Tease: A Kings of Korruption MC Novel (5 page)

I don’t like the way he’s looking at me right now, though.
 
He looks pissed.
 
I know that I sure as fuck didn’t do anything to piss him off so I’m curious why he, and everyone else, is staring at me.
 

“’Bout fuckin’ time ya got here.
 
Been waitin’ for over an hour,” Ryker growls.

I cock my eyebrow, wondering what the fuck his point is.
 
“Yeah?
 
I was busy.”

Ryker snorts.
 
“Right.
 
Well, nice of ya to make time for us.”
 
I don’t say anything and just keep staring at him, waiting for him to make his point.
 
He glares at me and shakes his head before giving it a jerk to indicate that I should follow him.
 
Turning on his boot, he stalks out of the room.
 
I follow behind him, eyeballing every nosey rubbernecker I can lay my eyes on.
 
I’m just about out of the room when my eyes meet Mouse’s.
 
His are confused and a little worried as he shrugs his shoulders.

Like me, Mouse is a prospect.
 
We don’t often get invited into the meeting room of the Kings.
 
As prospects, he and I spend a lot of time together doing one shitty task or another.
 
In fact, I spend more time with Mouse than I do alone.
 
Besides Ryker, Mouse is my only friend and the only other person in the world that I trust.

Why am I going into this meeting and not Mouse?
 
What the fuck is going on?
 
We enter the long rectangular room where we hold Church.
 
Every patched member of the Kings of Korruption is sitting around it with their eyes on me as I enter behind Ryker.
 
He moves directly to his seat, and I automatically head toward the tall stool situated in the back corner of the room.
 
This is where prospects sit when they’re invited to sit in on meetings.

Gunner Monroe clears his throat, causing all eyes, including my own, to turn to him.
 
“All right!
 
Let’s get this fuckin’ show on the road, shall we?”
 
He bangs his fist down onto the table.
 
His eyes lift to meet mine.
 
He’s trying to intimidate me, but I hold his stare.
 
I won’t lie, having Gunner stare you down is not a nice feeling, but he doesn’t scare me.
 
Nothing scares me anymore.
 

“As you all know, we have been here discussing the fate of our boy Tease.”
 
I sit up a little straighter and glance around the room, noting the glares I’m getting from everyone.
 
“The time has come to decide if this crazy motherfucker deserves to wear our patch or not, so we’re gonna put it to a vote.”
 
My heartbeat picks up.
 
This is it.
 
I’ve been working my ass off for this for over a year.
 
I’m older than most prospects and I haven’t made many friends here, but I have been unfailingly loyal to every one of these cocksuckers.
 
My skin heats with the attention that is focused on me, rage and nervousness churning slowly in my gut.

Ryker lifts his hand from the table.
 
“I vote yeah.”
 
I nod my head at him in thanks and get a nod in return.

“I vote fuck yeah!”
 
Jase.

“No.”
 
The word is growled from the fat fuck sitting next to Jase.
 
Tiny sits at the table, eyes narrowed on me, shoulders squared in defiance.
 
Everyone’s eyes move to his, surprise held on many faces, but
I’m
not surprised.
 
Tiny’s had it out for me since the day I became a prospect.

Ryker’s fist pounds down on the table.
 
“For fuck’s sake, Tiny!
 
We fuckin’ talked about this already.
 
You fuckin’ agreed!”

“Well, I changed my fuckin’ mind, VP.”
 
His snarl is full of derision and contempt.

Ryker glares at Tiny but stays silent.
 
It is against club laws to influence or sway the votes of any member.
 
It also means I’m out.
 
To be patched in, the vote has to be unanimous.
 
My stomach drops.
 
I’m done.
 
Ever since I met Ryker, this club has been my life.
 
Now what the fuck do I do?

I stand and raise my hands to remove my leather cut bearing the prospect patch.
 
I feel like I’m in a trance, lost in a world that already fucking hates me.
 
I thought I had finally found my place, but I was wrong once again.

Just as I fold up my cut to pass back to the club, a growl rips through the room.
 
Reaper is on his feet, fists clenched at his sides.
 
His face contorts in anger as he hollers out, “This is fuckin’ bullshit!
 
That fucker has done more for this club
today
, than you have done all fuckin’ year, Tiny.
 
What are you trying to fuckin’ prove?”

“I ain’t tryin’ to prove shit.
 
I just don’t like the crazy prick.
 
He’s always just fuckin’ lurkin’ around the clubhouse and creepin’ me the fuck out.”

I stand frozen, rage attempting to consume me at his words.
 
I
hate
his words.
 
I want to cave his fucking face in for saying them.
 
But instead, I move my eyes to Gunner, nod my head and place the cut on the stool I was sitting on.
 
I turn and make a step to the door.
 
I need to get the fuck out of here.

“Wait.”
 
Gunner is glaring daggers at Tiny.
 
“Let’s try this again.
 
As we fuckin’ discussed.”

“Yes,” Ryker states, anger consuming his features.

“Yes,” Jase says through gritted teeth.

All eyes are locked on Tiny.
 
He huffs out a breath and rolls his eyes.
 
“Fuck.
 
Whatever
.
 
Yes.
 
Give the crazy fucker a patch.
 
It’ll do wonders for our already stellar repu-fucking-tation.”

I continue to glare at him, hate fueling my every breath as the votes continue around the table, ending in a unanimous yes.
 

Jase lets out a whoop, breaking the tension in the room.
 
“Put that fuckin’ cut back on, brother!
 
You can’t get rid of us that easy!”

I look at him and shake my head.
 
He’s a nut too, just like Laynie.
 
Disappointment takes over when her name enters my mind.
 
I push it aside as I pull my cut back on and accept my new patch from Gunner.
 
I will never have Laynie, but I finally
do
have a family.
 
A real family that has my back.
 
I watch as Tiny leaves the room while I endure back slaps and handshakes from the rest of the club.
 
I’m going to have to keep an eye on that fucker.

Do I call him?
 
No, I don’t want to seem too desperate.
 
Why do I even want to call him?
 
He was kind of a dick when I first talked to him.
 
Yeah, but then he’d swooped in like a knight in leather armor, whisking me and my poor wounded dog to safety.
 
Well, for the most part, anyway.
 

This is what happens when you drink wine alone — you talk to yourself.
 
It’s a good thing that I am a fabulous conversationalist then because I drink a lot of wine, and I always do it alone.
 
Reaching over, I absently scratch Dexter’s head.
 
Well, not entirely alone – Dex has proven to be a great drinking buddy.

He lies beside me, curled up on the couch, his head in my lap as I contemplate one of the strangest most exciting encounters that I’ve ever had with a man.
 
He must be hurting because usually he is off on the floor playing with his stuffed rabbit leaving me to drink all alone.
 
I’m not a drunk; I just really like wine – a lot.

Finally, I can’t take it anymore.
 
The thought of never seeing Travis again makes my stomach churn.
 
I
need
to call him.
 
I need to hear his growly voice.
 
Pressing the round button on the bottom of my iPhone, I instruct Siri to call Travis, praying that he didn’t put his name in as Tease when he set it up.

The phone rings four times before someone answers.
 
“Yeah?”
 
His voice is so gruff and angry sounding.
 
His lack of a proper greeting throws me off-guard.

I can’t contain my giggle.
 
“Yeah?
 
That’s how you answer your phone?”

Silence fills the other end of the line, but I can hear loud music and laughter in the background.
 
“Laynie?”
 
His voice is full of surprise.

“Uh-huh.”
 
Another giggle pours from my throat.
 
I almost roll my
own
eyes.
 
Since when do I giggle?
 
Must be the booze.

“Are you drunk?”

“Yeppers.
 
Wasted.”
 
Another giggle erupts, and I slap a hand over my mouth to contain it.

“Where are you?” he demands.

“At home.
 
Me and Dexter are cuddled up on the couch, drinking a few bottles of wine.”
 
I pause, going back over my words.
 
“Well,
Dexter’s
not drinking wine.
 
I am.”

Amusement fills his voice when he asks, “How is Dexter, anyway?”

I sigh, reaching out to stroke Dex’s fur.
 
The truth is, he’s lucky.
 
It could have been so much worse.
 
“He’s OK.
 
Just needs a couple days of rest.”
 
I swirl the glass in my hand, feeling the liquid sloshing around inside.
 
Almost empty.
 
For courage, I tip it back and down the remains of the glass.

“I nearly killed that fuckin’ kid that hit him.”

Heat floods me at the memory.
 
He’d been so angry.
 
Looking back on it, his protectiveness was a major turn on.
 
“I remember.”
 
Before I can stop the words, I say, “It was kind of hot.”
 
Embarrassment and excitement floods me, my heart pounding in my ears.
 
I can’t believe I just said that out loud.
 
Time to change the subject and grab more wine for courage.
 
I stand and head toward the kitchen.

“Anyway, I was thinking as a thank you, do you maybe want to–“
 
Suddenly, I step on something soft, causing me to lift my foot quickly and attempt to change course.
 
My body stumbles to the side, and my shin painfully catches the end table beside the couch.
 
Something falls to the floor, landing and shattering just as my body lands amongst the pieces.
 
Pain sears through my shin and the heel of my foot.
 
“Ow!
 
Shit!”