Property of Monster (Kings of Anarchy MC: Nevada #2)

Chapter 1

ONE

MONSTER

“Stare any harder at your Captain and Coke, and he might get demoted to deckhand.” Kansas chuckled at his own joke.

Monster glared at the club’s secretary. It wasn’t Kansas’s fault Monster was in a foul mood.

His eyes drifted to the silver cuff that circled his wrist as he raised his glass.

Despite his abject lack of seasonal cheer or humor, he shouldn’t take it out on Kansas just because he had enough Christmas cheer for the both of them.

Monster opted for humor instead.

“Ah, I see Santa came early and left you a big box of dad jokes under your tree.”

Kansas lifted his mug of beer before tapping it on the bar and then taking a drink. Monster did the same, downing the rest of his in a few hearty gulps, before motioning to their latest prospect for a refill.

Zach had been with them for about a year and wasn’t too bad at basic bartending. But the fancier shit he didn’t get much practice for at the clubhouse. That’s why he was working the bar at King’s Ransom during the busy holiday season instead of the clubhouse. He needed to learn.

Plus, Prowler thought it’d be a good idea to have more of a presence on property after what happened last year with Taylor’s brother. Since it was looking like Zach would come into his patch soon, it was good he was getting a feel for the place.

Zach placed his drink down in front of him and waited to be dismissed. Monster took a swig. The balance was spot on. Of course, it’s hard to fuck up a rum and Coke. Monster would still give him shit though; it was a rite of passage.

“Improving, but you forgot my lime.”

Monster never took a drink with a lime, and he could see the protest perched on the prospect’s lips. He was set to scold him for talking back when Zach muttered an apology, speared a wedge with a skewer and placed it in Monster’s drink.

“Dismissed,” Monster said with a hint of satisfaction, before plucking the offending citrus from his drink and flinging it at the prospect’s back.

To his credit, Zach simply turned around and picked it up. No snarky comeback, no death glare. The kid and his control of his wolf had come a long way since they’d brought him in to protect their secret.

“Not the same kid we met way back when at all, is he?” Ghoul said with pride as he took the stool on the other side of Monster. Of course he would be proud. He was his official sponsor after all.

“Not even close.”

“His wolf has even calmed down considerably.” Kansas added.

“Thank, fuck.”

The few times Monster’s defective wolf had run with Zach’s out-of-control wolf, it had become apparent the two were oil and water.

Prowler had stopped their wolves from running together when Ulf had almost ripped Zach’s wolf’s throat out. The dark gray fucker kept nipping his tail, wanting him to play or run through daisies or some shit. Monster wasn’t sure exactly what had happened.

When Ulf was out, Monster was blissfully unaware for the most part. His eyes drifted to the silver cuff once again. To anyone else, it simply looked like a hammered piece of jewelry of questionable taste, but it was all that stood between the life he had and one spent entirely in fur.

Ghoul’s voice cut through his internal musings.

“It’s being around us. We’re a good influence.”

Deep, booming laughter floated through the air from every club member within earshot.

“Never, in the history of ever, has anyone called men like us a good influence,” Bulldog quipped as he walked up to the bar for a refill.

“That’s not true,” an inebriated Taylor said from somewhere behind them. “You guys are all a bunch of sweethearts. Cuddly-wuddly softies.”

Collectively, they groaned. Drunk Taylor was a rare occurrence, but when it happened, she was annoying as fuck. Of course, not a damn one of them had the balls to say that out loud about Prez’s ol’ lady.

“I’m afraid my ol’ lady has had too much Christmas cheer,” Prowler declared to the room at large.

Monster turned in time to see Prowler throw her over his shoulder and swat her ass. “That’s it. You’re cut off.” Lower, but still audible to the shifters in the room, he said, “And you’re gonna pay for that, love.”

They watched their president leave with a mixture of expressions on their faces.

Kansas looked on longingly. Bulldog looked amused, and Ghoul was poised for a dismissive joke, but Monster? He watched them go with a look of resignation. His wolf was way too defective to ever be domesticated. Not that he wanted to be anyway.

Did he?

No, he most certainly did not. He liked to drink when he was thirsty, fuck when he was horny, and leave his crap all over the floor for as long as he wanted.

Since the club bought Taylor’s place and he and Kansas rented it, he could do whatever the fuck he wanted.

Kansas didn’t complain if he left a cereal bowl in the sink for a few days.

Plus, if their place got too messy, he’d grab Alex, Zach’s younger human brother from the clubhouse, and he’d clean it. Perks of having the kid around.

The closer they kept Alex, the less chance he would spill their secret.

Zach had come into his wolf a handful of years back through a car accident and had no one to guide him nor explain the importance of discretion.

His little brother, Alex, blabbed to the Prez’s daughter, trying to impress her, and that’s how they ended up on the club’s radar.

Monster smiled. Yeah, Prowler had shut that shit down the second the kid turned eighteen.

Now that he was their gopher, and Prowler laid out the rules to him, he would barely even look at Cass, much less talk to her.

“Our new guys here yet?” Monster asked Ghoul.

They were waiting on a couple of vamps looking to gamble and fuck. The King’s Wing would accommodate them, emptying both their balls and their wallets.

More citizens started trickling into the bar, so their conversation turned mundane. Sports, the weather, betting on how long it’d take before Kansas picked up the mistletoe he had on the bar and tried to get the new ladies who’d arrived to give him a kiss—again.

Ghoul downed his drink, then slapped Monster on the back. “We’re up.” He nodded toward the door.

Monster stood, and they went to meet their new clients.

“Mr. Smith, Mr. Wesson.” Ghoul extended his hand to one, Monster the other. “Nice to see you both again.”

Yeah, not their real names, but after they were vetted and briefed, the club gave them monikers for when on property.

“Follow me,” Monster said rather curtly. They wanted them on their toes their first visit, and Monster drew the short straw since they’d already met Ghoul.

People took Ghoul’s friendly smile at face value, but the fucker was a psychopath if he needed to be. Monster was to be the show of force this time. That’s why he was at the bar in the first place.

Once they traversed the dim hallway to the back, passing through a locked PRIVATE door, Monster turned without warning and spun Smith. He had him against the wall with his hands pressed against his lower back, bad cop style. The other man tried to step forward, but Ghoul got the jump on him.

“Uh, uh, uh.” Ghoul clicked his tongue. “Down, boy.”

So, the one Monster had was the higher up of the two, and the other was the hired help. As he kicked the man’s legs wide and started patting him down, he spoke low and menacingly.

“Tell your dog to sit. I’d hate to have to put him down. I’m sure you were told you’d be searched.”

“Ian,” was all the man said, and Wesson nodded.

After patting him from behind, he ordered him to turn. Smith complied, arms out before speaking again.

“It was instinct, I assure you. Ian was just taken by surprise.”

A grunt was the only response Monster gave him. The way he talked was way too formal.

“Beyond that door, it’s not Ian,” Ghoul warned.

Smith nodded.

Once the search was complete, they would escort the men to their vice of choice.

“Well,” Ghoul rubbed his hands together. “What will it be first, gentlemen? Poker or poke her?”

“Poker.” The boss answered, while his right hand had something else in mind.

“You got it. Monster, take Wesson here and introduce him to the ladies. Mr. Smith, follow me.”

Monster did just that. Everything else had been handled prior. Once Monster got him buzzed into the private area, Darcy greeted them. He dropped a kiss on her cheek.

“How you doing, Darc?”

“Pretty good, but I could be better.” She raised an eyebrow at him.

He knew exactly what that meant. Since she’d been back, she only offered her pussy to select brothers, and never clients, but he’d stayed out of her bed.

Monster liked her, and he’d loved to fuck her, but that was before her attack.

He wasn’t a gentle lover, and with the state she’d been in after, he couldn’t see himself indulging his darker side with her ever again.

Although Monster couldn’t help the smile that pulled at his lips as Darcy looped her arm through Wesson’s and tugged him forward.

“Who are you, handsome?” She asked Wasson as she led him to the brothel’s lounge area to choose his companion for the night.

It was good to see her back to her old self and really enjoying life again.

After the attack last year, Darcy went to a care facility, then did months of therapy that the club happily footed the bill for.

When she returned, she took over as madam and seemed happier than ever.

That was why he wouldn’t touch her. He wouldn’t dream of jeopardizing her mental health.

Monster scanned the area as he returned to the bar, and he wasn’t shocked to notice Kansas holding mistletoe high above his head, coaxing consensual kisses from the ladies entering the bar.

The man was obsessed with finding his mate, so he usually brought out the mistletoe before the stuffing was gone on Thanksgiving.

Whistling at Zach, the prospect immediately turned and poured Monster a Captain and Coke, with a lime garnish.

“What’s this?”

“Um, it’s a lime,” Zach answered shakily.