Honey Whiskey (A Bastards MC Novel) (26 page)

 “
Jesus!”
Rob cleared his throat. For someone that just walked into my room
without an ounce of warning, he sounded extremely disgusted and
offended. “I figured it was so quiet that you two had decided to
take a much needed break. Maybe you’d even passed out or some shit.
Christ, how do you have so much energy as hung ovah as you must
be?”

I shrugged, keeping my eyes on the
incredibly sexy back in front of me and the ink next to her spine—I
hadn’t even begun to explore that part of her yet today, and I
wanted to trace those words with my tongue. “I’ve got my own
version of Red Bull right here, ‘cept she tastes a helluva lot
sweeter. I could eat it all day.” Jo’s cheeks turned beet red
before she buried her face in the bedclothes, and Rocker groaned
quietly in disgust. I leaned down, kissing her bare neck, wanting
to get back to what we’d been doing before he’d barged in. “What
the fuck do you want?”

“
We have court.”

“
Now?” I started
tracing her shoulder blades and was rewarded with a shiver. How
would she react when it was my mouth?

“
Yeah.” 

I lifted my head just enough to turn and look
at him. “It can’t wait an hour?” 

He snorted. “Bein’ a bit generous
arentchya?” I answered him with a middle finger. He only smiled and
shook his head. “No. It can’t even wait the five minutes your Mr.
Wiggly will need, Minuteman.”

“
Twenty,” Jo
spoke meekly, almost muffled by the pillows, “He needs twenty
minutes.” Then she started giggling. “’Cause that’s all it’ll
take.”  I was never going to live that down. Her laughter was
contagious though, and within moments, I’d joined her.

“
I gotta go, baby. We’ll pick this
up later?” She nodded, offering me her lips. I moved to the edge of
the bed, careful to pull the blanket over her as I did. Once she,
and every glorious piece of her, was covered, I stood and faced my
best friend. 

“
Missing
something?” His eyes moved over me, unimpressed. He’d seen me naked
plenty of times, in so many different situations I couldn’t even
begin to recall them all, and now he didn’t even pretend to turn
away.

“
Here.” The
uncontrollable laughter coming from the bed made me turn. If I
didn’t know who I’d buried under my comforter, I wouldn’t have
known it was her. All that stuck out was a slim hand holding the
boxers she’d yanked off me just a few minutes ago. A hand that held
my grandmother’s wedding ring on the fourth finger. 

I took the underwear, stepping
into them and pulling them up slowly, trying to decide how to play
it. Turning, I found my jeans from last night on the chair. Maybe
Rocker hadn’t seen it. I didn’t bother throwing on my shirt,
because if I had my way, I’d be back and in bed with Joes before
she even knew I was missing. 

“
I’ll be right
back. Don’t move,” I growled as I kneeled on the bed, kissing a
spot on the blanket where it covered her lower
belly.

“
Bye L.K.,”
Rocker called. Another giggle and a wave was the only response she
made before I shut the door behind us.  He took a few steps
down the hall before turning back. “Really?”

I stood straight, arms crossed over my chest,
and stared back. There could be so many things he was talking about
right now. “Really.”

“
And Taylor…?”

I didn’t give him a chance to
finish—he’d seen the ring. I knew what he was going to say because
we’d had this argument before. “Has no bearing in this at all. This
is my life. One I can’t live without the woman in there, and I
shouldn’t have to.” 

“
No one said a
fucking thing about living without her…” He stopped when the look
of fury crossed my face, narrowing his eyes as he watched me. After
a few seconds, his face cleared and he nodded. “Congratulations,
Brothah. She’s a fuckin’ handful.”

I laughed. “You don’t know the half of
it.”

Tiny came around the corner,
stopping abruptly. “Theah you ahh. We’re all waitin’.” Without
missing a beat he asked, “Rough night, Mateo? Looks like you mighta
forgotten somethin’ somewhere.” He tapped the side of his cheek as
if wondering what was different about me, checking out my bare
chest and feet.

I smiled. “Yeah. Jo’s holding ‘em hostage
until I go back and finish what we started. This way I can’t run
away.”

“
Why in fucks
sake would ya wanna run away?” Tiny whistled. “Ya bettah hurry. You
don’t wanna keep a screamah like her waitin’. Fuck me! I’m gonna be
dreaming of her moans for weeks.” I chuckled as I followed him to
the common room. Jo was going to kill me when she realized everyone
knew what we’d spent our morning doing. I couldn’t have been
happier. Even if they hadn’t heard it, news traveled fast, and now
every single one of these assholes knew that if they touched
her—hell, if they even thought about touching her—they would have
their ass handed to them.

I was surprised at the amount of
people hanging around our main room. It hadn’t seemed like that
many people were home last night. As we navigated our way across
the room, I nodded to a few ol’ ladies and smiled at a couple of
the girls. But, when a short redhead bounced off her stool and
wandered towards me, a feeling of dread hit.

Fractured memories played like a
movie—a hug, laughing as we took shots, a hand on my thigh, stolen
kisses that made my blood hot. Every single one was a blur, a
mixture of Jo’s hands and face and Rebel’s voice, or Rebel’s hands
and face and Jo’s tits and voice telling me she loved me. I
couldn’t tell what was real. Fuck!

“
Mateo, you
don’t have time,” Rob grunted, almost bumping into me when I
stopped dead, but I only held up a finger.

“
Mornin’.” I
never took my eyes off her. She smiled brightly in answer and guilt
hit. I’d known Rebel for a long time—almost as long as I’d known
Joes. She’d been the comforting arms I’d fallen into more than
once, and even though I knew she wanted more, I’d still taken what
she’d offered and promised nothing in return. That was her job, but
thinking about it now made me feel like a dirty old man. At one
point, I had wondered if the two of us could have a future, but
that had been before I’d met Taylor. Back when I was still
struggling with the fact that I was in love with a married woman I
didn’t think I’d ever have.

Even after I started dating
Taylor, Rebel had made it perfectly clear she still wanted me. I’d
ignored it, thinking she’d move on eventually. She hadn’t. I prayed
to Christ I hadn’t given her false hope last night. I was a lot of
things, but I would never intentionally hurt her or Joes that way.
“I don’t have time to talk right now. Later, yeah?”

She put her hand on my arm,
stopping my escape. “Was that her Mateo? The woman here last
night?” 

I nodded, not needing her to
explain. I hadn’t fucked one of the Brats in years, and even though
they still tried to steal my attention, they knew I had someone
special. Searching her green and brown eyes, looking for any sign
that she was going to drop a bomb and blow Jo and me apart, I
offered her a small smile.

I couldn’t have been that drunk,
could I? I could count on one hand the amount of times I’d had so
much booze that I’d woken up and not recalled the night before—or
the woman that was in my bed—but I hadn’t had that much last night.
I could remember Rebel next to me, asking me what was wrong, but
the next clear memory was a hand sliding up my thigh and grabbing
my junk. Fuck, fuck, fuck! I’m never drinking again!

Hoping I was at least remaining
calm on the outside, I nodded again. “Yeah. That’s her. She’s in my
room now.” I wasn’t sure why I felt it necessary to add the last
part, but something told me it needed to be said.

She sighed in a resigned way, as
if she had something say. Then, as if thinking better of it, she
shook her head and raised an eyebrow. “So that’s Jo?” I nodded. She
pursed her lips. “She’s not at all what I pictured.” Why did
everyone say that? Before I could ask, Rebel gave me a fleeting
smile and let go of my arm. “If she hurts you again, I’ll kick her
ass.”

I watched as she turned and walked
back to her table. Shaking my head, I turned towards the end of the
room, relief flooding me. If I had kissed her, or let her touch me,
she would have said something. That meant the memories I had were
all of Jo. I practically whooped in relief, but saw that Rob was
holding the door open for me, the look of annoyance barely masked
on his face. 

The room was full, bikers squished
in like sardines. I squeezed by my brothers and to my empty seat at
the table, Rocker sitting next to me at the head. Scanning the
room, I realized that all eleven officers were here for the first
time in a few years, and almost every patched member of the
Bastards had crowded in around us. I’d missed something. Something
big.

My heart started to pound
frantically as I looked around the table. My brothers looked
worried. Across from me, Hawk shifted and I met his eyes. He looked
half-panicked. Next to him, Tank was flexing his jaw muscles and
kept clenching and unclenching his fists. Was he pissed that Rocker
called him back early? He was supposed to be with his ol’ lady this
weekend, right? That’s why Jessie cancelled last night. Or, were we
about to find out about a job that would take us away from our
loved ones for a long period of time? Fuck. I didn’t want to leave
Jo already.

Rob called the meeting to order
and the room fell silent. There was no beating around the bush this
morning, as Rob’s speech was brief and to the point. Tinkerbelle,
Tank’s Ol’ Lady, was missing. No one had seen her for more than two
weeks. The neighbors said she left for work one night and hadn’t
been home since, but the hospital where she worked said she called
the same night and told them she had a family emergency out of
state and didn’t know when she’d get back.

Robbery was out. Her house hadn’t
been trashed, but it also didn’t look like she’d packed any
clothes. The only thing Tank and Jessie found missing was her cell
phone—even her iPod and laptop were left on her desk.
 

Tiny cleared his throat. “I hate
to be the one that says it, ‘cause you all know my history with
Pixie, but maybe she just didn’t want to see you, Brothah. You got
out early, and she may not have been ready.”

History was the nice way of saying
Tiny had staked a claim to the crazy bitch. She’d chosen to stay a
club girl though, taking offense to the fact that Tiny already had
a wife outside of the club. Tank had been smitten, and moved in on
what Tiny had considered his, claiming her once he realized he
couldn’t handle the idea of her screwing any of us. It had taken a
while, but eventually she’d given in and agreed to be Tank’s ol’
lady. It’d been hilarious to watch unfold, seeing the little woman
bring two giant men to their knees. In the process, her name had
gone from Pixie to Tinker Bell, Tink for short, the latter fitting
her so much better. To some of us, like Rob and Tiny, she’d always
be Pixie though.

I nodded at Tiny’s point. “You
didn’t exactly leave things on the besta terms. Maybe she needed a
little more time.”

Tank slid the glare he’d been
giving Tiny in my direction, and I tried to hide my smile. Instead,
I turned to our Prez, curious as to why this was important enough
to call court. Rob read my look instantly, jutting his chin in
Tank’s direction.

Tank swallowed hard and then
pulled a picture from inside his cut. “This was the only thing out
of place. She always kept it next to the bed—even when we stayed
here. I found it on the counter in the kitchen, like it was left
out so I wouldn’t miss it.” Hatred crossed his features as he held
the photo out to me. “I grabbed it before Jess could
see.”

I’d seen the picture before. It
had been taken on a Toy Run a few years ago. Tink and Tank stood in
front of his bike, the White Mountains in the distance. The image
had been mutilated, though. An X was crossed over his face, while
Tink’s had been scratched away, a giant number 2 in its place.
Every ounce of humor left me as I realized what this was saying,
and I thought of another number etched into a woman’s face. My
fists clenched and I reluctantly passed the picture to my left.
Bear tensed, hands gripping the edge of the table as he saw the
message.

There were murmurs around us as
the print was passed around. Any thoughts anyone had about Tink
hiding herself or running from Tank evaporated as the reality
struck. They’d said they were coming for us, and apparently, they
were coming now.

No one knew who this
elusive
they
was.
Last summer, Bear had been out with his girl when they’d been
attacked. He wasn’t wearing colors and there was no way to know he
was a Bastard—unless someone had been watching him. A group of men
had jumped them, dragged them into a van, and beaten Ian while
holding a gun on her. Then, they’d taken turns brutalizing Ellie
while forcing Ian to watch. He’d fought them with everything he’d
had, but they’d only beaten him more.

When they were done taking turns
with her body, they’d left the ultimate memory ingrained on her
skin. A giant number 1 carved into her forehead. Then, they’d
dropped them off the same place they’d taken them from with a
warning for Ian—they were coming for us, and we’d never know when
they’d hit again. I could still hear his voice telling us the
story, and that, mixed with the image of a broken young woman in a
hospital bed, made me sick to my stomach now.