Chapter 23 Killian
TWENTY-THREE
KILLIAN
My phone was dead, and I was getting really sick and tired of sleeping in this shitty hotel.
We’d been gone for three days, and with each day, I was starting to feel like my skin was being pulled and stretched.
Like I was about to come out of it. While I knew this was important, my mind screamed at me to go back to Laura.
Silas was still with me and Wes, watching as Jameson’s vice president had secret meetings without him.
I could care less what the fuck his club was doing, but it was too much of a coincidence that Luke Holloway, the vice president of the Chaos Kings, was meeting with my father in Cherrywood Penitentiary.
It started a week ago, according to Silas.
Twice in one week and then three times this week.
One of which I witnessed myself. I had no idea what they were talking about while they were meeting, but it was too abnormally timed with the fact that Jameson had reached out to the Stone Riders for help with Luke’s pregnant old lady.
It was also strangely timed with what my dad had learned of Laura’s existence in my club.
“We need to get back,” Wes said, staring at his watch.
I knew he didn’t like being away from Callie this long, but I also knew that we’d told Simon before we left, and he was keeping her company while we were gone. So, Wes felt a modicum of security in that. I, on the other hand, was restless about leaving Laura after just starting things with her.
“Yeah, I think so too.”
Silas gave no reaction, just stared at us with those pale blue eyes. “Our deal stands?”
We mounted our bikes, and I gave him a nod. “She’ll be safe with us. Just don’t ever do that shit again.”
Silas gave me a quick nod, then one to Wes, before putting on a pair of sunglasses and revving his bike to life. Once he was situated, he pulled off and was gone in a plume of dust before we even had a chance to set out.
Two and half hours later, we were entering the city limits of Rose Ridge. Wes gave me a salute as he veered off a side road, which would lead up the butte to his house that overlooked the city. I continued through the main channel of town, slowing down to about twenty miles per hour.
My eyes flicked over The Drip, seeing a few people outside of it holding signs. As I went by, I saw a few pointing at me, others raising their fists, menace straining their faces as they screamed words I couldn’t hear.
His sign read, Bad Bikers—get them out of our town. Another sign said, Stone the Riders. My anger surged as understanding occurred. This was a protest, and the city had gathered to rally against our club. It had a sour feeling stirring in my stomach.
Not having a patch had protected Laura that day.
In response, I revved my bike and then sped past them, making my engine echo through the street, loudly.
Pushing on toward the club, I felt relief tug at me as I edged closer to our road.
I slowed as I came upon a new security system at the edge of the drive, built to keep people out.
There was now a keypad along with a metal gate, secured by iron beams sunk into concrete along each side of the entry.
The metal entrance stretched along the property, and barbed wire attached to the top, which would prevent anyone from climbing in.
This was good. Especially after the Death Raiders rolled in like they owned the place.
Still, I didn’t currently have the code, and Giles likely texted me, but I didn’t have any way of checking it because my phone had died.
There was a button to push, so I went that route, waiting for someone to come on and answer.
Letting my bike idle, I waited by the speaker until I heard someone speak up.
“Hello?”
“Get this gate open. Now.”
The line went dead, and then I heard someone yelling from closer down the drive.
Then I heard a click, and the metal gate was swinging open.
Riding down the dirt path and kicking up dust, I noticed the club was packed with bikes in front, which meant most of the members had been called in. I was proud of Giles for making the call, especially if the fucking town was picketing against us.
My legs were sore as I parked my bike in front of the apartment. All I wanted to do was take a shower and see Daisy. Preferably take a shower with her, then fuck her, hard and slow. I’d also like to kiss her. Then maybe just stare at her for a while.
I needed to just be around her, like a fucking solar panel. I wanted to absorb her, to take her in and, as always, greedily inhale every ounce of her sunshine.
“Prez. Finally.” Giles jogged down the stairs, exiting from the club. “I fucked up. I’m so sorry…I had it made and wanted to wait for you, but she found it, and I—"
I got off the bike and unclasped my bucket helmet, lowering the skull gaiter from around my mouth.
I was about to ask Giles what he was talking about when there was commotion near the front of the club, and someone was running toward me.
I saw sunshine and leather and my heart nearly burst from my chest.
Laura’s lips were spread into the most beautiful smile, and over her tight long sleeved shirt, she wore a black piece of leather around her shoulders. On the front was sewn in white: Daisy.
The bottom of her cut had SRRV for Stone Riders Rose Ridge Virginia.
I knew my name would be on her back. My smile soon matched hers as she threw herself into my arms. My hand went under her ass, and her legs connected at the ankles around my hips.
There was clapping and cheering coming from the porch of the club, but I ignored it.
Even when they yelled, “Prez officially has an old lady!”
I just held her to me, and then I began walking up the apartment steps.
My mouth was on hers as I kicked the front door shut. I set her down on the counter and lifted off her, breathing hard.
“You saw it early.” I pinned my forehead to hers.
She smiled, trailing a finger over my chest. “Giles put it in the office.”
“Where you work.” I shook my head, silently laughing at the way my VP used that brain of his. Of course she’d see it in there.
“I planned to give it to you.”
She tipped back and gave me that smile I was weak for. “I liked it this way better.”
About to return my mouth to hers, she put her hand up to stop me.
“I have one request.”
“Anything.” I spread her thighs, so they fit around my hips.
Her lips were at my ear as she whispered, “Fuck me while I wear your patch.”
My cock swelled within my jeans as something like a growl came from my throat.
As I carried her upstairs, I thanked whoever was up above, giving out second chances because there was no way I should have this girl in my arms right now.
Not after how I treated her, or what I did to her once she arrived all those months ago. Closing my eyes, I tried to push the memory away and enjoy the feel of her in my arms.
Three Months Ago
It was well past midnight when I finally succumbed to seeing Laura.
She’d just shown up without warning, a car full of suitcases and boxes, and I knew she was inside with Callie. I knew I should leave her alone, but I couldn’t.
She came back.
Was it because I asked her to?
Or was it simply because she missed her best friend?
As I walked from the club and toward the back part of the house, I couldn’t find a reason why it mattered. I would go to the guest room window and make her let me in. I would tell her that I didn’t care why she came back; I was simply grateful she did.
I wanted her…. I couldn’t quite work out why or understand all the reasons why I was so willing to lower my defenses, but it didn’t matter. She was here, and I wasn’t going to overthink it. I wanted her, and I was going to tell her I did until she returned the sentiment.
Nearly to Wesley’s back gate, the darkness crowded me as I walked until I froze, hearing my name.
“Killian.”
I stared at the man who had been more like a father to me than Jefferson Quinn ever had. The same man who had chosen someone else to lead his club, someone who faked his own death…
“Simon.”
Hurt didn’t even begin to cover how I felt toward my mentor, my pseudo father.
He had trained me for this role. He’d had me under his wing since I was fifteen years old, and then just like that, he’d replaced me.
Without warning, without a conversation first, without any explanation as to why I wasn’t enough for the role.
The other members all fell into place, accepting that me, the vice president, wasn’t asked to take over.
No one questioned it. Or if they did, I wasn’t aware of it.
Simon was still sick, and while he’d faked his death, he was still on the brink of it. He walked closer; his leather cut seemingly heavy on his shoulders as he bowed his head. His dark hair was tied back, his white shirt the only color I could make out against the midnight air.
“We need to talk.” He was right in front of me now, flicking a quick glance to the gate a few feet off, then behind me to the kitchen door that had a private entrance.
Anger and hurt warred in my chest, making my jaw ache with how hard I was clenching my teeth. “About what exactly? You choosing Wes over me and embarrassing me in front of the entire club?” Tapering my eyes at him, even in the dark, I stepped closer.
“Or how about we talk about you making me bury you, grieve you…What could you possibly need to say to me?”
Simon’s face didn’t slip into anything other than the same unreadable expression he always held as the leader I knew and grew up with. Not the slightest emotion flitted across his features, and for once, I wished they would. My own father had failed me; I never expected Simon to follow suit.
The wound was so deep, tears burned my eyes. I dipped my face to ensure they’d stay in place. Weakness was the last thing I wanted to show him.
I wasn’t sure what else to say, especially with the tight knot forming in my throat.
He pulled me away from the fence back toward the club. “You need to see something. For the sake of the club, and the longevity of our family, you need to know what’s coming next.”
Simon moved and expected me to move with him.
The urgency to discover what exactly he was hiding, or talking about, sat right there at the forefront of my mind, just like club matters always did with him.
I never wanted to miss a ride, never wanted to skip a meeting.
The club was my life, and he was the person who made it that way.
Glancing back once toward the fence, I let the urge to run to Laura go. Just for one night, I’d let her sleep, and tomorrow, I’d go to her.
I should have realized it then…that regret is just honey-soaked poison.
We consume our choices so easily; they go down with a smile. Good intentions. Only to destroy us with a ticking clock over our heads.
Simon sat me down in his office. The walls were so familiar, but after thinking I’d lost him, it was messing with my mind to see him back in his chair.
“You know it was supposed to be you.” Simon started.
I began shaking my head when he spoke again.
“I knew Wes would bring Callie back. I knew about his house, and his plans…I knew he was planning to leave. Call it a dying man’s wish to have his wrongs corrected but I owed it to both of them to fix what I had a hand in breaking.”
My mouth firmed into a tight line. I had nothing to say to that because it didn’t change anything.
Simon leaned over his desk, catching my gaze.
“I saw you break Killian. When you were ten. Just a cub abandoned by his parents, and raised by his pack. I saw you reshape, reform. You were always meant to take this club.”
Finally lifting my head, I tilted it back. “Why?”
Because spouting off some bullshit about my childhood trauma wasn’t enough for me.
Simon’s eyes sparked as he smiled.
“Because you’re without weakness, son. Wesley’s was always Callie. He’d do anything for her. You’d do anything for the club. The Stone Riders need you. I am dying, and now that Wes has Callie. You’re up. I need to know if you’re committed to securing the club and protecting it from what’s coming.”
“What’s coming?” I shifted my feet underneath the desk.
Simon’s sorrowful glare cut through me.
“I need to know that you’re willing to step into this role first. You’ll be with me for the next few months until the transition. You won’t be here as often. I need to know you want this.”
Laura flashed in my head. A blink.
The club was all I had ever wanted. Wes had just given it up, while Simon said he was never intended to actually keep it. The gamble was still there that Wes decided to. Simon was counting on the fact that Wesley’s weakness for Callie would place the club back in my hands.
“This club is all I’ve ever wanted. I’m committed.”
Simon glared for a second longer then shook his head.
“You can’t lead this club and be distracted. That’s all I’ll say on the matter.”
He stood and tossed me a set of keys.
“Good.”