Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Stiletto
The club is alive with laughter and the clink of glasses.
I wipe down the counter, my fingers lingering on the smooth surface, feeling the warmth of the wood beneath me.
Blackjack leans against the bar, his broad shoulders casting a shadow over my space.
Dex, his son, taps his fingertips on the bar relentlessly, energy radiating off him like heat.
“Come on, Dad,” Dex presses, leaning in closer. “What’s going on in Las Vegas? I know there’s somethin’ you’re not tellin’ me.”
Blackjack smirks, taking a swig from his beer. “You’re not gonna give me a break until I tell you, right?”
“I don’t even know why you’re askin’ me that question. You know me, Dad,” Dex crosses his arms, a stubborn set to his jaw. “Just tell me what’s goin’ on.”
I watch them, intrigued.
The tension between father and son crackles in the air.
Blackjack’s eyes twinkle with mischief, but there’s something serious lurking beneath.
He knows something and Dex can smell it.
Blackjack replies, his voice low, teasing. “You’re too nosy, boy,”
“Curiosity isn’t a crime,” Dex shoots back, his frustration bubbling just under the surface. “If something's brewing, I want to know.”
“Curiosity killed the cat.” There’s pride in his tone, but also a warning hidden in the laughter.
I lean closer, pretending to clean a nonexistent spot on the bar.
My heart races with anticipation.
I want to know what the hell is going down in Vegas.
I’m not even going to lie. This is the kind of gossip I like hearing about.
I am in fact one of those women who enjoy trashy TV shows and hearing stuff that’s happening outside of our charter is like a little treat.
“Dammit, you won’t stop,” Blackjack’s expression shifts. It hardens slightly. “A lot of old ghosts are stirring up more than just memories down there.”
Dex presses, relentless as ever. “Like who?”
“That’s enough,” Blackjack says, raising a brow.
But I can see the wheels turning in his mind.
He’s weighing the risk of sharing details against keeping his son in the dark.
It has to be a hard decision.
“Please,” Dex implores, his voice dropping an octave. “I need to know if we’re in danger, if there’s anythin’ I can do to help.”
“Listen, kid…” Blackjack starts, but I can feel the weight in the room shift. “What we need you to do is keep doin’ what you’re doin’. Your degree wasn’t for nothin’. We needed you to help us get the farm operations back up and running.
Dex urges his father, his voice rising slightly. “Just tell me, please.”
Blackjack says firmly, cutting off the conversation. “Not now.”
I take a sip of my drink, the cold liquid contrasting with the heat of the moment.
The tension coils tighter.
I can’t help but lean forward, curiosity piqued.
“Sometimes ignorance is bliss,” Blackjack adds, looking at me briefly before returning his gaze to Dex.
Dex mutters under his breath, staring into his drink. “Yeah, well, bliss doesn’t keep you alive.”
I glance at Blackjack, searching for a hint of reassurance.
His brow furrows, and I know he’s grappling with how much to reveal.
I lean over the bar, my red hair spilling like flames across the polished surface. “Another round?”
I pour whiskey into three shot glasses.
Blackjack grunts, his gaze serious as he runs a hand through his dark hair. “Yeah, thank you, Stiletto.” Blackjack looks back at Dex and at me, now including me in the conversation. “Now that things are calm here, shit is starting up down at another charter.”
“Great,” Dex replies, his voice tight. He shifts in his seat, drumming his fingers against the bar. “What kind of shit?”
Blackjack takes a shot, slamming it down hard, eyes narrowing as if recalling some distant threat.
Dex’s question comes out clipped, urgency lacing his words. “Who?”
I can feel my heart pounding in rhythm with the tension between them.
The clubhouse hums around us—voices rising and falling, the clinking of bottles, laughter mingling with the low growl of motorcycles revving outside.
It’s been surprisingly warm the past couple of days, so we’ve taken advantage of the unusual weather.
“Rage’s family is back in play,” Blackjack finally says, his voice low and steady, like the rumble of thunder before a storm.
Dex starts but stops short, realization dawning in his eyes. “Rage? The bastard who?—”
“Yeah,” Blackjack interrupts, his jaw tightening. “That Rage. And we’re not the only ones who remember what he did.”
“Many years ago,” he continues, “there was an MC Prez named Rage.” He pauses, letting the name hang like smoke between us.
I can see Dex’s brows knit together, curiosity simmering.
“Rage?” Dex repeats, tilting his head. “What about him?”
“The fucker kidnapped Kat. Thought she was his daughter.” Blackjack's gaze flickers to me, a flash of something unspoken.
I swallow hard, wondering what the fuck happened. I’ve never heard this story before.
“Wasn't he also Roxy’s ex-husband?” Dex asks, piecing it together.
His voice is steady, but I feel the tension in his muscles.
Blackjack nods. “Yeah. That’s right.”
His fingers tap a rhythm on the bar, betraying his calm demeanor. “He was trouble. A real monster.”
“Monster?” Dex’s voice rises a notch, disbelief etched across his face. “He abused people, right? Killed people… raped women, too?”
Blackjack’s jaw tightens. “Exactly.”
The room feels colder, shadows creeping closer. “He left scars, man. Scars a lot of his victims still carry.”
Dex presses, eyes wide. “How did he even get away with all that?”
The innocence of youth clashes with the brutality of our world.
“Fear,” Blackjack says, his tone grave. “He ruled through fear. Took what he wanted without a second thought. But he got what was coming to him.”
I mutter under my breath, fire igniting in my chest. “Good riddance.”
Rage was a ghost haunting our past, but the scars remain fresh.
Blackjack warns softly, his gaze piercing. “Don’t let your anger blind you.”
“Trust me, I won’t,” I reply, determination hardening my voice.
I take a sip of my whiskey, the burn igniting a fire in my chest. Dex leans closer, curiosity etched all over his youthful face. “So what happened to Rage?”
Blackjack cracks his knuckles, a grim smile creeping onto his lips. “Vegas thought they had him once.” He pauses, letting the tension build. “They tortured him with scorpions. Left him to die in the desert. Buried him up to the neck or some shit.”
“Damn.” Dex’s eyes widen. “Did he?—”
I cut in, unable to contain myself. “Wait, wasn’t he the one who got stabbed in New York?”
Blackjack nods, the humor fading. “Yeah. It turns out the one who was tortured in the desert was his identical twin brother.”
I arch an eyebrow, intrigued. “Identical?”
“Same tattoos, same everything,” Blackjack replies, shaking his head. “The club didn’t even know he existed at the time.”
Dex leans forward, eager for more. “What’s his name?”
“His name was Lunatic.” Blackjack’s voice drops, heavy with meaning. “Fitting, don’t you think?”
“Seriously?” I scoff, smirking despite the gravity of the conversation. “Lunatic? Sounds like someone from a bad horror movie.”
“That’s not the worst part,” Blackjack continues, his gaze distant. “Lunatic was married to a British billionaire heiress—Sally Bernard. The Bernard family? They own half the damn casinos in Vegas and plenty of brothels too.”
“Great,” I mutter. “More problems for us, huh?”
“More like Vegas, but yeah,” His tone sharpens. “They’ve got a brood of kids, but their eldest daughter—Seraphina? She took after her dad. Violent. Unforgiving.”
I quip, rolling my eyes. “Sounds like a real peach.”
“She and Sally have made it their personal vendetta to screw with the club,” Blackjack says, his voice low. “They’re opening brothels around our Vegas charter because they know we own Bad Bunnies.”
“Just what we need.” I lean against the bar, crossing my arms. The weight of the world feels heavier tonight. “It’s a shame we can’t have all of our charters be calm and collected.”
“You’ll learn this soon enough, but our enemies are always lurking around,” Blackjack's expression hardens. “You gotta be vigilant, Stiletto. This is just the beginning of your time with the club, Stiletto.”
“Shit,” Dex breathes, eyes wide. “So, we’re looking at a war?”
Blackjack’s gaze flickers to me, gauging my expression. “Could be. We need to keep our heads on straight. I don’t know what we’re walkin’ into, but I know his brother’s ol’ lady is on a mission.”
I’m trying to mask my unease, but I can’t help the shiver that creeps down my spine.
I mutter, stirring my drink absently, the ice clinking against the glass. “There’s always somethin’. We can never have peace for too long, can we?”
Blackjack says, a hint of sarcasm dancing in his voice. “Welcome to the club life.”
“Perfect,” Dex bites out, frustration spilling over. “Just when I thought we could catch a break.”
“Breaks are for the weak,” Blackjack replies, his tone hardening. “We prepare. We fight. That’s how this goes.”
“Right.” Dex exhales, resignation settling over him like a heavy blanket.
I nod, the weight of his words sinking in.
I glance around the bustling room, feeling the warmth of camaraderie mixed with the chill of impending danger.
It might not directly affect our charter, but it affects the entire club and that’s something that’s unsettling.
I set my glass down with a soft thud, meeting his gaze. “Yeah, but wouldn’t it be nice for all the charters to catch a break?”
“Nice thought,” he replies, shaking his head slightly. “But there will always be issues.”
“Yeah, well, that’s comforting.” I roll my eyes, feeling the tension seep into my muscles. “What is it gonna take? A miracle?”
“Miracles don’t exist here.” His voice is gravelly, firm.
He leans closer, lowering his tone. “It’s the way of the game.”
I bite my lip, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “Seems like we’re just pawns on a chessboard then.”
He smirks, but there’s an edge to it. “More like knights. Always on the move, always taking risks.”
Sarcasm drips from my words. “Great. So, what’s our next move? Open another brothel?”
“Maybe we should.” Blackjack chuckles, but there’s no humor in it. “Make ‘em pay for their arrogance.”
Blackjack turns his attention to Dex. “What’s eating at you, kid? You’re bein’ too damn quiet.”
Dex peers up at his father, staring directly into his eyes. “Just thinkin’ about the next fight we’re about to face.”
Blackjack licks his lips and takes a few moments to compose his thoughts. “Get used to it. We’re always fightin’ somethin’ to protect the people and things we love.”