Mayhem (Deathstalkers MC #5)(5)

He leaves the room briefly and I hurry to tug on my clothes. He doesn't like to see me naked if we're not having sex. He says it makes him sick. I look down at my stomach, at the small bump in the skin that refuses to disappear and mentally add another ten minutes to my run tomorrow.

The toilet flushes and the lights go out. I pull the blanket up over my body and stay still. Dylan won't be able to sleep if I toss and turn and he needs his rest. Staring up at the ceiling as his snores echo off the four walls of the room, I try to fall asleep even as my mind is racing. Tomorrow is my first day working with Cutter and I want to make a good impression.

I pray I don't screw it up.





Chapter Two


Cutter




Holy. Fucking. Hell.

She closes the door behind her and her application falls from the desk, fluttering to the ground. Ordinarily I'd snatch it up, choosing organization and order over chaos in the office, but I can't quite bring my eyes to leave the spot where she was just standing, mere inches from me.

Jasmine Burke. Her smooth feminine voice was like silk, and to top it off she was absolutely gorgeous. When she gazed up at me with those big brown eyes that looked up at me like she would do anything I asked, my skin felt too tight for my body. It was why I wrapped the interview up quickly. The longer I breathed her air, the harder it became not to imagine the long dark hair that fell over her shoulders in waves tangled in my fist as I tugged on it, lifting her chin, exposing the smooth stretch of skin at her throat. My body began to betray me.

Jesus, I need to get a damn grip.

I need an assistant. That's it. And you don't shit where you eat. There are plenty of girls at the clubhouse I can go to if I get desperate. Plus, just looking at her I know there's no way she could handle me or the life that I live.

"Cutter!"

The shout comes from the bar. Tracie can hold her own usually, so when she calls me I know it's important. As old lady to our VP, Torch, she's seen more than most and can handle more than a lot of guys. I break out into a jog down the hall as soon as I spot four guys from the Hell Raisers, one of our rival clubs, standing in front. Their eyes are on Tracie, their shoulders squared. I know that stance. I've held it many times myself. Luckily her mouth isn't moving. She knows better than to mouth off to a brother-except Torch.

"Can I help you?"

The men turn toward me. The tallest one steps forward as if he'll intimidate me, he looks down at me expecting me to back down like I'm sure most people do. Well I'm not most people so he's about to be surprised. Little does he know it's not the size of the man, but how fast you can take him down. "Your bitch behind the bar won't fuckin' serve us." 

I look to Tracie, who shrugs her shoulders. "Maybe because she's an old lady and you fellas need to learn some manners. Now as far as I know, you aren't even supposed to be in here." I look from him to the three men crowding us.

"We were on a long run and needed a pit stop. Ain't here to cause no trouble."

I scan the room. It's still early, but the sight of telltale cuts, our club logo proudly displayed on the back, tells me I have at least five of my brothers to back me up. Brick looks up and lifts an eyebrow, nudging Wrench to his left. I give a small shake of my head and he stands down. I can see him watching, though. The brothers will have my back, whatever decision I make, but even so, I think trying to kick them out would be worse than letting them stay. A bar brawl between rival clubs, most of us packing and not afraid to draw a weapon, doesn't exactly scream "come on in" for customers, many of whom have lied to their wives and girlfriends about where they are. Kinda hard to deny where you were if the police call you as a witness.

"One drink. After that, you need to leave and not make it a habit of making pit stops here." I keep my eyes trained on him, not blinking or looking away.

"Deal." He nods at me and walks over to the bar.

Tracie shoots me a look and I know I'll be hearing about this later. She respects all the brothers and the rules to the club in public, but she isn't afraid to give any of us hell behind closed doors.

I send Pres a text as I head back to the office, letting him know about the Hell Raisers being here and that I've taken care of it.

The papers scattered all over the desk make me wish I had just told Jasmine to start tonight. Being the club treasurer has been easy until Pres asked me to take over Ambrosia because Tracie had too much on her hands. He wasn't kidding, this place is a fucking wreck. There are receipts, forms, and bullshit all over the desk and the ones that are put away aren't organized in any way.

My door flies open and Tracie walks in, holding her tongue until it slams closed.

"I thought the rule was no one from another club gets served here without Twisted letting me know first?" The fact that she's trying to use Pres in her argument doesn't impress me. The old ladies think they have pull.