CHAPTER 3
Fuck, the blond bombshell on stage is a fucking stunner. I haven’t been able to look away from the moment the lights came back up on the stage. Honestly, I could almost pat myself on the back because the whole burlesque show was my idea.
Could I have gotten one of the angels to put on a show? Sure, but that wouldn’t have been very special. That shit could happen any night of the week.
And I wanted to do something a little bit different for my brother and one of my oldest friends.
There hasn’t been a time in my life when I haven’t known Spark. Sure, back when I first knew him he was just Waylon. But, then again, I was Chance when we were friends back then. When we met Nico in school, we brought him into the fold.
He needed a family, and we had one to share. That was before he became Crucify.
That’s not entirely accurate. Crucify has a younger sister, but their parents were shit who didn’t care about their kids at all. They expected Crucify to take care of his sister when he was only a child himself. But then once we graduated, he didn’t have a lot of resources available to him and he wanted to be able to still help his sister.
There was no way his parents were going to provide shit for Lake. He started working for the club and became a Prospect at the same time that Spark and I did as well. He’d already spent time at the clubhouse by then.
It’s not like he could have taken Lake away from their parents. They might have been shit, but I doubt that they would have allowed that shit. And it’s not like Crucify had a legal leg to stand on. They weren’t abusive, they were just…absent.
I have no idea how people like that can have kids.
Hell, I grew up with my dad as a patched member of the DSMC, something far too many people look down on, but I was never fucking once abandoned or neglected. Fuck, sometimes it felt like I had too many eyes on me and too much fucking support.
It was harder to get into trouble, the kind of trouble we were looking for back then, with so many people looking out for us.
But, then again, some types of trouble we had readily available at the clubhouse already.
Like pussy was never a fucking problem.
And our parents drummed it into us that drugs weren’t something they were on board with. Now, having a drink? Sure. And smoking some green was fine too. Anything harder than that would have earned us an ass kicking.
One we would have deserved.
The lessons our parents made sure we learned, ones they included Crucify in back in the day, were all about making sure we became loyal brothers when it was our time to be patched in. They sure as fuck didn’t take it easy on us when we became Prospects; they were harder on us than anyone else. Probably because we already knew the score and the importance of the connections between us.
Over the years beautiful women have become the norm and not something that normally turns my head. Glancing over at Spark and Crucify, I know that they sure as fuck don’t turn the heads of my best friend either. But right now they’re both practically drooling over the woman on stage.
The fans she’s holding in her hands are the biggest fucking tease I’ve ever seen. We can get glimpses of her body and the sparkly outfit she’ wearing underneath it. The way her hair is styled reminds me of some starlet in a black and white movie, something my mom always tried to get me into but never held much appeal.
I don’t know why Mom was always so into them, but she always said she loved the style and simplicity of them and complained about the big stunts and effects in modern movies. When I was growing up, I rolled my eyes at her and didn’t understand, but the woman on stage has me filled with nostalgia that I don’t completely understand.
Fuck, I would do just about anything to run my fingers through her short hair and mess up the way it’s perfectly styled.
The way her body moves has the rest of the room falling away as I travel alongside her on waves of music and beats of pleasure. Just looking at her is enough and I’ve never felt that way around a woman before.
What in the world is going on here? Has a woman ever captured my attention like she has? She glows from the inside out and it has nothing to do with the sparkly bits adorning her legs and costume. The light catches every fragment, making it hard to look at her while impossible to look away.
The feathers in front of her offer glimpses, the way she’s moving them making me want to get on my knees and crawl toward her slowly. Every sliver of her I can see entices me more and more. I’m half tempted to raise my hand to wipe my chin as I’m sure that I’m drooling right now.
A weight settles on my lap and my hands grip whoever has sat there, but I don’t bother looking. I can’t and, honestly, I don’t want to lose a second of being able to watch the woman on stage. A breath ghosts across my neck, but I don’t pay it any attention.
It feels like a fly against my skin, and I shudder, but not in a good way. The soft giggle sounds like it’s far away and floats away on the breeze. Thankfully.
Even the cheering around me is a far-off notion and they piss me off because they’re for her. I should be the only one cheering for her. She should only be dancing for me.
A grunt from next to me filters through the haze that she’s made to descend around me. When I look over at Spark, I instantly recognize the need and hunger on his face. He’s not paying any attention to the angel on his lap. Hell, I barely register that Tiff is there.
Spark wants the woman on stage. What was her name? I hired her. It’s right there on the edge of my mind and when my eyes find her again, she’s looking right at me. The lighting is horrible, but her eyes are a deep blue, and something clicks in my mind.
Navy.
Her name is Navy.
Crucify makes a strangled sound in the back of his throat as she turns again, the feathers she’s holding fluttering as the song comes to an end. I should have booked her for more than two songs, but I wasn’t entirely sure how burlesque would go over with the group.
The lights go out entirely and I watch the curves of her body, sin beckoning me in the most enticing fucking way, move off the stage and head back into the storage room she was escorted to. I should have been the one to do it, but I gave the job to Ashton, a Prospect that we’ll be voting on patching in soon.
I have no doubt that Navy will slip out of the same door that she was brought through so her presence could remain a surprise. I want to follow her, my body poised to spring up so I can corner her in the supply room.
“Fuck,” Crucify growls and snarls at Abrielle, a club angel perched on his lap that I didn’t even notice moments ago, “what the fuck are you doing on my lap?”
“You looked like you could use some company,” she purrs, and the sound of her voice snaps me out of my own feather and twinkle induced haze.
“Yeah,” Brianna coos and tries to snuggle into my chest while looking over at Spark with a big grin curling her lips. Or is she looking at Tiff perched there? Does it even matter? “You three looked lonely.”
I can hear what isn’t being said. We looked like we were in another world because of the woman on stage. The angels were jealous. And they’ve fucked with the wrong men.
Crucify hasn’t touched an angel in a while. Not since he came back from visiting Lake all out of sorts and looking like he was searching for something deeper than the physical.
Spark’s body stills as he looks down at Tiff who tries to run her hands down his arms like he’s a house cat that needs a good rubdown. The anger that flashes in his eyes, the pure fucking annoyance, should be a warning.
It isn’t.
He stands up so quickly that Tiff tumbles to the floor and lands on her ass with an audible thud. Abrielle’s and Brianna’s eyes widen in surprise, but they don’t move to help her. I guess there’s no real solidarity between angels, not when they’re really only out for themselves.
I realize now that I have no idea when Brianna sat on my lap. Did Navy see them? Could she with the lights shining down on her? Then I remember the ghost of disappointment I saw in her eyes, an emotion I didn’t want to recognize at the time, right before the lights went out and she moved off the stage.
Fuck. She saw that.
Why does it feel like the realization has a hole ripping through my soul?
While we’ve had some brothers finding their forevers with their old ladies recently, I never really thought that would happen to me. I’ve been content with making my club and my brothers my priority. I’ve never met a woman that I wanted more than one night with.
Don’t get me wrong, I love the old ladies my brothers have found like they’re my sisters. I am more than willing to spill blood for them and protect them with my life, the same way I’m willing to do so for my brothers. That doesn’t mean I thought I’d commit to one woman.
Then again, thinking about some of my brothers, like Monk who changed so drastically after his sister was abducted by traffickers and then her subsequent death, he never thought he’d have an old lady. Watching him open up to Rebel has been a revelation, one I’ve been glad to see. She’s good for him and shines light on areas of his heart and soul that we could have never touched.
“What the fuck, Spark?” Tiff’s screeching voice has me wincing as my ears ring slightly.
When I look up and meet Spark’s eyes, they’re wide and wild. I’m hot on his heels when he stomps down away from the angel still on the floor. We’re not alone either, Crucify is right behind me.
The door to the supply room is open and it only takes a glance to see that it’s empty. Fuck. She’s gone. I know it without having to call up Prospect on the gate to confirm.
Why does that make an ache start to throb in the center of my chest?
Spark doesn’t stop until he’s in his office, his booted feet stomping back and forth in front of his desk until he rounds it, grabbing some glasses and a bottle of Hammond Whiskey from a drawer which he slams down on top with a little too much force.
He starts to pour whiskey into the three glasses he’s pulled out and, for the first time in my life, even after all we’ve seen, I watch as my Prez’s hands shake. It’s unsettling, but not all that surprising. I feel like I’ve been knocked off kilter and one look at Crucify’s expression tells me that he’s right there with me.
Something inside of me clicks and I do what I’ve been doing for years now—start to think of all the ways to solve the problem. For my Prez. For my brother.
For me?
I’m not sure if I can accept that. Not yet anyway, but for them it doesn’t really matter.
“What the fuck was that?” Spark snarls the question after downing his drink in one shot. “Who the fuck was that?”
I clear my throat, my eyes studying my Prez and the way he looks like a snake coiled and about to strike. “I hired her. I thought it would be a nice way to change things up. Burlesque is all about the tease,” I tease, trying to see if I can lighten the mood.
Spark’s crystal blue eyes glint with warning and I’m reminded why he got his road name. It only takes one spark to set him off. It’s the way he’s always been. And I never want to do anything to find myself on the receiving end of his fury.
I hold my hands up, my words slow and measured, “I can see she had some sort of effect on you.”
He swallows hard after he slumps down into his chair. The tension in the room seems to settle slightly and I take a seat in one of the chairs opposite him, Crucify joining me in the other one.
“You could fucking say that,” our Prez growls. He rubs a hand down his face and then shakes his head. “I don’t know what the fuck just happened.”
“You got struck,” there’s a chuckle in my voice, and Crucify groans. I look at my other best friend and smirk. “And I don’t think you were alone in that.”
Spark’s head snaps up and his eyes narrow as he looks at me and then Crucify. I can see the moment he realizes what I’m saying.
Having Navy between us would not be the first time we’ve shared a woman, but it has been a while. When we were younger it happened more often. Hell, we explored a bunch of things with a woman between us and found out some kinky shit about each other.
I don’t think we ever considered making sharing a woman a permanent arrangement.
But it’s all I can think of right now. As long as that woman’s Navy.
“I’m not fucking sharing her,” Spark grits out through his teeth, the warning in his voice clear to hear.
“She’s mine,” Crucify snarls out and I pinch the bridge of my nose.
Everything in me is screaming to throw my hat into the ring and join in on the posturing happening and the stench of testosterone quickly filling up the office. But I don’t.
Not because I don’t want her, but because someone has to be the voice of reason. Hell, someone has to find her first before this even becomes something we need to worry about.
I’ve always been the problem solver. I hope I don’t have a problem finding her.
I could always get Friar, our resident tech expert, or his woman, Robyn, to help me out. But the thought leaves a sour taste in my mouth. I want to find her without their help.
I need to.
When I stand, the eyes of my best friends are wary when they look at me. “Her name is Navy, by the way.” The way their faces soften tells me everything I need to know. I start to head toward the door, but throw over my shoulder, “I want her too and I have a feeling she won’t want to choose. I’ll find her. Then we’ll go from there.”
The sound of the door closing behind me is loud in the quiet hallway, the party seemingly not starting back up after Navy’s show and then the sideshow following it. The brothers who have found their women are probably grinning like smug assholes right now and the rest are confused as fuck. Then there’s the angels.
“Fuck,” I mutter to myself as I head toward my room, “I hope our woman is strong. She’s going to need to be.”