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Why I’m thanking him I don’t know, since at the very least I’m going to need a tetanus shot and some time in isolation to prevent the spread of whatever shit I’m picking up just by being here. He’s standing there smiling at me, but his eyes are totally vacant. It’s like he has no idea what to say next and is just hoping that I’ll say something he can react to. I take a long drag off my cigarette though, content to wait him out. He runs a hand through his greasy hair and sniffs loudly.
“Yeah, yeah, of course,” he finally says. “Glad to have you here. Sit down. Have a beer with me and the boys.”
I take a seat at the bar and survey the crowd, such as it is. There are maybe seven or eight guys in Howlers cuts in the clubhouse. The last time I was here, there were twice this number.
“The rest of your guys out on a run or somethin’?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “Nah. This is pretty much it right now.”
“We’ve had some defections recently,” Hogwild jumps in. “We’ve had to do some internal housecleaning. But we’ve got a batch of new prospects comin’ in.”
I nod. Purges sometimes happen within a club. I’ve seen my share. But never one that reduces the size of a club by half. Whatever internal drama they’ve been dealing with, it had to be bad. I don’t like that sort of instability. And I doubt Reaper or Old Grim are going to either. We’re working with these guys and the sort of mass purge and instability isn’t good for business. It’s something I’m going to have to take up with the boys when I get back to Vegas. We might just need to find another partner down here.
We sit at the bar and have a beer, but the clubhouse is strangely subdued. Even Hammerhead, who’s normally always loud and joking, doesn’t seem to have much to say. Far from the wild welcome I’d kind of anticipated getting, this seems more like a wake. Don’t get me wrong, I’m actually glad we’re not having a raucous party, but it’s just weird. Nobody’s really talking. They’re all just sitting around drinking and staring off into space. It makes me wonder if the somber tone of the clubhouse has to do with the club’s purge.
“What’s going on down here?” I finally ask Hammerhead just to get him talking.
He shakes his head. “Not much. Not much, really,” he replies quickly. “What’s going on up in Vegas?”
I shrug. “Same old. Just staying busy.”
“Yep. We’re doin’ the same down here.”
Hammerhead is not the same guy. I don’t know if it’s because he’s high right now or what, but he’s just acting really squirrely and I’m not digging it. Not at all. It’s making me uneasy about the arrangement we have with the Howlers. By the state of this club, I’m not sure how much longer the Howlers are going to be a viable club and business partner. At this point, I’m thinking the only thing that can save them is if Hogwild deposes Hammerhead and takes over. Maybe he can get the Howlers back to what they used to be. Maybe. At this point, it seems like a crapshoot really.
I think I’ve seen enough. I just want to do what I came here to do, then get the hell out of Phoenix. I don’t even want to sleep over in their clubhouse. I’m sure I’d pick something up and I don’t have the antibiotics to get rid of it.
I turn to Hammerhead and drain the last of my bottle. “Shall we talk business?”
He nods his head, making his jowls jiggle. “Yeah, sure. Sure thing. Let’s do that.”
He finishes the last of his bottle then has his guy behind the bar give us a couple of fresh ones and we slide off our stools. He gestures with his head to me.
“Let’s go to my office,” he tells me.
“Lead the way.”
I heft my bag then follow him down a hallway that ends at a door. As I pass, I see the kitchen to my left and pause when I see the woman leaning against a counter. She’s got a bowl of noodles in her hand and is eating as she reads the magazine on the counter beside her. She’s a small, delicate little thing with some knockout curves on her. She’s got a head of thick dark red hair, eyes so blue they don’t look real, and skin the color of porcelain.
She looks up at me and when our eyes meet, her eyes widen and her perfect, full lips form a perfect O. I stand there like an idiot, gaping at her, feeling like I just had a fist driven into my chest that drove the air right out of my lungs. She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, and I want to talk to her, but maybe for the first time in my life, I’ve been rendered speechless.
“Hawk, we doin’ this, or what?”
I turn and look at Hammerhead who’s holding the door to his office open and looking at me with an expression of annoyance on his face. I glance at the redhead again and she’s still in the same spot, the same look on her face, looking absolutely terrified. And yet, I see a glimmer of curiosity in her eyes as well.
“Don’t worry about her. She’s nothin’. Nobody you need to worry about,” he grumbles. “Come on. Let’s do some business.”
“Yeah, comin’.”
I take one last look at her and swallow hard. It’s crazy, I know. But I’ve never been so affected by a woman instantly like that before. I don’t know what it is, but the mere sight of the sultry redhead is stirring something deep inside of me. Something I don’t think I’ve ever felt before. I’m not quite sure what it is or what to make of it, let alone what to do about it. But the urge to pull her to me and plant the most passionate kiss I can muster is strong. The desire I feel for her is no joke.
After one last look at her, I turn and head down to Hammerhead’s office. I don’t know who she is, but that girl is most definitely not nothing.
CHAPTERFIVE
Ilick my lips nervously and swallow hard as I look into the man’s eyes. He’s a stranger to me but there is still something so familiar about him. Or maybe it’s just my mind wanting to see connections that aren’t really there. That’s probably it, to be honest. But he’s so strikingly handsome that just seeing him standing there makes me feel things I haven’t felt in such a long time that I’ve forgotten what they feel like. Just the sight of him stirs the embers of passion inside of me that I honestly thought had burned out long ago.
His shoulder-length dirty blonde hair is lustrous and full. The way it hangs over one of his eyes with a casual indifference makes it look like something out of a shampoo commercial. He’s got dark eyes that seem to penetrate to the deepest parts of me with practiced ease and set my heart racing. The man is tall and very well built. He’s long, lean, and strong—not muscle-bound like Hogwild—but his arms are definitely thick with taut, corded muscle. He’s fit as hell, like an Olympic athlete.
