Page 29 of Property of Quake

“A lot,” I admit. “But from the club? Volunteers and funds.”

The room goes quiet. No one likes that word. It’s a nicer way of saying unpaid labor.

“We can cover any costs associated with it,” Boondock says, glancing at his laptop, no doubt looking at the club’s budget and discretionary funds. “As long as Lyric is okay with it.”

“I am,” Pres confirms. Whether he really is or not doesn’t matter because he knows I’ll cover whatever the club won’t. “What do you need volunteers for?”

“Set up crews, parking attendants, security, cleanup, tear down, hauling equipment, and whatever else we come up with,” I say.

Zombie whistles. “When’s this thing happening?”

I rattle off the date Whitney and I agreed on, and groans echo throughout the room. Not because they don’t want to help, but because it only gives us a few weeks to get things lined out.

Lyric slams his fist on the table, and all eyes turn to him. “I want a good turnout,” he barks. “We’ve made a commitment to Sacred Haven, one we’ve honored for years, and we’re not about to start letting them down. Besides, it’s for kids. How would you all feel if we were doing this for Sari?”

The reminder about the club’s responsibility, and making it personal, is all it takes to shift the entire mood of church.

I spend the next fifteen minutes assigning tasks. By the time I’m done, my grin is wide because I know Whitney’s smile will light up the room when she sees what I’ve accomplished.

The realization makes me pause. I’m putting a lot of effort into making a woman who’s forbidden happy.

It’s for the kids.

I silently repeat that mantra until Lyric adjourns church. As soon as he does, the atmosphere changes from business to party.

We all make our way to the common area, and I’m surprised to see how packed the clubhouse already is. Tonight isn’t restricted which means there are civilians present. Parties like this are a great way to line our pockets while also giving people a rare glimpse into our lives.

Granted, they don’t see ninety-nine percent of what we’re about, but they see enough to feed their morbid curiosity.

Time passes in a blur as visitors come and go. Music pumps through the sound system, making any meaningful conversation virtually impossible. Some in attendance only stay for an hour, and others are here for the duration.

When things start to wind down, I grab a fresh beer from the bar and head outside. The air is cold but welcome after being trapped indoors for so long.

“What’re you doing out here?”

I whirl around and see Savvy, one of the club whores, sauntering toward me, her hips swaying seductively. When she’s a few feet away, she stops and leans against the building next to me.

Savvy’s been around for years, long enough to know when to push and when to back the fuck off.

“Enjoying the quiet,” I say.

“Then prepare to be disappointed,” she quips.

Groaning, I face her fully. “Sav, take a hin⁠—”

She pats my cheek. “Save it, Quake. I’m not here for that. Hell, from what I hear, you’re spoken for anyway. You know I don’t fuck with a brother if he’s attached. I know the rules.”

I narrow my eyes. “Who the hell told you I’m spoken for?”

“Zombie.”

“I’m gonna kill him,” I snarl.

“How would the pretty nun feel about you murdering someone?” she counters.

“How do you know she’s pretty?” I blurt, and I recognize my mistake the second the words are past my lips. “Did you need something?” I rush to ask, hoping to divert the conversation.

“We’re gonna circle back to the pretty nun,” she tells me. “But for now, you’re safe because I need you inside.”