CHAPTER FIVE
Eyes trained on Bash and Gator sitting across from me, I watch both of them doom scroll on their phones like a couple of zombies.
I shake my head at the insanity of it. People and their damn cellphones.
Missing out on life happening around them, and they don’t even realize it.
One day, they’ll look up and wish they had a rewind button to really live their lives, but it’ll be too late.
I glance over to the clock on the wall and sigh.
We’ve been in the office waiting for Foxy to finish her “work” for the past two hours, and the tension in my body is wound so tight I feel like I’m gonna fucking snap.
Gator snorts, breaking the silence.
“You watching those stupid cat videos on TikTok again?” I ask, raising an eyebrow at my enforcer.
He shrugs his massive tattooed shoulders without looking up from his screen. “Maybe.”
My lips turn up. Six foot three, two hundred and fifty pounds, prone to violence, and yet my enforcer has a soft spot for crazy cats on the internet.
“He’s addicted to TikTok,” Bash mutters, still scrolling through his own phone.
“Fuck off,” Gator replies.
I shake my head, amused at the irony. Bash has absolutely zero room to talk.
The man is obsessed with watching the stock market, specifically checking for any movement on his XRP crypto.
He bought a gazillion shares back in 2022, swearing that crypto and blockchain were going to be the way of the future.
The club invested right along with him. Just in case.
The AC kicks on with a groan, and the smell of bleach wafts through the vents. My nose wrinkles at the harsh chemical scent. At least it’s better than the stench of death that had started to take over the whole fucking building. Lord knows if we’ll ever get it all out.
“Got any updates on this place?” I need something to focus on. My mind keeps wandering down the hall to the blonde bombshell currently cleaning up our mess.
Bash finally looks up from his phone. “Kitties is up twenty percent from last month. The new girls are bringing in fresh clientele.”
Gator perks up at this, sitting a little straighter in his chair.
“Speaking of new girls,” Bash continues, a sly grin spreading across his face as he side eyes Gator, “Lavender’s bringing in quite the crowd. Girl can work that pole like nothing I’ve ever seen.”
Gator grumbles something under his breath, and Bash’s grin widens.
“What was that?” Bash taunts.
“Nothing,” Gator mutters.
Bash laughs, pointing at Gator with his phone. “He’s got a crush on her, but she won’t even look at him.”
I can’t help but laugh at the scowl on my enforcer’s face. He’s sulking over a stripper who won’t give him the time of day.
“Maybe try talking to her instead of just staring at her like a creep,” I suggest, enjoying the rare opportunity to see the big man squirm.
“I don’t stare—” Gator starts to protest, but is cut off when my phone starts blaring Poison’s Nothin’ but a Good Time.
I glance at the screen, recognizing the Jacksonville area code immediately. Pulling it to my ear, I answer, “Yo.”
“It’s Chief,” comes the gravelly voice on the other end. “Got a minute?”
“Yeah,” I reply, leaning forward in my chair. “What’s up?”
I lift my glass to my lips and take a sip of bourbon when he says, “First, I want to make it clear that my sister is off limits to your men.”
“Sister?” I ask incredulously, as I almost choke to death. “I mean, she’s your sister?”
Gator and Bash are now watching me carefully; their interest peaked.
Sister. Who would have fucking guessed? There’s absolutely no resemblance between them. Zero. Zilch.
“Yes, my off-limits sister,” Chief says with added emphasis on the ‘off-limits’ part. “And I expect that you’ll make sure your men are aware of that fact?” It’s proposed as a question, but we both know that it’s not.
“Yeah. Sure.” I have every intention of making sure all my men know to keep their hands to them-fucking-selves.
“Good.” There’s a pause, and I can hear voices in the background on his end. “And do me a favor, yeah?”
I grunt for him to continue.
“Keep an eye on her while she’s there. She has a habit of getting herself into trouble.”
I snort. That doesn’t surprise me one bit. She put my brother on his ass in the blink of an eye. I can just imagine her getting into all kinds of skirmishes.
“Don’t worry,” I assure him. “She’ll be looked after while she’s in Odin.
I’ll protect her like she’s one of my kids.
” I flinch as soon as the words leave my mouth.
I’m old enough to be her father for fuck’s sake.
And trust me, the things I want to do to her are definitely not fatherly. Not. At. All.
“Appreciate it,” Chief says, seemingly satisfied with my response. “Now, business. Kermit will be blowing through soon.”
I nod, understanding the code. Kermit means primo grade-A green that’s guaranteed to make all your problems disappear—high-quality weed from the Saints’ connections in Cuba. And “blowing through” means there’s a shipment of blow coming too.
Like the Kings, the Saints have charters all over the US. We facilitate the safe passage of the Saints’ product across the southern states, while they help move our guns through their territories. It’s a new business arrangement, but so far it’s been beneficial for both our clubs.
“Understood,” I reply. “When?”
“Next week. I’ll send the details through the usual channels.”
“We’ll be ready.”
We say our farewells, and once I end the call, Bash starts laughing.
“You’re so fucked,” he says, shaking his head.
I narrow my eyes at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He snorts. “You all but peed on her leg when you brought her in.”
I avoid his laughing eyes, but I know he’s right. I’ve been picturing her naked since the moment she tossed Bane in the dirt.
Before I can respond, there’s a soft knock at the door, and Foxy pokes her head in. Her blonde hair has been rearranged into a messy bun on top of her head, and there’s a smudge of something on her cheek that I have a sudden urge to wipe away.
“I’m done cleaning the room,” she announces. “He’s cleaned, bleached, and wrapped. My guys, Benny and Bobby, will be here in a few minutes to collect his body.”
No sooner are the words out of her mouth than there’s a knock at the back door, and her lips tip up. “That’d be them.”
“That was fast,” Gator mutters, standing up.
I get out of my chair and lumber out of the office toward the back entrance. Peering through the peephole, I see two big dudes dressed in all black standing outside.
“This them?” I ask over my shoulder.
Foxy squeezes in front of me to look, her body brushing against mine in the narrow hallway. The contact has my cock thickening behind my zipper.
She lifts onto her toes, and I catch a whiff of something sweet that reminds me of summer and peaches.
Delicious.
I decide it’s my new favorite scent.
“Yeah, that’s them,” she confirms, stepping back.
Unlocking the door, I pull it open and motion them in. Holy shit. These dudes are fucking BIG.
“This way, guys,” Foxy says, thumbing over her shoulder. When she turns, heading back to the VIP room, they follow behind her obediently.
I follow too, and am surprised how spotless the room is. There’s no trace of the horror that was here just hours ago. The wall has been cleaned of Camden’s blood, the message magically erased, and his body is wrapped tightly in industrial-grade plastic.
Benny and Bobby grab an end of the package and lift it effortlessly from the floor. Gator hurries ahead to hold the back door open for them as they carry their burden out. Outside, a nondescript white Econoline van is parked in the alley.
“Where are they taking him?” Gator asks as one of the men—Benny or Bobby, I can’t tell which—slams the van door shut.
“Somewhere he’ll never be found,” Foxy says cryptically before stepping forward to hug both men.
I grit my teeth.
It’s irrational. I don’t even know this woman. But seeing her put her hands on another man makes me want to end their miserable lives.
I suck in a deep breath. I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me.
She’s not mine. She’s never going to be mine. I need to get my head on straight before I do something stupid.
“Bye.” Foxy waves.
Benny or Bobby, I can’t be sure which, waves out the passenger window as they pull away.
As Foxy steps past me to head back inside the club, I hear her stomach growl loudly. Gator laughs, having heard it too.
“Hungry?” he asks
“Starving,” she admits, patting her flat stomach. “I haven’t eaten since that breakfast burrito I grabbed from Mickey D’s at six o’clock this morning.”
I glance at the Casio G-shock watch Bane got me for Christmas last year, and frown. It’s nearly six in the evening. That’s almost twelve hours without food.
“Let’s get you fed,” I say, placing my hand lightly on the small of her back as I guide her down the hall.
The gesture is automatic, and immediately makes me think of Chief’s warning.
Off limits. That’s what he’d said, but there’s something about this woman that makes me want to break all the rules.
“Dave’s Deli sound good?” I ask, looking at Foxy as I grab my cut from the back of the chair and shrug it on. “They’ve got the best sandwiches in town.”
She shrugs as if she’s down for whatever, but I don’t miss the way her green eyes light up at the mention of food. “Sounds good to me.”
“You guys wanna come?” I ask Bash and Gator, though I’m secretly hoping they’ll decline.
Bash shakes his head. “Can’t. Gotta help Journey with some shit.”
My brows snap together. “What shit?”
“Moving some safes in the back room at the King’s Pawn.”
I nod, then shift my gaze to Gator.
He shakes his head. “I’m good. Got some stuff of my own to handle.”
“By ‘stuff,’ do you mean stalk Lavender?” Bash laughs and jumps back when Gator swipes out a tattooed paw at him.
“Fuck off.”
Foxy tips her head, her big green eyes dancing. “Are they always like this?”
“Every. Fucking. Day.” I laugh.
Bash and Gator have been friends since middle school. Thick as thieves and always poking at each other.
I guide Foxy outside, my hand still resting on the small of her back.
As we walk toward my bike, I’m acutely aware of the electric current running between us where my fingers meet the bare skin, and I wonder how many of Chief’s rules I’m going to break before this woman leaves Odin.