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RUBBLE
Keepinghimself busy wasn’t hard at the clubhouse. Between Cueball egging on a pool tournament and the nymphs eager to please the bikers before the winter games began, Rubble had his hands full.
“Your shot,” Hawk called, finishing off his Guinness.
Lining up his cue stick, Rubble easily sunk the six ball in the left corner. Hawk snorted when the four ball followed next. He missed the last one, giving Hawk a chance to come back. Grabbing his beer, Rubble finished it off and watched a prospect leave with a nymph in tow. His dick jumped with the need for attention.Calm down, you’ll get some.He refilled his glass with the tapped beer and returned in time for Hawk to hit the eight ball in by accident.
“Damn, just can’t sink the right ball,” he heckled good-naturedly.
Hawk fished out a twenty-dollar bill and slapped it in Rubble’s hand. “Yeah, yeah, I need to take tips from Cue.”
“Like that’d help.”
They racked up the balls again and turned the table over to Snoopy and his girl, Legs.
Finding a pair of chairs, Rubble and Hawk sat, each nursing their beer and watching the rest of the bikers. In the far right corner, Doc was whispering something to his old lady that caused Isa’s eyes to widen and cheeks to flush. A pair of nymphs were giving Boulder a lap dance. Dolly sat on Klink’s lap, leisurely surveying the room while the man all but drooled on the back of her neck.
“Sometimes, I really wish my sister wasn’t in the club,” Brewer said, pulling up a spare chair next to them. He sank into it and rolled his eyes when Dolly flipped him the bird.
Rubble sipped his beer, eyes always alert. He rarely drank to excess, never one to like being too intoxicated to make rational decisions. He’d learned the hard way when he was a dumbass kid. Ever since his one MMA loss, he’d never been drunk. Buzzed, sure, but not drunk.
“I chatted up that Jupiter chick yesterday,” Brewer said, leaning back in the chair.
This got Rubble’s attention. He’d volunteered to help at the bakery, but Queenie kept putting him off for one reason or another. Jupiter managed to stay out of sight too often and he couldn’t very well tromp up the stairs and ask the questions he needed answers to without drawing attention.
“What’s her deal?” He watched Brewer’s face for a tell. Everyone had one. Brewer usually bunched up his nose when he was lying.
“Not my place to say.”
He wasn’t lying, but he was holding back. Rubble tossed back the last of the beer, the alcohol barely influencing his nearly three hundred pounds of solid muscle.
Hawk catcalled one of the nymphs nearby, who in turn flashed him. “Well, that’s my cue.” He hopped to his feet, girl in tow.
“Why do you care about Jupiter? Is it because she’ll be working at the bakery?” Brewer asked, nudging Rubble and watching him closely.
Thankfully, Rubble had plenty of practice holding a bluff. “She’s new to Macha, and I’m in charge of our security. I don’t know her background so I can’t assess if she’ll be a threat. We don’t need any more MCs pounding at our door because of a woman.”
Brewer let out a bark of laughter. “Damn, Rubble. That’s cold.”
“No, it’s accurate. First there was Isa, then Nikita. They both brought a shitstorm of bullets to our door. I don’t mind a good fight here or there, but we nearly lost a few men.” Rubble narrowed his gaze. “I can’t keep you all safe if you keep bringing in nonmembers.”
“Marines to the core, aren’t ya?” Brewer rolled his eyes. “Loosen up. Go hit something at that gym of yours. Get some pussy. Sleep in until noon. You’ll feel better and won’t give a damn about this new girl.” He patted Rubble’s back then stood. “Trust me.”
“I do, brother.” He waited until Brewer left to add, “But I don’t trust her. Not yet at least.”
* * *
Snowflakes hit Rubble’s face,melting on impact. He lifted his gaze and noticed the light gray clouds overwhelming the sky in every direction. Stepping over a slushy puddle, he pulled out his keys and opened the door to the small warehouse that had been rebuilt as a club gym. He flipped on the lights, the fluorescents slowly coming to life to illuminate the space. It was mostly free weights, but a large boxing ring sat in the middle, the focal point for anyone who entered.Hard Hitterflashed in neon across the back wall. It’d been Reaper’s idea to name the makeshift gym after its founder, Rubble himself. Initially, he didn’t want the reminder of his MMA days, but after a few weeks back in the states, daily workouts in the ring became mandatory.
Rubble shrugged off his leather jacket. He had on a green long-sleeved shirt underneath. Quickly switching from boots to athletic shoes, he walked over to the raised ring and ducked underneath the ropes. Rubble cracked his neck from left to right before beginning his usual regime of jabs and swings.
Jupiter’s face popped up after two swings. That sweet, secretive smile of hers was dangerous. Finding out why wasn’t easy. The few times they’d interacted, they were around others. Getting her to himself was the only way he’d uncover the true reason she was in Snowshoe.
“Need a sparring partner?”
Rubble glanced toward the door as Brewer came into view. Over the last few years, they’d ruled the gym. The club hosted a handful of fighting events and the duo always finished at the top.
“You bet.”
