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“Someone’s at the gateasking for Naomi Peters,” Toad announced as Grim answered his phone with a grunt.
Seated next to my right, I noticed since the volume was turned up on his phone in case anything went down around the perimeter of the Crossroads or within our jurisdiction. Trouble with the Scorpions and the trafficking ring known as the Black Market Railroad had increased in recent weeks. My pres was constantly on alert, as if he kept waiting for the rest of the shit to hit the fan. Royal Bastards were always fighting demons. Just the mc way of life.
“Well, prospect, who is it?” Grim barked, pausing before he took a swig of his whiskey.
“Pretty chick in a car with a baby.”
A baby? What the fuck?
“Did she say anything else?”
“Nope. Just that she wasn’t talkin’ to nobody but Naomi Peters or her sister Nylah.”
A low whistle left my lips.
Good thing Rael wasn’t here. He already would have been out the door and causing a scene before anyone could intervene. Patriot, too. Those brothers were the most overprotective men I’d ever known when it came to their women. No one stood a chance against them.
I blew out a breath, inhaling smoke from my expensive cigar as my shoulders tensed with aggravation. It wasn’t the ol’ ladies that got my dander up. Hell, it didn’t take much nowadays. The memory of a young woman from my past who needed me and how I failed to protect her from a horrific fate never fully receded. Every Halloween, that fucking night reared its ugly head, and no amount of pussy or alcohol chased those demons far enough away.
Get it together. You’re too fucking old to get lost in your head.
Rael and Patriot would die for Nylah and Mimi. That was how it should be. Ol’ ladies were supposed to be cherished. They were our ride or die, take the good with the bad, keep our secrets, and warm our beds forever, kind of soulmates. Much more than a girlfriend. A hell of a lot more than a casual fuck. Ol’ ladies were the beating heart of the club. They supported the brothers, and without their loyalty, organization, or patience, the Crossroads would be a mess.
Club girls had their role to play as well, but that was a different subject altogether. Muffler bunnies were around to offer free pussy to any member who wanted it. Didn’t matter if they had an ol’ lady or not. Nobody judged or ratted out another brother. That wasn’t how things were done.
The club was family. Blood. A bond so fierce it was unbreakable. Brothers were the only people who truly mattered except for the ol’ ladies. Club girls came and went like the Nevada wind. I only trusted one of them, and that was Snooki. She wisely kept her mouth shut and poured drinks, but nothing that happened around the Crossroads escaped her attention. She wiped down the bar and offered a smile, gathering a tray of glasses to wash in the industrial-sized kitchen that fed our rowdy bunch.
Watching her sashay across the room, I was tempted to follow her for a quickie. That thought was nixed fast as I listened to Grim and Toad. A few of my brothers finished their drinks and stood, waiting for Grim to give orders.
“You sure she’s alone?”
When trouble rolled up to the gates with a baby in the backseat, every brother in the club was focused and alert. Too dangerous not to plan for the worst. Not since the Denali brothers fucked us over. The ol’ ladies would be escorted to safety. Everyone else would follow Grim’s lead.
My glass was already empty, and I pushed it aside, shaking my head at Becca as she walked up to the bar and asked if I wanted a refill. Once I snuffed out my cigar, I focused my attention in her direction and gave a head tilt, telling her to leave us. She hurried toward the nearest hall and the room she shared with Harley.
“You check the car for explosives?” Grim asked, dropping his voice so no one could overhear.
“Yes, sir, Mr. Lanford. You want me to let her through or wait?”
“Let her in, but she doesn’t leave that car until I’m outside.”
Prospect agreed and then hung up. Grim slid his phone back into the front pocket of his cut, tossing back the remainder of his whiskey. It was fucked-up that he needed to ask that the vehicle was swept for devices of any kind since there was a kid in the car. A necessary evil in the life that we lived.
Royal Bastards had a lot of enemies. We prepared for every scenario and never took shit at face value. That was how we survived so long. Ruthless, there was nothing we wouldn’t do to protect our own. We assumed our enemies knew this, and so we trusted no one outside of our circle.
When you entered the Crossroads, you were the enemy until proven otherwise. A tactic that kept us alive and wasn’t changing anytime soon.
Grim frowned, shooting a glance across the common room where his ol’ lady was seated between Sasha and Cindi. The latter two women were heavily pregnant and due one week apart on October 25th and Halloween. Just six weeks away. Wouldn’t be long.
Trish was seven months pregnant with Grim’s son, and my pres wasn’t taking any chances with this clubhouse or her protection. She rubbed her belly and nodded at something that Sasha was saying.
Grim’s expression softened. A tender look crossed over his features before the familiar mask that we all knew slipped into place. He let his guard down for a few seconds but only because we were hidden with the Crossroads. The clubhouse was our sanctuary. A home that we worked damn hard to keep the outside world from invading.
Pres slid off the barstool where we’d been sharing a few drinks and laughs, stomping across the room. When he reached Trish, he guided her to her feet and then scooped under her legs, carrying her off to his room.
“Gonna drop my ol’ lady off. See to it that Bodie and Lucky are filled in,” he called over his shoulder.
My chin lifted in respect, and I spun on my heel, finding Bodie and Lucky shooting pool. “Grim wants the women back in their rooms. We’ve got company.”
