Page 49 of After the Chase

"We have five minutes until we get there. You need to fix your hair."

He nods, still catching his breath, and tucks himself back into his pants with shaking hands. We both get back into the front of the car and I watch him compose himself, smoothing his hair, adjusting his clothes, forcing his breathing to steady. By the time he's finished, he looks almost normal. Almost.

But I can see the flush still lingering on his skin, the slight tremor in his hands, the way his pupils are still dilated.

“Let’s go,” I say, and he nods with a chuckle. I open my window slightly and light a cigarette to distract me from my own hard dick, but Chase can deal with that later.

I continue to drive to the clubhouse with the taste of him lingering in my mouth and the knowledge that Chase has turned a corner, and now there is no turning back for either of us.

Welcome to hell, baby.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

NOAH

We arrive at the clubhouse and the parking lot is full of motorcycles and a few cars and trucks. I park up in one of the few vacant spaces and turn to Chase, who is looking up at the club like he is about to be slaughtered. He’s nervous.

"Stay close to me and don't speak unless I tell you to. And if anyone looks at you wrong, you tell me immediately. Don’t be nervous, you have the worst person next to you in there."

"Ahhh how comforting."

I frown at him, is he being sarcastic?

“Are you being sarcastic, baby?”

“Of course not, you know I love your romantic side,” he says, grinning at me. Little shit.

We enter through the main door and the place looks completely different at night, full of people and noise. I don’t pay any attention to anyone as I search for Marcus, who I see is waiting near the bar. He nods as we approach.

"Noah. Good to see you again." His gaze shifts to Chase. "And you brought your husband."

"Chase," I say. "This is Marcus. He’s the Prez of the club."

Chase extends his hand and Marcus shakes it, his grip firm but not aggressive.

"Welcome," Marcus says. "Come. The others are waiting."

He leads us through the main room to a private room in the rear. Inside are a few men seated around a large impressive table. This room is a lot grander than the main clubhouse. I’m impressed to see that they stand as we enter.

"This is Blade, my VP," Marcus says. "Dante is our sergeant-at-arms and Nathan our treasurer.”

I nod to each of them, cataloging details. Blade is younger than Marcus with a scar on the side of his face, from a knife from what I can tell. He has military cut hair that’s black as night and bright green eyes, tall and muscular with absolutely no hint of warmth on his face. I like that. Dante is small but more muscular with a bald head and shaggy brown beard, probably mid thirties, but has an aggressive energy barely contained. Nathan is tall and lithe, like a swimmer. He appears more quiet, watchful. He has thick, curly, mousey brown hair, and one ear is covered in an array of skull and cross earrings. He is covered in tattoos, like me, all the way up to his neck. I notice his right hand is badly scarred from a burn. These guys have paid their dues.

"Sit," Marcus says.

Chase and I take seats across from them and I keep my hand on Chase's thigh under the table.

"I’ve briefed the club on who you are, Noah, but the people in this room are the most important. We’ll be the ones you deal with if there are issues, or if you need to arrange anything,” he says, emphasizing the “arrange” word. Meaning the bloody stuff.

"So, what's the arrangement?" I ask.

"You fund the club. In return, you have access to our resources whenever you need them. Safe houses, manpower, weapons. Whatever you require for your personal operations."

Blade nods in agreement. "With your financial backing, it will allow us to expand and also keep under the radar."

"You'll also have the option to participate in any operations you find interesting, from what Marcus said you have a particular taste," Dante adds with a knowing smirk, slightly unhinged. "I’m interested to watch those, Noah.”

“Thats because you’re a sick fuck,” Marcus teases and laughs with the others.