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More like never. Breaker was the President of the Death Seekers MC. He could get any woman he wanted with a look or a crook of a finger. Kissing had been reserved for his dead wife. Breaker doubted he’d ever find that kind of love again.
Rage made that annoying sound again and this time, Breaker growled at his vice president. Rage had been using an empty beer mug and tapping it at the edge of the table to get his attention.
“Knock it off, I’m awake,” Breaker grumbled in irritation.
Breaker rubbed his tired eyes and realized they were in the bar area of the MC clubhouse. He didn’t even make it to his room the night before.
“My Harley,” he suddenly said.
“Don’t worry. I got your text message and sent a prospect to retrieve it. It’s in the parking lot,” Rage assured him.
“What would I do without you?” Breaker asked the younger man.
Six months ago, Breaker hated Rage’s guts, only because Rage asked for one thing he didn’t want to give away—his daughter. But Rage and Cassie were happily married.
It seemed a blow to his ego that his much younger vice president had settled down before he did. Then again, after Marie, Breaker didn’t plan on tying the knot, although a certain redhead might change his mind.
Who was Breaker kidding? Marie had been one of a kind. Riley might be tough enough to man a bar on her own until closing time, but could a tough and beautiful little number like that survive being in Breaker’s world? Few could survive and thrive but that was the reason so few of his men took old ladies. Rage and Cassie were an exception, because Cassie was his daughter. Breaker and the MC had practically raised her.
“I’m a gift,” Rage said in his typically arrogant way. “Anyway, wash up. We have to leave soon.”
“Relax, Rage. What’s the rush?” Breaker asked.
All he wanted to do was get a shower and slide in his sheets. Maybe one of the club whores could warm him up. The thought crossed his mind, then he dismissed it. Breaker pictured a beautiful and freckled redhead lying next to him. He could already picture Riley naked and all his for the taking.
Breaker vaguely remembered giving her his number last night and now wished he’d asked for hers as well. Damn it. He was rusty at this game. Maybe he could drop by her bar again one of these nights and rectify his error.
“Relax?” Rage scoffed. “We have a meeting with the Black Vipers MC in an hour. The president of our MC can’t appear drunk in that meeting.”
“I’ll be fine by then,” Breaker muttered. Rage’s persistence was beginning to piss him off.
Rage’s patience must’ve worn thin because he grabbed Breaker’s shoulder and leaned in close. “Get your act together, Breaker. I know last night was tough on you, but this meeting is crucial. We can’t afford to screw it up because you’re drunk.”
Breaker narrowed his gaze and a flash of anger crossed his face. Who was Rage to give him orders? Maybe Rage needed to taste Breaker’s fist in his face every now and then to remind him who was boss.
“You think you’re invincible, but you’re not,” Rage continued, his voice firm and unyielding. “Your actions have consequences, not just for you but for all of us. We’re a family, and we rely on you to lead us.”
Breaker finally sobered up as the weight of Rage’s words hit him like a punch to the gut. He swallowed down his pride and focused on the problem at hand.
“You’re right,” Breaker finally said, his voice tinged with remorse. “I can’t let my emotions get the best of me. We need to handle this meeting with the Black Vipers tactfully.”
Rage nodded, seemingly satisfied that Breaker was starting to come to his senses.
“That’s the president I know. Now, pull yourself together, and let’s head to the meeting. We can’t afford any mistakes.”
Breaker made a quick trip to his room. He washed up and changed into fresh clothes. Then he met Rage and the others outside the clubhouse. He gave each of his men a nod. Rage, his VP, Cross, his sergeant-at-arms, Priest, one of his enforcers, and three other club associates.
Two hours later, they pulled into the parking lot of the Black Vipers MC clubhouse parking lot. As Breaker dismounted from his Harley, he could feel the thick tension in the air. Snake’s men gave Breaker and his crew hostile looks. Both clubs knew any wrong move could ignite a dangerous confrontation.
Breaker scanned his surroundings and noted the number of men in the parking lot. There were probably a lot more inside the Vipers’ clubhouse.
“Looks like Snake called everyone in,” Rage remarked next to him.
“He isn’t taking any chances. Neither are we,” Breaker said. His hand hovered briefly on the concealed gun inside his jacket. Every single one of his men was armed to the tooth. They were ready for anything.
They entered the noisy bar, which grew quiet at their arrival. No surprise there. The roadhouse the Vipers considered their home base, looked a little like the clubhouse back home.
Seated in one corner was Snake, the president of the Black Vipers, along with his trusted men. Snake rose to his feet, a smile on his face. Breaker didn’t trust that grin one bit.
