“Good. Back to the rules. Don’t steal from your brothers. If you’re caught stealing, the brother you stole from gets to lay out your punishment and none of us will stand in his way. Don’t mess with anyone’s old lady. We don’t need the fuckin’ drama.”
“Old lady?”
“Steady girl, wife, whatever. You’ll know them because they wear property patches. Respect them. In fact, everyone here is worthy of your respect. Since you’re a recruit, every patched member will be able to send you on tasks. You do what you’re told. If it’s wrong, whoever told you to do it will have to answer to me. But I’m not worried about that, because these men are solid. We’re on a different battlefield now, and I’m glad they’re at my back. Prove you’re worthy of them and shit… I swear you won’t find a better group of men.”
He gave me a tight smile—it was a start—and I led him to my office to get him a cut with a prospect patch. “Wear this whenever you’re on a bike. Or whenever you’re on club business. Most of us only take them off to sleep.”
He nodded and put it on.
The kid looked good in a cut, almost like it belonged on him. Maybe before too long, it would. He just needed time to heal, and maybe a little therapy. I’d introduce him to Sage, the club counselor, later. Men fresh out of the service generally had an easier time talking to our best listener first.
“One last rule. Be nice to my dog,” I said.
Putting my fingers to my lips, I whistled. A few seconds later, a shepherd lab mix, wearing a Harley Davidson bandanna, came trotting through the door straight into my arms. I gave him a good rubdown before introducing him to Deryk.
“This here’s Boots. Most valuable member of the club, since he’s the only one who listens and doesn’t give me any shit.” Giving Boots one more scratch behind the ears, I stood. “He’s a service dog. He can tell when anyone gets elevated, and he helps calm them down. A lot of our brothers have seen some pretty messed up shit.”
“Did you?” he asked.
Rubbing the back of my neck, I nodded. “Less than some, more than others. We all have our own cross to bear. No shame in that. We do the best we can, and we don’t dwell on the past.”
I showed Deryk to his room, introducing him to a few more brothers along the way. Then he left my side to hit the pool table with a biker named Rabbit. I waved off Rabbit’s invitation to join and caught Deryk already smiling at Lacy. Good. The boy could use that kind of therapy too.
Feeling better about him, I returned to my office to focus on my latest obsession.
Emily Stafford’s file called to me like a goddamn homing beacon. I’d spent the last few days collecting data on her, trying to figure out how to approach her and what to say to get her to take Havoc’s case. I’d given it to her straight, and was confident she’d at least go see him and hear his side of the story. What happened next was between the two of them.
So why the hell was I clicking her folder open again?
The photo from her website popped up first. Damn she was fine. Even in the photo, her eyes held a challenge my dick automatically rose to. She’d been wearing some sort of perfume… something crisp and clean, with just a touch of softness. I could breathe it in all day.
I entered Emily’s name into a few databases. She’d donated to more causes than I knew existed, including the toy drive the Dead Presidents had run in December. I sat back and pulled her picture up again, stroking myself as I imagined her hand doing the deed. Those beautiful plump lips wrapped around me as her blue eyes locked on mine. I’d just started to get into it when my cell phone rang with an unknown number.
“Link here,” I answered.
“Hello Mr. Link. I’m Jayson, Emily Stafford’s assistant. Ms. Stafford asked me to call and book an appointment with you to go over the case. Are you available Wednesday around eleven a.m.?”
“She’s taking the case?” I asked, unable to mask my relief.
“Yes. Well, as long as you show up and sign the contract.”
I’d be one step closer to getting Havoc outandget a chance to see Emily? Hell yeah, I’d be there. “Wednesday at eleven sounds great.”
“Perfect. I’ve got you down. Do you need the address?”
Glancing at my monitor and my borderline stalker file, I shook my head. “Nope. I know right where her office is.”
