Chapter Thirteen
Kalina strolled over with a fresh bottle of Bud. By the shape of her smile, Cox could tell what she wanted; he moved his hands and made a clear path to his lap. She perched on a thigh as she handed him his drink.
“Thanks, Kal.”
She welcomed him with a wry air kiss.
The Hall was crowded this evening. They’d just had another session in the Keep, getting an update on the various messes making up their current shitstorm, and most of the old ladies, daughters, and club girls had taken on the job of making everything else around the patches as calm and pleasant as possible. A big meal was in the works, and the aroma of spicy meat covered up the usual faint reek of ripe farts, stale beer, weed smoke, and BO that made the clubhouse ambiance.
It finally looked like the shitstorm was abating. Ben Kellogg, who worked as an on-call county coroner as well as a mortician, had produced a death certificate for Gary Prentiss that made cardiac arrest his official cause of death. The club had paid for his funeral, and they’d come to terms with his widow. Leigh was not in a state of mind to be gracious about the situation, but she appeared to be resigned to it—and the club was already at work making improvements at her place. They didn’t want to give her any time to question the deal she’d made before she saw its fruits.
Tommy was still in the hospital, he’d gotten an infection that was delaying his discharge, but he was coming through that setback and expected to make a full recovery—after several weeks of recuperation at home. Getting that stubborn ass to stay in his bed once he was home had been one of the items on tonight’s agenda. They were setting up a Tommy-sitting schedule.
Cox was of the opinion that their SAA was a grown-ass man and it was on him if he pushed himself too hard, but that had been one of those ‘hot takes.’
They still had no idea who had ransacked Abigail’s property; Dom and Bart had hit several walls in their search. Abigail had been little help; she insisted she didn’t have beef with anyone, and no one had been so unkind to her she’d expect them to do more than say ugly words.
For the huge trouble that nasty joy ride had caused, all the Horde were deeply committed to solving the mystery. They’d almost lost Tommy, they’d killed a man in his own home and now had his widow on their perpetual dole, and they were still in the dark over who’d actually fucked with Abigail.
Kalina drew her fingers through Cox’s hair. He tipped his head away from that too-cozy touch.
“Hey,” she said. “Y’okay? You’re frownin’ like you mean to kill that spot in the middle of the air.”
Sitting on one end of the sofa nearest Cox’s armchair, Darwin laughed. “Cox’s got resting murder face, Kal, you know that.”
Izzy, the club girl snugged up at Darwin’s side, under his arm, laughed too. “It’s pretty hot.”
Darwin put a comedic performance of outrage on his face. “What am I, then?”
“You’re hot, too,” Izzy assured him, tucking her fingers into the V-neck of his black t-shirt. “You look like murder everywhere, but then you’re all sweet on the inside.”
Darwin grinned and kissed her.
Cox blinked and erased whatever expression he’d been wearing. “Just thinkin’.”
“What about?” Badger asked, coming to take a seat in the armchair facing Cox’s.
Not interested in sharing his unproductive thoughts, Cox shook the president’s question off.
Just then, a slant of summer sunset cut through the Hall. Cox noticed because it caught Kalina directly in the face, and she flinched and blocked her eyes. All the patches and most of the family were already here; Cox looked over his shoulder to see who’d come in.
Badger stood at once and headed toward the front.
Cox stayed put, as did Darwin, but they were both focused in the same direction, trying to see who’d come in and determine if they were needed. There were too many people in the way at first, but those who were also turned toward the front stopped and shifted enough Cox quickly had a clear sightline.
A man, a complete stranger to him, had walked into the Night Horde’s home. He wore an obviously expensive suit and had an obviously expensive haircut for his thick sweep of dark hair. His complexion had that smooth bronze sheen that only wealthy people who spent a lot of time outdoors—on golf courses, ski slopes, and yachts—got. Farmers and workmen turned leathery, but billionaires got shiny. And his teeth were blindingly white. Cox knew this because the fool was grinning like he’d won a prize.
“Who the f—" Cox started, then stopped because Shiny Rich Suit had come into the room enough that Cox saw the little redhead accompanying him. Autumn Rooney.
She was wearing one of her Going to Work Barbie outfits, a suit with a snug jacket and slacks, this one in a greenish-blue color, and, of course, a ridiculously tall pair of black heels. Her hair was loose but caught back with a pair of sunglasses. Whatever else that woman was, she was fucking beautiful.
That annoying cramp tightened his chest, but he ignored it.
With a guarded expression, but her back straight and her head high, she was scanning the room. She landed on Cox and froze. For whole seconds, they stared at each other, and Cox watched a frown creep over her brow, deepen, and then swipe away so quickly it was like she’d intentionally erased it. She turned away abruptly.
Kalina shifted on his lap, and he remembered she was there. Had that silent little drama enacted on Autumn’s face been about Kalina? On his lap? The urge to set her away hit him so quickly and with such force he almost acted on it before he got hold of himself.
“What’s she doin’ here?” Kalina sneered. “She think she’s entitled, just because she bought a piece of property?”
Izzy answered, “I hate that snooty bitch. I bet her cooze is cold and dry like the North Pole.”
“The North Pole can’t be dry, Iz,” Kalina returned. “All that snow is frozen water.”
“Actually, it’s an arctic desert. I saw a documentary about it.”
Cox heard all that, felt some irritation with the girls for talking shit about Autumn, but he ignored the talk and the irritation. He was much more interested in the dynamic between Autumn and the suit she’d come in with.
Badger and Double A were talking with them now. There were too many people and too much distance between Cox and that foursome to hear what was being said, but the body language was screaming. Badger and Dub were, rightfully, assertive, making themselves as big as possible to ward off any potential threat. Every other patch in the room was focused there as well, standing or seated, ready to roll if they were needed. The suit was wearing that megawatt smile, acting like he was the guest of honor. Cox figured it was probably how he acted everywhere. Autumn stood beside him, confident and as tall as she could make herself, clearly trying to manage the situation.
What really had Cox’s attention was the dynamic between Autumn and the suit. Suit kept putting his hand on her—her shoulder, her arm, her back, the small of her back, and every time, Autumn shifted subtly, escaping the touch. She didn’t want that contact, but she didn’t want to make a scene over it. And Suit was exploiting that reluctance obnoxiously.
Autumn had not shown herself to be shy about her boundaries, but she was being careful now.
Suit was her boss. He was making moves Autumn didn’t want made, and he had power over her that kept her subdued.
Cox fucking hated bullying assholes like that.
He stood up so fast he dumped Kalina into the chair; he’d forgotten her again.
Darwin stood, too. “What? What do you see?”
Before he could think to answer, or even fully realize what was going on in his head, Len and Dom came up, and Darwin redirected his curiosity to them. Len and Dom had been up at the bar, near the entrance.
“What’s goin’ on?” Darwin asked. Also curious, Cox forced his attention to stick with his brothers.
“We got an idea,” Len said and immediately shifted his attention to Kalina and Izzy. “This is an ask, not an order, dolls. How’d one of ya feel about distracting our new friend?”
The girls turned to each other. It looked like a silent conversation started, but Cox was not fluent in chick mindmeld, so he had no idea. He returned his focus to Len. “Who is he?”
Dom grinned. “Chase Isley. His family owns MWGP. He’s the president.”
So Cox was right—that handsy piece of shit was Autumn’s boss.
“What does ‘distract’ mean?” Izzy asked, and Cox focused on the girls again—after a quick check on Autumn. Her boss was too wrapped up in whatever he was saying to Badger to be pestering her at the moment.
Dom answered Izzy’s question. “It means as much as you’re willing it to mean.” Positioning himself between the seated women, he crouched and continued, “What we’re thinkin’: get him as drunk as he’ll get, let him focus on one or both of you, take him as far down the primrose path as you’re comfortable to go, but what I’d love is if we got him into the back room.”
“You want leverage,” Cox observed. The back room was an unclaimed bedroom. The patches each had a small room in the dorm where they could sleep off a rough drunk or fuck a club girl—or anybody else they wanted to fuck. Occasionally, patches lived in the clubhouse for a while, too. And when they had a prospect, the prospect lived on site. But they always kept the back room free.
Because Dom had hidden cameras set up in it.
“I do want leverage,” Dom confirmed. “That guy’s been here less than ten minutes, and I can already tell you he is slimy as fuck. I don’t trust him farther’n I can see him. I don’t know if we’ll need to sideline him, but I’d love to have the ammo if we do. Iz? Kal? You up for it?”
“I’m no whore, Dom,” Kalina said at once. “If you’re asking, my answer’s no. If you’re ordering, my answer’s fuck off.”
“Heard,” Dom said, unflapped by Kalina’s characteristically confrontational response. One of the reasons Cox favored her among the club girls was that she hated people almost as much as he did.
Izzy, on the other hand, said, “I was a whore, and that guy looks clean and kinda cute, so fuck it. Sure, I’ll do him. But as a whore, I wanna know what’s in it for me—and it better be somethin’ more than a thank you.”
Dom turned to Len, who shrugged. “You’re the club officer, my brother, not me. I cut that flash off years ago.”
“Does Badge know about this?” Darwin asked.
“He does,” Dom answered. “Well, mostly. We’ve been talking about finding leverage on little Autumn over there”—a hot blast of adrenaline shot up Cox’s spine for some reason—“just to keep her in line, but that’s her boss. Much juicier. So I’m takin’ some initiative with this.” He sharpened his focus to Izzy. “How about a grand?”
Izzy thought about that. “A grand and I’m off housekeeping duty for a month.”
That condition made Dom pull back a little. He raked his hand through his long, perpetually tangled hair and looked away.
Understanding his brother’s hesitation, Cox nearly smiled. Clubhouse management was the purview of the old ladies, in particular Adrienne and Candy, the wives of the president and VP, and Lilli as well, though Isaac hadn’t been an officer for decades. That woman kept hold of whatever she wanted to hold, regardless of protocol, policy, or tradition. Of the three, she was the scary one. But they were all formidable.
Dom was afraid of pissing the women off.
But Len said, “We can make that work, yeah. Thanks, Iz.”
Before anyone could move and get started on this slapdash plan, Darwin said, “What about Autumn? I know nobody likes her, but she’s no fool. What if she sees us coming with this?”
Immediately Cox understood where this ‘plan’ was headed next, and the thought of any of his brothers, especially the single ones, taking on the task of ‘distracting’ Autumn made the edges of his vision go dark.
“I’ll handle her,” he said.
When his brothers’ faces went slack with shock, he ignored them and focused on Izzy. “C’mon, Iz.”
Izzy stood and followed him to the bar.
Halfway there, he could already hear the guy—he was one of those who kept talking louder until everyone around him had no choice but to listen. Autumn had taken the opportunity of his focus on Badger and Double A to move completely out of his reach, shifting to the other side of the group. As she was facing the Suit now, Cox could imagine her choosing that position specifically because it gave her the option to say she simply wanted to see him better, or something like that.
She was nothing if not strategic.
True to her former profession, Izzy showed no hesitation whatsoever. She’d shifted her tits in her tiny top and fluffed her hair (currently a blend of burgundy and pink) while they crossed the room, and now she went straight to the Suit (Cox hadn’t bothered to commit the man’s name to memory) and put herself between him and his audience. Whatever the Suit had been saying, he cut off abruptly.
Izzy leaned on the bar, lifting her ass—encased in a red leather miniskirt—and asked Chuck, the hangaround on barkeep duty, “Hey, hon—can I get a G they didn’t need to talk.
“You play pool?” he asked.