Chapter 2
JOKER
By the time Cobra and I reached The Gold Mine, my edgy mood quickly turned to pissed off. The whole ride back, my bike ran like shit, backfiring, misfiring, and running rough the entire time. When we pull into the lot, I swing my leg over the saddle and turn to the prospect at the back door.
“Get Rattler out here, now,” I bark, then watch the kid take off in search of Rattler.
“What’s up your ass?” Cobra asks.
I fling my hand at my bike. “Rattler was supposed to switch out the plugs, but the fuckin’ thing is running like shit.”
As Road Captain, Rattler is in charge of keeping every member’s bike in top condition. Granted, I did the big jobs on the bike at my shop, but Rattler took care of the general maintenance—or he was supposed to.
Two minutes later, Rattler saunters out the back door with his usual smirk in place. “Prospect says you got a bug up your ass.”
I shoot a death stare at the prospect, who has the good sense to lower his eyes to the blacktop. “He better not have said that.”
“What’s the problem?” Rattler looks over my bike.
“You were supposed to switch out the plugs.”
“I did.”
I point to the plugs, and it’s clear they’re burnt out and definitely not new.
“Swear to fuck, we worked on them yesterday.”
“We?” It didn’t take two people to change spark plugs.
“I had one of the prospects do it.”
“Well, maybe the next time you oughta do it yourself, or at least make sure it’s done. I hadda ride over an hour with it backfiring and giving me a shit ride.”
Cobra and Rattler exchange a look as I drag my hand through my hair. Even I heard the amount of pissed-off in my voice.
“Cool out, brother, I’ll get the job done.” Rattler slings his arm over my shoulder. “But right now, I think you need a nice cold beer.”
I shake him off, and we all head to the back door of The Gold Mine, then directly to the bar. “Seriously though, I know those plugs were switched out yesterday. I saw him do the job myself.”
Cobra shoulder-butts me. “Maybe that old man really did put the wooky on you.”
“Shut the fuck up.” I dismiss Cobra’s joke, but I was thinking the same shit myself.
“What are you talking about?” Rattler pulls three ice-cold bottles out of the cooler and lines them up on the bar.
“The meet we had with the Nomads was a little off. I’m gonna lay it all out tonight at church, but apparently they still abide by some of the old Shoshone customs.” Cobra gives me the side-eye. “Along with a senior member who kinda put a curse on Joker.”
Rattler narrows his eyes. “What? ”
“It wasn’t a curse, so much as a warning.” I pick up the bottle of beer. “He said I was gonna have a violent death.”
“Big surprise. We’ll probably all have violent deaths. We’re fuckin’ outlaws.”
I twist open the beer bottle, and the fuckin’ thing explodes all over me.
Cobra and Rattler try desperately to hold it in, but they erupt in howls of laughter as I swipe up a bar napkin and wipe my drenched face and hands.
“Did you shake that bottle?” I accuse Rattler.
“Yeah, right, I’m back here shaking up all the beer bottles just to fuck with you.”
“Looks like today just isn’t your day, brother,” Cobra chokes out around a huge belly laugh.
I slam the bottle on the bar. “Ya know what, I’m out.” I push away from the bar with Rattler and Cobra laughing and talking shit as I head for the door.
When I get out to my bike, the same prospect—can never remember his name—is hovering around my bike. His eyes widen as I approach, and he moves to the side of the bike.
“I switched out all the bad plugs,” he says to the pavement.
The twenty-minute ride to my condo did nothing to improve my mood.
I consider stopping at my shop and taking my bad attitude out on the bikes waiting to be serviced, but with the way my day is going, I’d probably get pinned under a lift.
Normally, working on the bikes in my custom shop eases the demons, but not today.
I usually didn’t pay much attention to what people said.
I’d learned at an early age growing up with an abusive junkie for a father, it’s easier to ignore the negative shit people spew.
Except today. There was something about the way the old man looked at me.
Freaky on some level like he could see right through me, sussing out the bullshit I tried desperately to hide .
I pull into the garage of our condo and drop the kickstand, determined to shake off this weird sensation. I enter the kitchen and smile at my son, Derek, who is leaning into the fridge. At nineteen, he is taller than me and basically eats nonstop.
“Hey, Dad.” He continues to peruse the food selection.
“Hey.” He pulls out the makings for a sandwich, and I nod to the pot of sauce Daisy has simmering on the stove.
“I know, we’re gonna eat soon, but I’m starved.”
Nothing kills his appetite, and no matter how much he consumes, he never gains an ounce.
“How was school?”
He’s a freshman at UNLV, which makes me extremely proud, coming from a family of dropouts, including myself.
After high school, he wanted to continue working as a mechanic in my garage, but Daisy and I insisted he further his education.
He’d been coming to the shop since he was a kid and could rebuild a bike almost as good as me, but he is crazy good with numbers, and even if, after college, he stays in the shop, at least he’ll have the opportunity to do whatever he wants.
“Good, but the food sucks.”
I shake my head as he makes himself a huge sandwich. “Where’s Mom?”
Derek’s biological mother committed suicide after a rival club back in New York kidnapped and raped her.
At only eleven years old, the kid lost his mother, and I lost my first love.
It was a tough time for both of us, but in the end, it made our bond unbreakable.
Having him young, I wanted to be the best parent I could be, so I stepped up as both mother and father, got us away from the toxic club in New York, and in a crazy set of circumstances, met Daisy.
She basically saved both of us, and although she never tried to replace Derek’s mother, she welcomed him with love and understanding—so much, he began to call her Mom .
“She’s in the bedroom cleaning out her closet or something.” Derek shrugs. “What is it about pregnant women and cleaning?”
I clap my son on the shoulder. “I don’t know, buddy, but I also don’t know what’s it like to carry around another human being inside me for nine months so . . .”
“Yeah, I get it. It’s just so funny, I remember her doing the same thing when she was pregnant with Deana.”
When Daisy and I had Deana, Derek welcomed her like a big brother, and the fourteen-year age difference between them made Derek her idol, and he loved it.
I saunter down the hallway, and as I get closer to the bedroom, I hear shifting and movement. I open the door to see my seven-months-pregnant wife perched on a chair reaching for the highest shelf in our closet.
“What the fuck are you doin’?”
“Oh, hi,” she says over her shoulder. “Just trying to get this box down.”
“Get off that chair,” I order, then come up behind her, wrap my arms around her waist and lift her down.
“I’m fine. I almost had it.”
I narrow my eyes and cock my head. “You do remember you’re pregnant, right?”
“Yes, and if I forget, the constant indigestion is a nice reminder.”
I spin her around in my arms. “Sure hasn’t knocked the wiseass outta you.”
“And you wouldn’t want it any other way.” She leans in for a kiss, and, of course, my hands roam to her ass, nicely molded into her denim maternity shorts.
The minute my hands touch my beautiful wife, my dick hardens, so I pull her closer.
“You do realize Derek’s in the kitchen,” she warns.
“He’s occupied with his favorite thing—food, so I don’t think we have to worry. ”
I lower my lips and nuzzle the tempting valley between her breasts, which have filled out to very tantalizing proportions. Gotta love a pregnant woman’s body.
Daisy nudges my shoulder. “I have to go get Deana at dance soon.”
“How soon?”
“I should leave in fifteen minutes.”
“Plenty of time.” I’ve already undone the tab and zipper of my jeans, and with another flick of my wrist, I have her shorts hitting the floor.
When she circles her warm palm around my throbbing cock, I stumble us to the bed and grab one of her nipples between my lips. When she moans out, I tease her nub until her hips jerk off the mattress.
“Yup, just like I thought. You’re more than ready.” I lave my tongue against the other nipple, then peek up at her. “Gotta love my horny pregnant wife.”
She swats at my head. “You are so bad.”
I grin at her. “And you fuckin’ love it.”
She glances at her watch. “We’re down to ten minutes, so you better stop yakking and get busy.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I lean back onto my knees, wrap my hand around her thighs and pull her flush against me. I lap at her perfection for only a few minutes, then angle her higher and easily slide into her heat.
“Fuck, babe, best feeling ever.” I still for a second, enjoying the sensation, but she bucks against me, and I can’t hold back any longer.
I brace myself against the mattress and pump into my perfect wife as her head thrashes against the pillows. Lifting toward me, she gives me everything she’s got to give.
I grip her hips, knowing I’m close but not wanting it to end.
“Ahhh, yes,” she moans as her body fists me in the best way. She pulses and pulls at my cock until I can’t hold back any longer.
“Give it to me, fuckin’ beautiful.” I collapse to her side and pull her close.
The room is filled with our panting breaths, the smell of our sex, and the sight of our love in her eyes. I’m one lucky fuckin’ guy to have a woman and kids who love me unconditionally and . . .
Without warning, Warrior’s words of warning flash through my brain, and I shiver.
Daisy leans up on her elbow. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah, yeah, just got a chill.” I hug her to me tighter. “Promise me you won’t get up on any more chairs.”
“I’m fine.”
I pull back and make her look at me. “Promise me.”
“I promise.” She strokes my hair. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
“Just wanna keep you and the kids safe.” I stroke her belly. “Along with our newest addition.”
“Of course, but you said yourself everything’s been running smooth at the shop and at the club.” She tilts her head. “There’s nothing you’re not telling me, right?”
I shake my head, but my girl isn’t convinced.
“You’re sure? ‘Cause the last time we kept things from each other, I ended up getting kidnapped.”
Shit, why did she have to bring that up? One of the worst times in my life outside of losing Desiree was when Daisy was kidnapped by a guy with a crazy obsession with her while she was nine months pregnant with Deana. Thank god it all worked out, but those were some tense, shaky days and nights.
“Nothing like that. I just want everything with this pregnancy to go right.”
“It will. Don’t worry.” She kisses me on the lips and rolls off the bed. “Gotta go get Deana. ”
I absolutely hate when people say “don’t worry,” ‘cause it usually means I’ll be worrying my ass off.
“Nah, you stay, I’ll go get her.” Crazy and irrational, but I didn’t want Daisy driving to dance class.
“You sure? You hate going there with all those women looking at you like you’re a prime steak.”
I roll my eyes, although she’s not wrong. The women picking up their kids either look at my rumbling Harley, scrolling tats, and the scar running along my jaw like I’m part of the freak show at the circus or like I was a prime steak.
“Yeah, it’s fine, and Deana will be surprised to see me.”
“True. She’s your number one fan.”
As close as Derek and I are, the relationship I have with my little girl is something I didn’t know existed.
We’d originally thought Daisy was having a boy, but Deana was the best surprise ever.
While Derek and I have more of an equal relationship, I love pampering my daughter and treating her like a princess.
I jackknife off the bed, do a quick cleanup in the bathroom—the last thing I need is the dance moms smelling sex on me. I pull on my jeans, t-shirt, and cut, then nod toward the closet. “What was so important you risked falling off a chair seven months pregnant?”
“That box has the Halloween costumes in it. I wanted to go through it and see what I could use for our costumes.” She smiles. “You are going to make an amazing bootlegger.”
A cold chill zips up my spine. “Yeah, I’m not so sure about that.”
“Are you kidding? You’ll be perfect.” She waves her hand over me. “You already have the outlaw attitude. We just have to dial it back a few decades.”
“We’ll see.” The last thing I want to do is disappoint her, but I also didn’t want to conjure up any bad juju to make Warrior’s prediction come true.
“And no more getting up on any chairs. You need something and I’m not here, call Derek, and if we’re both not here, you wait—patiently.” I emphasize the last word which earns me a dirty look from my wife, but I don’t give a shit if it keeps her from falling on her ass or worse.
“Yes, sir.” She gives me a fake salute and a smile saying she’ll do exactly what she wants.
On my way through the kitchen, I try again to shake off my doom and gloom mood as Derek finishes off the last of his sandwich.
“Are you gonna be home for the rest of the afternoon?” I ask him.
“Yeah, I have a night class after dinner, but I’ll be home till then. Got a shitload of reading to do.”
“Check in with your mother and make sure she’s not doing anything stupid, like getting up on chairs or carrying heavy shit.”
“Sure, of course.”
I grab up the keys to Daisy’s SUV and head for the garage. Deana would be disappointed I didn’t bring my Harley, but I still couldn’t shake the lingering cloud of danger hovering in my head.
First order of business at church tonight would be to formulate a solid plan to catch the rogue Nomads in the act and get rid of them.