Chapter 6
You'll never find a rainbow if you're looking down - Charlie Chaplin
L acey
I don’t know what the guy making drinks behind the bar gave me last night, but it wasn’t plain old lemon-lime soda like I’d originally ordered. My guess is it had vodka or something in it and I should’ve been paying better attention. I was too distracted with everything going on that I sucked a few down while watching my brother’s co-worker being questioned by all the growling bikers last night and trying to listen in on the call with my father and Asher. Add it to all the drama of the day and the next thing I know…I’m waking up to an empty bed.
I’d had my elbows resting on the bar, sitting next to Asher, and thought I’d lay my head on my arms for just a minute, then boom! Here I am, waking up after sleeping the hardest I have in I don’t know how long. I’d almost wonder where I am with the unfamiliar dark sheets if it wasn’t for the delicious scent surrounding me belonging to Asher. I’ll never forget how he smells for the rest of my life, so waking up surrounded with his unintentional warmth has brought me a sense of calm. I needed it more than I realized to be able to somewhat rationally process everything that has recently occurred.
Not wanting to be left behind in case he’s discovered something important, I hop out of bed. I pee, wash my hands, and steal a bit of toothpaste, rubbing it on my teeth and swishing with a bit of water so I can speak and not kill anyone with morning breath. I didn’t bring any toiletries with me, just a few clothing items from Seth’s that weren’t too formal, so I wouldn’t look absolutely ridiculous wearing them while riding on a motorcycle.
Tugging on my cute but casual cotton tennis skirt and a plain tank top, I pause in front of the mirror, realizing I look like I’m spending the day reading by the pool and not hunting down my wayward older brother. I could even pass for golfing, or a day of shopping. Not hanging out with a man I’ve crushed on for half of my life who happens to belong to a one-percenter motorcycle club (which I’ve learned basically means he’s an outlaw). We could’ve gone together once upon a time, when he was a jock, hanging out with my brother, but I was too young then. This version of him is opposite of me, and I’m starting to wish I’d been a little more goth Barbie growing up so we’d fit better together from the outside looking in.
Digging through my purse, I find my tinted travel sunscreen and take a minute to apply some on my face and shoulders. I don’t know if we’re going anywhere, and I need some protection from the elements. With a sigh, I slip on my sandals from yesterday and leave the safe sanctuary Asher’s room has quickly become. In any other circumstance I could lay in that bed all day long and be in heaven, but unfortunately, that’s not the case.
The main area we were in yesterday is quiet, except for a few voices speaking lowly. I round the corner to find Asher, an older woman, and a gorgeous man with mischief dancing in his eyes when they land on me. He nods my way, and the voices quiet down.
The gorgeous man speaks first, breaking the awkward silence. “Mornin’. Plague was just telling us we’ve got a new recruit.” The man teases and I instantly feel welcome in his presence. Don’t get me wrong, a few of the guys around here are terrifying, but I trust Asher and if he says I’m safe here, then I believe him.
“Good morning,” I respond automatically to the new guy.
My gaze finds the man in question, Asher’s brow popping up at my warm smile. “Jailbait,” he greets, and my smile instantly turns to a scowl.
“I’m not jailbait, we discussed this already.” I grumble, wanting him to see me as a woman, not as someone always too young for him.
The lady beside him grins. “Hey, baby. Come sit and have some coffee with us.” Rather than getting irritated at being told what to do, I take her words for the invitation they are.
I nod, grateful for her kindness.
She pushes a box of donuts my way, the label from one of the most popular shops in Round Rock. I swear their cinnamon rolls are as big as my entire face, and suddenly I’m starving. “I’m this one’s momma,” she supplies with a wink, gesturing to the hot guy to my right. I knew she was older but not old enough to be his mom. It instantly makes me happier, knowing she’s probably too old for Asher. At least I can hope.
“Nice to meet you…” I pause, waiting for a name.
“Mom,” she smirks, and I read the same mischief in her gaze. I know where the guy obviously gets it from. I bet their entire family is a handful.
I nod again. If that’s what she’s comfortable with, then no wonder she’s here with a couple big boxes of donuts. She’s these guys’ adopted mom apparently and I’m good with that, I love women like her. “Mom,” I grin, not shying away from grabbing the circle of sugary goodness coated in frosting and coconut shavings. I eagerly take the offered paper cup of coffee she removes from the drink carrier and slides my way. It smells delicious and I haven’t even taken a drink yet. Across from me, my testy biker pushes some cream and sugar in my direction along with offering me his spoon. “You don’t drink it black?” For some reason, he seems too manly to sweeten his coffee up, but apparently, I’m wrong.
“Fuck no, I like mine churched up a bit.”
“He likes those girly iced coffees,” the guy says, and my gaze lands on his leather vest. His patch acknowledges him as the club’s president.
“Ripper?” I ask, reading the opposite patch I’ve come to realize homes the guys’ road names around here. “Like, as in Jack the Ripper ?”
Asher quietly snickers while Ripper shakes his head. “Nah, got it for other reasons. Plague says you got him all twisted up in knots and he’s trying to fuck you but keeps getting cock blocked.”
“Dick,” Asher grunts, but won’t meet my amused stare, so it must be true.
Mom stands. “Okay, that’s my cue to get back to the shop and take some of these to your dad. Enjoy the breakfast. It was nice meeting you, Lacey. I hope to see you around here more often with this one.” She squeezes Asher’s shoulder, as Ripper stands and offers to walk her out.
“You left me,” I acknowledge as soon as we’re somewhat alone, then take a big bite, chewing in a very unladylike manner. I’m too hungry at the moment, realizing I barely ate anything at all yesterday. Chocolate coated coconut flakes stick to my lips and chin, making me scramble to shove them in my mouth and pretend I’m not embarrassed. It’s ridiculous, he’s seen me eat like a pig as a kid, so an oversized messy donut shouldn’t be a deal breaker.
“I had to talk to Prez about what’s going on, along with my other brothers that weren’t around yesterday.”
Glancing around us, I take in the empty space, aside from hearing Ripper thank his mom and tell her goodbye. “Did you call them or something?”
“No. We had church, and I caught everyone up to speed.”
“Mass?”
“No, babe. It’s like a biker meeting. Sort of, but not.”
“Sort of.”
“Yup.”
“This early?”
“You’re full of questions today. You always like this in the morning? I can’t remember because we were getting up for games and trips and shit.”
He’s talking about when he would stay over at our house with Seth and we’d all be forced to freeze watching them play. “No, it’s just early, you weren’t in your room, and now you’re telling me there was all your biker friends here with you…however, there’s no one around here.”
Ripper interrupts, as he grabs his coffee cup. “We’re brothers, not biker friends. As for church, we keep ol’ ladies out of business. Everyone went to work or back to bed.” He opens the other donut boxes, showing me they’re already empty, so apparently, he’s telling the truth.
I’m quiet, processing everything. I wasn’t doubting Asher’s sincerity; I’m just a little scatterbrained after yesterday and waking up in a strange place with new people. Asher stands, and I take in his faded jeans, white T-shirt, and leather vest. He tugs a bandana out of his pocket, “Let’s go for a ride. Your dad had an address for me to check out.”
“Was this before or after you threatened to burn all of his belongings?”
He shrugs, unperturbed, while Ripper chuckles. “If you heard the same shit from him that I did, you’d want to set something on fire too.”
“Doubtful.”
“You gonna bust my balls all day, or do you want to see what we can find out?”
I stand up, not about to be left at the clubhouse without him. He comes up behind me and ties my long hair back in his black bandanna. “Should put a cut on her,” Ripper rumbles from the side.
“Nah, don’t want to do that to her.”
“It’s already been done. The vote went through. She’s property.”
I have no idea what they’re discussing, but me and property in the same sentence doesn’t make me the most excited. “You’re not trying to sell me off to the cartel for my brother, are you? Surely Dad offered to send money instead?”
Ripper laughs, grabbing his coffee and walking off. He calls behind him, “You better educate her, brother. You got a long ride ahead of you.”
“What’s he talking about?”
“Nothing,” Asher grumbles, grabbing my hand and towing me behind him towards the door. “And of fucking course not, to you being traded for Seth. I’d trade him for you any day, though. I need my payment, and he doesn’t have a pretty pink pussy I want to dive into.”
With a huff, I swat his arm. “Not the right time for jokes.”
“Who says I’m joking?” he murmurs while stopping at the garage adjacent to the clubhouse. He goes inside while I wait next to the door, and a few moments later, he comes back with a tube of something, wearing a grin. His free hand lands on my shoulder and then he’s moving me, spinning me in a one-eighty, until my back is to him. A beat later, I start to feel his fingers trailing over my back and I’m instantly curious as to what he could possibly be doing. Don’t get me wrong, I love having his attention, but I’m also a bit confused.
“What are you doing?”
“Putting RBMC on your back.”
“Ugh, excuse me? With what?”
“I’m painting the letters on with some black grease.”
I screech, I can’t help it. I must be hallucinating. “Y-you’re painting my shirt with grease? To what, brand me?” I hiss. In grease, no less? Seriously, what kind of chest-beating macho man bullshit is this? I know he’s a prickly guy; I’ve gotten used to that part of him since yesterday, but putting the motorcycle club initials on my back is taking things a little far, in my opinion.
He wipes his hand on a shop towel and shrugs unapologetically. He’s entirely too amused at my shock of the situation and if I wasn’t so stressed out, I’d probably find the entire thing hilarious. Then I’d most likely try to paint him in return, but this isn’t a finger-painting session with my love interest, this is him essentially putting a brand on me before we search for Seth.
“You’re on my bike and around the club. People need to know you’re not just some sweetbutt.”
“I have no idea what that means. Or half of your club lingo, I thought the new teenage razz crap was bad, but you all have your own language as well. It’s official—I’m not cool anymore. I’m complaining about slang. Geezus .”
He chuckles, tapping his finger on the tip of my nose like I’m some sort of an adorable kitten to him. “A club slut, baby doll. Everyone needs to know you’re RBMC property , so hands off of you, or I’ll fucking remove them for touching you.”
Okay, what was feeling a bit piggish is now starting to get me hot over it. I kinda want to kiss his face off and fuck his brains out for saying he’d remove their hands for touching me. I think being around these bikers has me loosening my moral compass a bit, and I’m not so sure that’s a good thing.
“Where are we going?” I say instead and climb on the loud, dangerous metal machine behind him.
“Getting you some fucking pants for starters, or I’ll be removing eyeballs along with the goddamn hands.”
“Territorial much?”
“Oh sugar, you have no fucking idea just how territorial I can be when it comes to you.”
I nearly fan myself but refuse to let him see how his words are affecting me. Instead, my hands move to his waist. Wrapping my arms around him, I give his frame a squeeze of affection. I like having this side of him, I never saw it when I was younger. It makes me feel desired and important to him.
Leaning in until my lips graze his earlobe, I share, “I like my skirts, it’s hot.”
“I fucking love those little scraps of material, beautiful. You have some killer legs, and knowing I could slide into your wet cunt whenever I want is pretty fucking sweet…but it’s also one helluva distraction, and I need my head on dealing with all these different people.”
He cranks the motorcycle engine, the rumble quaking through the quiet compound parking and picnic area. The vibrations shake me, making my body feel like a live wire just waiting for his spark. “You know for sure who has Seth?”
He nods. “I do, and they make the worst guys in my MC look like golden boys, so let’s hope they feel like making money and a trade and not cutting our heads off. I need to make a stop down the road to check in with a few Oath Keeper buddies, too. They’ll wanna know about the cartel doing business this close to their club.”
His hand lands on my calf, working its way higher on my thigh. He runs it up and down a few times, making me crave his hands everywhere else as well. Leaning in, I press my lips to his neck. “I like when you have access to my pussy all the time. I think I’ll keep the skirts.”
His body rumbles with a growl. I can’t hear it over the bike’s engine purring, but I feel his body vibrate from it. Without another word, he gives his motorcycle some gas, and then we’re on our way. I hold on for dear life, still scared, but not as much as I was yesterday. In fact, I could possibly get used to riding on one of these, as long as he’s the one I’m holding on to.
We eventually end up stopping at another motorcycle club compound after I run into my parent’s house along the way and grab a pair of jeans to throw on. I kept the skirt for later, but the jeans really do work a lot better on the road. As I take in the new MCs place, I realize it’s pretty massive in comparison to the RBMC and I already think theirs is a decent size. I thought we were supposed to stop somewhere else before we came here, but plans must’ve changed when I was inside my parents’ house because we’re here instead.
Asher shuts his motorcycle off and as it quiets, his phone immediately begins ringing. He pulls it out of his pocket, answering without sparing the name a glance. I guess only important people call him to not have to screen the numbers. Meanwhile, I get stuck with spammers all day and have to constantly hit the block option.
“Smoke? Yeah, he’s still gone. Nothing? Fuck. Okay, thanks. Yeah, hit me up.” He hits end on his cell with a frustrated sigh. I climb off the bike as he shares, “That was my brother, Smoke. He’s from the Charleston RBMC chapter. I was hoping he’d have a number for me to help find Seth.”
“Not good news, I take it?”
He shakes his head. “No, he didn’t have the additional contacts that would help.”
“How do you know him all the way from Charleston?”
“Had a run up that way awhile back. Stayed a few nights; he’s a cool dude.” He’s distracted, digging through his saddlebag for something, then his phone goes off again with a loud beep. “Shit, I have a missed call. Must’ve went to voicemail when I was talking to Smoke,” he mutters more to himself, then calls someone else.
“Creed? Hey man, appreciate you getting back to me. No new information since we spoke last night.”
He must’ve been on the phone all night long at this rate. No wonder I don’t remember us going to bed. There’s no telling how long he actually slept, considering he was already awake when I woke up. An older guy comes outside from the club we’re visiting, staring us down, making me wish Asher would hang up the phone already.
He continues with his call, “You’ll let me know if you hear anything? They could be looking for transport for anything, but my bet is on it being with El Pecado. Bunch of rotten motherfuckers. Yeah. You know I’ll stop by if I ride through Alabama. The KOCMC won’t try to fuck me up rolling through there? Alright, I’ll let you know. Thanks, man. Later.”
He pockets his phone, releases another sigh, and I find myself mirroring his sigh. “My buddy from the Kings of Carnage MC down in Alabama. Met him up in Charleston, too. We were both at a crossroads about patching to a new club, so we had shit to talk about and became friends.”
I nod, not having a clue what any of what he just said means. I need to watch Sons of Anarchy at this rate. “You wanted to move to Alabama?” I ask instead, picking the small kernel of information I’d like to know more about.
“Nah, if we patched anywhere, it’d be here. Creed’s good people, though. I’d like to stop by their club, given the chance, to catch up with him and meet his brothers he’s mentioned.”
“Here, as in this massive club?”
He grins, nodding. “Think I ought to? Become an Oath Keeper ?”
“That’s what they’re called?”
The big man from before, now much closer, interrupts. “Damn straight, sugar. Although, I love me some Alabama, too. The Kings in Georgia are good people, not sure about the guys in Alabama, though.”
Asher smirks, reaching out to slap hands with the older guy. They slap hands, then end up in a sort of handshake and a back-patting thing that men do. He reminds me of a football player, and Lord knows he’s built like one. “Chaos, you already stole our bartender, you trying to take my woman now, too?”
“Your woman, huh? Good for you, Plague,” he says, then flashes his welcoming smile my way. “Ma’am, I’m Chaos. Welcome to the OKMC, where we spoil our women more than these insufferable Bastards .”
I expect Asher to lose it after being so temperamental towards everyone else when they’ve been sweet to me, but he just laughs, shaking his head. “Where’s Hollywood? She been keeping you on your toes?”
“You know it, told me she’s pregnant the other night.”
“No shit?” he says as we walk towards the entrance. It doesn’t escape my notice that he walks between us, keeping the other man away from me. Chaos doesn’t frighten me, though. He has kind eyes and reminds me of a giant teddy bear. Besides, if he’s that excited to be a father, he must at least be a little bit good. “You’re not too old, Grandpa?”
“ Fucker. I’m not old. It was one of the best days of my life.”
“That’s great. I’m happy for you, man.”
“Happy?” he teases and gestures to me. “She must be the cause of that, you sulking prick,” Chaos says and flashes his stare to me. “This one is usually so fucked up when we see each other, I was beginning to take it personally. Figured he didn’t like my company,” he jests.
Asher laughs again and gives him the finger, dropping his hand to grab mine. Chaos doesn’t comment in return, just whistles low; brows raised. It’s hard for me to believe Asher doesn’t usually have a line of women waiting to be on his arm, even around these guys, but each time another guy is surprised to see me, it solidifies the fact he’s not with a lot of women. It probably shouldn’t make me this pleased to discover as much, but it does. I guess he’s not the only territorial one between the two of us.
We’re met by a few others when we get inside with more handshakes and back-slapping. I thought bikers were supposed to not like other bikers? Now that I’m here and seeing them together, I realize that belief makes no sense. Of course they’d be friends with other bikers, they literally have everything in common.
A few guys comment to Plague about the RBMC letters hastily written on my back in the black grease that will surely leave a stain behind, marking me forever. I remain quiet, keeping my thoughts and opinions to myself while tucked into Asher’s side. It’s not that they aren’t nice or anything, because they’re friendly and several are even gorgeous to boot, but I’m not really sure what to do or say in this situation. Then toss in the fact that anyone who is not Chaos who comments about me being hot or whatever gets growled at.
I feel like I just stepped into the Stone Age with Asher’s chest literally rumbling from anger and possessiveness in their direction like a crazy beast. These are his people, though, so I just let him do his thing, wondering where this person was kept hidden the entire time I was growing up. He was so calm and cool; I never would’ve thought he had a possessive bone in his body, but add him to a biker club, and suddenly, he has me questioning if they pee on their belongings, too.
Men can be so dumb. Don’t they realize that if a woman truly cares about them that another doesn’t hold a chance in hell at stealing them away?
If Asher wants me, I’m his.