Chapter 31 Grudge
GRUDGE
No one tells you how hard it is to get out of bed once you’re with the woman you want to spend the rest of your life with.
The number of times I was late for my job when we first got together because I couldn’t make myself let go of her in the morning, I was almost fired.
Lucy is sound asleep on my chest, and I’m gently running my fingers through her curls as I think through what happened last night. My sleepy little bug stood in the shower while I washed every part of her, then, leaned against the wall while I washed myself.
I bundled her in a towel and dried her off as she yawned and occasionally touched my cheek or ran her fingers down my bicep.
Once we were in bed, she curled up against me, happy as a cat with a saucer of milk.
And I swear to God, I’d never felt more like a man. Being her protector, the one who could give her everything she needed, the one she tested.
Her Daddy.
And now, I get to laze in bed, dozing, my eyes closed, feeling so complete, I don’t know what to do with myself.
A ringing phone forces my eyes open.
“Fuck,” I mumble when I realize it’s mine.
I stretch and reach for it on the side table, but it’s a challenge with a fast-asleep Lucy pressed up against my side, head on my chest.
It’s a struggle to pop the charging cable out, but I manage to and pull the phone to my ear.
“What?”
“Prez, it’s Babyface. There are some men at the gate. The top dog says his name is King, president of the New Jersey chapter, but he’s not wearing any identifiable Outlaws markings. Do I let him up to the clubhouse?”
Instantly, I’m awake. “That’s the fucking national president, Babyface. How many are there?”
“Four, plus another…person.”
Okay, that feels like an odd description. “Let them in. I’ll meet them.”
I hang up the phone and do my best to extricate myself from Lucy, but she grabs for me. “No,” she says sleepily, using her hand to shift the curls that have flopped onto her face. “Don’t go.”
“Wish I could stay, Bug.” I press a quick chaste kiss to her lips. The number of nights I’ve dreamed about the softness of her face and fullness of her lips first thing in the morning when she wakes. “But the national president of the Outlaws is at my fucking gate, and I have no idea why.”
I hurry to the dresser and pull out what I need. Boxer briefs, a clean Henley, socks, jeans.
“More haste, less speed,” Lucy says, watching me as I stumble trying to pull on my underwear as fast as I can.
I grab my phone and fire off a message to my senior leaders of the club.
Me: Get your asses in now. King and others are HERE.
The Henley is cold as I pull it on over my head.
Catfish: Is he here because of the reason for church?
I could do without a thousand questions, seeing as I’m trying not to meet my boss naked.
Jackal: For real? Who else is with him?
Me: Don’t know why he’s here. Don’t know who he’s here with, but Babyface said there are five of them.
I pull on the rest of my clothes, then slip my feet into my boots.
“You need me to get up and make some breakfast?” Lucy asks. She sits up, and the sheet drops from her breasts.
Fuck it.
I march over to the bed and kiss her. “Don’t know how I’m gonna live my life and not be fucking you every hour.
And yes. Please. If you could get coffee going, I’d appreciate it.
There’s a coffee machine behind the bar and two in the kitchen.
Load them all. Coffee is in the cupboard to the right of the fridge.
I’ll get the girls to come in and make food. ”
“Can’t wait,” Lucy says grimly.
Even though I’m pressed for time, I crouch next to the bed to reassure her.
“The girls are gonna be around. I’m not the only biker in the clubhouse, so I can’t kick ‘em all out to keep you happy. You’re just gonna have to trust me that no one compares to you.
I got you back, and I’m not gonna risk that for a quick fuck with someone who is likely screwing half the club at the same time. ”
“That shouldn’t feel like a romantic statement.”
I grin. “But is it?”
I shouldn’t even be wasting a second, here, but somehow, I want Lucy’s answer more than I need to see why my president is here.
And I’m sure in motorcycle club presidential etiquette, that’s a red flag.
She cups her hand around the back of my neck and runs her fingers over the shorn hair, making me shiver. “Yes. I need to raise my bar.”
I kiss her softly. “Raise it, and I’ll keep meeting it. I love you, Bug.”
“Then, I’m a very lucky girl. I love you too.”
I lock the door as I leave and see the entrance to the staircase. Despite my national president being at the gate, I can’t help but smile. I remember I haven’t cleaned up in there. There are lube and condom wrappers and my belt littering the place.
Crap!
Don’t have time to deal with it, given my phone is going off like a firework.
Smoke: Fucking Babyface? Don’t let him offer to ride their vehicle up here. He’ll drive it like he stole it.
Atom: He’s probably Mr. King-ing them to death.
Wraith: Or adding “Sir” on to the end of every sentence.
Shade: Knowing King like I do, he’s probably loving that.
Catfish: Would have thought Smoke’d like that too!
Smoke: Only when it’s from your momma!
I grin at that.
Me: Less typing, more riding. Get your asses in.
I have good men. We’ll get through whatever this arrival is about.
I message Wraith and ask him to rally people to make breakfast. Prospects. Club girls. Old ladies. Don’t care who.
The solid-wood club door creaks and groans as it opens. It always does in winter as the wood expands with moisture. Snow is beginning to drift up against the exterior walls.
Two trucks pull up the trail, and I’m confused. They must have flown out here.
When King steps out of the first truck, I’m struck by how civilian he looks without his leather cut. He’s wearing a thick black hoodie and black leather jacket without club colors.
“Grudge. Congratulations, Prez,” he says as he walks toward me. We hug each other.
“Thank you, and not that I’m not pleased to see you, but what are you doing here?”
“Killing two birds with one stone.”
Vex steps out of the driver’s seat of the first truck and opens the rear door. A stranger gets out of the back. Long hair. Almost black but fades to a dark green as it reaches the ends.
She’s pretty. All winged eyeliner and thick lips. But then, I look down and she’s also flat chested, wearing black cargos and thick boots with a chain from her belt to her pocket.
Wait, is it just a feminine guy?
As the stranger senses me looking, they wrap their arms around their chest and look at me nervously.
Saint and Spark step out of the second truck.
“Fuck me, it’s cold,” Vex mutters.
“Can we go inside and talk?” King asks.
“Of course. Let’s meet in my office.” This feels like a meeting that needs to be held in church.
It takes a few minutes for us all to sit. And through all the welcomes and joviality of seeing one another, tension hovers in the air.
Lucy brings in mugs of coffee with cream and sugar. She’s wearing one of my T-shirts, tied in a knot at the waist, and the tight-fitting jeans she wore yesterday. In other words, she makes me want to fuck her all over again.
“Thanks, Luce,” I say as she puts the mugs down.
Spark does a double take and raises an eyebrow, and it’s hard to eat the grin that’s brewing.
“My old lady. My ex-wife, working on the ex part, given her father made her divorce me in return for a reduced sentence that should never have been a sentence at all, given he set me up.”
Lucy places her hand on my shoulder. It feels right: me in the president’s chair, her by my side.
Saint chokes on his coffee. “And I thought we had some fucked-up love stories in our club.”
Vex looks over at Saint with wrinkles in his forehead. “Please don’t ever say ‘love stories’ again.”
Saint puts his cup down. “You want me to text Calista and tell her you don’t believe in love stories, Mr. Second-Chance Romance?”
Vex flips the bird at Saint. “I’ll fuck with every electrical web-based appliance in your home, if you do.”
The stranger sitting in the corner smiles at that. Their head is down, they’re biting on the skin down the side of their nail, but I see the corner of their mouth turn upwards.
“I’ll let you know when food is ready.”
I pat Lucy’s hand, and then, kiss it like she’s my queen. “Thanks, Bug. Tell the rest of the guys to wait outside until I open the door.” I track her ass to the door, then wait for it to close behind her.
“Bug?” Vex asks when she’s gone.
“Not explaining it,” I say. I’ll never hear the end of it if they know it’s short for love bug.
Vex rolls his eyes. “We’re surrounded by living-creature pet names.”
“Dangerous territory, dissing Little Chick,” King says, tipping his chin at Spark who uses the pet name for his old lady.
Spark flips the bird across the table. And I see what Butcher meant when he told me there’s a way these men are together. So at ease.
“What is all this?” I ask.
King rests his elbows on the table. “A trade of favors.”
“Okay, I’m intrigued,” I say.
Vex sighs. “In looking up the shit about your bank account, I found some other chatter. Your club, for whatever reason, is in the crosshairs of the Feds.”
“I mean, aside from the obvious, why?” I ask. “We haven’t changed a thing in how we do business. Everything has remained the same. But they raided us not long ago.”
“That’s what’s odd,” Vex says. “It looks like the initiation of the investigation came from outside the club. Everything is encrypted, right now. There are code names being used for the individuals involved that I haven’t been able to solve yet.
But it’s as though someone doesn’t want your chapter, specifically, to exist.”
I glance at the stranger again. We haven’t been introduced, yet, and I’m cautious about saying things I shouldn’t in front of them.
“I’ll introduce Wren in a second,” Vex says, noting where I’m looking. “But they’re cool.”
They?
“Could it be the Bratva?” I ask, taking Vex at his word. “We annihilated them a few months ago.”
Saint looks cautiously at Wren. And what I see is something akin to paternal concern.
Spark wears the same expression.
Vex shakes his head. “I don’t think so. They have nothing to gain and everything to lose from a deal with the Feds.
They’re too big an organization. If they wanted you gone, they’d come at you head-on.
It would kill their reputation if they were known to be Fed informants, so my gut says it’s not them. ”
“You’re having some other problems, though,” King says. “With the Rebels. They’ve become…problematic.”
I shrug. “Another day in paradise. Just protecting what’s ours and keeping them away. We scared ‘em off, once; we’ll do it again. It’s heading into winter. Business is always lighter in winter. We’ll just hunker down. Lie low. We’ll ride out the heat until spring.”
“It’s not so simple.” Vex reaches for a mug of coffee and takes a sip. “There seems to be momentum for an entrenched campaign to get each and every one of you.”
King smacks the tabletop. “And that’s why Wren is here.”
Wren looks up at the mention of their name. They’re wary, at the mention. And while I know King is a good man at heart, for a second, I wonder if I’m looking at a person being trafficked.
Saint looks at them. “Wren, this is Grudge. He’s the president, like King.”
They nod their head at me in a move that feels reverential.
I nod back.
“Wren needs a secure place to hide,” King says. “I said they’d be safe, here; however you see fit. One of you take them in. Whatever works for you. But I want them under twenty-four-seven protection until we tell you they don’t need to be.”
I look over the table at Wren. “They?” I ask.
“They,” Wren answers. “I’m non-binary, if that’s the question you’re really asking.”
“Okay, just want to address you properly.” And that means making sure the club does too.
Which feels like a fucking challenge, because we got some knuckle-dragging old-timers. Plus, they’re pretty. Gonna be trouble among the single men, if Wren floats that way.
But the way King is looking at me tells me the request to have someone look out for them isn’t optional.
And this club will always honor its debts.
“Whatever Wren needs.”
“I’m glad you said that,” Vex said. “Because Wren’s going to be your best asset in figuring out what’s going on.”
“Why?” I ask.
“Wren’s one of my old lady’s protégés,” Vex says.
“And what does your old lady do?” I ask.
The rest of the men at the table smirk, and Wren looks to Vex, who nods.
“Calista is arguably one of the world’s greatest hackers,” Wren says.
“And you?” I ask Wren.
Wren looks at me and smiles. “I’m better.”