Long Ride The Slayers MC #3) (7 page)

She hides it well most of the time, but every once in a while she’ll say something like what she just did and it’ll hit me like a fuckin Mack truck.

The handful of screws in my hand is digging into my hand, piercing skin and drawing blood as I squeeze, eager to give some physical pain to distract me from the shit in my head right now.

I pump my fist and squeeze some more, mentally willing the tiny little metal spikes to crumble under my strength.

“Fuck!” I give up and hurl the handful of bloodied barbs across the workbench where they scatter in a dozen or so different directions.

My eyes clench tight and I feel the rage begin to make my body tremble.

“She didn’t mean anything by it.” Dawson’s voice sounds echoed and far off.

There’s a pulsing beat in my ears, drowning out the sounds of the room as I retreat back into myself.

“The fuck she didn’t. You know as well as I do that she must mean some of it.” I don’t kid myself.

Heavy boot steps on the concrete floor make their way over to me before feeling Dawson’s hand on my shoulder. “You’re back now. That’s all that matters. The rest of the shit will sort itself out, bro. You gotta believe that.”

Dawson and I are close, probably closer than all of the other brothers and that’s the only reason I’m not shaking his hand away and telling him to go fuck himself right now. That doesn’t mean that I don’t’ want to.

“Yeah? Well, let’s see what happens if
you
get locked up and leave Angel to fend for herself for the next bunch of months while she’s carrying your kid. Let’s see what you think about it then.” There’s a bite to my words.

Dawson squeezes my shoulder. “If that happens then I’ll know she’s in good hands with the people I trust. Just like Baby was while you were gone. You may not have been here every day for her, but we were, Stitch. You know that. She
wasn’t
alone.”

The flood of anger-fueled adrenaline begins to wane. “I know, D. I’m grateful for that, really, you know I am. And you know I’d be there for Angel as if she was my own sister if you needed me too. But, it ain’t the same as being there yourself.”

“Yeah, I know it ain’t. That’s why you gotta make the most of the time you’re here. Because you never know when some shit will happen and you’ll get pulled away.” His words seem almost prophetic.

“You know somethin’ I don’t?” I press.

He exhales deep. “This shit with the Cartel. It ain’t over yet. I’m not naïve enough to think it is, although I don’t know when that other shoe is gonna drop. So just make sure you’re makin’ the most of every day.”

He’s only saying what I’ve known now for a while. There’s just something hovering, something on the horizon, and I’m glad I’m not the only one who feels it, although no one talks about it.

“Well, you make sure you do all the shit I didn’t. All that shit Baby told you to do? You do it. You make sure Angel doesn’t feel anything like Baby did.” I hope my own situation serves as a valuable lesson for him.

“Yeah, I am. I’m workin’ on somethin’ now that should really cheer her up,” he hints.

“Oh?” I could use a distraction right now. “What?”

Dawson nervously scratches his short beard. “Gonna adopt the kid. Sasha, her niece. She’s the girl’s mom in every other way so we might as well make it official. Then Angel don’t have to worry no more about losin’ her one day.”

Really? Wow, that’s not at all what I was expecting. “She gonna adopt the kid on her own or are you gonna be a part of this, too?”

I’ve seen how Dawson is with Sasha. He loves her. I never thought I’d see the day when Dawson McCade was a father figure to anything but it looks like it’s happened.

“Yeah. Give the kid a real family.” He sounds sure of the decision.

Now’s my turn to pat him on the back. “You’re goin’ from being single to settled down with an Ol’ lady
and
two kids pretty fast, brother. Let’s get you a drink. You’re gonna need it.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

DAWSON

Your average person would have no fucking clue how to find a junkie. Not me, though. I’m sure I can track her down in no time at all.

“Tina Donovan. Two years older than Angel,” I give Gryff the basic information. “Here,” I hand over a corroborating photo, the only one I could find in Angel’s photo album of her and her sister.

My VP studies the worn picture just as I had. “She’s a fox. A ten, easy. Looks just like Angel, too.”

He’s right. They could probably even pass for twins if it weren’t that Angel was so much shorter than Sasha’s mom. My girl is practically a sprite, she’s so petite. Tina on the other hand, looks to be about five foot six or so.

“Yeah? Well she’s also a junkie that abandoned her kid, so look for your next fuck someplace else. Just find her. I’ve got some papers that she’ll be needing to sign.” I cut Gryff down. He’s like a rabid dog in heat, looking to hump anything with tits.

Normally I’d think twice about giving him the assignment, but there are two reasons why I changed my mind. The first, is that everyone else has their hands full right now. Stitch is going through his shit with adjusting to being home, and with him being on probation, the last thing I need is for his ass to get caught visiting local drug houses looking for this chick. Chase has gotten his hands full acting as middle-man between us and the Kingsmen over in Chisolm, who have been trying to schedule a sit down for the past few days. Uno, the prospects and a handful of brothers are helping Trix set up for the carnival this weekend.

The second reason I feel it’s safe to put Gryff on this is that Tina is a junkie. Now, just because we bring the shit into town to supply the dealers, it doesn’t necessarily mean I condone my boys personally using the junk, but I know some of them like to hit a line or two every once and again.

All except for Gryff.

The man can drink his weight in booze for sure, but wouldn’t dare think about sticking a needle or some powder in his body. He’s too vain and paranoid to mess with “perfection”, as he likes to call it.

Every single waking moment that’s not spent with us, is spent at the gym and drinking those goddamned nasty green shakes he’s always guzzling. He even tried to give up meat once, thinking it would help with his endurance.

Once me and the boys found out about that, we stepped in, eating nothing but T-bones and bacon cheeseburgers around him until he caved. I mean, you want to drink some spinach looking milkshake, by all means, go ahead. You wanna spend your free time lifting shit up and throwing it down, go right ahead. But I draw the line at my boys becoming some kind of new-age, hippie, vegan, cultish freaks.

So, given his high opinion of what goes in and out of his body, I think he’s the safest bet to send gallivanting around to drug dens and dealers, looking for this girl.

“What do I do when I find her? Bring her back here?” Gryff slides the photo into the inner pocket of his cut.

I’m busy throwing back the shot of whiskey in my glass to speak, so I wave my hand no. “Fuck no! Every time that chick came around, it would put Angel and her ma through the ringer. She don’t need that right now. Just find her, put her up in a motel for a couple of days until the lawyer works up the papers and then we’ll have her sign them and be on her merry little way back to whatever flea bag place she’s been holed up in.”

I pour Gryff a shot and offer it to him.

“What if she wants a little…
incentive
. You lookin’ to bargain here or am I scaring the shit outta her to make her sign?” He asks bluntly.

I don’t know this chick from a hole in the wall, other than the stories Angel and Lillian have fed me. They don’t paint Tina in a very good light, although I haven’t really seen any junkie look good when their family talks about them, so I take it all with a grain of salt. But, from what I’ve heard, Tina’s addictions are bad enough to cause her to lie and steal from people who don’t have enough to spare. A person looking to score cash for drugs that badly would most definitely look to get some type of compensation anywhere they can.

Even for signing away rights to their kid.

“Feel her out. If she’s looking for cash, if that’ll get this done quick, then I’m willing to pay. I’m gonna hold out hope that she’s not too far gone where she’d look to sell her kid, and, instead, would want to do the right thing for Sasha’s sake alone, but I’m prepared to be wrong.” I’ve learned never to underestimate a drug user and never to have too much faith that people will do the right thing for the sake of their own conscience.

Deep down, we’re all flawed and fucked up. Some more than others.

Let’s find out where Tina falls on that line and take it from there.

“No prob, boss. Give me a couple ‘a days and I’ll find her. But, you know, I think this should count for something,” he throws at me.

One of the reasons Gryff got his road name is because he’s a conman, a grifter. He can talk a nun outta donating her panties to save the blind if he wanted to. I’m not surprised he’s lookin’ to benefit from this somehow.

“Oh?” I ask, amused. “And what should it count for?”

He steeples his fingers together like a mad scientist and I can’t help but laugh. I’ll bet he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it.

We’re the only ones sitting at this end of the bar, but he looks around anyway as if someone could be eavesdropping. It’s early enough in the night where the place hasn’t begun to fill, as the best dancers don’t take the stage until later.

With Angel knocked up, I’ve had to hire some new girl to work the bar, but even she’s at least ten feet away pouring some brews for customers.

Just to be safe, Gryff, leans forward as if he’s telling me a secret. “If I do this for you and make sure Angel knows nothin’ about it, then I want Uno in the dunk tank at the carnival this year.”

I nearly spray out the whiskey in my mouth.

We haven’t drawn straws yet to pick the person who’ll be dunked over and over all day in the tank.

“I’m gonna dunk the motherfucker myself and see how
he
likes it this time.” Gryff plots his revenge.

Thinking back, I can’t remember the last time Uno was in the tank. It was Gryff last year, Shooter before that, Hops, me, Stitch…

You know what?

Come to think of it, I’m not sure Uno’s ever even been in the tank. Fair is fair, and
every
Slayer needs to serve his time in there for a good cause.

“Deal,” I agree. “Uno’s in the tank this year.”

~*~

“Take it off!” A clean cut man that’s clearly drunk off his ass calls to the stage where Candy is busy straddling the pole and pretending to lick it.

That’s the second time this prick has called somethin’ like that out and it’s starting to piss me off. I’m running a business here and I want my customers to enjoy themselves. Happy customers spend more money. The more money they spend, the more I fuckin’ make, but, I can tell just by looking at him that he’s a cheap son of a bitch.

“Hey, darlin’,” I call the new bartender over, but can’t remember her name. Angel hired her and has told me the name a few times already, but I just can’t recall it. “You see that guy over there?” I ask and point to the loudmouth mouther fucker making a ruckus.

I’m about to boot his ass right outta here and I want to make sure his bill is paid first.

“He runnin’ a tab?” I want to know.

The girl shakes her head. “No. Came in here already drunk and has only ordered two beers so far. Paid cash and no tip.”

That’s what I thought. Douchebags like this one buy a cheap bottle of booze down at the local liquor store and guzzle it in the parking lot before even coming in. Then, they buy the cheapest drinks we have to earn them a seat to sit back and enjoy the free show without even at least stuffin’ some bills in the dancers’ panties.

I’ve seen it a million times, and, if I had to guess, this prick is married and doesn’t want his wife to notice the missing money, so he doesn’t spend it.

Well, I ain’t runnin’ a charity here.

Candy’s my best dancer and her time on that stage is valuable. To her
and
to the club. The longer this ass hole takes up prime real estate sittin’ in that seat while we’re packed to standing room only, the more he’s costing me.

“Thanks, darlin’. You fitting in okay?” I ask her, remembering how Angel had to adjust when she started working here.

She smiles and nods. “I’m good. Angel trained me real well.”

That’s good. This place can get rowdy sometimes and I need a bartender that can hold her own. Judging by the tattoos on her wrists, behind her ear and peeking out from the neckline of her shirt, I’d say she knows how to handle herself around some rough guys.

“Well, you let me know if anyone bothers you. We got a strict no bullshit policy here, and that prick over there is about to find out.” I leave her to tend to the part of my job as owner of this club that I enjoy most.

Kicking some ass.

I set my sights on the poor bastard and he doesn’t even know what’s comin’ his way. It’s been a while since I’ve had reason enough to throw a punch, and my knuckles are practically itching in anticipation.

There’s been enough stress going around between all this shit with the Cartel that I’ve been needing to get some of it out. This seems to be the the perfect opportunity for me to do just that.

The music is pumping loudly and the crowd erupts into a roar of applause as Candy finally takes her top off and manages to do some wicked crazy kind of split to make her boobs bounce around.

She’s a bit of a pain in the ass, Candy, but she’s a money maker for sure. That’s the only reason I put up with her crap half the time, thinking she’s a diva around here. Ever since Angel came into the picture, I haven’t fucked Candy once, making sure she knows It’s no longer an employee benefit she’s entitled to.

I have to say, now that I’m not sticking my dick in her, she’s become a bit of a bitch. Maybe she always was and I just overlooked it because she’d distract me by blowing me. Doesn’t matter though, she’s still my best dancer and I’m not about to let this asshole customer hoot and holler at her if he’s not willing to pay her for her talents.

I ball my one fist and press it into the other, cracking my knuckles to get them ready. Next, I stretch my neck up and to the side until that cracks as well, loosening up the joint so I’m less tense while whipping his—

“Hey, D!” Esè  jumps in front of me when I’m no more than two steps away from the unsuspecting douchebag’s table.

Now, when a guy like me is all riled up and ready to fight, the adrenaline is pumping, ready to spring into action. It’s kind of like when you’re all worked up and ready to slide into your woman’s pussy.

It’s not a good time to interrupt him.

I set my heard eyes on Esè. “I’m busy.”

“D, you gotta come out here.” Esè’s been manning the door helping the bouncers control the line waiting to get in.

I shake my head and return my attention to my target. “The only thing I need to do right now is get that cheapskate outta my club.”

Esè takes hold of my arm. “D. We got Kingsmen out in the parking lot.”

That fucking catches my attention and douses the flames with ice water.
What the fuck?
They know better than to come here without an invitation. I wouldn’t go walking into their club over in Chisolm whenever the fuck I felt like it without expecting a brawl or a bullet.

They sure as hell should know better and deserve just as much of a welcome by coming here as we’d get by going there.

The drunk man in his cheap suit that’s ogling Candy has no idea how lucky he just got. Hopefully, he’ll be here when I’m done handling this shit outside, so that I can finish him.

I turn around to the main area of the bar behind me and whistle loud enough to catch Chase’s attention. He’s holed up in the corner drooling over Cat as she sips some kind of a fruity drink.

Most of the Ol’ ladies don’t really like coming around here and watching their man try to pretend he’s not eye fucking the strippers on stage, but Cat seems to like it well enough, showing up here a few nights every week to drink with us.

In this case, though, Chase doesn’t even have to pretend that he’s not interested in the dancers. It’s clear he’s not whenever Cat is around, and it’s clear he’s fuckin’ whipped.

As my Enforcer, Chase needs to be by my side when I step outside that door. He notices me calling him over and leaves his woman behind to handle business.

“What’s up, D?”

He asks, beer bottle still in hand.

Esè is eager to answer for me, but I place my hand on his chest to keep him quiet. “What’s up?
What’s up
is we got a parking lot of Kingsmen. You wanna tell me why that is? You were supposed to be handling that.”

The Kingsmen MC and the Slayers have a truce. A very delicate truce, which is kept in place with a lot of effort on both sides. There’s no fucking way they would have come here, knowing it could throw our cease fire out the window.