Chapter 17
Tori
The last few weeks have blown by in a blissful bubble.
Although we’ve all been busy with work, we still find time to have fun together, both in and out of the bedroom.
The guys, acting on my intel, are slowly chipping away at the Raging Bulls, causing rifts and chaos in small ways that will eventually cause the metaphorical dam to collapse and wash them away.
I keep myself busy too, working with Shelly at the clubhouse.
I feel truly accepted by the Ghost Riders.
The club has fully embraced me as one of their own, and any last lingering mistrust seems to evaporate with each successful mission against my father.
I can only imagine how pissed my father must be.
We started so small, he probably didn’t even suspect anything to begin with, let alone that the Ghost Riders were behind it.
But he’ll soon realize we’re the cause of his grievances, the reason why the first mutinous whispers have begun among his men, wondering if he’s lost his touch, if it’s time to make way for a new, stronger, younger, and more capable leader.
I often fantasize about being the one to rub it in his face and tell him it was me who took him down. His useless waste of space daughter.
All those years where he and his men would talk in front of me, never suspecting I’d be capable of using the information against him.
I picture myself riding up on a bike in a blaze of glory, surrounded by my men and new family.
He’ll see that I’m the old lady to not one but three of his sworn enemies.
He might not care for me, but I know the humiliation will crush him.
His own daughter, fucking three men at once, would be bad enough in his eyes, but those men being his sworn enemies, will finally break him.
He’ll lose his credibility, his power, everything.
He’ll regret ever tossing me aside or thinking that I’m worthless.
I can’t wait to see his expression as he realizes he’s lost everything, all because he was a lousy father.
They say revenge is sweet. But King is about to realize his little girl is anything but sweet and innocent.
We’re about to have a strategy meeting to discuss our next move against my father and the Raging Bulls. I feel honored that the guys have included me in these, and I'm glad they now trust me enough to involve me in their most confidential discussions.
Today’s meeting is top secret, so instead of being at the clubhouse, we’re holding it in the conference room of an office block the Ghost Riders own. We pull up, park our bikes in the underground car park, then head up to reception.
Even though the guys have left their club vests behind today, they still stick out like sore thumbs.
It’s like dressing a pitbull up in a cute sweater.
They look harmless, but you know that they could hurt anyone who tried to harm their loved ones.
The receptionist’s eyes widen as we approach the front desk, a mixture of fear and arousal as she takes in the sight of my men.
They look damn hot, radiating dangerous energy and power.
“Can I help you?” the woman stammers. She seems torn between flirting and calling the cops.
Flint smiles at her, oozing charm, and she visibly relaxes. “Flint Hawke, I’ve booked conference room A.”
The woman gasps, eyes widening in surprise.
“Mr. Hawke, I’m so sorry I didn’t realize…
” She doesn’t finish her thought. What could she say?
I didn’t realize the building's owner looked like you. I didn’t think Mr. Hawke would be so hot.
None of the things she’s likely thinking would be acceptable to say out loud.
“Let me just call Ms. Nicholls now, she’s expecting you.
” She makes the call, informing the building manager that Mr. Hawke has arrived.
It feels strange to see Flint being treated like the big boss in a corporate setting. I’m used to people deferring to him as president of the Ghost Riders, but this feels different.
“She’s coming now. Can I get you anything while you wait?
Tea, coffee… something else?” The receptionist's words are perfectly innocuous, just doing her job, but from the way she looks at Flint and the purr in her voice, I can tell that she’d like to give him something that’s beyond her duties as a receptionist.
“We’re fine, thank you,” I snap curtly.
Hunter chuckles lightly behind me, amused by my possessiveness.
The woman’s eyes glower up at me, silently saying, ‘I didn’t ask you’.
The sudden desire to either claw her eyes out for flirting with my man or to grab Flint and show her he’s mine floods me, and I have to force myself to behave rationally.
Thankfully, before it can turn into a full-blown cat fight, the building manager arrives.
“Mr. Flint and your associates, welcome,” she announces, heels clacking on the marble floor as she approaches. “Sorry to keep you waiting. Shall we?” She gestures toward the elevator, no doubt keen to quickly get us all out of the reception area where we’re attracting more than a few curious gazes.
“Not a problem. Please, lead the way,” Flint says, motioning for her to lead.
I’m grateful that he doesn’t acknowledge the receptionist’s hopeful gaze. I can’t stop myself from giving her a thin, victorious smirk as she deflates. She was no doubt hopeful he’d return her flirtation and fulfill whatever Fifty Shades fantasy she was imagining would happen.
The building manager ushers us into the conference room as quickly as she can, no doubt worried about the attention our presence is gathering.
Hank looks especially out of place, his giant frame seeming even bigger in the small office chairs around the conference table.
After showing us where the refreshments are in the corner of the room, the manager quickly scuttles away.
“Remind me again why we couldn’t do this at the clubhouse?” Smoke grumbles, fidgeting with the collar of his shirt and tapping his fingers on the desk.
“Because we’ve had intel that there could be a spy within the Ghost Riders, feeding intel back to the Raging Bulls,” Flint explains, trying to keep the exasperation from his voice.
Screw glances over at me pointedly. He doesn’t voice what he’s thinking, but his thoughts are clear. I’m King’s daughter and therefore the most likely suspect.
“Don’t fucking look at her like that,” Hunter snarls.
“Like what? I can’t be the only person who’s thinking that the most likely spy is the person who also happens to be the enemy’s fucking daughter. What’s the bitch even doing here?”
Hunter jumps from his seat, toppling the chair backward behind him as he lunges across the table for Screw. Screw jumps up, ready to fight, knocking a glass of water over. Cyrus grabs Hunter, holding him back, and Hank does the same to Screw.
“Fucking say that again and I’ll kill you,” Hunter snarls.
Flint holds up his hand to silence them, still sitting calmly at the head of the table.
“Enough.” The pair glower at each other across the table, neither one backing down.
“Sit the fuck down,” Flint barks. Reluctantly, they do.
When everyone is back in their seats and a little calmer, Flint speaks again, his voice firm and commanding.
“Screw, I understand your concern. We had similar reservations to begin with. However, Tori was brought to the club by us, and she has more than proven her loyalty to the Ghost Riders and her hatred of the Raging Bulls. She’s been instrumental in our progress so far, and she belongs here.
Understood?” He stares at Screw, gray eyes narrowed, waiting for confirmation.
Screw clenches his jaw but nods, a quick, sharp movement. “Understood.”
“Now, apologize to Tori.”
Screw almost looks as if he’s going to argue the point, but Flint gives him such a cold stare that he decides better of it. “Sorry, Tori,” he mumbles.
“That’s okay,” I mumble, not wanting to be the cause of any tension among the Ghost Riders. Cyrus squeezes my hand comfortingly under the table.
Flint studies me for a moment, making sure I am okay, before swiftly moving the meeting along. I don’t join in much, feeling too cowed and upset from Screw’s outburst.
Hunter looks at me with concern and fierce protectiveness. “You okay?” he mouths.
I nod, to my mortification, feeling tears springing at the corners of my eyes. I will them away and nod, smiling at Hunter to reassure him. “Thank you,” I mouth back.
The meeting continues, the outburst forgotten, and eventually, I find my voice again, offering helpful insights and intel.
We discuss our plan for the biggest raid yet, the one that counts the most. I overheard a while back about a new business deal my father and Spike made, and it makes me sick to my stomach.
In just a few days, the Raging Bulls will be helping a notorious criminal gang smuggle women into the country to sell them as slaves.
We’re all in agreement that, although the mission is dangerous, it isn’t something we can sit back and allow to happen.
The guys are unanimous in their decision to help.
It’s one of the reasons I love them, their compassion and willingness to help those who need it most, to protect those weaker than them, rather than to use that weakness for their own gain, as my father does.
To my irritation, the one thing they won’t budge on is my involvement. They downright refuse to let me come along, saying it’s much too dangerous and I could fall back into the Raging Bulls’ hands. After a long debate, they win, and I agree to stay at the clubhouse with the other women and kids.
After they finalize the plans for the raid, talk returns to the plan to humiliate my father in front of his men.
“Why don’t we orchestrate him finding out that I’m in a relationship with Flint, Hunter, and Cyrus?” I suggest.
Screw almost chokes at that. I see the looks that Flint, Hunter, and Cyrus exchange. I thought everyone at the clubhouse knew what our setup was. Maybe not.
“That’s hardly something you could prove wasn’t just a rumor, unless you sent him a sex tape,” Hank says jokingly.
“We could do that. It would certainly do the trick,” I agree, shocked at myself for even suggesting it.
The others look at me, mouths agape, eyes wide. “You have to be kidding,” Hunter says.
“I mean, maybe not a sex tape, but you know, some sort of proof. It would be the ultimate humiliation for him…” I try to explain, but I feel like my feet are sinking in quicksand.
Cyrus speaks first. “Tori, we would never, ever ask you to do that,” he says emphatically, reaching out to hold my hand.
“We wouldn’t use you like that. We would never use you,” Hunter insists, shaking his head.
“Our relationship has nothing to do with King. It’s none of his business, and we won’t let him hurt you anymore.
If he knew about us, god knows what he might try to do to you in retaliation,” Flint says fiercely, the muscle in his jaw twitching as he holds back his anger at the theoretical danger it would put me in.
“They’re right, you’d be putting a target on your back. Act like a whore and he’ll treat you like one,” Screw says.
Hunter rises out of his chair.
“Hey, man,” Screw says holding his hand up. “I don’t mean your woman is a whore. You know what King is like.”
“We’ll think of something else,” Flint insists, moving the discussion along.
I zone out the rest of the conversation, lost in the spiral of guilt and shame that overwhelms me.
I feel bad. The guys would put me first, above humiliating my father, above winning the war.
Meanwhile, the main reason I seduced them in the first place was that I wanted to use them to get back at my father.
Yes, I’ve developed feelings for them now. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to use our relationship against my father, that I didn’t think about hurting him with it. If the guys found out, if they knew the truth, I’m not sure they’d ever forgive me.
I don’t deserve them.
Maybe I am as bad as Screw thinks. Perhaps I am my father’s daughter after all—a selfish, vindictive user.