Chapter 15
15
ASHE
“Jesus, Zar!” I cursed, bringing a hand to my probably-bleeding nose. “What do you have in that bag, a fucking brick?”
“No, but if you’re going to make this a habit, maybe I’ll start carrying one!”
I looked down at my hand. No blood.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” she stormed over to pick up her bag, inspecting the material to make sure it wasn’t injured. Knowing that I was lower on the totem pole than a handbag stung a little, I’ll admit.
“I had to make sure you were okay,” I shrugged, leaning back on the kitchen counter and crossing my arms.
It had taken every last shred of my self control not to rip that rich boy’s throat out at the pub when he dragged her away. Her little bodyguard was proving to be a bit of a problem for me. I knew I couldn’t do anything about it though, not when things were already so tense between the MC and The Family.
“Of course I’m okay,” Zarina shook her head. “What did you think would happen?”
“Look, I know what happens when a member betrays the club, alright? I don’t exactly know what protocol is for the mafia. I had to be sure.”
“My brother wouldn’t kill me, that’s for sure,” she rolled her eyes.
Her lips pressed into a pout as she crossed her arms, mimicking my stance. I was sure she thought she was being funny, but all I could think about was the brief memory I had of those cherry-red lips wrapped around my?—
“He would kill you , though,” Zarina added, disrupting my much happier thoughts. “What would have happened if he had brought me home? Hmm?”
She had a fair point. I wouldn’t admit it, though.
I shrugged.
I didn’t have an answer. Hadn’t heard any of the rational reasons why I should not have come here when Charmer and Bull had tried to stop me at the pub. They had tried to make me see reason, to stay with them and drink, to go for a ride somewhere to take my mind off of it.
But as soon as we were on the highway, it was easy enough to lose them.
I knew that nothing else would be able to occupy my thoughts until I knew that she was safe. Saw it with my own two eyes.
“Well, I’m fine,” she gestured at herself. “All in one piece. So now what?”
I pushed off the counter, closing the space between us in two steps and she moved against the wall. Her eyes widened with a little bit of shock and sparkled with a little bit of excitement.
Zarina Santino loved this little game we were playing, that I could already tell.
“You tell me, Princess.”
She was tall, but I was taller, and the way that she looked up at me through those long lashes would have me falling to my knees if only she asked for it.
This woman could flutter her eyelashes and flash those icy blue eyes at me and I’d sign over half my shit without a second thought.
Hell, let’s be real, I’d sign over all of my shit.
That meant that she was dangerous.
Not only to me, but to my club.
“We could have sex?” she breathed, lifting one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug.
An involuntary groan escaped me.
Holy fuck did I want that more than anything. But she must have sensed the way that I stiffened. Or maybe this woman was as observant as I knew she was, and maybe she could see the battle that I was fighting inside.
Because yes, I wanted to sink back into her, over and over again. I wanted to hear her cry my name. I wanted to feel those sharp nails rip down my back as she moaned against my neck. But I couldn’t trust myself around her.
I couldn’t trust that I wouldn’t want to keep fucking her for the rest of my life. And that just wasn’t possible. It just wasn’t on the cards for us. Not when her family was trying to destroy mine. And not when my family was trying to end hers forever.
There was nothing here that wasn’t dangerous.
Those lust-filled eyes of hers shifted into something a little more playful.
“We could watch Netflix?” she arched a brow.
I frowned, my arms still caging her against the wall.
This chick wanted to fucking Netflix and Chill right now? While my logical brain was losing a brutal battle against my over-excited cock?
Zarina smirked, reaching up and tracing her hands up from my forearms and up the curves of my biceps. I knew she was probably having the same conflicted thoughts that I was, but if she kept touching me like that, we would both lose.
“Fine.” I pulled away from her touch, stalking towards the couch to put some immediate space between us before I ended up fucking her against the wall.
I plopped down on her soft, cloudlike couch with a grunt, picking up the remote and turning the TV on. Zarina climbed over me, snatching the remote from my hands.
“This is my house,” she reminded, laying down at the corner of the L-shaped couch and thankfully keeping at least a little space between us. She kicked off her shoes and stretched out, resting her legs on my lap instead as she scrolled through the many options available on the streaming service.
“Uh, can we at least have a vote?” I slapped lightly at her leg as she hit ‘continue’ on a half-watched episode of Keeping Up With The Kardashians. She ignored me though, getting comfortable and dragging a mass of pillows toward herself and ‘subtly’ hiding the remote under one of them.
I groaned loudly now, hoping that she would acknowledge my protest.
She didn’t.
I thought momentarily about getting up and leaving, but I knew that I was shit-talking even myself. I wasn’t going anywhere. Not with her legs draped over mine, and the way that her face shifted with each emotion that the show drew from her.
Zarina didn’t seem to have a poker face.
I mostly watched her during the first episode, noting how she would smile when she thought something was nice, or funny, how she would frown and pout when she didn’t agree, how she would raise her brows and stiffen if she was surprised.
“Why doesn’t she just leave him?” I asked about halfway through the second episode.
“Wait, which one is she?” I asked five minutes later.
“I thought that she was with the other dude?
“Who’s this guy?”
“That dress is fucking ugly.”
“What is?—”
Zarina cut my question off by throwing one of her too large pillows.
“Just watch and you’ll fucking find out!” she snapped.
At some point, Zarina had got up and changed into a matching set of pale pink pyjamas. The shorts barely covered her ass cheeks, and I stayed fixated on the show in order to stop myself from flipping her over so I could bite down on one.
She settled back into her end of the couch, and by the fifth episode I forgot that time was passing.
“Can you believe that she wore the—” I turned towards her.
But Zarina was asleep, buried under her pile of pillows, with her mouth slightly open.
I smiled, and considered getting up and carrying her to bed. Then the ‘Are you still watching?’ notification popped up on the TV screen and I sighed.
I moved Zarina’s legs and pulled the blanket off the side of the lounge chair, draping it over her. Then I moved to the kitchen and turned off the lights before I laid back down at the other end of the couch, so our legs were touching.
And then I pressed ‘Play next episode’.
* * *
I woke up that morning because the sun was shining brightly through the large windows in Zarina’s high-rise apartment. I blinked against it, and sighed from happiness when a dark spot shielded my eyes.
I opened one eye and looked up, finding Zarina standing above me with her hands on her hips.
“You made me miss nearly all of season 18.”
I yawned, stretching out.
“I can update you, if you want. First, Khloe decided?—”
“No!” Zarina lifted a hand as if to smack me. “No spoilers!”
I hooked my hands around the back of her thighs and pulled her towards me.
“You look beautiful,” I said, my finger tracing up and down the back of her leg.
God, she was smooth all over.
Her skin was like the most expensive silk and I wanted to run my hands, my teeth, my tongue, all over it.
She was already dressed for work though, in her pointed high heels and long sleeved dress that hugged every delicious curve of her. It fell mid-way at her thighs, those tanned legs seemingly going on forever.
“Thank you,” she said, like she was surprised to hear it. “Now, get out,” her voice dropped into a serious tone and I chuckled.
“Fine, fine,” I groaned as I stood and stretched.
As soft as the couch was, it was still a cramped space to share, given the height of both of us. I slipped into my boots and Zarina followed me to the door. She reached for the handle, but I reached for her jaw, catching it in my hand and pulling her face up towards mine.
The gasp she inhaled was a sound that I’d probably play on repeat forever. That delicious little breath of surprise she let out as I leaned down and pressed a kiss to her maroon-red lips.
Don’t ask why, because even I didn’t know why I did it.
It was automatic. Natural. Like I had been kissing this woman goodbye for most of my life.
When I pulled away, her mouth remained parted, only making me want to do it again.
“I’ll see you round, darlin’.” I shot her a wink, leaving her to stand in her doorway as I strode towards the elevator without looking back.
Couldn’t look back. Had to get as much space between us as possible before I locked us both in her bedroom until we had done every single dirty fucking idea that had ever crossed my mind.
I cursed the bright sun as I made the walk to the next block where I had parked my bike.
The traffic was peak-hour thick, but I filtered through the lanes, manoeuvring into the gaps and making my way forward in the strange meditative state that the bike brought out in me.
My brain didn’t kick in again until I parked at the back of the studio and headed in through the rear entrance.
The music was already going, and Jess’s playlist was instantly recognisable. The three of us had made a deal a while ago that whoever got to work first got to pick the music.
Jess had beat us both through the door ever since.
While we all had a pretty similar music taste and I couldn’t really complain about her choices, she had this weird quirk where she listened to her playlist in order . No shuffling allowed. I could nearly tell the time depending on which song was playing at that moment.
Apparently, I was a little late to work that morning, because that one A Day to Remember song that I really liked was on, and usually I was already deep in focus by the time it rolled around.
Jess offered me a smile in greeting, already on the phone to a customer and doodling on her notepad as the person on the other end talked her ear off.
Prince was already at his station, working hunch-backed over the custom piece he’d been slaving over for weeks.
The client was a friend of ours, a guy who appreciated Prince’s style maybe more than anyone else on the planet. When he decided to get a full back piece and told Prince that he had free reign over the design, Princey was both salivating with excitement and visibly jittery with nerves.
The perfectionist in him wouldn’t leave it alone until he thought it was good enough.
“The more you fuck with it, the more you’re gonna hate it,” I reminded him, pulling up a stool to sit and watch him work.
“Too late,” he grumbled under his breath, lifting his black-rimmed glasses and sitting them atop his head. He pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a breath, and I could tell that he’d already been here for hours.
Harlen Prince had founded Graze Ink not long after he finished his apprenticeship.
Dude was talented, way ahead of his years.
After I dropped out of school and found myself searching for something to do other than pushing trolleys at the local grocery store, he accepted me as his own apprentice, based on a few mediocre sketches that I had shown him and probably a little pity.
He could tell that I needed money.
While my mother was a warm and wonderful woman, she’d never been good with money. Any cash that came our way went into the pokies or lotto tickets, along with stories of what our lives would be like once she finally hit it big.
“ Today’s a lucky day, Ashy, ” she’d say on her way out the door at around 10 in the morning, coincidentally the same time that the pubs opened. “ I can feel it .”
I’d wish her luck and ride my bike to work.
Still, whatever the reason was that Prince decided to take a chance on me, I would be forever grateful. I had no idea where I would be in life if it wasn’t for him.
Which was why I was so stoked when he finally took over as Prez for the club. It was easier to follow someone’s orders when you respected them.
That had been King’s major flaw as president—no one respected him.
They mostly followed what he said because of the fear of consequence, not because they actually believed in what he was trying to accomplish.
But Prince was going to take the club to the next level. We wouldn’t be scraping the bottom of the barrel for the Santino’s leftovers for much longer.
It was almost cliche at this point whenever an MC said that they were going to get out of crime, to run a straight club with legit profits, but that was Princey’s end game.
He assured us that it would take a while to get there, of course, and we were all fine with getting our hands dirty if that was what it would take to protect the club.
“Where did you go last night?” he asked as Jess wandered into the back alley for a smoke break, already nose deep in her phone and ignoring us.
“I had to go and sort some shit out,” I mumbled, pushing away from him and heading to my own station before he could smell the bullshit.
“Right,” he continued to eye me. “So you didn’t go to the girl’s house?”
I shrugged.
There was no point in lying to him. He only asked questions that he already knew the answer to.
Prince shook his head, throwing his glasses on the desk and heading over to my station, not dropping the subject, apparently.
“Look,” he said in a hushed tone, “I’m not gonna tell you to stay away, ‘cause I know it’d be useless.”
“Mmm,” I nodded in confirmation.
“But I am gonna tell you to be careful. Not just as your president, Henny, but as your friend.”
I clapped him on the shoulder, not looking him in the eye.
“It’s not gonna be a problem,” I tried to sound casual, but I wasn’t so sure that I was being truthful. I was hoping that it didn’t become a problem, sure, but I couldn’t guarantee that I was smart enough to stay away from this girl.
Fuck, I had spent the night on her couch just to be near her.
So how could I promise my boss, my president, the closest thing that I’d ever had to a father, that everything was going to be okay?
The bell sounded, letting us know that we were no longer alone.
Jess reemerged from the alley, quickly spritzing herself in that fucking fruity perfume that she thought covered the smell of her cigarette. She looked towards the counter to greet the men stepping inside, but her face quickly fell into one of irritation.
I looked over my shoulder at the cause—two cops with shit-eating smirks on their faces were having a look around.
“Can I help you?” Jess asked, her voice tight.
“Sure, bub,” the shorter one said. “I’d like to talk to Harlen Prince.”
Jess looked over her shoulder towards us, the question on her face.
Did we want her to lie?
Prince sighed, shaking his head as he made his way over to the counter.
“I’m Harlen Prince,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest.
He towered over both of them, and I could see how much they were irritated by the fact as they both straightened to their fullest height and puffed out their chests.
“Mr. Prince, we’re here on an anonymous tip that you may be selling drugs through this establishment.”
“Right,” Princey nodded once. “And the Melbourne Police Force has nothing better to do with their time than to follow up anonymous tips about small-time drug dealers?”
“It’s our job,” the other added, not looking at Harlen.
“Well, gentlemen, if you’re out to do your job and bust a few street dealers, I’d welcome you to set up shop across the road. That club pushes through more MD in a night than you’ve probably seen in your life.”
“Cut the shit, Prince,” the larger officer banged a fist on the desk, and that was my cue to join in. I tapped Jess on the shoulder, motioning with my head for her to go back outside and she quickly obliged, taking her phone and entire packet of smokes with her.
“We know that you’re the president of the Redline Angels Motorcycle Club. We’re not idiots.”
“Oh, you’re not idiots? Right… So then you would already be aware that the Redliners are a social MC, which is entirely legal in the state of Victoria?”
“Y-ye–” the officer stuttered.
“And you’d also be pretty aware that the Redliners don’t have any current or past criminal charges relating to drugs, right?”
“Look, Prince?—”
“Stop,” Princey said with a hand up, his commanding tone influencing even the cops. “This anonymous tip, is it genuine or are you just out bribe hunting today, fellas?”
That shit-eating smirk returned on the stouter cop.
“Let’s just say it was a long-time friend of the station who thinks maybe you’re concerning yourself with people or things that you shouldn’t. That maybe you’ve forgotten your place.”
“Right,” Prince rolled his eyes. “And these friends… Are they of the Mario and Luigi persuasion?” He brought his fingers together in front of his face, gesturing wildly like the Godfather.
“What?” The cop blinked in confusion.
“That’s a problematic stereotype,” I shook my head, trying very hard to seem serious.
“Would they maybe be seen driving a go-kart into a castle to save a princess from an evil turtle?”
“Bowser’s not a turtle,” I frowned, slapping Prince on the arm.
He turned to me with a scowl. “Of course he is.”
“I don’t think so, man,” I shook my head.
“Are you fucking stu?—”
“Enough!” The cop slammed his hand on the front desk again.
“Antoni doesn’t even have a moustache,” I said under my breath, still shaking my head.
What an insult to the Mario Brothers.
I pulled out my phone as Prince turned his head to look at the cop, arching a single brow. “So, was it the fucking Santinos or not?”
The men looked at eachother, unreadable expressions on their faces.
“Just stay in your lane, fuckers,” the taller one said quietly after a while. “Or we’ll be back with a warrant and a team to rip this place to fucking bits.”
“See, look,” I put my phone up to Prince’s face, ignoring the cop’s empty threat. “Bowser is a tortoise .”
“Yeah, a turtle.”
“They’re different!”
They left after that.
If they had tails, they’d be between their legs.
“I told you to stay away,” Prince said softly once they were gone. Any friendly fucking around fell away once we were alone again. “You said she had nothing to do with her family. You promised me she wasn’t involved.”
“She’s not,” I frowned.
“How do you know that?” he sighed, rubbing his forehead. “She’s still a Santino, Henny. For all we know, this innocent heiress bit is all an act. She could be running this whole fucking operation and using you to do it.”
“Zarina doesn’t?—”
Prince put a hand up to silence me.
“She is the enemy.”
I ducked my head, gritting my teeth to fight the urge to argue.
We knew the cops were in Santino’s pockets, but we didn’t know it ran this deep. After all this time spent at war against them, they had never once got the cops involved before.
So far, we had handled it like men, like true outlaws—none of this bullshit.
Really, it was the only reason we could still somewhat respect them as a group. Even with all this money and power at their disposal, they had handled everything themselves.
Even Toni, as much as I hated to give the guy any praise, was at every single one of our meetings and altercations. He never just sent his low-ranking guys to take bullets while he hid away.
He must’ve been a whole new level of pissed if he had gone down this route for the first time.
“Your only job is to watch these assholes like a fucking hawk from now on, got it? Zarina included. I need to know just how involved she is in all of this.” Prince said it in that voice he only used when he was giving orders as my president. “That little fucking bitch-boy bodyguard of hers too.”
I nodded once.
The request was not out of the ordinary.As the sergeant-at-arms, intel was one of my jobs.
“But,” he lifted a finger before I had the chance to walk away, “you keep your distance.”
My jaw ticked with irritation.
“Whatever it is you two have going on is over, got it?”
I wanted to argue the point, but I knew that it was no use.
He was right.
I knew it already. I had felt it last night when I had to distance myself from the woman just to keep my sanity. Following her for the next few weeks would be a specialised form of torture.
Watching without touching seemed like punishment enough for the heat I had brought to the club, so I would follow orders. And not just because looking at her for weeks on end stirred some dark part of me into an excited frenzy, like a hunter heading into the woods.
It helped that my prey was so damn good to look at.