell my brother he’ll get his vengeance.”
“Your brother, huh?” I heard the smile in Nav’s voice.
“Yeah,” I said quietly.
“He’s a good man, Prez.”
“He’s a pain in my ass already.” I knew Nav could hear the smile in my own voice when I said it.
“He is that.” Nav chuckled.
“One more thing,” I said before we ended the call. Nav had become one of my closest friends over the years. “I claimed Grace at the table.”
“It’s about fucking time. You two finally worked your shit out?”
“Not exactly. But we will. Steele’s not her father.”
“Fuck, I leave for one fucking day,” Nav complained. “Any idea who is?”
I blew out a breath and pulled the hair tie from my hair so I could run my hands through it. “No. Steele knew, but Banshee killed him before he could tell us.”
“Get the cut on her back, brother. Before another man comes out of the woodwork.”
“I’m working on it.”
“Speaking of coming out of the woodwork. Saw a few ghosts yesterday. Chasm was one of them.”
I didn’t say anything. What could I say? My best fucking friend, who I thought was dead, had somehow survived an explosion and never told me. Now he was coming for me because he blamed me for that shit.
“How’d he look?”
“Like nothing happened. He’s working with James Doherty.”
“What the fuck are you talking about? James Doherty is dead!”
“Yeah, not so much. There were a few others as well. Like Sypher’s mom.”
“I don’t know why I’m surprised when I had Shane fucking Keller in my clubhouse before Christmas. Where the fuck have they been? James died a fucking decade ago.”
Why the fuck were all these dead men coming out of the grave? What the fuck was going on? Why now?
The fucking war!
“Nav, Banshee told us more about when he was taken. Pepper said Skinner had a rich backer who wanted to take over the Federation. According to the rules, it has to be someone connected to the original five, and it has to be a president.”
“That’s Reaper and Zeus.”
“If Zeus is connected, what about Morpheus?” I asked.
“Shit, we didn’t even think about him,” Nav cursed. “Fuck, we can’t trust any of them. Not until we know for sure.”
“Don’t forget Montana. He had the seat and was removed. I heard he didn’t take it well. There’s also Kansas.”
“Fuck,” Nav cursed again.
After my conversation with Nav, I went searching for Grace. I ran upstairs to check her room first. When she wasn’t there, I checked the kitchen and the main room.
My next area was the gym downstairs. I opened the door, and there she was. Heavy metal blared through the speakers, and I knew she hadn’t heard me enter. I leaned against the door frame and watched her as she worked out.
Her hair was pulled up into a bun on top of her head. Her feet were bare, and so were her legs. She wore a tiny pair of shorts, which barely covered her tight ass, and a sports bra over her chest. I had to adjust my cock as I watched her body move.
Her hands were taped, but she wasn’t wearing gloves. Sweat poured down her face as she beat on the bag, and I wondered whose face she envisioned.
As the song ended, so did she. Her shoulders dropped, and her chin met her chest. She looked defeated. Her eyes were closed as she took long, deep breaths, and all I could think about was pulling her into my arms and holding her like I did the night before.
I wanted this woman like nothing else in my life. I’d told her I wouldn’t leave the club for her, and it was true. But even the year I prospected didn’t have me yearning for the patch the way I had obsessed over her since the first day I saw her.
Almost three years ago...
The bar in Diamond Creek was a cesspool. I’d been talking to Jake Hardy about selling it to the club. He’d been giving me shit about the price, convinced it was worth more because of his new bartender. A woman who was new in town.
Grace Bishop.
Diamond Creek wasn’t the type of place most people would choose to start over in. There wasn’t much here. One street lined with a few businesses didn’t make a metropolis.
The only reason we’d chosen here was that Blade, my road captain, had grown up here. He knew the roads, and he knew the people. It was a good place for a motorcycle club to set up. Wide-open roads and no real law to answer to.
When I stepped inside the bar, the first thing I noticed was the smell of stale beer and rancid oil. If I had to guess, I’d say it had been a long fucking time since someone cleaned the fryer.
It was a weekday, yet the place didn’t lack patrons. Men lined up at the bar waiting for their turn. I’d expected a lack of patience, yet it seemed they were all content to wait their turn while they watched the bartender.
Jake said she was pretty but, fuck!
Grace Bishop wasn’t just pretty. She was a fucking bombshell!
I watched as she moved along the bar with a genuine smile for every man she spoke to.
She wore her long blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail that sat low, and her denim shorts sat lower.
She’d knotted her bar T-shirt at her waist, an inch above her waistband, revealing more than a strip of creamy skin when she reached up on the shelf to grab a bottle. Skin I wanted to run my tongue along.
I pushed my way through the crowd, and a couple of local guys groaned when they saw me but moved to give me a stool.
What could I say?
It was good to be the King!
I cleared my throat as I pushed off the wall and walked toward her. Her eyes narrowed at me, and her hands fisted on her hips.
“What are you doing down here?”
“Looking for you.”
She cocked her head to the side. “Why?”
“Because we need to talk, Grace.” I stopped moving once I stood in front of her. She leaned her head back to look at me and took a deep breath.
“What is there to talk about?” she asked as she unraveled the tape on her hands. “You said nothing has changed. I don’t want to have the same fucking argument we’ve been having for years.”
Jesus Christ, this woman. She was so damn stubborn, and it was such a fucking turn-on. I wanted to lay her down on the mat and sink my cock into her.
“I claimed you at the table.”
Her head snapped up, and she stared at me. Her mouth hung open for a second before she closed it, then opened it. She did that three more times, and I smiled. For once, she didn’t have a smart-ass comeback.
“Why?” she asked when she was able to speak again.
“Steele is dead. And he wasn’t your father. There’s no reason we can’t be together now.”
She closed her eyes and tipped her head back. She blew out a breath and finished ripping the tape off her hands a little more aggressively than she had been.
“Why are you fucking mad now?”
“You don’t get it. You never will.”
“Then fucking explain it to me!” I barked. Nothing I did made this woman happy. If I didn’t fucking love her so damn much, I’d walk the fuck away. But I couldn’t do it.
She wadded up the tape and stomped over to the trash can. Tossing it into the garbage, she ignored me as she walked toward the locker rooms.
“Grace!” I rushed over and stood in front of the door. “Tell me what to fucking do here.”
She looked up at me, tears in her eyes. “I’ve been telling you for years, King. All I’ve wanted is for you to pick me. Just once.” She held up her hand, her fingers curled, all but the index finger, which stood straight up.
“I’ve been picking you since the first fucking night I saw you, Grace. I haven’t been with anyone since that night at the bar.”
Her eyes widened for a fraction of a second before they turned hard, and she glared at me, shaking her head. “Why can’t men think with the head on their fucking shoulders and not the one between their fucking legs?”
“Jesus Christ, woman. Stop talking in fucking riddles and be straight with me!”
“Figure it the fuck out.” She shoved through the door to the locker room once again, leaving me with my thumb up my ass, wondering what the fuck I did wrong.