Short gets to his feet, and I rise with the help of his offered hand. “Over here,” he says, leading me to a table in the corner ofthe room. He beckons one of the other club girls over. “Get my ol’ lady a vodka tonic and bring me a beer.”
“I need alcohol for whatever you’re going to tell me?” I raise my eyebrows.
He just stares at me for a moment. Seconds turn into a full minute, and I shift in my seat, suspecting I won’t like hearing what he has to say, when he finally begins to talk. The club girl, Heaven, I think her name is, has returned with our drinks, delaying him again. He takes a long sip of his beer, then reaches over the table to take my hand.
“Your fuckin’ dad set something in motion that can’t be stopped.”
My eyes go wide. After a moment, I snarl at him, “No one’s getting their hands on Trip.”
His brows rise so high it’s almost comical. “Bron, darlin’, no.” He shakes his head as if to clear it, and looks like he’s mentally backing up. “No one’s touching our boy.” While it’s the wrong time, my heart skips a beat at his use of the possessive pronoun. “Even if I, or any member of my club, could deign so low as to agree to that, it wouldn’t solve the problem now. Doc threw his hat in with the Mojave Devils, though I doubt he knew what he was getting into. They used him to get information on the club.” He breaks off and waves his hand around the room. “Notice how full the club is tonight?”
Following the line of his hand, I realise that since we’ve been talking, even more people have come in. There’s Ace, Freak’s son, and an older woman I don’t recognise, hovering around Words. There’s also a young girl, holding tight to the hands of a nervous-looking woman who looks to be in her thirties.
“We’re on lockdown,” Short states. “Everyone important to the club is being brought in so they can be protected.” He points to the old lady. “That’s Words’ mom, and the woman and kid?Well, they’re Paint’s sister and niece. There may be more coming in. Kings always protect any family at risk.”
“And you’re protecting them from what?”
He takes a deep breath, then gives me an assessing look as if wondering how I’m going to react to what he’s going to say. That he reaches out and takes hold of my hand is telling. Finally, he enlightens me. “War’s coming, courtesy of the Mojave Devils. And it wouldn’t matter whether or not we gave up Trip. They’d still come. Trip’s just the icing on the cake. They want our territory and us out of it, preferably dead.”
War.For a moment, my heart stops beating in my chest. When it restarts with a thump that causes me to take a deep breath, I use the air I’ve taken in to ask, “Wouldn’t Trip and I be safer if we were away from here?” I’ve spent too long ignoring my son, and now I’m going to take full responsibility for him. Even if it means I’d be losing the man I’m starting to think I’m in love with to an unknown fate. That thought, though, makes my stomach want to rebel. “Couldn’t you come away with us?”
He clasps my hand tighter. “Bron, if that was the answer, maybe you and Trip could make me turn my back on the Kings, but if I did, I don’t think I’d be a man you could respect. I have to stay here and fight with my brothers.” He holds up a finger on his free hand to shush me as I go to speak. “Hate to tell you this, darlin’. But courtesy of your asshole of a father, the MDMC has put a target on your back. They’d likely be on your trail wherever you went. It’s too much of a risk, Bron. You’re safer here, where my brothers and I can protect you.”
The MDMC is after me? For a moment, I just stare at him in shock. Sure, my life up to now hasn’t been typical, though does anyone have the perfect existence? I suspect, all too often, more than we know goes on behind closed doors. But apart from my less-than-stellar upbringing, I’m bound by citizen rules, andlive in a society where normal people don’t casually talk about lockdowns and wars.
What do I really know of his world? Do I want to be part of it? My impulse is to grab my son and run. But where to? And alone, who would protect us? I’ve never even held a gun, let alone fired one. And though I’d fight like crazy to save Trip, my size is against me. Any man could overpower me, and probably without breaking a sweat. Against a club of bikers who want to take my life? I wouldn’t stand a chance. I’ve no option, have I? I’ve got to stay here and trust the Kings.
Short’s taken another drink from his glass. In fact, he’s drained the contents. He stares down as if trying to magic some more. When he finally lifts his eyes, the expression in them catches and holds mine.
“There’s more, Bron.”
His tone suggests there’s not just more of the same that he’s already told me. It leads me to suspect that it’s worse. I can’t imagine what he has to tell me, so I rasp at him, “Just spit it out.”
He swallows hard. “Bron, you won’t be seeing your father again.”
He betrayed the Kings?“He’s run away.” I want to spit with disgust. “I won’t cry any tears if he’s out of my life for good.”
Short’s other hand comes out and wraps my fingers in his, so he’s now holding both of mine. “He’s dead, Bron.”
Dead?I just stare at him for a moment, wondering if it’s a joke. How could the larger-than-life man, who’d tormented me for so many years, who thought it was his right to rape me, and then arrange to sell my son, with me being powerless to do anything about any of the shit he’d pulled, be gone? How could this monster really be dead? Lost for words, not knowing what I should be feeling, whether I’m a bad child for not caring about my dad’s demise, I stay deep in my head for a moment. Then, Iask for the confirmation I’m sure is coming. “This other club, the Mojave Devils, they took him out?”
His shoulders stiffen, but he shakes his head. “Nah, though it was probably likely if they got their hands on him. Bron, I can’t start what we have between us on a lie. It was us, the Kings.” His eyes darken. “What he did, what he proposed to do to you and the kid, put him on shaky ground. But he betrayed the Kings, and no man lives after that.”
For a moment, I sit, stunned. But when Short’s face falls, I know he’s mistaking my reaction. He lets go of my hands, and a look of defeat comes over him.
Gradually, I stand. Short pushes his chair back and gets to his feet. I’m conscious we’ve got an audience. Okay, sure, they’re trying to be discreet about it, but the room is full of Kings, and they’re waiting for my reaction.
They killed my dad. If I don’t do this right, there will always be awkwardness between me and Short’s brothers. Wanting Short and them to know exactly where I stand, I pick up my vodka tonic, which I’ve not yet touched. Raising my glass, I hold it toward one group after the other, and finally in Short’s direction. The room has gone silent.
Noticing it’s the men surrounding me, and the visitors have congregated around the bar, I keep my voice low so only the members can hear me. “I feel like singing, ‘Ding Dong, the witch is dead,’ but in this case it’s the abusive asshole. I can’t tell you how many times I wished he’d stop breathing. So, I’d like to thank all the Kings who made this possible.” I raise my glass again, and this time, as conversations restart, there are clinks from all around as Short’s brothers tap beer bottles or glasses together.
Short almost leaps over the table to get to me, and all of a sudden, I’m in his arms, his lips on mine. Not only does he ravage my mouth, but his roaming hands palm my ass, pullingme in so I can feel his hard cock. And, oh, that tingling sensation starts again, which has me chasing relief. Shamelessly, I rub myself against him.
The silence of before has been replaced by a cacophony of sound, and gradually some of the words from those nearest to us start to get through to me. Along with the wolf whistles, lewd comments come, which before would have made me blush, but tonight they just excite me. After last night, I’m pretty sure Short is fully capable of fulfilling all their recommendations.
When he catches up with me and remembers where we are, he whispers, “Fuck, Bron, I really didn’t know how that was going to go down. I thought you’d hate me, knowing I was a part of what happened to your dad.”
Reaching up, I cup my hands around his cheeks and stare earnestly up at him. “Did he suffer?”
