Chapter 8 #2
“I’ve got to get to my meeting.” Pointing to the television on the wall, I add, “Remote’s in the nightstand drawer.” I suddenly remember something I’ll need. “What’s your last name?”
“Stone.”
After raising my chin at her quick answer, I straighten my cut and turn toward the door, saying over my shoulder, “I’ll be back as soon as I can. You need something in the meantime? The prospect will be outside the door.”
Opening said door, I see Dee waiting outside, just as I’d expected. The thing about prospects is they do exactly as asked. Reassured, I head down to the clubroom.
This time, the bodies have roused themselves, and there’s a crowd congregating in the kitchen. Making my way through the throng, I suffer through the obligatory greetings and, from some, commiseration that I missed out on the party last night, which had apparently heated up after I’d had to leave.
“Rat, you missed some shit last night…” As Winchester opens his mouth to tell me exactly what, I push past him with a grimace and a wave of my hand in apology.
I’ve spied Bullseye, and I want to get to him fast.
“Prez? I need to talk to you urgently.”
The whites of his eyes are red, showing he, too, laid one on last night. “If it’s about Royals, speak to Freak, oh…” he pauses and grins. “Reckon he’ll be a little tied up. Hey, Stalk?” He calls to get the other man’s attention.
“No,” I say fast. “It’s you that I need. Maybe also Saint and Tempest.”
He stiffens as I mention the VP and the sergeant-at-arms. “That serious?”
I give him a chin lift.
“You better not be fuckin’ with me, Rat. I’ve a hangover from hell.” He sighs heavily.
“Not fuckin’ with you, Prez. Learned something that might fall back on the club.”
He rolls his eyes to the heavens and back down. “Tell me you’ve not put your dick in the wrong hole.”
“I’ve kept my dick in my pants.” I suppose this is payback for me being seen as the joker in the club. “Prez, this is something we need to get on top of.”
He sighs loudly, then raises his voice. “Temp? Saint?” When he gets their attention, he adds, “My office now.” He looks around, then shouts, “Star? Make me a breakfast plate and bring it to my office. And coffee.” Glancing at me and narrowing his eyes, he adds, “Lots of fuckin’ coffee.”
When he spins on his feet, I follow him out.
Normally, I try to avoid Prez’s office. Most of the times I’ve been inside have been to have him reaming me a new one. Apparently, he doesn’t like it when I wind people up. I don’t understand why everyone takes themselves so fucking seriously.
Prez enters first and takes his seat behind his desk. There are two chairs in front. Tempest takes one, I take the other. Then Saint, the last in, slaps his hand on my shoulder, and glares at me pointedly.
“Up,” he snarls.
What the fuck? It’s me who’s called this meeting.
Do I have to stand at the back like a naughty schoolboy?
It appears that I do. With an audible growl, I begrudgingly get to my feet.
I stand awkwardly, rolling my shoulders as the stiffness from last night’s uncomfortable sleeping position catches up with me, then fold my arms.
“Start fuckin’ speaking,” Prez demands.
Not wasting time, I get straight into it.
“Amethyst fuckin’ Stone,” I start. “She’s trouble…
” As the three top officers give me their attention, I go back to where it all began, going from the moment I was summoned to Royals, and continuing with what I found when I arrived.
When I get to the part about being locked in, they all start to laugh.
I wait for the mirth to die down, then add, “It’s a strange fuckin’ room. My phone was eighty percent charged, yet I had no reception. I was ready to punch a hole through the drywall in order to get out. I couldn’t stand the thought of being in there with that bitch all night.”
Tempest grins. “Thought you’d have made the best of the opportunity.” He makes a crude gesture.
My eyes widen. “You met Ames?”
He shakes his head.
“Anyway…” I choose to ignore the distraction. “The walls of that storage closet were steel. It must have been some sort of panic room at one time.”
“Or a walk-in safe?” Saint suggests.
I shrug. “Could be.”
Prez narrows his eyes. “You didn’t barge your way in here to tell me about a fuckin’ safe room. Get the fuck on with it, Rat.”
I do, as he suggests, get the fuck on with it. When I get to the part about the club’s unwelcome visitors, Bullseye grows serious and takes pity on me. “Go get a fuckin’ chair, Rat.”
I leave to get said item, and while I do, Star appears carrying a tray. On it is a plate full of every breakfast item imaginable, silverware, a pot of coffee, and four cups.
Bullseye waits until Star has closed the door behind her, and Tempest and Saint have parted their chairs to make room for me in the centre.
Then, after overloading his fork with such a large pile of scrambled eggs that I’m entranced for a moment, wondering how he intends to get all that in his mouth, he asks, “You’re telling me these assholes cut the alarms and power to Royals, and walked straight in?
” When he’s finished his question, his fork disappears between his lips. He doesn’t drop one bit.
“Yeah.” My brow furrows. “What’s more, Ames knew who they were. Or the man in charge, at least.”
Three pairs of eyes fix on me.
It all pours out of me—Ames’ story, her brother, and what he wanted with her. And the proposal she’d made to me.
The VP’s brows meet his hairline. He snorts. “She wants to marry… you?”
The emphasis slightly wounds me. I give him the truth anyway.
“She wants to marry anyone, and is offering the unlucky fucker a cool five mill when they divorce in eighteen months.” I pause, then add, with a dismissive shrug, “Just thought if anyone in the club was up for it, it’s easy money for the Kings. ”
By now, Bullseye’s finished his breakfast. Pushing the empty plate away, he refreshes his coffee from the pot, then sits back and links his hands behind his head.
“You’re telling me, if you marry this girl—who shouldn’t have been employed in Royals anyway because of her age—you wouldn’t run off with the money? You’d give it to the club.”
“Freak employed her,” I get in first, letting the blame lie on the right shoulders. “And yeah.” I shrug. “If it was down to me. This club’s the only family I’ve ever known. It would be a way to give back.” Not that I intend to marry her, of course. That’s fucking stupid.
“A way to make up for you being an ass, more like,” Saint growls.
“Circle back,” Tempest cuts in. “I want to know more about this Malachi Stone. He going to be a problem for us?”
“Well, I don’t fuckin’ like he was able to just waltz into the club,” Bullseye rasps.
My head rises and dips. “Yeah. That’s why I stashed her in my room. He knows the Kings own Royals. Seems likely he’ll be stopping by, playing the concerned brother.”
“And if we didn’t know that he wanted to kill her, we’d have probably given him her info.
” Saint stands and paces. He sweeps his long hair back and holds it like a ponytail.
“This is fucked up. If Rat hadn’t gotten locked in with her, we’d have never known.
” While he’s been speaking, I’ve been nodding my head.
“What’s she really like?” Prez asks.
Air leaves my mouth on a sigh. “Pretty enough, I suppose. Clumsy, drops more drinks than she serves.” Then quickly I add, “But she’s getting better.
She’s a smartass, obviously comes from money, and thinks she’s better than us.
” Actually, I’m not sure about that part.
She did seem down to earth. But she is an heiress to a fortune, so I guess it’s a fair bet.
“But she’s ready to marry a biker?”
“She’s desperate.” I shrug.
“Must have been to ask you,” Tempest mumbles. He doesn’t flinch at my death glare.
“Okay.” Bullseye sits forward. “She’s a multi-million-heiress.
There might be some way we can use her to add to our coffers.
” He exchanges a glance with Saint. “I need to think on this. Go back to her, Rat. Tell her she’s under the club’s protection.
That should satisfy her for now. But how to proceed? Well, I’ll give you my answer later.”
“And what do we do about Satin?” I’ve already explained about her and my doubts.
“Send a prospect to bring her in. We need to talk to her.”
“I’ve got an idea,” Tempest says. “Get her here, then let her meet with Ames. You stay with them, Rat, and see what you make of her.”
Bullseye raises his chin, then picks up his phone. “I’ll get Genie looking into Amethyst and Malachi Stone, see if we can confirm her story. And I’d like to speak with her myself. If she betrayed the girl, then she might know something about Stone and his desperate need for money.”
“Unless he just wants to kill her because she’s annoying as fuck,” I can’t help adding.
All three men ignore me.
“You considering ending the brother?” Tempest asks.
Bullseye’s eyes shutter. He seems to sink into himself.
“If he’s dead, there’s no longer a risk to her.
But we’ve got to find him first.” Then he shrugs.
“We can’t decide anything until we know who he is and why he has an urgent need for money.
Could be he owes someone, and we might have to think carefully about how to approach the situation, depending on who that someone is.
” He shakes his head. “Can’t do more without information. ”
He then jerks his chin first at me, then at the door. I take it as my cue to leave.