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Clink shrugs a shoulder, and I watch him, hoping he doesn’t piss me off any more because the punch to the face is going to happen while he’s driving, and we’re going to get in a wreck and ruin a bunch of beer in the process, all of which would not be good for the club.
“It means I know her brother and her father. That family is fucking trouble. I mean, I don’t think Shawn is. She seems sweet as fuck. Cupcakes are to die for. But they got a bad fucking string of bullshit behind them with that last name.”
“Don’t think I care too much, although she’s never mentioned a father.”
He chuckles. “Yeah, I’m sure she hasn’t. He bounced early on. That mother is a fucking piece of work, but just because he’s bounced doesn’t mean he isn’t fucking trouble.”
“What the fuck are you trying to tell me?” I demand.
“I’m telling you her father is the president of the Nomad Kings MC.”
Thank fuck he’s driving because I think I would have swerved off the road and into a fucking ditch at that news.
“You shitting me?” I ask. “How the fuck do you know all of this?” I ask.
He chuckles. “She doesn’t remember, but I lived next door to them when we were little. I hung out with her brother a little until he pissed me off. But I remember her dad. Remember that cut, and then remember my dad talking shit about him. When he left, my dad was happy to not see him any longer.”
Nomad Kings is an MC that’s been around for about as long as we have. We don’t mix with them. They work in skin. Not something we’ve ever dabbled in.
“Except we do in our own way with our clubwhores,” I murmur.
He chuckles. “Not the same, brother. I’m talking about girls that literally stand on the street corners and barter.”
“In Pineville?” I ask.
I almost laugh because this is a small town in deep East Texas. We literally have a downtown street and a few neighborhoods. That’s about it. I’m not even sure where these street whores would be hanging out.
Clink shakes his head. “Drives them out to truck stops. Lot lizards.”
“Fuck,” I hiss. “Seriously? And this is her father’s operation. She know this?”
Clink snorts before he clears his throat and continues this little story, something he probably should have fucking told me before I made this bitch my old lady, although I’m not sure I would give much of a fuck. Shawn is different. There’s no way I would just let her walk away from me, especially not after that first fuck.
“She doesn’t know shit. He left before she could understand what was happening. Doubt she’s ever even met him.”
“But you’re telling me all of this because?” I ask.
Clink doesn’t reply right away. Instead, he stares straight ahead for a long moment, then he decides to grace me with his reasoning. “I’m telling you this because it could become a problem. They’ve been rumbling. They’re going to be an issue eventually for us, especially when they figure out that we’re growing.”
“Then we’ll deal with it then.”
He presses his lips together, rolling them a few times, but doesn’t say anything else. He doesn’t get the chance because we pull up to the first bar. We get our shit in gear, and we work. Then, we collect once all the kegs are dropped off.
It’s a full goddamn day that turns into an evening.
The entire time, I think about the fact that the woman I’ve fallen for is the daughter of the Nomad Kings. She’s not just anyone. She’s their goddamn princess, too. Clink is right. If her father finds out that I’ve claimed her, along with the fact that we’re building and growing our club, he’s going to come and start shit.
I decide this might be a little bigger than I can handle. So, I do the only thing I can think of. I make a phone call. It rings three times before the person on the other end answers. I call the only man I know who, without a doubt, will shoot me completely fucking straight.
“Hey, Dad.”
SHAWN
Standing in my bakery kitchen, I think about Atomic’s offer of using their badass kitchen instead of being here, but something about that feels wrong. This is where I am meant to be. I felt it the moment I walked in the door. And there’s no way around that. No fucking way. This is home. It’s the only place I’ve ever felt could be a home. Where I belong.
There is silence as I begin to make a cake. I was able to take a bus to the grocery store to get supplies. I have everything I need now. While everything isn’t exactly the way I had it, my new bowls aren’t as pretty as the ones my mother broke, but they are functional, and that’s all that matters.
Turning up the music app on my phone, I sing as I use my whisk to whip up my chocolate cake. I just hope that nobody walks in and trashes the place like the last time I made this cake. I smirk to myself, wondering what exactly Elvis said to my mother and brother when he went to their place to warn them away from me.
