Hudson broke our stare, his voice hard as he held up his cell phone. “King just called, he wants to know when we’ll be back. Are you two done with the heartfelt reunion?”
“Watch it, Hustle,” Warren said in a low voice.
I turned to look at Hudson, waiting for him to blow up like he used to at being told what to do. Warren and Hudson, despite how close they were as kids, would always butt heads, they didn’t take any shit from each other. I’d seen them come to blows enough times.
The only sign Hudson wanted to snap back was the tightening of his fist around his phone. A small part of me was doing cartwheels thatWarren being VP was stifling Hudson’s natural inclination to argue back. It had to hurt that his equal is now his superior.
“I knew bringing her back would cause shit,” he muttered as he walked away from the table.
A quick glance at my brother showed a strange mixture of pissed off and resignation in his features. He heard what Hudson said, as I had, and my eyes itched. They had changed, of course they had, but once upon a time, despite his reputation, and him trying to make light of it, there had been a time when Hudson Kelley meant everything to me, and he’d told me he felt the same.
I grabbed my purse and got to my feet. “It’s on you, right?”
“When is it not?” my brother said with a sarcastic smirk. He dropped some cash on the table from a roll in his pocket, my eyes widened at the sight, there had to be a few hundred dollars in his hand. He put it away seeing me looking and came over, putting a hand around the back of my neck. “Think you can make it the rest of the way with no more stops?”
I told him I would be fine and was surprised when Warren laid a quick kiss on the top of my head.
“I missed you,” he said, holding me in place, putting his forehead to mine and staring hard into my eyes. “You need to know that.”
Flustered by my mixed emotions, I gave him a tight nod and pulled away.
“I’ll make sure he doesn’t upset you, I promise, Wave. I’ll keep him away from you.”
He wasn’t talking about Hudson. He was talking about our dad. Although there was a part of me that wondered if it was about his best friend too. It was no secret how Hudson and I felt back then. But I would not think about it. He wasn’t worth the head space or the stress.
I sighed heavily. There was no point putting off what was coming. The sooner I faced my father and found out what he’d gotten me mixed up in, the quicker I could get the fuck out of there and back to my new life, where I belonged.
Chapter 4
It was a relief when we finally passed through the gates to the compound, a prospect, Itchy or Kansas, I couldn’t tell who in the dark hauled it open when he recognized my bike. I’d pulled around Waverley’s car to reach the gates before her, because they wouldn’t know her and also so I could get inside and away from her as quickly as possible.
War might feel guilty and want to hold her hand through this, but I sure as shit didn’t. I was still pissed King made me go with War. He thought it would make it easier for her, shows how much our President knows. Waverley hates me. It was clear before she left and just as clear now. And the feeling was definitely mutual.
After parking my bike with the rest of my brothers, I climbed off, hooking my helmet over the handlebars, and stormed across the patchy grass and dirt to our clubhouse and my home. It was a two-story square building that used to be a motel, taken over by the president before King and turned into a place for the club.
There had been a few add-ons over the years, including a garage for our mechanics who took care of the bikes and other vehicles, a separate house where the Old Ladies and the kids spent most of their time when they were around.
There was also a bunk house annex out back for visiting chapters when the need arose, and it was where the club girls who lived here stayed. Plus, a large sound proofed building with three cells that were used when the situation called for it. A lot of the guys had places of their own off the compound, especially the ones with families, but a few still lived here permanently.
The heavy metal music from the bar assaulted my ears as I pulled the door back and headed inside. I didn’t look back, but I heard War’s bike, which was coming through behind her car. Funny, Waverley spent years begging to be welcomed here. Now she’d clearly rather eat a bag of rusty razor blades than step foot inside this building.
King wanted her close, so he’d already set up a room for her. She shouldn’t be staying here. There were plenty of places she could go, but I wasn’t about to argue with King. I’d get my ass handed to me. He may be getting on in years, but King was as terrifying as ever, and even though he’d known me since I was a scrawny ass kid, he didn’t go easy on me.
King expected loyalty and obedience and he got it from all of us. I didn’t agree with him about this. He’d laid down the law pretty quickly, and I’d had to grit my teeth, or I’d get the shit knocked out of me.
Inside, despite the dim lighting, it’s clear what’s going on. We never need an excuse to have a party here, every night was the same. Occasionally, it was quieter when some brothers were on a run, but tonight, it looked like there was a full house.
It smelled like smoke; both cigarettes and weed, alcohol, and sex. It may sound insane to think of these things being the smells and sounds that make me think of home, but that was what it did for me. I could barely remember the kid who promised Waverley we’d all leave with her.
Deep down, somewhere in the recesses of my mind, there was a sense of regret, of longing, but there was no point trying to remember that kid. She’d ruined that. I loved my life, I loved my club, and nothing would ever make me change my mind.
I headed over to the bar and Casper cracked the lid off a bottle of beer on the edge of the bar and handed it to me. He got his name because of his looks, hair whiter than snow and his eyes an arctic blue. It was a little cliché to name an albino Casper, but he hadn’t seemed to mind.
Despite being bullied throughout most of his childhood, he’d embraced the name they’d used to taunt him. He was a year behind us in high school, but we helped him out, making sure the kids who picked on him and continuously beat him up knew they couldn’t mess with him anymore. War put a couple of repeat offenders in the hospital. It was what they deserved, entitled little shits.
“Hey, Hustle,” he said, using my road name.
I’d earned it because I knew how to get things done, swiftly and with little mercy. I worked under the Club’s Enforcer, Ballistic. He was built like a tank and talked little, although he’d opened up to me, if more words and less grunts meant opening up. It was well known I’d be his successor, and he worked closely with me to ensure I would be up for the task when the time came.
