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And what a piss-poor chase I was. He didn’t even have to break a sweat trying to catch me. I just lay down and gave it up… literally. Right now, I hate myself for that, and if it didn’t feel as amazing as it did, I think I would really despise myself, and not just a little bit.
Moving around to the back of the bakery, I shove my key in the lock and turn it, tugging the door open before I slip inside and lock it behind me. I start to turn everything on as I move around the space. I flip the lights on before I turn the oven to three hundred and twenty-five.
I know a lot of people bake at three fifty, but I’m a three-twenty-five girl myself. I don’t know what it is, but I feel like when things bake slower, they just taste that much better. I’m sure it’s all in my head.
Gathering my ingredients, I start to make a summer strawberry lemon cupcake. Strawberry cake with lemon buttercream icing, but vegan style. It’s one of my favorite desserts, and I think I need something comforting right about now.
As I mix and cream my ingredients together, I put together my menu for the week. Gluten-free chocolate chip cookies, vegan snickerdoodles, and some naturally dyed sugar cookies, along with an assortment of cupcakes. I don’t know why, but I also decide to make a chocolate cake.
I have no idea why I decide on a chocolate cake with chocolate buttercream icing, but I do. It sounds amazing, and if nobody comes and buys it, which they won’t, I’m going to drown my sorrows in that damn cake.
I’m working my ass off, baking, moving, and grooving, my radio up as I do my thing when the front door chimes. Touching the music on my phone, I turn it down, plastering on a smile as I lift my head to greet my customer.
My smile dies on my face when I see the person who is now standing in front of me. A person who has never even bothered to come to my bakery even once, or my apartment for that matter.
My mother.
And she looks pissed.
KING
Probably shouldn’t have snuck out of Shawn’s in the middle of the night, but when the club calls, you fucking answer. And my president, Atomic, fucking called me. Pulling up to the clubhouse, I’m not surprised to see him standing right outside the door, his arms crossed over his chest, his chin tipped, and his eyes on me.
It’s still dark. I kill the engine before climbing off my bike and making my way toward him. “What the fuck is going on?”
Atomic clears his throat, taking a step closer to me. He tips his head down slightly, his gaze focused on mine and nowhere else. “I got a line on a new avenue for the club, but it runs at night, and I need the opinion of my vice president before I bring it to everyone else.”
“And it had to be this instant?” I ask.
“You were busy?”
Pressing my lips together, I try to keep from growling at him. I want to beat the shit out of him, but he’s my president, and it’s not the time or the place. “Yeah, I was fuckin’ busy,” I grind out.
He smirks. He knows exactly what the fuck I was doing. Instead of arguing about anything, I jerk my chin toward him and ask him what the fuck we’re going to go check out at this time.
“How can this be legit if it’s in the middle of the night?” I ask. “Unless it’s a titty bar, and honestly, I don’t want to deal with running that shit, like at fucking all.”
Atomic jerks his chin. “It’s loading and unloading merch but also delivery of said merch.”
“And this is a way to funnel money how?” I ask.
His lips curve up into a grin. “It’s not. But then again, it is.”
“Want to explain?” I ask.
“It’s a way to transport.”
I lean close to him, my eyes widening. “Are you telling me that you want to traffic drugs, like not just locally?”
He lets out a chuckle. “That’s exactly what I’m saying, and it works out fucking perfect. Because we would be owners slash operators, loading and unloading shit without a single fucking person asking questions.”
“This is crazy,” I mutter. “You’re thinking much bigger than I ever imagined.”
“This club is on the verge of blowing up, and you know it. We’re growing our numbers day by day. It’s what the OGs wanted. We have the one club in Corpus your dad started and the one in Dallas mine started. But we’ve had other affiliates ask for legitimacy. This could be the key to that. This could catapult us, and we would be the original chapter.”
I run my fingers through my hair, tugging on the ends. I cannot believe this shit. He’s right. I’ve had a few phone calls myself about affiliated clubs wanting to wear the official Dark Horse MC patch.
“Well, let’s fucking check this shit out, then,” I state.
