“Who are you takin’?” he asked.
“Fuck knows, Veep. It’s not like any of the brothers are exactly clean-cut all-American boys, but I’ll think of somethin’.”
“What about Aislynn?” he suggested. “She’s one of them—a civilian, I mean, and I think the Youngs would like her. If they saw you with her, they may feel less intimidated.”
“It’s a good idea,” I mused. “I hadn’t even considered it. My woman’s comin’ here tonight. I’ll put her on the back of my bike and ride us over to their farm.”
I suspected his suggestion to take Ash to the meet had more to do with making Gracie feel comfortable than Hank, but I could understand that. If I turned up at their door with a bunch of outlaw bikers, it would set those good folks on edge, especially if they believed we were there to carry out Junior’s threats. On the other hand, if I took Aislynn with me, it would be way less intimidating.
All I needed to do now was speak to my woman and get her take on it. Admittedly, it made me a little nervous; we’d only been together a matter of days, and already I was putting her through another test.
Would Aislynn step up and act like a president’s ol’ lady? Or would she crash and burn?
I was about to find out.
CHAPTER 7
AISLYNN
It was dark when I pulled through the Kings of Anarchy compound gates at about five o’clock that night. The building loomed in front of me, and my jaw dropped at the sheer size of the place, all lit up in the inky night sky.
Pagan had already told me the story of how he’d purchased this industrial area a few months before. Over time, the factories that had been there shut down. The last one closed its doors about six months before, after tariffs made the materials they needed to import too expensive.
The compound wasn’t huge and sprawling like some I’d seen that were filled with office blocks, stores, and warehouses, but it was still big enough for a massive clubhouse, a bunch of separate buildings they were in the process of turning into living quarters, and their strip club, which was accessed by a separate road.
Pagan told me howVortexwas turning out to be lucrative for the club.
The women they hired were gorgeous and professional. He’d also admitted that some of them supplemented their income by giving what he called ‘extras’, but it was controlled, and the girls were protected at all times.
It bothered me, but it wasn’t my place to judge what other women did with their bodies or the reasons they did it. As long as it was their choice and they weren’t being forced, I could live with it.
There were more buildings on the Kings’ compound that Pagan had earmarked for other new business opportunities. He was planning to open a tattoo shop, a bar, and a store where people could source and buy specialized parts for muscle cars, classics, and bikes. The Kings’ expansion plans were ambitious, and because they were being financed by the strip club, it wouldn’t all happen overnight. Still, his business acumen was impressive, and it showed me there was a lot more to Pagan than brawn and muscles.
I’d driven home that morning with Pagan following me on his bike and then waving me off as I took the turning for Hambleton before he rode on to Coal Creek.
There had been drama at home after the party between my brother Callum and his new wife, Maeve. Saskia, an ex-employee at our family bar, had joined forces with my bitch cousin, Shannon, to stir some shit.
Unfortunately, it had worked because Maeve had thrown my brother’s ass out.
Needless to say, the atmosphere at Mam’s house was tense, so I’d been counting down the minutes until I could leave. I’d had butterflies all day at the prospect of seeing Pagan, and they’d only strengthened as time had passed, so I was both excited and nervous to see him.
After parking my car, I grabbed my bag from the passenger seat and threw open my door, half jumping out of my skin as a massive figure loomed.
“Evenin’,” a rich, deep, English-accented voice greeted me. “Welcome to the Kings.”
My eyes lifted to see Bootneck, Pagan’s SAA, waiting for me. He nodded toward the clubhouse, which was lit up from the inside, and told me, “Boss man’s waitin’ for you in his office.”
Sliding out of the car, I moved toward the trunk and popped it open to grab my overnight bag. As I went to throw it over my shoulder, Bootneck’s meaty fist shot out, and he grabbed the handle to hoist it over his back.
I looked up at him, smiled gratefully, and murmured, “Thanks.”
Pink flushed his cheeks, and he ducked his head, muttering, “No problem,” as he turned and headed toward the building.
Securing my purse over my arm, I dropped my keys inside and followed, carefully picking my way over the icy ground. An old rock song my da used to play in the bar thumped from the clubhouse, mingling with the sound of raucous laughter and the chatter that filtered outside.
A few people littered the parking lot. A brother was making out with a woman, and a couple of guys in cuts were shooting the shit and smoking. But it was December in Wyoming, so the cold no doubt kept most people indoors.
Bootneck stalked through the entrance so fast, I had to quicken to a jog to keep up. The second I stepped inside, heat and noise hit me in tandem, and my steps faltered as I took in the vast room.
