CHAPTER TWELVE
SHORT
“Go the fuck away,” I shout as knocking at the door awakens me. “What fuckin’ time is it anyway?” I grumble under my breath as I lazily stretch out a hand to capture my phone and pull it toward me. Nine a.m. Too early for me.
The knocking comes again, and I try to ignore it, but then my door bursts open, and in comes Saint. His first action is to go to the window, pull up the blind, and let a dazzling beam of sunshine fall on my face.
Throwing my arm over my eyes, I rasp, “What the fuck are you doing?”
Showing no sympathy, he just says, “Prez wants a meeting. Get your lazy ass up and dressed.”
“Now?”
“No, next week,” Saint says sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “Why the fuck d’you think I’m here knocking your door down?”
I deserved that. “You know why?”
“Get up and come down, and you’ll find out.” Swinging around, Saint leaves me.
“Shut the fuckin’ door, will you?” But he’s long gone by the time the words leave my mouth.
Now curiosity has a hold of me, I stretch, fart, yawn, then pull myself out from the comfort of the sheets. Sniffing the air, I can smell sex and make a mental note to get a prospect to change my bed.
I run through the shower, chuck on a fresh t-shirt and boxers, and slide into yesterday’s pants, which still have a couple of days’ wear in them. Then I pull on some socks, slide into my boots, and finally settle my cut over my shoulders. Dressed, I grin. Only a short time ago, such activities would have left me panting for breath.
Descending to the clubroom, I find it empty, but follow my nose to the kitchen where Trixie quickly pours a coffee for me and hands me a bacon sandwich. “They’re waiting for you in church,” she tells me. Thanking her quickly, I change the direction of my feet.
I’m wondering why church has been called and why no one had even sent me a text about it. Pausing, I take my phone from my pocket and check, but no, there aren’t any new notifications. I don’t put it away, ready to place it in the box that’s left outside of our meetings, as no electronics are allowed in the room while we talk business, then I see it’s empty. Creasing my eyes, wondering whether there’s been an exception made for today, I hesitate, then slide my phone back into my pants.
Opening the door, I expect the room to be full, but it’s mostly empty, except for Bullseye, who’s tapping his fingers impatiently, Saint, who turns and fixes me with an unreadable expression as I walk in, Freak, who looks just the same scary fucker as always, and Tempest, who doesn’t hide his glare.
All the top officers, and little old me. Looks like I’m in for a dressing down, but fuck knows what about. I can’t help it that Bronwyn came running to me last night.
Instead of sitting, I stand by the end of the table, my hands behind me, my back soldier-style straight.
“For fuck’s sake, come sit down,” Prez states impatiently.
When I take a place beside Freak, the enforcer snarls under his breath, “Asshole.”
Maybe I have been one, but I guess that’s what I’m about to find out. “What’s this all about?”
Prez wastes no time getting down to business. “Your visitor yesterday evening.”
Deep lines form on my forehead. “Bronwyn?”
“Was there anyone else?” Saint drawls. I shoot him my finger.
Prez confirms it’s her he’s talking about by giving a sharp dip of his head. Then he leans forward, elbows on the table, chin resting on his hands, his eyes blazing so brightly I feel like one step away from bursting into flames. “The thing is, Short, and this goes back weeks. Doc appeared of his own volition to treat you the day after we had our conversation. Trixie took over changing your bandages, and he had no need to send his daughter again.” Lifting his head, he lets his hands move out to each side in anI don’t knowgesture. “I didn’t see the point in making waves, so I never discussed the issue with him.”
Saint clears his throat, casting a look toward Prez, who sits back as if giving him leave to speak. “So, was it Bronwyn who came up with that shit, or was it you, Short? Or was the whole thing some sort of fiction? In which case, who laid hands on her?”
“Well, it wasn’t me,” I bark, half-standing from my seat.
“Sit the fuck down!” Prez roars. “I just want to get to the truth here. The VP reckons there might be something going on between you and her, on your part at least. And if there is, a stop’s got to be put to it.”
My mouth gapes open. “Ain’t nothing going on between me and that little girl, Prez. I’ll swear that on my fuckin’ patch. She’s not for me, and fuck knows I’m not right for her.” I roll my eyes as I add, “I know the importance of Doc’s contribution to the club.”
“If it was Doc who hit her, it could be because he didn’t like you consorting with her.”
