Chapter 17
17
ZARINA
I wasn’t sure what to expect from an MC clubhouse, but the view I got when I stepped inside was a pretty close match to what someone might imagine.
Almost stereotypical, if I wanted to be cruel.
Posters of women in bikinis slung over the tanks of Harleys donned every wall, a neon light over the bar in the shape of a pair of tits (which I needed in my house ASAP), and stripped-back bodies of differently shaped motorcycles were placed throughout the large, open room as pieces of decor.
The vibe was very much that of an old local Aussie pub, homey and warm, with AC/DC playing in the background.
By the looks of the general membership of the Redline Angels, I could tell that the clubhouse had not been updated to match the age of the members, and it had probably been this way since the 80’s.
The women in the bikini posters were probably grandmothers now.
But my attention didn’t remain on the decor for too long. All eyes snapped up to watch as Ashe guided me inside with his hand at the small of my back. I was still in the denim skirt and boots I wore to work, and felt overdressed to the point where I thought it might actually be offensive.
After scanning the room, I also learned that I was currently the only woman in the place—which made me very nervous.
So I stayed close to Ashe, and pretended not to notice the two dozen men openly either staring or scowling in my direction.
I spotted Bull in the corner from a mile away, his large frame making him impossible to miss. He shot me a wave and an almost-smile, and I returned it shyly, still feeling very out of my element.
Jesus, I had literally walked into the lion’s den.
Every person here hated my family, and by extension, me.
I saw a few other familiar faces as Ashe directed me towards the booth at the back.
Charmer was there, that stupid, cocky grin on his face. And so was Shag, the old bloke who had nearly pissed himself with laughter when Ashe and I met for the second time.
But there were three men there that I did not recognise.
A dark-skinned man stood behind the booth’s seat with crossed arms, but a friendly face. I could kind of tell that he was attempting something like a pout, but his warm brown eyes and high cheekbones ruined any of his attempts at looking rough or mean. His hair was cropped short, along with his well-groomed beard.
One of the men who sat sprawled out casually in the booth was probably about Ashe’s age, maybe even younger, and he watched me with careful suspicion. His shiny, jet black hair was swooped back, Justin Bieber style, and pushed out of his face. His ink-black eyes were framed by a heavy set of brows. The darkness of his features was only offset by the boyish plumpness of his cheeks—which he must’ve been self-conscious of, due to the splattering of thick stubble that looked worn in and deliberate.
The other man was older, and I could only assume that it was Prince.
His chocolatey brown hair was peppered with a few greys but slicked back neatly, and all-together, he looked like a very put together person. His shirt was clean and well fitted, unlike the rest of the guys who looked much more unkempt. I could tell in the few seconds I spent looking at him that he was probably the perfectionistic type, probably had some control issues too.
But I didn’t get a chance to look much longer, to assess these men as much as I would have liked, before the older one stood with a sigh, pushing himself upwards and closing the space between us in one swift stride.
I didn’t realise I was holding my breath when he reached his hand out to me, offering it for a shake. I must’ve looked like even more of a dumb blonde than I usually did, because I blinked at it a few times before taking it and shaking his hand weakly.
“Harlen Prince,” he introduced himself with his full name, I noticed. “Welcome.”
“Zarina Santino,” I nearly curtseyed, for some fucking reason. Maybe because the whole situation felt so fucking formal, even though I was in a rundown MC clubhouse with my situationship.
A hint of a smirk brushed his lips.
“This is Freddie,” he gestured to the man with the swoopy black hair.
Freddie offered me a jut of his chin in greeting.
Ok, so he’s the dark and broody mysterious one.
“And this is Dash,” Prince waved towards the man who stood behind the booth, who gave me a genuine-looking smile, proving that he was indeed, probably the friendly one of the group.
“Hi,” I managed to squeak out meekly, offering a limp-wristed wave in return.
“I believe you know Charmer and Bull.”
“Indeed I do,” I nodded.
Charmer shot me a mock salute. “Good to see you again, Cap’n.”
Ashe’s palm didn’t leave the small of my back for even a second, and I was grateful for the small reminder of his presence to calm my nerves. For some reason, the confident, carefree version of myself was squashed down in that moment with all those eyes on me.
Maybe it was because I was starkly aware that they were the eyes of my family’s enemies. And it was impossible to know if they would treat me as such.
“Henny says that you might have some information for us, about recent events.”
Prince didn’t muck around or bother with small talk or pleasantries.
I nodded. “Mainly suspicions, at this point.”
Prince assessed me for a moment longer, as if trying to size me up and make out what to think of me—just like I had done with all of them.
I briefly wondered if he had the same talent as I did, if he could feel out a person just by following whatever his gut said as he looked at them.
“I’ll take anything I can get.” His harsh face finally fell a little, the tension leaving and his eyes crinkling at the creases as he gave a hint of a smile.
“Finish your drinks, fuckers,” Prince raised his voice and addressed the room. “Table in two minutes.”
I looked up to Ashe who only nodded reassuringly, gently guiding me to follow Prince down the hallway and to a secluded room at the end.
I hadn’t realised how big this place was from the outside. Because apart from the open gathering area I had just been in, the hallway split three ways, and each direction was filled with doorways leading to god knows where.
When I stepped through the heavy door at the end of the hall, I immediately felt like I should not have been there. Not because of the sort of imposter syndrome that I had in the gathering area, but something different entirely.
A handful of the men strode in, but I noticed it was only a small portion of all the people who had been back out there.
“Not everyone gets to know club business this intimately,” Ashe explained in my ear as the others took their seats. “Some of the guys out there are still patching in, still prospects, so they don’t get a vote yet. Some of them are just here for the social side of things, just hang arounds. But these fellas run the club.”
I nodded, looking around as each of the men took their respective seats around the table.
Prince at the head. Freddie to his right. Then Charmer, then Bull, then Dash. The rest of the seats got filled with men I hadn’t met yet.
A chair remained empty at Prince’s left, and Ashe pulled me along with him as he took his place.
I tugged on Ashe’s hand before he got a chance to sit.
“I-I shouldn’t be here, Ashe. I don’t belong here,” I whispered, only to him.
He dropped a little, bending to meet my eyes and search them with a frown. He made a fist, running his knuckles down the side of my face ever so gently—not caring that everyone else in the room was watching. Not caring that all his big and tough biker buddies were witnessing him perform this act of absolute gentleness.
I could’ve melted in his palm right then and there.
“Of course you do,” he breathed.
I swallowed the burning lump in my throat and nodded, turning towards the half-dozen other men who all had their sights turned politely elsewhere.
Shag, who hadn’t said a word to me so far, dragged a spare chair in, placing it between Ashe and Prince and gesturing for me to sit.
“Thank you,” I said, eyebrows shooting up with shock.
“‘Course,” he puffed his chest out, obviously proud of his act of chivalry.
I reached out and put an arm on his bicep, giving it a squeeze of thanks, and I swear I could see his pale cheeks turn pink under his white-grey beard. He quickly grumbled something under his breath and returned to his seat.
“Zarina,” Prince started, leaning towards me and clasping his hands together as I sat. “First of all, I just want to assure you that while you are here, you are perfectly safe.”
I nodded, biting down on my lip and hoping that I hadn’t made them all feel like I didn’t trust them.
“I understand the tense and long history between the MC and your family has not been the friendliest, but while you are here, you will never be treated as an enemy or a threat, okay? You’re with Henny, and that’s all that matters to us.”
I opened my mouth the object, to correct him and tell him that we actually weren’t together in any capacity. That actually, this dude was a one night stand turned stalker who I enjoyed looking at and nothing more.
But then Ashe reached out and dangled his hand on the back of my chair, rubbing slow and lazy circles on the back of my neck with his finger.
“Does that mean no more stalking?” I quirked an eyebrow.
Prince chuckled, and I relaxed a little further.
“Probably not,” he shrugged, but at least he was honest.
And to be fair, I didn’t even mind.
“So, what do you have for me?”
I took in a deep breath, remembering the way my brother looked at me only a few hours ago now when I had told him my suspicions. I looked over my shoulder at Ashe, who nodded, urging me to speak.
“All these threats you’ve been getting, all these strange events, do any of them seem at all familiar to you whatsoever?”
I cast my gaze over everyone at the table, and they all shook their heads.
“By now, do you not think you would be able to recognise a Santino attack or strategy?”
Prince leaned back in his chair, interlacing his fingers and watching me with a concentrated frown.
“My brother was shot the night before the police came to Graze Ink to threaten you. There was a shootout initiated by two men on motorcycles. They only got one shot in before they fled. I’ve not had much to do with Redliners, but I know that incident doesn’t fit your pattern or how you guys handle things. You guys don’t flee from gun fights. Just like Santinos don’t go to the cops.”
Some mumbled chatter broke out amongst the room, which was hushed immediately when Prince’s gaze flittered towards it.
“It’s someone else all together,” I finished. “And they’re trying to play both sides against each other.”
“Why?” Charmer shook his head but leaned forward.
I shrugged. “I can only assume it’s so you end up in another war. Think about it,” I turned back to Prince. “You think The Family is responsible. So, you’d put all your time and energy into wiping us out. Of course, we’d retaliate. The cycle keeps going until everyone is dead. That’s two major players in the underground gone, and they haven’t had to lift a fucking finger.”
“Any ideas as to who it might be?” Prince asked, gaze locked on mine.
I shook my head, looking at my lap.
“Sorry.”
“Tell them what you told me,” Ashe urged, tapping my shoulder.
Prince’s gaze flickered to Ashe’s for a moment, before returning to me.
“It’s only a silly guess.” I shook my head. “There’s no evidence or anything.”
“I’d like to hear it, Zarina,” Prince said.
“Personally,” I took a deep breath. I didn’t want these people to think I was stupid, or silly, or any other condescending adjective that my family might attribute to me. But all of them looked at me, no smirks or laughter. They were taking me seriously. “To me, I think that it must be someone fairly new to the scene, or some group trying to break into the scene. They don’t seem to want to get their hands dirty. There’s no…” I sighed, motioning with my hands as I searched for the word, “grittiness, you know? None of it says ‘outlaw’ to me. None of it says ‘seasoned criminal’.”
Prince was nodding now, like he understood exactly what I was saying.
“It’s all too sophisticated. Too careful. Too emotionless. There’s no bloodthirst behind any of it. It’s pure strategy. It’s business . I think it’s a bunch of rich kids trying to be mobsters. They want to be my family, but they don’t know how. I would bet money that it’s a crew of white-collar crims that want a taste of the underworld’s money. That’s just my gut feeling.”
No one spoke for a long time.
Prince kept his eyes on me though, and I grew a little uncomfortable under his gaze. But it wasn’t a scrutinising one, it wasn’t suspicious. It was as if he was looking straight through me, deep in thought. He ran his hands down his face eventually, and then scratched at his chin.
“My gut feelings are never wrong either,” he said to me eventually, and I felt my whole body sigh with relief. This stranger, this enemy of mine, he had listened to me, he heard me, and I could’ve cried.
My brother wasn’t willing to listen to me, too blinded by the hate he held for the club. But maybe, maybe I had stopped the Redliners and the Santinos dissolving back into a war.
And if it gave the MC even a hint of pause, even a second to reconsider before attempting to slaughter the people I love, then it would be enough.