Chapter 3 Killian
THREE
KILLIAN
PRESENT DAY
It wasn’t even winter yet, and there were double the number of trucks in front of the club, taking up all the fuckin’ spaces.
November, and everyone acted like their dicks would freeze off if they rode.
Shouldn’t even bother me, seeing as I had a reserved spot right in front, but it did.
Or maybe I was just agitated over the impending transition.
Could also be that with the weather turning colder, I was getting tired of driving the longer route to and from the club.
The duplex I rented in town was getting fucking old.
I wanted the apartment that was owed to me as President.
I’d given Laura free rein of the place, not wanting to make her feel uncomfortable by moving in…
not wanting to stir shit up. Wes had asked me to let her stay, and while he was president, I followed his request.
But now that role had fallen to me, and I was ready to kick the pretty blonde out on her ass.
“You’re here too early,” someone called from inside the club, stealing my attention.
I was still straddling my bike, but swinging my leg over, I cleared it.
Removing my bucket helmet, I ditched it on the seat before climbing the steps.
I cut a quick glance to the side where the entrance to the apartment was; there was no real reason why my head snapped to the left every time I climbed these steps, it just did.
I could tell myself it was because it was my apartment, and I was eager to move in, but truthfully, it had more to do with who was currently living inside it.
Nothing usually filled the empty space in front of the apartment, especially because for whatever reason, Laura didn’t have a car. So I expected the same today as I entered the club; except today, there was a motorcycle parked out front.
My steps faltered for two seconds before I swung my gaze forward.
Wes, my best friend and the current president of the Stone Riders Motorcycle Club was standing there, leather cut over a long-sleeved shirt, glaring at me like I just pissed in his cereal. Like he could read my thoughts about kicking his wife’s best friend out of the apartment.
“That a problem to be early to my own fucking club?” I snapped, pushing past him.
Things between us were strained. On the surface and in front of everyone else, we were the same as always.
Best friends, brothers. I’d kill for him, I’d die for him, but I was also fucking pissed at him.
Not only had he been chosen to lead the club over me, but he’d kept me in the dark about his new house, and Simon being there—which nearly got him killed.
“No, but we had plans,” Wes muttered, following on my heels.
The club was murky without the sun out. The November sky was overcast, making the interior all shadows.
The smell of beer and some fragrant air freshener tickled my nose.
Red, our club mom for all intent and purposes, added something woodsy to the clubhouse to offset the smell of so many bodies being in here all the time.
This morning, the floors were freshly mopped, the bar organized and cleaned, which meant the prospects had already been in here doing chores.
Unless someone got themselves a house mouse without me knowing it.
The only other person to clean in here was Natty, but she usually did that in the afternoons after helping at a local coffee shop.
Wes strode toward the kitchen and I followed. There in the back were Natty, Red, Callie and the last person who had my feet nearly faltering again.
Laura fucking White.
Her blue eyes were up, locked on mine as if they were magnets, looking for their paired piece.
I hated how she stared at me, always like she knew what I was thinking and what I was about to do.
It made me angry because...I’d made it a point to avoid her these past few months.
By this point, we should be completely indifferent toward one another, and yet one look and I felt like I was being pulled into her thrall.
Darting my eyes away, I focused on the cake they were all crowded around.
“He’s early.” Red clicked her tongue disapprovingly.
I smiled at the woman who was more like a mother to me than anyone else on this planet.
Her white hair was thick and wrapped up in her infamous updo, still looking like a pinup girl with a black bandana wrapped around the back and knotted in front.
Even at barely seven in the morning, she had on perfect makeup, thick, fake lashes and her signature red lip color.
She was pushing sixty-seven, but still just as snappy and ornery as ever.
Pulling Red by her shoulders, I placed a kiss on top of her head. “Excuse me for not realizing I wasn’t welcome in my own club, event isn’t even happening for a few more days.”
“Yeah, but you can’t see any of the preparations,” Callie said, holding a piping bag to finish off a few of the last swirls around the cake.
There were likely four or five sheet cakes to feed everyone, but this one would be for show.
Someone had drawn, in great detail, a motorcycle and the skull and roses insignia for our club.
My money was on Callie, the tattoo artist, who gave me another glance and prodded with more questions.
“Are you ready for the big transition?”
I hated myself for letting my gaze slide back toward the tiny blonde at Callie’s side, but it did so without permission.
I noticed her long, thick hair first, and how even it being messily thrown on top of her head, made her look like a goddess.
Tiny curls framed her face, and even though she wasn’t watching me, I noticed how her pale skin reddened the smallest bit, as if she was fully aware I was observing her.
I may not like Laura, but it didn’t mean I wasn’t attracted to her.
Three months of studying her, and I had memorized her flushes, when her brows would dip or rise, how a genuine laugh sounded bursting from her chest.
I saw how she bit her lip when she had something to say but wouldn’t. Or how they thinned into a firm line when she was upset. I had learned every small movement of hers, unconsciously, and absolutely unwillingly.
Focusing on Callie, who was like my little sister, I smiled. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”
Callie flicked a quick gaze to Laura, who hadn’t looked up yet, then focused back on the cake. Laura was smoothing out the frosting along the sides, and Natty was busy with another piping bag, decorating the opposite side Callie was working on.
“Laura, you should get going, we need those extra ingredients and the meat picked up,” Red said, grabbing a box of paper plates and cups.
“Laura doesn’t have a car, so how is she getting around to get these ingredients?” I asked, hating that I even cared.
My proposed roommate still wouldn’t look up, and it bothered me. I wanted her to tell me face to face why another member’s bike was parked in front of my apartment. I could care less who she spread those milky thighs for but having those fuckers in my house was not happening. Ever.
“Same as always, she can take my car,” Red replied, keeping her focus on the paper plates.
A rasping voice shrilled up from the bar, “No she can’t, did you forget I need it today.
” Red’s old man, Brooks, walked up behind her and placed a kiss on her neck.
Seeing them still in love after all these years was still a punch to the gut.
I had only ever dreamed of finding someone like that, but growing up in this club, all I ever witnessed was a revolving door of sweetbutts who wanted to fuck, suck or score.
A few men found permanent partners, even going as far as to fall in love, but it was rare.
Even our previous prez, Simon, didn’t find love until he was older, nearly in the grave.
Maybe that would be me. A long, hard life, and in my old age, I’d have someone to care and love me.
“Well shit, I forgot you’re heading out to Richland.” Red hugged Brooks’ neck, then pulled away with a sigh.
“I have a client coming into Dead Roses in thirty minutes; otherwise, I’d take her,” Callie piped up next.
I knew Natty didn’t drive, not sure why but the girl walked nearly everywhere, or took her scooter.
Laura’s face was practically crimson, but she kept her focus on the cake, so no one was really looking at her.
“Killian, take her for me, please. You’re not supposed to be here yet anyway, so it’s perfect,” Red suggested, sorting through the box of paper plates and napkins.
Laura’s face flew up lightning fast. “That’s okay, I can ask Kip.”
I fucking knew that was his bike in front of my apartment, I had a feeling. Asshole knew better than to fuck in my house.
“I don’t have shit to do this morning, so I don’t mind,” I bit out coldly.
Laura looked around as if someone would help. “But your bike…I have a lot of things I need to get.”
“I have a truck.” God damn, fucking trucks. Besides, what did she think her precious Kip was going to cart her around in?
She wiped her hands on the tiny apron around her narrow hips and hesitated. “Well, what if I just borrow your truck then? You can go back home and rest until it’s time to show up.”
Tilting my head the slightest bit, I bit out, “Funny thing about that word, home. Why don’t I just go and crash right now in the apartment I’m supposed to live in?”
I wanted her in the corner, without any choice but to confess in front of everyone here.
“I’ve never stopped you from moving in.” Laura held her head high.
I wanted to press her, embarrass her, punish her. She knew it was unacceptable for a lower ranking member like Kip to stay in the president’s house, regardless of whether he was home or not. She may not have grown up in this life, but after three months, she’d acclimated to it.