5. Soul
Soul
Ten Months Later
There’s only one thing more chaotic than a patching-in party, and that’s when one of our members earns his rank. Venom is passed out on the pool table, thoroughly wasted and missing most of his clothes since he came back from his room with a couple of patch bunnies.
As he should be. Becoming the new tail gunner of the Las Vegas Twisted Kings is something worth celebrating, even if it hurts that we’re filling a position that was previously held by Mayhem, a long-standing member of the club.
Mayhem was taken out in a shower of bullets on the compound, officially escalating the war between us and Rick Zane, the casino owner who owns half of Vegas. Now, trouble is looming, and trust between our brothers is more important than ever. Which is why Venom is taking Mayhem’s place.
In Venom’s short time with the club, he’s done more than most. Whether it be running toward gunfire or taking a knife to the gut, he’s earned our respect.
It’s why so many of the guys trust him to watch their old ladies in times of trouble.
He’s been stabbed, shot, and on the brink of death, playing the hero.
He has absolutely no sense of self-preservation, which is, I guess, why he gets along with me and Chaos so well.
I look around the clubhouse. The party is finally winding down from the one that raged well into the morning.
Rank celebrations always draw bigger crowds.
Everyone shows up. Members, prospects, patch bunnies, old ladies.
The clubhouse was packed to the brim, and just because it’s quiet now doesn’t mean it’s over.
The second people sober up again, they’ll be back at it.
Most members have passed out or disappeared to their rooms for the time being, but the ranked brothers still hang around, as is our place when we give out a patch.
Legacy, Steel, and Havoc are out back on the loungers with their women. Reagan is sleeping in Legacy’s arms. I’m surprised she stayed awake as long as she did with their three-month-old keeping them up at night. Tempe is at Steel’s side, talking to Aimee, Havoc’s old lady.
Even Ghost hasn’t left the party yet. He and his old lady, Luna, are on a couch in the back of the room. They’re talking instead of fucking since they did that already. Still, he flips me off when he catches me watching them, right before he stands up to take a phone call.
I’m not one to judge when I also have a reputation for fucking in the middle of the clubhouse, but Ghost and Luna have been outshining me in that department lately.
I drag my hand through my hair, walking through the aftermath of chaos.
Spilled booze has my boots sticking to the floor with every step.
Half-naked members and patch bunnies are scattered around the room.
It’s a beautiful sight, and yet, I didn’t partake in any of it like I used to because everything is fucking wrong lately.
Being the VP of this club is all that’s ever mattered to me. I was born and raised in this life, and when I was given my position, I vowed nothing would come above it. It’s all I ever wanted. Now, as I look around, I’ve lost my purpose.
My drive.
Things that used to distract me haven’t meant shit these past few months.
Maybe it’s a good thing we’re going to war with Zane any minute. Drawing blood scratches an itch. Fighting gives me something to focus on. And now that the Feds are finally off our backs after breathing down our necks for the last year, I’ll get my chance to take out some of this aggression.
After we blew up the Iron Sinners compound, Rick Zane tried everything to tie us to the explosion. He didn’t appreciate us taking out the guys who were doing his dirty work. Only, they weren’t able to find anything, and now, they’ve finally backed off, giving us our opening.
Zane should start counting the days he has left. After everything he’s done to my brothers, their women, and this city, he’s going to get what’s coming to him. He’s a dead man walking. I’ll make sure of it.
I cross the room, almost tripping over one of my brothers.
“Go find a fucking bed.” I kick him, and he groans, rolling over but not getting up.
Chaos chuckles from where he’s sitting at the bar with a coffee in hand. He’s nursing his hangover with caffeine instead of sleep, watching Willa cross the room as she heads outside to talk to the girls.
It’s good having my brother back after five months of him traveling the country with his old lady.
A trip he deserved when he’s given his blood, soul, and life to this club.
He’s almost died for us. He’s gone to prison for us.
Chaos is the definition of what our patch stands for.
And after all the shit he and Willa went through with their families, finally finding their way back to each other, I get why he needed some time away from the club to clear his head.
This place is all lawlessness and gunfire.
Anarchy and carnage.
It’s not a place of healing, just fucking yourself up beyond the point of recognizing when something is bothering you.
“Nothing like having a reason to celebrate.” I slide onto the barstool beside Chaos. “But it would be nice if these parties weren’t the result of tragedy for once.”
“Agreed.” He tips his coffee at me, taking a sip.
I wave down the last prospect left standing behind the bar. “Beer.”
He nods, grabbing one from the refrigerator and handing it to me.
In the past twenty-four hours, I’ve been wasted, passed out, and now I’m rallying until we start the party all over again. Patching-in parties last for days, especially when someone makes rank. This is only the beginning, and I’m looking forward to it so I can get out of my fucking head.
I grab the beer from the prospect. “It hasn’t been the same without you here.”
“You should have come to Reno. Reaper’s club is always a good time.” He drags his hand through his dark hair.
“Don’t I know it.”
The Reno chapter of the Twisted Kings makes our clubhouse seem tame. The party never ends, and it’s one of the many reasons I’ve jumped on any excuse to ride North over the years. I’ve spent entire weeks in Reno partying and fucking.
Maybe I should have taken Chaos up on his offer to meet him up there when there are so many beautiful, fun, willing women. Maybe I should grab a patch bunny right now and end this fucking celibacy streak that’s driving me out of my mind.
I glance over at one of the girls, topless and playing strip poker with a couple of the guys. She winks when she catches me watching her, but I turn my back because all that look does is make my stomach sink.
Fuck, what is wrong with me?
I take a sip of my beer, ignoring that thought. “You and Willa good? You’ve been gone a long time.”
He looks over my shoulder at Willa, who is talking and laughing with Tempe. “We’re good.”
“And the ranch?”
“Surprisingly, it’s better now than it has been in years. Kincaid really stepped up after all that shit went down. He’s working hard to change things up around there.”
“He should be.”
For about a year, Chaos and his brother, Kincaid, were fighting over ownership of their grandfather’s Texas ranch, Ironside Ridge.
It wasn’t until they finally found documentation naming Chaos as the beneficiary that the tension settled.
Kincaid stopped fighting and agreed to help Chaos maintain the land, since he has no plans to move to Texas.
Now, Chaos is working with Steel to sell a portion of the ranch to the Twisted Kings. It won’t be an official clubhouse, but clubs all over the country could use that spot if they’re passing through, or if a nomad needs a place to land for a little while.
Meanwhile, Kincaid will maintain the rest of the ranch, keeping it operating as their grandfather intended.
I open my mouth to ask Chaos how things are moving forward with Ironside Ridge now that he’s back in town, but a strange sound comes from around the corner before I get the chance, cutting me off.
“What is that?”
There’s another bar in the front of the clubhouse, so it’s not uncommon to hear a commotion from there, but this sound is something else.
Ghost turns the corner, off the phone now, and his gaze is on me.
He nods once, and without a word, my stomach plummets.
It’s no secret I’ve been on edge since New Year’s.
I’ve been constantly fielding questions from Chaos and Venom about why I’m not fucking every girl who looks my way, and Steel’s been threatening to tamper with my bike if I don’t stay put for the night because he’s worried about me riding around Vegas alone as often as I am.
But Ghost knows the truth.
Ever since the night Emery slipped out of my bed, I’ve been searching the city for her, and Ghost has been helping by scouring security footage. He’s run her face through every piece of software we have, and still we haven’t been able to find her.
That single nod changes everything, and a moment later, Emery rounds the corner, stopping my heart in my chest.
Her thick brown hair is longer than it was the last time I saw her. Her blue eyes are bright and wide as she takes in the room.
Ten months I’ve been looking for her.
Ten months I’ve searched every corner of Vegas.
And here she is, walking into my club with a baby in her arms.
“It’s that—”
“Yeah.” I cut off Chaos, barely able to breathe as I shove off my barstool and meet Emery in the middle of the room.
Ghost stays posted by the door, watching the scene. I really wish that if he was going to let her through the gate, he’d have given me a heads-up so I could have met her out front and not in the middle of the party.
Emery looks around the room again, taking in the topless patch bunnies, drugs, and guns. It’s a sight that has her eyes widening before they sweep to me. Thick lashes frame her pretty blue eyes just like they did last time I stared into them, and it pulls the air from my lungs.
For months, I wondered if I’d imagined her. I thought maybe I’d made her up. A beacon of hope when life has been doing nothing but falling apart lately. I take a breath and catch a hit of her orange blossom perfume like it’s the answer to my prayers. I’m high on the first inhale.
Her cheeks pinken, darkening her freckles.
That night she fell asleep next to me, I counted all thirty-seven of her freckles over and over until I couldn’t keep my eyes open.
And then, she disappeared.
Ten. Fucking. Months. Ago.
A fresh wave of emotion barrels through me. This one different.
“Emery, what the hell?” It comes out harsher than I mean for it to, but I can’t help it.
I’ve done everything I could think of to look for her, and here she is, walking into my clubhouse like she didn’t just leave me in that bed alone.
My gaze falls to the baby in her arms. I don’t know shit about kids, but this one’s face is so small and innocent. She can’t be more than a few weeks old, which tells me everything I need to know about the secrets Emery has been keeping.
“You remember me then?” Emery bites her lip.
Her perfect, plump lip.
“Remember you?” I huff out a laugh. “Are you fucking kidding me? I’ve been looking for you everywhere. It’s like you disappeared.”
“I know. I had to. I’m sorry, Hayes. It was for the best.”
“What—why—” I shake my head, my fingers flexing.
My gaze moves back and forth between her and the baby, and that same feeling I had on New Year’s creeps through. The universe is whispering in my ear, warning me. Everything in my life is about to change.
Legacy is still outside with Reagan sleeping in his arms on the lounger, but Havoc and Steel have stepped into the room.
There’s nothing like a baby at a clubhouse party to make everyone sober up really fucking fast and pay attention.
“I’m sorry to come here like this.” The baby cries softly and a knot forms in my chest.
Emery brushes her finger down the ridge of the baby’s nose. She’s so fucking tiny, with wisps of dark hair on her head. It’s a shade lighter than her mother’s. Her face scrunches at first. Until Emery brushes her finger down the ridge of her nose again, and she relaxes.
“We didn’t have anywhere else to go.” Emery forces a smile through her nerves, looking up at me. “There’s someone I want you to meet. Charlotte. Charlie, for short. Your daughter.”
“My daughter.” All the blood leaves my face.
I’m not even sure I’m still standing.
“Yes. I know I shouldn’t do this to you. The trouble it will cause. If my uncle finds out where I am, he’ll kill us both.” Emery shivers, nervously looking around.
The same fear I remember from the night we met swells up now.
“Your uncle?”
“Rick Zane.” Tears fill Emery’s eyes as she looks up at me, and everyone in the room goes silent at that name. “Please, Hayes. We need your help.”