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We walk back to the gates and see more vehicles have pulled up. A few occupants are out of the cars, looking around, and seem to point things out. The prospect called me several times when he noticed the workers looking around outside the gate. I found it hilarious how nervous he was.
We finally figured out who was supposed to be with him at the gate. And it wasn’t the kid's fault. Fucking Princess demanded that the prospect come and help her move things around in her suite. She’s pissed because all the brothers scattered like flies when they saw her coming, and the only ones around were prospects. The ones in the clubhouse already were on jobs. So she took it upon herself to stomp down to the gatehouse and demand that the poor kid do her bidding. Spoiled as ever. Once, I heard all that shit. I told the prospect to call me if something like that happens again. I get why he didn’t deny her. She’s Prez’s kid, so typically she gets her way. But right now, it’s not the time for her to pull shit like that. I’ll have to handle her and meet with all the prospects later.
As we neared the gate, I spoke, “I'll have the prospect check IDs as your crew comes in. Do you have a printout of who is supposed to be here? No offense to you or your guys. From what you said earlier about the Rossi family and what you know, they may try some slick shit, and I’m not in the mood to get bloody soon.” I say, staring toward the main gates.
Blaze and Pain send assessing looks my way. They seemed impressed that I would ask for a list. Of course, I would; the kid may be Prez’s son, and they may be his people. Hell, I don’t know their people. And after what they admitted earlier, I am not taking any fucking chances for some shit to pop off.
“Once the prospect checks them in, he will tell them to pull into the side of the main building. We have an area where the ol’ ladies park their cages. So there is plenty of room, and that area always has cameras running.” He hands me a list of company names and the employees allowed to be here. I walk over to the prospect, who is still looking a little green, and explain to him what I want to be done and to make sure that he and Clay check the occupant of each vehicle. Clay was a Master-at-Arms in the Navy, so he is very familiar with what needs to be done while checking these vehicles before letting them enter.
Stepping away from the men, I pull out my cell phone and call Bull. He knew what I was calling about and already had Spider on it. He wanted to come out, meet with us, and do the check, but I warned him off. Things were still up in the air, and I didn’t want any tension while trying to focus on the task. So, I told him that, and he agreed reluctantly. I know the kid wants to apologize again for what went down. And he will have a chance to, just not right now.
I continue talking with Blaze and Pain, informing them that the perimeter of the compound runs several miles. I explained the security measures we have in place and the roving patrols the prospects do on four-wheelers. They seem impressed, even though I know they know more than they say. They are at least showing me enough respect not to shove in my face that they broke into the compound more than once. As we talked about what needed to be done, we ran the perimeter of the compound in one of our go-karts. Because they needed to write things down and measure things out, it was the best bet for what we wanted to accomplish today.
Once we finished everything, we met with their crew and devised a plan for what needed to be done. Normally, I would run this shit by the officers, but we don’t have that kind of time. It may get my ass handed to me, but I made an executive decision.
I gave the crew and Blaze, Bull, Turbo, and Spider numbers, letting them know to call any of us when they arrive each day. They seem to have their shit together as the head guy Tim, Tom… Toby had a schedule ready and said it would take about two weeks for the upgrades to be completed. Prez got put in the group text at some point and is now in the loop. Which was what I was attempting to avoid, but I guess Bull said something to him while they were meeting today, or he saw all the vehicles out front. Either way, he is in the loop. I am not surprised he didn’t come out to give his two cents. I think it’s because he isn’t ready to face his son. And he also understands that the kid’s still a little volatile.
Thank fuck for small favors.
Twenty-One
TAZ
?
After reviewing what needs to be done to shore up the clubhouse like Fort Knox, I was ready to end the damn day. So here we are, beer in hand, and all seems normal as if they aren’t here because Princess has a target on her back and Blaze isn’t the Prez’s kid. Our conversation seems light-hearted, but I understand it for what it is. Blaze and Pain aren’t slick. Their questions aren’t just about the club; I’ll play their game.
Chuckling at something Pain says, my thoughts aren’t far from club business. It never really is. Well, unless I’m thinking about my tornado. I have to keep my face impassive when my dick hardens thinking about her. Shit.
Letting out a breath and trying to shift in my stool subtly. Fuck me. My mind goes over the checklist for the shop and then to tomorrow morning, when the Officers Prez and I have church scheduled. Thinking about that, relief floods me as my cock understands the fucking assignment and calms the fuck down. Ain't no way I’m about to chat with my soon-to-be brother-in-law with a hard-on.
Blaze pulls out his phone, and a smile crosses his face, which is not something I think he does often. A sound of amusement leaves him when he leans over to show Pain. Pain doesn’t just chuckle–he full-on belly laughs at what he sees. When I look at Blaze with a question, Pain continues to guffaw while Blaze slides the phone over to me, allowing me to see what has them both cackling like old hens. My little tornado is too damn much. The text from her lets her brother know she found some new information and is requesting a meeting with Prez, and I quote, whatever dick-swinging manly men are essential decision-makers in the club. I didn’t expect Blaze to show me the text, but he did, and I couldn’t help but laugh my ass off at her. She is something else.
From what I understand, Bellamy is the boss of their crew, so shit doesn’t go down without her say so, including the exchange of information. Of course, this drives me crazy. I’m a man. And being a man, I’m a pig, and I can readily admit it. Knowing who and what my woman is has been an adjustment, but that doesn’t mean I like it. I understand that even if I don’t like it. I don’t have a choice but to suck shit up. I guarantee there are going to be growing pains. But I also find it sexy as fuck that my woman can handle herself. She’ll have to learn when she is with me. She won't need to.
Over the last two weeks, as a club, we have been on alert. We take the threat seriously and understand it’s essential to keep a lid on the shit going down. We don’t need anyone outside the inner circle aware that we know about the contract or Beverly’s betrayal. So, everyone who isn’t in the inner circle knows that Prez's kids have come home, and for now, that’s all they need to know.
We have also been paying closer attention to the treacherous bitch and her correspondence with her kids. Beverly has been uncharacteristically needy of her children’s attention. Bull and Vex have ignored her, but she is a persistent bitch. Princess, on the other hand, is a different story. Beverly has been asking her to meet for a girls' day. After Prez discovered this, he encouraged Princess to put her off, which she has. And it is not what Bev wants to hear. He’s gotten a few angry calls and texts. That led Prez to tell her they were grown, and whether they wanted to spend time with her was not his business.
With her not getting her way with her ex and kids, I’ve received a few calls from Beverly that I’ve abso-fucking-lutely ignored. She’s no longer Prez’s ol’ lady. She is only the mother of club kids, two of which are club members. Beverly has made her bed with how she treated her kids, this family, and this club. Now, she has to deal with the consequences. Nobody will bend to her will to make shit easy for her. I can tell by the sheer number of texts we are all getting that she’s desperate. Instead of telling us about the shit show she created and is leaving on our doorstep, she’s playing it off like she misses her kids and the club. She may have had Princess snowed for years, but this recent development has made it clear that Beverly is all about Beverly, and her kids finally see her for who and what she is, which makes keeping them and us on one accord easier.
When the atmosphere in the main room changes and the hair on my body stands up, I try to ignore the prickling sensation at the back of my neck. It was not usually something I would do, but I knew. It can only mean one thing. I don’t turn around when I notice Blaze’s eyes fixed on someone or something over my shoulder. I rarely ever sit at the bar for this reason alone. Yes, there is a mirror above the bar, but having my back to the room is not something I usually do. The officers have a table strategically placed so we can see everything going on in the main room.
My curiosity gets the best of me, and my suspicion of who walked in has me turning around to see who’s caught the stoic man's attention. And like before, my breath leaves my fucking body, and blood rushes straight to my dick.
Bellamy.
Bellamy, Sin, and Rocket stroll in like they own the place. And they have every right to be here as anyone else. Blaze and Bellamy are club kids, and Pain, Rocket, and Sin are family to them, so by default, they are family to us. My eyes, well, they stay locked on the brown-skinned beauty as she struts across the room to the far corner of the bar. She never takes her eyes off me, and when she licks her lips. Damn fucking lift off. Whether intentionally done to entice me, it makes my dick jump. And I not so subtly adjust myself because fuck it, she knows what she does to me, and she knows it. I’m not dumb enough to think that what she makes me feel is fleeting. She’s the one.
She is fucking flawless.
Tonight, she is wearing a tight black tank top that hugs her luscious tits that are more than a handful, and me being a man with big hands who is very familiar with them. I like my lips at the memory of them being wrapped around her hardened nubs. Giving her a wink, I smirk at her, thinking about getting my hands, mouth, and cock in and on her again. Her blank expression falters. And her eyes heat. The heat in them says she knows exactly where my head’s at and that my thoughts are fucking dirty.
Removing my eyes from hers, they travel downward. Her waist isn’t tiny, but it's not… not small. Fuck, those damn hips are the kind you hold on to while you ram into her. Fucking hell, those hips have a sway to them that is just right and have me clinching my hands, trying to keep my ass in my seat. Fuck. The shorts she’s wearing are skin fucking tight, and I wish she were walking away from me so I could get another peek at that luscious full ass I know will be in my dreams if she isn’t under me by the end of the night.
Would you look at that?
Rocket leans over and says something to her which has her turning around to answer him, and instead of stopping to talk, she walks toward us backward. Uh, shit… That ass. I don’t stifle my groan as I appreciate the sight before me. She has to be doing this shit on purpose to torture my ass. I watch her. I wipe my hand over my mouth, hoping I’m not drooling because… fuck me. Chuckles come from beside me. I ignore them. There is no way I’m taking my eyes off my woman. Fucking none.
