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“Jared is ex-military,” Colt added, returning to Carmelo’s original question.
Jared Jennings ran the small construction company that Colt was using to refurbish the hotel. Carmelo thought it was funny because he looked the most like a biker out of all of them, with his long beard and his giant stature, covered in tattoos. He had a slight limp too, which only added to his swagger. Jared and his team practically had been absorbed into the MC.
“You know who the FBI informant is yet?” Carmelo asked. He knew he sounded like a petulant child, but it had been bugging him for months, who the mole on the inside was.
Colt sighed wearily, the ever-patient parent. “No fucking clue.”
Carmelo pursed his lips. “I bet Jared,” he whispered. “I mean, it’s obviously not Lyle, is it? The twins… I doubt…”
Colt grunted, keeping his face neutral. “I’m tempted to take that bet on Jared, but you know I can’t. Until I know, everyone’s treated the same,” he said. A man of principles, Colt was, through and through.
“And Lyle looks well, or Skunk, I should say?” Carmelo said.
Colt nodded with a smile on his face, it almost looked like pride. “Yep, Lyle’s ex-military, too, did you know that? Keeps it on the down low but has let it slip out now and then… he’s sober now. He forgave me for sending him to rehab and was happy to re-join the MC. As a prospect. He has to prove himself again. To be fair, he has, he’ll be patched in next month, get full membership. He doesn’t go by Skunk anymore.”
Carmelo raised his eyebrows. “I thought you all had road names, or something, you had to go by a different name-”
Colt interrupted, “You just go by whatever fucking name you want to be called in the Black Coyotes MC. We do what we fucking want to do, Carmelo. We make our rules.”
Carmelo nodded. “Well, I should be going-”
“Whoa, not so fast, pig,” Ash butted in, dismissing the prospects with a wave of his hand. They loped away to do Ash’s bidding.
“You’re forgetting what I said... you can’t get away with wearing your fucking pig uniform into our clubhouse,” Ash reminded him. He leaned over and grabbed Colt’s forgotten, barely touched whiskey, and downed it in one. Colt and Ash were brothers indeed. Ash knew Colt wanted the whiskey, but wouldn’t finish it, and he knew Colt would be comfortable with Ash grabbing it, they bounced off each other, a solid partnership.
“But I need to go now-” Carmelo began, his heart started beating faster.
“We told you, we can’t let that go unpunished,” Colt said, too calmly.
“Look, it was an honest mistake, I won’t do it again.” Carmelo tried to laugh it off, though he felt his palms get sweaty. They’d all been getting along so well. He knew these men, they could be violent, they didn’t take well to being slighted in any way. He felt for the taser in his utility belt. He still had his gun, his club even. He swallowed. He’d use them if he had to.
“Ash, what shall we do with him?” Colt continued, calm amusement leaking out of him.
Ash clicked his neck by tilting it to the side and stared at Carmelo fiercely. “Oh, there are many things I’d like to do with him,” Ash practically hummed.
Carmelo blinked. Hell, Ash was looking at him with... desire? “I’m not gay,” Carmelo suddenly felt the need to announce.
Ash didn’t seem in the least bit put out. “Ladies!” he suddenly barked, keeping his eyes fixed on Carmelo hungrily. The women on the other side of the room, the strippers, looked over, stooped their heads and conferred, then four of them stood up. Ash beckoned them over with a nod and a devious smile. And they came. Prowling toward Carmelo, practically in formation. Carmelo couldn’t drag his eyes off them. They were hot, half naked and heading his way. Christ.
The nearest one eyed him with distrust when she got closer. “What’s bacon boy doing here, honey?” she asked Ash with a sultry voice. She tossed a mane of long, straight blonde hair over her shoulder. What would it be like to stroke that lovely soft hair while fucking her from behind, Carmelo thought to himself, then tried to shake himself. He had to focus, he might need his wits or even his fists to get out of this situation.
Colt spoke first. “Ladies, there’s been a mix up, he’s not a real cop,” Colt said, winking at Carmelo. The blonde raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow.
Ash spoke up, “Yeah, he’s a stripper.”
Carmelo almost choked. “I’m-”
Ash continued over Carmelo’s shocked sputter. “He got the wrong address, he’s meant to be stripping for some girl’s twenty-first birthday but he’s here instead, only now that he’s here, he’s refusing to get his costume off.”
Carmelo simply gaped at Ash. It was Ash’s turn to wink at him. “That seems like a missed opportunity, doesn’t it ladies?” Ash added.
“Oh sugar,” the brunette to the left of Carmelo chimed in now. “Yes, it does.”
“We’ll help get your little costume off you,” the third girl with shorter, darker hair said, too, draping an arm over his shoulder.
“Course we will,” the fourth lady said, yanking his hat off his head and putting it on hers instead. “What a funny mix up.”
The blonde lady placed her hands on Carmelo’s chest. The air whooshed out of his lungs as blood rushed to his groin.
