Rock's Redemption(Insurgents MC Romance Book 8)(8)

       
           



       

"You know Maman would've wanted you to forgive him," she murmured, barely audible.

He jutted out his jaw, his fists clenched. "Yeah, well, I'm not Maman.  She was kind and forgiving and look where it got her-murdered on a cold  floor in a shithole by a cruel, drunk sonofabitch. I'll take bitterness  and hate any time."

"Okay. I'm sorry I brought it up. I thought that after all this time you'd have softened a bit."

"You were wrong. I'll never soften about what he did. To me, he's dead. I  never want to hear about him again unless he's up for parole."

"When are you going to come out and see us? It's been too long. You'd  barely recognize Aline and Michael. We talk about you all the time, and  they love the gifts you send them. It's time to come home for a visit. I  miss you."

Her cheerfulness didn't fool him. Poor Isa. She's taken the role Maman  had-the kind, loving peacemaker. "I'll think about it. How are Lille and  that piece of shit Henri?"

She laughed. "Lille is still trying to snag a rich man. She just divorced Robert and is already sniffing around Mr. Amelix."

"That old fart? Fuck, can he even get it up?"

She laughed louder. "Roche, you're so bad."

"I hope she gets what she wants. The trouble is when she gets it, she always wants something else."

"That's Lille for you. Henri has been working on a bunch of big deals.  He says he's going to make a fortune. I don't know …  I don't see him very  often."

"He got a woman?"

"He's been going out with Suzette Terriot. You remember her from high  school? She was the one who had the beautiful clothes, always flaunting  her wealth in everyone's face."

"All I remember are the sweaters she wore ‘cause she had a big rack. As I  remember, she didn't have the prettiest face, but her rack made up for  it. At least that's what the guys thought."

She chuckled. "Her rack is even bigger thanks to Dr. Anderson."

They both laughed. Damn. When we're talking like this, I really miss  Isa. I should go see her and the kids. "Is Clotille still in Lafayette?"  Whoa! Where the fuck did that come from? I haven't asked about her  since I left. Being locked up made me fuckin' soft in the head.

"I don't know. She sort of disappeared. The whole family did when her  father died in the condo he'd bought for his mistress. Can you imagine  their embarrassment? Mrs. Boucher didn't go out of her house. Well, not  until they took it from her. The family went broke because Mr. Boucher  had a horrible gambling problem and threw away millions on the horses  and at the craps tables."

"Really? I didn't know that. Fuck, that must've been hard for Clotille."

"She divorced Luc, and she and her family went into hiding. They must be  doing better now because I read in the society column that Mrs. Boucher  just bought a house over in Ranch River. She seems to be back on the  circuit."

"Mean bitches like her never fall down. They may falter, but they get right back up on their hoofed feet."

"Not a fan of hers?"

"Nah."

"Hey, handsome, I need some attention." Stacy's hand curled around his dick and it started waking up.

"I gotta go. We'll talk soon." He hung up the phone and moved his hand  on top of the blonde's head, guiding her mouth to his cock. "Suck it,"  he ordered.

She opened her mouth and slipped his length inside, licking and sucking  while she cupped his balls. He leaned his head back, eyes closed,  groaning as the image of a brown-haired woman with shimmering green eyes  invaded his mind. As Stacy sucked him, he imagined she was Clotille. In  a matter of minutes he blew his wad, wishing for the first time in a  long time that the blonde was his old love swallowing his come and  licking his dick clean.

The other two women stirred, and then Bones sat up. Rock looked at his  clock, which read eleven thirty. Deciding another round with the blondes  was what he needed to shake the green-eyed memory from his mind, he  pulled Lela up to him, covering her tit with his mouth. Bones was now  fully awake and the two other women began pleasuring him.

The night was just beginning.





Chapter Two





Thirty people in a room meant for twenty made for an uncomfortable club  meeting. Each time the brothers attended church, especially during the  hot months, the discussion would come up about taking down walls to make  the room bigger. When the members were uncomfortable they tended to  argue more, shove each other around, and break out in fistfights. That  afternoon was no exception.                       
       
           



       

As Rock came between Wheelie and Rags, Wheelie's fist, aimed for Rags,  slammed into the side of Rock's face. "Fuck!" He grabbed the brother's  hand and bent it backward.

"Sonofabitch! Stop, Rock. You're gonna fuckin' break my wrists!"

"That's what I wanna do, asshole."

Soon several brothers were taking sides: some were in Wheelie's court,  others in Rags's. All of the membership was in Rock's since he was just  trying to break up the fight. Being the Sergeant-At-Arms, it was Rock's  duty to make sure order was kept among the brothers most of the time,  especially during church and at family gatherings.

A thunderous bang stopped everyone in their tracks, and they turned to  the front to see where the noise had come from. A red-faced Banger stood  tall, a splintered chair in his hands. A heavy hush filled the room,  and Rock smiled at his president's style.

"Each one of you fuckers sit down. This is church. You do whatever shit  you wanna do before or after but never during." He scowled, his piercing  blue eyes flashing.

"What the fuck started the shit anyway?" Rock asked under his breath to Throttle.

"Wheelie called Rags's vintage Harley a rusted can."

"He said that? No wonder Rags wanted to bust him up. I'd kill anyone who said shit about my bike."

"Wheelie knew it'd piss Rags off. He's pissed at Rags ‘cause he's lost the last four pool games to him and he's out five grand."

"Still was a low blow to talk shit about a guy's Harley."

Rock realized the room was dead silent and he glanced up and locked gazes with Banger.

"Is it okay if I continue, or am I breakin' into yours and Throttle's  private time?" The brothers in the room all sniggered. Rock and Throttle  squirmed in their chairs. "Just let me know ‘cause I wouldn't wanna be  disturbing you motherfuckers." Banger's steely glare bored into Rock.

Clearing his throat, Rock said, "Just trying to figure out what happened  so I can make sure it doesn't spill into the great room when we're done  here. Just doing my job."

Banger's clenching jaw was visible. "Your job right now is to keep your  damn mouth shut and show respect to your president. Is there something  you don't understand about that?"

Rock shook his head slowly, then leaned back in his chair. He motioned  with his hand as if to tell Banger to continue with the meeting. He knew  he was being a prick but, president or not, he didn't like anyone  patronizing him. For a few seconds he and Banger glared at one another,  each of their chins held high in defiance, neither of them ready to  acquiesce.

Finally Banger broke away and folded his arms against his chest. "Liam's asked us to do him a favor."

Liam was an Irish arms dealer and smuggler who the Insurgents MC had  worked with on and off for years. Before marijuana was legalized, they  depended on illegal deals to fund their club, and in the murky world of  arms smuggling, finding trustworthy people was about as rare as a  midsummer snowstorm. Liam had proven to be a fair, salt-of-the-earth  type of guy who had the guts to work with the Insurgents and the brains  to not fuck them over. Since weed had been legalized, the club had  shifted directions and began making money the legal way. They rarely got  involved in arms smuggling anymore; however, their respect and  relationship with Liam continued.

"What's the favor?" Jax asked.

"He wants us to do a bodyguard gig."

Groans and cussing circled around the room, and Rock stared at the  redness creeping up Banger's neck. Before it hit his cheeks, Hawk stood  up and motioned the crowd to shut up. He cleared his throat. "I know we  don't do this type of work-"

"Yeah, we're not losers like the fuckin' Deadly Demons," Bones  interrupted. Fellow members laughed and pounded their fists on the table  in agreement.

Hawk threw him a dirty look. "As I was saying, we don't do this type of  work, but we owe Liam for the job Shack fucked up last year in Nebraska.  Besides, Liam never asks favors from us."

"Who're we protecting?" Rock propped his elbows on the wood table.

"Frederick Blair. He's a billionaire who's having a dinner party at his  estate in Aspen and he wants some muscle. The total worth in the room  makes him and his guests targets."