“What stopped you?”
“Faith.” Even though she wasn’t in the clubhouse, everything came back to her. If I shot Guerrilla now, it would be for nothing. I may never get to tell Faith who I really am, especially if I’m behind bars.
Cipher nodded. “Thank God you have a conscience.”
“More like a mission. Now that I know who killed me, I need to figure out a way of telling Faith without breaking her.”
“Maybe just be truthful?”
“I wish I could, but she’s not the same girl I left behind. There is a darkness inside of her that’s consuming her light. I need to figure out a way to find my Faith again.”
Cipher seemed lost in thought. “You really love her, don’t you?”
“Have you ever loved someone so much that you’d do anything for them, even die?”
Cipher shook his head. “I seem to only get attached to unattainable girls. Girls with issues. Girls that need to be saved. Fucking headcases that would probably slit my throat in my sleep and steal my wallet if I didn’t sleep with one eye open.”
I chuckled. “Well, I died for Faith. The night I was shot, someone, probably Guerrilla, texted me to tell me she was in trouble. I was supposed to be on a run with Guerrilla, but he was running behind. I left my post, Switchblade was there, so I thought it was okay. When I got up to the place where Faith was supposed to be, I got shot. It was a set-up. I just don’t know why Guerrilla did it.”
“Well, I guess we’ll have to figure it out together then. As your sponsor, I’m fucking responsible for your fucking ass. Just do me a favor, okay? Stop pissing the other members off. You haven’t even been a prospect for an hour and half the club already hates your guts.”
“What can I say? I’m a fucking people person.” I tried not to smile but failed.
Cipher grinned. “Do I need to go over the rules with you?”
“Don’t touch someone’s Old Lady. Respect the senior members. Stay the fuck away from drugs. Don’t fuck up. Do what you say. Don’t piss people off. Am I close?”
“Close enough. Ice and Obi should be easy to win over, maybe Scythe, too, but Switchblade and Guerrilla are cut from the same cloth. They don’t trust you; it’s going to take some work to get them to even remotely like you.”
“What if I don’t care if they like me?”
“If you want to stay in the Armada and live to see tomorrow, you’ll at least try. I get that it’s going to be difficult with Guerrilla, but you don’t have proof that it was actually him that shot you. You need a confession, and that ain’t gonna be easy to get. Play nice, and maybe you can get him to sing like a canary. Until then, you’re gonna have to lock that shit up in the vault and hold it in.”
“That’s not gonna be easy.” I was thirsting for Guerrilla’s blood. I could get him alone and shoot that motherfucker like he shot me, but I knew that was going to have to wait, at least until I was ready to confront him.
“It’s what you need to do, Specter. It’s the only way you’ll last longer than a month. The club isn’t what it used to be, and you, you aren’t the man you were. Nobody even knows who the fuck you are. I thought by now that someone would recognize you, but you look so different—different hair, your beard, the fucking tattoos, and goddamn you lost a lot of weight from what I saw in pictures. You’re like a fucking different person altogether. Even Faith has no clue. You would think she would’ve recognized you right away, but she stares at you like you’re a complete stranger. You got some work to do, my friend.”
I leaned against his dresser and sighed. “Yeah, I do. So, where do I start?”
Cipher stroked his chin. “From the bottom. You’re a prospect again, Hercules, and you’ve got one fucking giant Hydra ahead of you to slay, if you’re going to win these filthy animals over anytime soon.”
Chapter Eleven
Faith
Two Months Later
Things have been so strange since Specter became a part of the club. It’s like I can’t get that sexy, bearded man out of my head. I see him when he’s at the bar with the other guys, but I also see him in my dreams and sometimes I even think I see him when I’m just out driving around town. From what I can tell, he isn’t tied down to someone else, but the sweetbutts are all over his ass like they’re starving and he’s a fucking chocolate Easter bunny. Those bitches will latch on to anyone if they think it’ll get them one step closer to being someone’s Old Lady.
Desiree, most call her Down for the D Desi, had shown the most interest in him. Every time he walked into my bar, she was all over his ass, and I had to admit, it made me extremely jealous.
Most of the club members don’t like him, I’ve heard them talking about Specter negatively. They have bets going about how long he’ll last, nothing longer than a month more. Switchblade really hates his guts. If he had his way, Specter would be gone already, but Cipher was doing his best to clean up Specter’s rough around the edges exterior that rubbed everyone so wrong.
I’m hoping that the club will start warming up to him. I like having him around. He’s easy on the eyes, and sometimes when I squint just right, he reminds me of Midas. Maybe that’s why I’m so drawn to him, his personality and the way he acts is exactly how Midas used to act. It’s weird, but also comforting at the same time.
“Heeeey, Speckie,” Down for the D, Desi swooned when Specter sat down on a stool in front of me. She sauntered up to him wearing a short as shit skirt, and a crop top that barely covered her breasts. I swear she had on no bra either, because the bottom of her perky, rounded tits would play peek-a-boo every time she raised her arms.
I fucking hate easy girls.
Specter was barely paying attention to her, so she slid under his arm and straddled him so her back was to me and she was facing him. She started running her fingers through his hair.
“You’re so fucking hot. How are you, baby?”
Specter had on his shades, so she took them off, revealing those devilishly sexy hazel eyes. He briefly looked over at me, but I turned my head like I didn’t care.
I cared.
I cared too fucking much.
“When you gonna make me your Old Lady?” she cooed, squeezing his bicep playfully.
“Not looking for an Old Lady,” he murmured. Then turned his attention to me. “Can I get some whiskey? Whatever she wants, too.”
“Your dick,” Desi giggled, “but you keep denying me.” There was a whine to her voice that grated on my nerves. “But you can buy me two shots, one for me, one for you.” She tapped his nose playfully, her voice doing that annoying cute flirt thing girls try to do when picking up a man.
He motioned for the two shots and I reluctantly filled two shot glasses with tequila.
“Got any limes, Faith? Maybe some salt, too.”
Fuck, I knew exactly where this was going. I grabbed two limes and a saltshaker and slammed them on the bar. Desi didn’t notice my animosity because she was too busy pulling up her shirt and sprinkling her nipples with salt. She grabbed the shot glass and placed it in between her cleavage.
“What do you say, Big boy? Don’t my tits look tasty?” She slipped the lime into her mouth and smiled coyly. The green fruit replacing her teeth.