9. Quake
QUAKE
“What’s the likelihood that retaliation will increase… productivity?”
The question, posed by Lyric to Whiz, has all of us on the edge of our seats. We’ve been in church for no more than twenty minutes, and our road captain has spent the better part of that time filling us in on what went down at the most recent funeral held at Death’s Door.
“Hard to say,” Whiz replies. “But Zoey’s ordering supplies like she’s preparing for casualties of war so…” He shrugs.
“Smart girl,” Zombie comments before leveling his gaze on Lyric. “Pres, if she’s getting ready for an uptick in funerals, we should probably be ready, too.”
“Agreed,” I add. “Even if these rivals don’t go after one another, they're bound to do something that requires the Kings to step in.”
The next ten minutes are spent discussing which brothers and prospects can be spared at a moment's notice if Death’s Door requires more help. As soon as we close out that topic, Lyric turns to me.
“Quake, why don’t you give us an update on Sacred Haven?”
Zombie claps his hands and rubs them together like an excited child. “Oooh, yes, please tell us how things are going with the future Mrs. Quake,” he taunts, grinning like a fucking fool.
“I hate you,” I snap.
“You love me,” he counters.
I roll my eyes, groaning. “Yeah, fine, whatever.”
“Guys, there’s a party starting soon,” Trick says from his position a few seats down from mine. “Can we save the bickering for later?”
“Right, so…” I glance around the room. “Whitney and I came up with a community carnival for a fundraiser. We’re thin—”
“Whitney?” Pilot asks, his brow wrinkled in confusion.
“Sorry, Sister Emiliani,” I explain.
“Oh yeah,” Zombie says with a smirk. “You’re fucked.”
A round of laughter follows our VP’s statement, and I ignore it. I wish I could say it’s because he’s wrong, but he’s entirely too close to the truth. Whitney has a way of making a man forget she’s a nun, forget that there are very big reasons she’s off limits.
It’s impressive.
“This is for the kids, so can we focus on that?” I bite out.
“What’s needed to make this happen?” Scrubs asks.
“A lot,” I admit. “But from the club? Volunteers and funds.”
The room goes quiet. No one likes that word. It’s a nicer way of saying unpaid labor.
“We can cover any costs associated with it,” Boondock says, glancing at his laptop, no doubt looking at the club’s budget and discretionary funds. “As long as Lyric is okay with it.”
“I am,” Pres confirms. Whether he really is or not doesn’t matter because he knows I’ll cover whatever the club won’t. “What do you need volunteers for?”
“Set up crews, parking attendants, security, cleanup, tear down, hauling equipment, and whatever else we come up with,” I say.
Zombie whistles. “When’s this thing happening?”
I rattle off the date Whitney and I agreed on, and groans echo throughout the room. Not because they don’t want to help, but because it only gives us a few weeks to get things lined out.
Lyric slams his fist on the table, and all eyes turn to him. “I want a good turnout,” he barks. “We’ve made a commitment to Sacred Haven, one we’ve honored for years, and we’re not about to start letting them down. Besides, it’s for kids. How would you all feel if we were doing this for Sari?”
The reminder about the club’s responsibility, and making it personal, is all it takes to shift the entire mood of church.
I spend the next fifteen minutes assigning tasks. By the time I’m done, my grin is wide because I know Whitney’s smile will light up the room when she sees what I’ve accomplished.
The realization makes me pause. I’m putting a lot of effort into making a woman who’s forbidden happy.
It’s for the kids.
I silently repeat that mantra until Lyric adjourns church. As soon as he does, the atmosphere changes from business to party.
We all make our way to the common area, and I’m surprised to see how packed the clubhouse already is. Tonight isn’t restricted which means there are civilians present. Parties like this are a great way to line our pockets while also giving people a rare glimpse into our lives.
Granted, they don’t see ninety-nine percent of what we’re about, but they see enough to feed their morbid curiosity.
Time passes in a blur as visitors come and go. Music pumps through the sound system, making any meaningful conversation virtually impossible. Some in attendance only stay for an hour, and others are here for the duration.
When things start to wind down, I grab a fresh beer from the bar and head outside. The air is cold but welcome after being trapped indoors for so long.
“What’re you doing out here?”
I whirl around and see Savvy, one of the club whores, sauntering toward me, her hips swaying seductively. When she’s a few feet away, she stops and leans against the building next to me.
Savvy’s been around for years, long enough to know when to push and when to back the fuck off.
“Enjoying the quiet,” I say.
“Then prepare to be disappointed,” she quips.
Groaning, I face her fully. “Sav, take a hin—”
She pats my cheek. “Save it, Quake. I’m not here for that. Hell, from what I hear, you’re spoken for anyway. You know I don’t fuck with a brother if he’s attached. I know the rules.”
I narrow my eyes. “Who the hell told you I’m spoken for?”
“Zombie.”
“I’m gonna kill him,” I snarl.
“How would the pretty nun feel about you murdering someone?” she counters.
“How do you know she’s pretty?” I blurt, and I recognize my mistake the second the words are past my lips. “Did you need something?” I rush to ask, hoping to divert the conversation.
“We’re gonna circle back to the pretty nun,” she tells me. “But for now, you’re safe because I need you inside.”
The seriousness in her tone has my attention piqued. “Everything okay?”
Savvy shrugs. “Don’t know, hence why I need you.”
She pushes off the wall, and I follow her back inside. We weave through the thinning crowd, coming to a stop at a hightop table that’s positioned in a corner. It’s not lost on me that this is a spot where we can see the entire space.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
“What do you know about Keith?"
My eyes immediately dart to the bar. “The new prospect?” She nods, and I shrug.
“He was vetted before being asked to prospect, but I don’t know much about him other than what was found in the background check.
He’s twenty-three, was a hangaround for a year before his prospecting started, a couple underage drinking violations, has a vintage Harley that he takes care of… nothing remarkable. Why?”
“Check out the girl with him,” she instructs, nodding toward the pair.
As soon as I shift my gaze from Keith to the girl, my nerve endings buzz.
She can’t be more than sixteen, maybe seventeen.
She’s skinny in the way addicts are, and she’s wearing a baggy sweatshirt that swallows her frame and a denim mini skirt.
Her eyes are shifty, but I can’t tell if it’s from fear or simply a desperate need to get high.
Either way, I don’t have a good feeling about her.
I pull out my cell and shoot off a quick text to Lyric and Zombie, telling them to come to me. I don’t want to lose sight of Keith or the girl, and I don’t want to draw any attention.
My brothers are at the table within a minute.
“What’s up?” Lyric asks.
I tip my head in Keith’s direction. “What do you see?”
Lyric and Zombie follow my line of sight, and their expressions immediately harden.
“Fuck, how old is she?” Lyric asks.
“Don’t know,” I reply with a shrug that’s far too casual for the situation.
“Is that his girlfriend?” Zombie asks.
“Don’t know.”
“She looks young,” Savvy states. “I probably wouldn’t have given her a second thought because maybe she’s family, ya know? But Keith introduced her to me and said that she was wanting to become a club whore.”
“He what?” I snap.
For several long seconds, none of us speak. Motorcycle clubs have rules, and this isn’t even in a gray area. Club whores aren’t recruited, and we certainly don’t tolerate underage shit.
“We’re sure she’s not family?” Zombie pushes. “A cousin, maybe?”
“Would you offer up family, cousin or otherwise, as a sexual sacrifice to a bunch of bikers?” I counter.
“Goddammit,” he snarls.
“What do we know about him?” Lyric asks.
“Not much beyond what’s in his file,” I say. “Haven’t noticed anything suspicious or concerning… until now.”
“Then figure this shit out,” he orders.
I level my gaze on his. “You want me to dig?”
“Yeah. Dig fucking deep.” His voice is calm, too calm. “And figure out who the hell she is?”
“Her age is priority,” Zombie adds. “Everything else is secondary.”
“Got it.”
We all stare at Keith and the girl, watching the way she awkwardly hangs onto him. The prospect is barely giving her the time of day, but he has his hand wrapped around her wrist like he can’t let her go.
“Follow them when they leave,” Lyric instructs. “And let us know the second you learn anything.”
“Understood.” I look to Savvy. “Can you go grab me a few bottles of water? Better switch to that if I’m gonna have to ride.”
She leaves to do my bidding.
“I don’t like this,” Zombie grumbles.
“Neither do I,” Lyric adds.
I scowl. “That makes three of us.”