Chapter Three
Pacino
“Leave my sister the fuck alone!” Zeppelin Molloy shouts, getting everyone’s attention.
Lainey Sloan rolls her eyes at both her brother and Wylie Ballard before continuing to clean up a table at the Seven Crows.
It’s a very complicated web. Wylie Ballard happens to be Zep’s older half-brother, and he hits on Zep’s sort of stepsister. Even though there’s no blood relation between Lainey and either man, it still feels a bit incestuous.
Or maybe it’s because we all recently learned that Zep’s mom, Jolene, lied for his entire life about having a one-night stand with Butch Ballard. The president of our rival, the Black Venom. No, that bastard forced himself on her, and the revelation royally fucked with Zep.
Not that anyone can blame him. That’s enough to mess with anyone’s head.
Besides being in the bar with us, the Venom have been lying low since Butch’s attack on Misty Reynolds, Zep’s girl. If Misty hadn’t called out for Zep, Zep would’ve killed his biological father.
But don’t worry. We broke enough of his bones before his club stepped in to stop us that it took months for him to get back on a bike. We really should’ve killed him, but there’s too much at play to pull that off without blowing up the Daredevils.
“Shouldn’t you be at home with your pregnant girlfriend? Besides, if Lainey doesn’t want me talking to her, she can just tell me,” Wylie says, a sick grin on his face.
He knows Zep is positive that the Venom had something to do with Johnny Sloan’s death. Lainey’s father. Our former president, who died in a hit-and-run accident. Even though there’s no proof anything other than an accident occurred, it doesn’t do much to convince Zep.
It’s a good thing he didn’t take over the president seat. We’d be at war that we’re not set up to win. Not with the Venom’s network that spreads into law enforcement.
“I have told you,” Lainey says, her dark hair swaying from side to side against her back as she moves her head. “You just don’t know how to listen.”
There’s no doubt this asshole was raised by Butch. He’s the road captain to his daddy’s club, and he acts more like Butch every day. And constantly hitting on his half-brother’s pseudo-stepsister doesn’t make it any better.
As far as everyone’s concerned, Johnny was Zep’s father. Making Lainey his sister, and anyone related to us is off-limits to the Venom. Just like we don’t go after their women.
Not that we want to.
Nor do they actually follow the rule.
“Guys, you know the rules,” Nancy Charney says from behind the bar.
The owner of the Seven Crows grabs her bat from beneath the bar and gives each man a warning look. This woman has more authority than the cops in this town—not that it takes that much with the Keystone cops we have in Gravelton—and she has one of the only truly neutral establishments in town.
Nancy’s family is part of a notorious gang that can give everyone in here a run for their money. No one wants to fuck with her. And if you do, it’s a guarantee you’ll end up dead with your head on a stick.
“Then tell him to stop fucking with my family!” Zep growls. “We won’t have threats of violence around here if he fucking stops.”
“Maybe I just enjoy our family bonding time,” Wylie says with a wink. “And I’d really like to bond with Lainey.”
The asshole has been flirting with Lainey since high school, and I can’t tell anymore if it’s just to fuck with Zep. It seems like he might actually want her.
My phone rings, and Scotty’s name on the screen makes me dread answering. It’s too early for a threat he can’t handle, so that means either a system failure somewhere or an angry customer.
Both things I don’t want to deal with.
“Yeah?”
“Pacino, someone’s casing out the bakery,” Scotty says, his voice shaking.
The panic tells me Sarah’s there with cheery Phoebe, and for some reason, my heart races. What if someone is actually after Phoebe?
I signal to Jethro at the end of the bar. “We’ll be right there.”
“What’s up?” the new president asks.
“Rule seven,” I say.
Jethro got his name by his code of twenty-five rules, and number seven is the most used. Always protect the women.
“Saddle up, boys!” the redhead shouts. “Follow Pacino!”
We hurry to the bakery as a dark SUV peels away with blacked out windows. Scotty stands at the front door, taser in hand, and he looks utterly ridiculous. It almost makes me laugh.
He’s a damn good electronics man, and he can hold his own in a fight—for a few minutes—but he’s too fucking excitable to give a real gun to. He’d shoot an unarmed man just for startling him, and that would really hurt business.
Zep taps on his phone as we get off our bikes and nods to me as mine vibrates in my pocket. “Sent you the plate. Might get lucky.”
“They were watching Phoebe,” Scotty says, walking out to meet me. “This feels personal, Pacino. I don’t think the break-in was just an opportunity.”
“Does she have enemies?” Jethro asks.
Both Scotty and I laugh. “Doubtful,” I say. “She’s… You know what? You just have to meet her to understand.”
The moment we walk inside, Phoebe smiles at us and holds a box in her hands like she wasn’t just being watched by men in a blacked-out SUV. “Hi, Tucker! Boys. Pick your poison. We’re just getting ready to take everything to the shelter.”
“Tucker?” Zep asks, his eyebrow raised as he holds back a laugh.
I can only shake my head. “Don’t.”
“Lemon curd tart with strawberries?” Rooster asks.
“One of my favorites. Oh! Would you be willing to try my newest creation? Sarah and Scotty say I have to make it my new signature dessert.”
Scotty elbows me. “Say yes. Fucking fantastic.”
Everyone nods their heads, and she damn near glows as she floats into the back. It’s like she has no comprehension of the danger she’s in.
“Is she always like this?” Capone asks.
One of my fellow miserable assholes. He’s also the only person who truly knows my history since we come from the same background.
“Sorry, guys. You’re not special,” Sarah says, her light brown hair tied up on the top of her head. “You could come in here and hold her at gunpoint, and she’d offer to feed you.”
“Is she, you know… all there?” Kannon Reed asks, pointing at his head.
The third miserable asshole rounds out the mix. It’s always interesting when the three of us end up together. We’re nothing but glum fuckers ready to kill someone just to take the edge off. But compared to the two of them, I’m the cheery one.
“Doubtful,” Capone says.
“She’s just… She wants everyone to be happy and feel cared for. Even if it’s just with food,” Sarah snaps, glaring at us as though the bakery isn’t filled with bikers. “She’s the best boss I’ve ever had, and she’s generous to a fault.”
“Phoebe helps Sarah pay for her pastry school tuition,” Scotty says. “She doesn’t have a mean bone in her body.”
That explains where some of her income goes. I was surprised when she told me the options for the security systems were too steep to swing right now after making twelve grand in one day. We’re the fairest price in town. And the most reliable.
The door from the back opens, and Phoebe walks out with a tray of frosted cupcakes. “Here you go!”
Even Kannon has a sparkle in his eye as he grabs one. I give in, even though I know it’s only going to make me want more. Just like the fucking donuts.
I wonder if tasting her would have the same effect on me.
What the fuck? I never think about women like that. Not since… before.
Of course the cupcake is fucking amazing. Salty but sweet with a hint of… beer?
“You made Bernie’s birthday cupcakes,” Zep says, his mouth full. “A play on chocolate cheesecake.”
I remember the party. Misty’s daughter, who Zep treats like his own. She’s a cute kid. And has a hell of a lot of power over Zep.
Phoebe smiles and nods. “She helped make them. She’s a natural.”
The SUV drives by again, and we all turn, guns in hand. It speeds away quickly, and I can’t help but feel familiarity with the situation. Déjà vu.
This has happened before, but I can’t pinpoint when. I need to look into that plate.
“Do you have family you can stay with for a few days?” I ask, my eyes never leaving the parking lot.
“No, all my family is gone.” There’s a sadness in her tone that I just can’t relate to. It makes me a bit jealous. “I’m sure it’s nothing. Who would want to harm me?”
“Someone who doesn’t like a cheerful woman who can bake,” Capone says, reaching for a second cupcake. “I don’t know what these are exactly, but they’re fucking amazing.”
The compliment has her beaming with pride, and I almost envy her. There’s just so much joy in everything she does. It’s been so long since I last felt even the inkling of happiness that I’m not entirely sure I remember what it feels like.
“I don’t think it’s nothing,” I say, and Capone nods in agreement.
That’s when it hits me. He feels the same thing I do. It feels mob-like.
Kannon glances between us. “You don’t?”
“No, I think this needs to be taken seriously. If not, we won’t have phab pastries to eat anymore,” Capone says, taking a third one. “Seriously, these are like crack.”
“You really need to have sex more often,” Rooster says.
“Coming from the man who screamed like a bitch when he got cornered by a rooster? Yeah, I’ll take your comment under advisement.”
As much as I love giving Rooster shit for his fear of large birds, I’m actually worried about Phoebe. “You shouldn’t stay at your place, Phoebe. If someone’s casing out this place, they probably know where you live, too.”
“And if someone wants to hurt you, that would be the prime place to do it,” Jethro agrees. “Better safe than sorry.”
“You can stay with me,” Sarah offers.
Phoebe shakes her head, a few blonde strands falling out of her hair tie, making her look a bit like a sexy librarian. “No. If I’m really in danger, it’s bad enough you work here with me. I’ll find a hotel or something.”
“How are you planning to pay for that? You just paid my tuition and rent, and we lost twelve grand in the break-in last night, remember?”
“The clubhouse?” Jethro offers.
Zep shakes his head. “I don’t think that’s a great idea.”
“If she promises to bake for me, she can stay at my place,” Capone says.
“Seriously, dude, go find a woman,” Rooster says. “You’re going to get fat eating like this. She can stay with me.”
“No, she’ll stay with me,” I blurt out without thinking.
Jealousy at the thought of Phoebe under the same roof as any of these assholes takes over, and I’m as shocked as they look.
“I’m the reason we’re here right now. She’s a client,” I say. “My responsibility.”
No one looks like they buy it, and honestly, neither do I. And as it settles over me, I think it may be a mistake. Having two complete opposites under one roof doesn’t sound like the best combination.
Great job, Pacino.