I shrugged. I sure as shit wasn’t going to admit what I’d done. There was no way in hell I’d tell them I stole some bike at their rally. “Something illegal, but I did it. When I went to him after the job was finished, he told me to get the fuck out of his club and never come back. He went back on his promise to let go of my sister. Now she's in even deeper with their club. When I tried to go back to get her again, they tried to kill me. That’s when you guys showed up.”
I thanked Liberty for the food as she took my plate away, complimenting her on the delicious dinner.
“So, now you’re hiding in a cardboard box behind our club?” Zodiac asked as he took a bite of his pasta.
I shrugged. “Yeah, sorry. I’ll leave. I just felt safe here.”
The guys all shared another look, like they were communicating with each other silently. “Tell me, Dillon. What’s your sign?”
“As in that astrological stuff?” I scoffed, thinking it was an odd question and they couldn’t really be interested in something like that, but they were.
“Yeah.”
I shook my head. “I don’t know. Why? I was born on July twelfth, though.”
Zodiac gave the barest of smiles at Archer, who gave a small nod of approval, but to what I had no idea. “So, you’re a Cancer?”
“I guess. Sounds about right.” The other guys in the room were all quiet, sizing me up, and I had a feeling I was missing something here. But I wasn’t sure what or if I even wanted to know what it was. I took a deep breath and decided it was time to head out. “Thanks for dinner. I should probably clean up my mess out back and get out of here.” I started to get up when Zodiac held up a hand, stopping me.
“Tell you what, Dillon. We’re in need of some help around the strip club. Somebody who can clean up at night after the club is closed. We have a spare room there. You could sleep there at night in exchange for cleaning up the club. We’ll pay you, too. That way you can get on your feet.”
Of all the things I had expected to happen tonight, getting a good meal and a job offer were nowhere on the list. Getting my ass kicked. Yeah. Getting booted from behind their club. Yep. Hell, getting killed was even on the list, but this was not something I even considered. I was skeptical as hell. People don’t go out of their way to help you. My time in the foster system sure as shit taught me that.
“What’s the catch?” I finally asked, not believing they were about to do something for me out of the goodness of their hearts. They wanted something, and I wasn’t going to give them shit. I didn’t want to owe anyone anything, and I was already indebted to them enough as it was.
“No catch. We just want to help you out.”
I shook my head. “I don’t know.”
“It’s better than sleeping in a cardboard box, kid,” one of the guys blurted out. He was tall, blonde, and had a brow that was narrowed in uncertainty. There was another man standing a few feet away that looked exactly like him. Twins. Then things started to click. These were the two who were chasing me when I stole the bike. Is that why the one keeps looking at me like I’m a puzzle he’s trying to put together? Does he know who I am and what I did? If he did, he didn’t let on because he continued by saying, “Plus, it’s starting to get colder. The club is at least warm. Though, if we find you getting into our booze or stealing, you’ll be out on your ass again.”
“I don’t drink. Drinking is what killed my father.” It was a half-truth. I didn’t drink, but it had nothing to do with my father. After he and my mom dumped us into the system, we never heard from or saw them again. The reason I didn’t drink was because of what happened in the Kennedy house.
Nathan Kennedy was fifteen years old when we lived there. He was a big jock, and I was a freaking scrawny ass kid. I remember things about living in that house that I wish like hell I could forget. The smell of alcohol as he violated me was one of the many things etched into my mind, not to mention the reason for the scars I carved into my own skin, trying to purge myself of the total mindfuck I was dealing with inside.
“I don’t drink either,” Zodiac said, smirking as he studied me.
I looked around the room at the club I could only half trust. Trusting wasn’t easy and didn’t come naturally to me. My parents destroyed that a long time ago, and all my years in the system reinforced the fact that I couldn’t depend on anyone else but Joey and myself. That’s why I had to get her away from the clutches of Beretta and the Hell’s Artillery MC. So, if extending a bit of trust to these guys could help me get her back, then I had to do it—for Joey.
“Okay…” I took a deep breath. “I guess helping out for a few weeks to get on my feet wouldn’t hurt. Thank you.”
Zodiac nodded and started to get up when his phone rang. Shortly into the conversation, he was on high alert. The atmosphere in the room turned intense, and every guy took their cue from him, climbing to their feet.
“Where are you, and why do you think you’re being followed?”
All the men in the room started checking their vests, and I noticed each of them were armed, sending a cold shiver snaking down my spine. “Where are you?” he repeated the question. “I’ll meet you at the exit,” he said, hanging up the phone. “Let’s ride.” Anger pulsated off him in waves.
As an afterthought, he turned to one of the blonde twins and said, “Pollux, take a cage and get Dillon over to the strip club and set him up in the backroom. Let Big Sandy know what you’re doing. Take Castor with you.”
“On it, Prez.”
Pollux moved toward me, and I stood up nervously. “Are you guys going to kill someone?”
I flinched when a large hand came down on my shoulder. Looking up, I found Archer’s kind eyes softening as he gave it a small squeeze. “Son, we’re the Celestial Sons. We don’t get violent unless absolutely necessary. It’s not our way. Soon, you will see that.”
After that, the guys all rushed out the door. I heard the sound of motorcycles revving up and peeling out of the parking lot as Pollux and Castor took me toward the back lot and the van that would take me to my new temporary home.
“You’re back?”
