AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I snort, because we both know there is no way in hell I’m asking Terror about his old lady working in strip club. “I seem suicidal to you?”
He rests his hand against the door, his eyes narrowing as he takes me in. “No, but considering the shit you’re dealing with…”
I shake my head, folding my arms over my chest. “I’m dealing with my shit just fine, but thanks for the concern.”
It’s a lie. I’m not dealing with anything. Skye has me in a tangled knot, one that I don’t know how to undo. I’ve always lived and breathed this club. From the moment I understood I wanted to be a brother, it consumed my every waking moment… until her.
I get this constant tightness in my chest when I’m away from her. It had taken all my willpower this morning to leave the bed, to leave her sleeping knowing she would wake up without me.
“How do you do it?” The question slips out of my mouth before I can think or stop it.
“Do what?”
“Leave Ophelia behind.”
Brewer blows out a breath, and I expect him to take the piss out of me, call me a soft bastard or something, but he doesn’t. “It gets easier. I know that sounds weird, but you have to learn to trust they’ll be okay. After all that shit with Ophelia, I didn’t think I’d ever leave her side again, but these old ladies are hard as nails.”
I can’t argue with him on that.
“Right. It doesn’t feel like that’s going to happen, so what do I do to make it?”
He makes a deep chuckle in the back of his throat that has me glaring at him. “You can’t make it. Our life is dangerous, Rage. The girls, they know that. Every single one of them understands they could be taken for collateral, that they could be caught up in a gunfight or a knife fight. They also know they might end up burying us. That’s what makes them a special breed. There’s not many women who would put up with this bullshit.”
He shoves through the door, ending the conversation, and I follow after him, heading towards the office. This is our last collection of the day, and I’m itching to get back to the clubhouse, to get back to Skye. I can’t explain it, but I’ve had an uneasy feeling in my stomach all morning.
A door opens to the left of us and Keeley steps out from what looks like a storeroom, carrying a crate of lager bottles. I’m surprised to see her, but I shouldn’t be. The doors open for the lunchtime crowd in just a few hours.
I like Keeley. She is the only good thing about this place. She gives us a broad smile as she readjusts her hold on the crate. Her bubble-gum pink hair has blue and green streaks through the underneath of it, making her look like a piece of candy. Thick, winged eyeliner is rimmed with dark green eyeshadow that matches the tight tank top and tiny shorts the bar staff are required to wear.
“Good to see, boys. You here to see Sam, because he’s not here yet?”
She’s like sunshine in a stormy sky. I don’t know how she ended up in a place like this, but Keeley is a good draw for punters. As far as I know, she’s never been on stage, but she has a knack for selling booze.
“Just here to collect something,” Brewer says, smiling at her.
“His office should be unlocked, but if you need anything, I’ll be stocking the bar.”
“Thanks, darlin’,” I say, which earns me another smile from her.
She carries on walking, using her back to push through the door, and as soon as she’s gone, we go into the office. It’s a fucking mess in here. There’s paper strewn across the top of the desk, a half-full coffee mug, and something rotting in the bin that stinks.
Brewer moves to the safe, crouching in front of it as he plugs in the combination.
“You seen Trick?”
The slight tension in his shoulders is the only indication he gives me that he doesn’t want to answer the question. I can’t see his face, but I don’t need to. Trick is a sensitive subject for everyone.
The last time I saw him was a week ago, after he tried to hurt Skye. No one will tell me anything about where he is now or what’s happening, even though out of everyone in the clubhouse, I have the most right to know. It was my woman he left bruises on, after all.
“You just love to torture yourself, don’t you?”
“Ain’t about torturing myself. Just doesn’t sit right with me, him being in the same building as Skye, considering what he did.”
Brewer grabs a couple of bags out of the safe and stands. I see a flash of banknotes and hear the sound of coins clinking together as he places them on the desk.
“I know. It doesn’t sit right with a lot of us, but Trick has history with the club, one that can’t just be scrubbed clean.” I don’t like the look that passes over his face as he leans his palms on top of the desk. “Howler and Blackjack brought in some fancy fucking doctor to talk to him.”
“What kind of doctor?”
