“Want to join?”
Wouldn’t be the first time we’ve share chicks before, but I’m not in the mood.
“Nah, man. I need a drink.”
For some reason I can’t shake the ball of stress that’s right between my shoulder blades. Jas isn’t at the bar, so I go behind, grabbing a bottle of tequila. Unscrewing the lid, I take a long swing that leaves a trail of fire burning down my throat. When that doesn’t do the job, I take another swig. And another. And another, until I feel the numbing sensation I’ve been craving.
Someone calls me over, so I head their way. I’m surprised to find my legs are a bit wobbly, but I man up and push through. I’m almost to the table when King comes to my side.
“The Prez wants to speak to you.”
“Prez?”
Fuck.
“He’s not happy.”
“I gathered that much when you didn’t say his name.” I take another long drink and put the bottle down. “Let’s get this over with.”
King slaps me on the shoulder. “That’s the spirit.”
I’m glad I have him to lean on as we walk. Maybe I drank more than I realized. We reach Saint’s office, and King goes in first.
“Is he with you?” Saint snaps.
“Right behind me.”
I stumble in and lean against the wall for support. Saint eyes me before standing. If I were smarter, I’d feel some sense of fear with the way he’s looking at me right now. He stops in front of me and the next thing I know I’m on the floor, holding my jaw, where pain radiates as if my fucking face is busted open.
I close my eyes.
Yeah. I probably deserved that.
Saint
Bash slumps over, passing out. His jaw is bright red from where I decked him, but he’ll live.
King curses and goes to the fridge in the corner of my office, grabbing an ice pack. “Dude, what in the fuck’s gotten into you?”
“Bash said he’d keep Psy away from her.”
Bash comes to at the sound of his name and groans as he sits. King tosses him the ice pack, and Bash cradles it against his jaw.
“I was doing my job and breaking up a fight on the floor, Saint. I wasn’t out there, dicking around.”
The logical side of my brain knows he’s right, but fuck that. The look of terror etched on Olivia’s face might be burned into my memory forever.
Bash says, “She’s fine, man. He didn’t even touch her.”
Ignoring him, I turn to King. “I want Psycho out of here.”
King’s eyes widen. “Saint-”
“I mean it. He’s been fucking up left and right and I’m tired of dealing with him. Call one of the chapters and see who has an opening.” I think for a moment. “Start out with the clubs on the west coast.”
Because I want that fucker out of my hair. The farther the better. The only reason I’ve kept him around this long is because his old man was friends with mine. But I don’t owe any of them shit.
King’s jaw ticks, but he nods. “I’ll take care of it.”
I’m sure he’s only thinking of what kind favors we’ll owe to get another club to take Psycho, but it’s well worth it in my mind.
I look at Bash. “We good?”
“Of course we are.”
He stands and holds out his hand, so I slap my palm into his.
“Did you drop her off at her dorm?”
A look flickers across his face, but he nods. “Yeah.”
“Good. I’m going to check on her.”
“Saint.”
I turn to King. “What?”
“If she means this much to you, you need to brand her. That will stop anything else like this from happening.”
I swear to fucking god the air solidifies in my fucking throat. “I’ll take it under advisement.”
King rolls his eyes, and Bash looks a little shell-shocked. I’ve never put my brand on a woman. Hell, I’ve never even considered it with anyone. Not even my-
Suddenly, I need to get the fuck out of here.
“I’ll be back tomorrow. Call if you need me.”
I head outside to the shop and grab my helmet. A few of the guys try to talk to me, but I ignore them. I pull out and let loose once I’m on the main road. The cool air whips across my face as I speed out of town, until I’m the only soul in sight.
I don’t know what in the fuck King is thinking, suggesting I brand Olivia. I just met her. And she’s too fucking young for me. But there’s something about her that’s gotten to me - I can admit that much. That doesn’t mean I’m going to act on my urges though. No, I won’t make that mistake ever again.
The club is silent when I roll up early the next morning. I’m tired as fuck, but my mind is crystal clear. I go to Bash’s room and enter without knocking. You’d think he’d learn to lock his door by now, or change the code to something I don’t know. He’s spread out on his bed, totally nude. I’m actually surprised that he doesn’t have a chick in bed with him.
“Bash.”
He sits up right away, blinking the sleep from his eyes. Bash doesn’t talk about his past much, but there’s something there that makes him alert, even when he’s sleeping.
“What’s wrong?”
He moves his head, and I can see there’s a bruise on his jaw from where I decked him.
“Nothing’s wrong.” I pause. “I want you to stay with Olivia at all times. No one gets to her. You bring her here and take her home each night. Got it?”
He looks pissed for a moment, but nods. “I’ll do it, Boss. But, I agree with King. If she means that much then you should make sure everyone knows.”
“Just do as I’ve asked. And get up. I want to go over a few details with everyone.”
Bash replies, “Will do. Just need ten minutes to get dressed.”
I dip my head and go to the conference room. This is where my inner circle handles club business. And we’ve got a lot of shit to talk about. Like our shipment and how we’re going to make sure we won’t be taken down by the cops who are watching us.
My officers are there five minutes later, none looking happy to be awake.
Razor yawns. “Don’t suppose this could’ve waited until after noon?”
“Nope.”
“Didn’t think so.”
He grabs a bottle of whiskey and sits in his spot, taking a long swig. He offers the bottle to me and I shake my head.
“You sure, man?”
“I’m sure.” I stand, facing everyone. “I’m not going to beat around the bush here. We’re going over our plans for the run next week and at the end of the month, and then we’re going to figure out how in the fuck to get out of this business.”
Razor groans, but King and Bash nod.
“I want to know who’s moving what in this area. Is there another club we can take down to be the only movers of weed in the area?”
King says, “As I said before, weed is a dying market for us, unless we want to go legal with it.”
“The boys in Oklahoma are doing pretty good moving the moonshine for the Webb family,” Bash replies. “We should look into that. Expanding their distribution.”