"Brent has nice teeth," she says defensively. "Anyway, that's not your business. I don't even know why I'm still out here talking to you. Goodnight, Mr. McBride."
When she moves to walk away, I reach out and grab her arm, curling my fingers tight around the sleeve of her black suit jacket. It's much better than the gray. Still ugly though.
"If you're lying to me about this FBI crap, you'd best speak up now." I yank her towards me and flick my cigarette into the grass. "If you tell me the truth, then maybe I can cut you a little slack."
Her eyes go wide and her fingers fly to the strap of her purse.
"Are you threatening me?" she gasps, more like she's pissed off than scared. "I can't believe I had sex with you!" Lyric tears her arm from my grasp and narrows her gaze on me. "Screw you, Royal. Get the hell off my lawn and don't come back."
"At least she didn't slap you again," Glacier says, his eyes as blue as mine are brown, bright and deceptively cheerful. He's an even bigger monster than I am. As the MC's enforcer, he keeps everyone in line and helps clean up the inevitable spills of club life. Sin for sin, Glacier wins out in the bad boy category.
"To small miracles," I say, lifting my glass and downing it in a single swallow. Fauna refills it without my having to ask. Bless her bloody heart. "I really don't think she knows anything," I say, but the words feel forced. She works at the mayor's office, dated that blond douche. She's as wrapped up in that world as I am in mine.
But then why did she tell me the truth?
She could've lied, could've pretended not to know Brent, but instead she told me everything.
Maybe I just want to believe her? It feels like a mistake, but as president, it's my mistake to make.
"Your afternoon might not have been productive, but mine sure as shit was. Our weapons shipment is in, everything present and accounted for. I even managed to have a chat with one of the bastards who was in on the heist."
My mood picks up at that.
"And?"
"He didn't last long-took a stray bullet during the standoff." A chill travels down my spine. Usually does when Glacier's around. It's no mystery how he got his nickname. His real name is Saint. Oh the irony. "I can't figure out if he and his boys are just lowlives who made a big mistake or if this goes further. I mean, what kind of numb nut fucktard tries to rob two MCs simultaneously? Man must be crazy."
I stare into my drink a moment, spinning it in a circle, the rings on my right hand bumping against the glass.
"What did he have to say for himself?" I ask, taking a sip, letting the Jameson burn in the back of my throat. I sit back on my school and let my eyes wander around the room. It's just Glacier, Fauna and me in here right now. In the background, "Absolute Zero" by Stone Sour plays, the perfect backdrop to the red and black striped walls, the leather couches and the marble topped bar, complete with a fucking motorcycle inside of it. That was Janae's idea, to put the old vintage bike behind glass and use it as the bar.
"If I'd had more time with the guy," he begins and I get that little chill again. Glacier sighs and shrugs his shoulders, lifting his beer to his lips. He's a strange sight, this blond haired boy buried in a sea of tattoos and piercings. If he wasn't so marked up, I might mistake him for one of those rich little brats that flies up here in the summer to pollute my town with their bullshit. "Anyway, he said that he and his buddies got wind of the shipment a long time before it happened."
I sit up a little straighter and lean against the metal back of my chair, a jumble of old bike parts that Dober welded together in some sort of fucking art piece or something. Uncomfortable as hell, but it looks nice, so I let it slide.
"Landon," I say and Glacier nods, his face dropping at the mention of our lost brother. "Landon," he confirms.
"Anything else?" I ask, filled with the sudden need to get the hell out of here. I've never felt that way about the clubhouse, not once in my entire life, and I started hanging around here when I was seventeen years old.
"Just that," Glacier says, glancing over at me like he can tell what I'm feeling. "At this point, Smoky and I are stumped, not sure where to go from here."
"Check into that FBI douche," I say, slamming back my whiskey and setting the glass back on the counter. "But don't let him know that you're even glancing his way. The last thing we need is to bring a full investigation crashing down on our heads."
"Got it," Glacier says, glancing over his shoulder as the music slows and the sound of high heels echoes against the vaulted ceilings. I follow his gaze and find Mia waiting in the doorway to the common room, arms folded under her small breasts, teeth worrying at her lower lip. Just what I fucking needed tonight, more shit to deal with. "You get out of here and let us worry about that guy for now."
"Thanks brother," I say, slapping him once on the shoulder and heading over to where Mia stands in her red heels and black leather pants. She's a fucking looker, this one. But a looker who doesn't know how to listen to shit. "I thought I told you to take a fucking holiday?"
She flicks her eyes up to mine, pleading, begging, the fingers of her right hand reaching out and brushing down my bare arm.
"I don't have anywhere to go but here," she whines, stepping closer to me, pushing her breasts into my chest. "And I thought you might be missing me?"
I reach down and pry her hand off, taking a step back to put some space between us. I feel a little bad for Mia, I do. She has a shitty home life and an even shitter job. But none of that's my problem, and if I don't make an example out of her, nobody here will take me seriously.
"When I said holiday, I meant vacation. Do you understand that a little better or should I write it down for you?"
"Royal," she pleads, but a few of the guys have just walked in the front door. Word spreads quick here, so they'll know I told Mia to stay away for a while. God, I hate this shit sometimes. Things were a hell of a lot easier before I became president.
"If you were a man, I'd beat the shit out of you for disobeying me." Mia's jaw drops and her eyes fill with tears, but I pretend I don't notice, tucking my fingers into my front pockets like I'm already bored with the conversation. "Get your ass off the compound and don't show your face here until you're pretty damn sure I've forgotten about this little incident." I lean in closer, my lips right next to her ear. "And you better be fucking positive that I have because if I see you before then, you're out. You will not step foot anywhere near the club's property ever again."
I stand up straight and watch as her face crumbles.
This is one of those moments where I decide to turn off my emotions. Don't need to feel anything at all for this girl right now. Mia and me, we've only slept together a handful of times, but I always thought she was the prettiest of all the leather lovers. Somebody soon's going to snatch her up as their old lady.
But that person's not going to be me.
"Sorry, love, but this is the way it has to be. Live with it or leave-permanently. Your choice."
Mia nods once, rubbing her hands up and down her upper arms like she's cold.
"I'll go," she says, looking up at me one more time. "But if you need me, you know where to find me?" Mia reaches out and squeezes my arm, but when I don't react, she turns and walks away with her head down.
It's odd for me to turn down a blatant invitation-especially from a girl as gorgeous as Mia-even one who blatantly refuses to listen to club law. In the past, even that wouldn't have stopped me from taking her home myself and grabbing a quickie along the way.
Lyric Rentz, what in the bloody fuck have you done to me?
When I head outside to leave for work in the morning, I find the pile of gear that Royal left here for me. There's a leather jacket, a pair of leather pants with some sort of padding or something in them, gloves, even a pair of black boots. I have no idea how he knew what sizes to get, but it all looks like it would fit.
"Asshole," I mumble, dragging the stuff inside and dumping it on my couch. I'll return it all tomorrow during our meeting. If there was any way I thought I could get out of it then I would. But I've worked too hard for this, risked too much to blow it all now.
He knows.
That thought's been running through my head all night long, giving me nightmares that forced me up in bed with sweat running down the sides of my face. When Royal asked me point blank about Brent, I thought I was going to have a heart attack.
Damn it, Brent. What the hell are you doing?
Things weren't supposed to be like this. He was supposed to come to town for a few days and poke around, make the Wolves think they were under investigation, just to give them enough motivation to sign on with the city.
And now?
I want to scream.
But I don't. My family trained me too well. We don't let our emotions get the better of us-if we even have any at all. We keep our chins up, shoulders back and we keep pushing through with smiles plastered across our faces.