I remain still, my blood freezing in my veins. Randall. The name—though I never knew it before—causes a ripple of malevolence to shudder through me.
“Bison said he was thinking of joining their club because they were out of El Paso where he lived, but then he got bad vibes. He’s one of those do-gooders,” Dragon says, rolling his green eyes. “It ended up he joined a gang out of Austin. When he asked about the BBBs again later on down the road, he learned they’d simply vanished. Every single member.” His eyes dart to mine in a knowing way.
I murdered my way through that entire gang hunting for that motherfucker. Never found him either. And my brother, the loyal bastard he is, made it all fucking disappear. Being related to a Fed has its perks after all. It was as if the BBBs never existed. No one who ever patched in was seen again.
“How do we know this is the guy Koyn’s looking for?” Filter asks. “Could have been some Joe Schmoe member.”
“That’s what I said,” Katana agrees.
“And I knew you assholes would question it, so I dug deeper.” Dragon flashes us a smug grin, the dragon tattoo seemingly pulsating with the twitch of his neck muscle. “I asked why Randall gave him bad vibes.”
Filter glances over at me to make sure I’m not about to lose it.
“He said the guy had a thing for young girls,” Dragon finally spits out. “Real young. Like land his ass in the slammer young. If you want, I can call Drake and let him handle—”
“He went to prison?” I grit out. “He there now?”
“Nah, Katana made some calls and discovered he got out eight years ago. Overcrowding. The system is fucked for letting that predator back out on the streets.” Dragon cracks his neck. “If you don’t want Drake having him, I’ll take great pleasure in hunting him down.”
And, as an Enforcer, that’s his duty to this club.
But this isn’t club business.
This is fucking personal.
“Do your social media bullshit and let me know what you find,” I order Dragon. “That, you can do.” The fucker pouts. “Halo, I’m going to need you on this one with Copper.”
Halo, our Chaplain, nods from the corner of the room. He’s the silent brooder. The shadow always watching over us. Man of God with a vengeful heart. He’s also fucking amazing at gathering intel being that he’s ex-military. Now that we have a name and with my brother’s connections as a Fed, maybe we’ll finally smoke out this rat.
“Dad isn’t a member,” my nephew complains under his breath.
I stand abruptly, kicking my chair out behind me. It rolls and slams against the wall. Nees’s brown eyes widen. “Care to say that shit a little louder, Prospect?”
“I just don’t understand,” Nees grumbles. “If he’s important, why isn’t he here at Church?”
Gibson elbows him and tells him to shut the fuck up.
Slamming my palms down on the table, I lean forward to glower at him. “It’s for me to fucking worry about, Blake, because I’m fucking Prez. I make the goddamn rules. Understand?”
Nees winces at his real name, eyes lowering like a scolded child, and nods.
“Any more questions?” I growl, meeting each member with a glare.
They all shake their heads.
Didn’t fucking think so.
Hadley
Where the fuck is Milk?
I slide on my sexiest heels—because being a biker bitch doesn’t mean I have to give up my cutest shoes—and stomp out of Milk’s room I share with him.
If he’s with that skank again, I’m going to kill them both.
A few guys whistle as I pass and I sling my dark hair over my shoulder as though I don’t care. It gives me a thrill when they do that shit in front of Milk because then he gets possessive. When he’s possessive, it leads to wild animal sex. It’s hot.
“Where’s Milk?” I demand, popping my head into the room of his best friend, Hammer.
Hammer, a burly looking dude, makes a great show of drinking in my long, bare legs before looking up at me. “Hmmm?”
“Oh, don’t you hmmm me, asshole,” I growl. “Where the hell is my boyfriend?”
He smirks and strokes his long beard. “I could keep you company until he comes back. My dick is lonely and your ass would look hot as fuck planted on it.”
I roll my eyes. “Fuck off. Just tell me where he’s at.”
“You his old lady?” he taunts.
“Whatever,” I snap, storming out of the room.
My heels clomp loudly on the wood floors as I pass several more rooms. If it weren’t for meeting Milk when I was a kid and falling madly in love with him, I would have chosen any other place to run away to. Like the fucking beach. Not this pissy, hot, smoky clubhouse filled with goddamn idiots.
With each passing step, my anger morphs into something unstoppable. When I find Milk, I’m going to claw out his eyeballs. And if Juicy is sucking his cock, I’ll shove my heel up her ass because I am so over that bitch.
I’m so pissed that I don’t remember to tone it down before I pass Prez’s door. When he barks out my name, I flinch.
Fuck.
“Oh, hey, Magna.” I wave at him, feigning sweetness.
“Get in here, girl.”
Double fuck.
I suck in a steadying breath and force one of my pageant smiles on him. It works for everyone else, why not him too?
Magna sits in his leather chair in the corner of the room, a joint pressed between his lips. The room reeks. He’d shit himself if he knew I call him Skunk behind his back.
“You got shorts under that?” he asks, his eyes roaming down my legs.
“Yeah, Prez,” I say with a stupid nervous giggle. And then because I’m a complete idiot, I lift my long, flowing white tank to prove it.
His eyes dart to my belly button ring and his smile becomes predatory. “Looking for Milk?”
I bite on my bottom lip and nod as I release my shirt. “Just wanted to say hi.”
“He’s with Juicy,” he says, his blue eyes searing into me. “They’re…preoccupied.”
My initial reaction is to blow the fuck up over this revelation, but not at Magna. Never at Magna. He scares the hell out of me.
“While my son is being entertained, why don’t you come sit in my lap and share a joint with me?”
Triple fuck.
You don’t turn down Magna.
Ever.
Until now, I’ve been smart enough to stay glued to his son’s side and never catch myself alone with him.
“Uh, yeah, sure,” I say breathily.
He watches me as I prance into the room, hoping for a carefree expression on my face. When I get close, his large hand grabs my wrist and he tugs me into his lap. I let out a squeak of surprise. His arm circles around my waist and he rests his palm on my inner thigh.
“Here,” he grunts, holding the blunt to my lips.
I hate this shit.
But I don’t dare deny him.
Taking the smallest hit known to man, I inhale the pungent smoke and try not to choke. He chuckles when I fail, landing myself in a coughing fit. He sticks the joint between his lips before sliding his palm up under the back of my tank. Gently, he pats at me under the ruse of helping me recover from my choking.