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Once we get to the office, it doesn’t take long for Clutch, Crucify, one of the club’s enforcers, and the VP, Rites, to filter into the office. I’m not surprised that Crucify and Rites are with us—they’re tight and even closer to Spark than the brotherhood of the club. It probably has to do with growing up as club kids.
I didn’t have the kind of family they had. I bounced from one place to the next in the system, trying to make myself useful with my computer skills. Some homes it was enough and in others it was clear nothing wouldeverbe enough. No matter what though, I never found a family in any of the homes I lived in. I was another mouth to feed or a ticket to some money coming in—and I was reminded of that constantly no matter which way the wind blew when it came to the foster parents.
When I came across the DSMC, it was because Purgatory, Spark’s dad, and former Prez, needed me to do a job for him. I was more than willing to work for the man considering he was fucking legendary in certain circles; circles I thought I was cool enough to hang out in. I probably wasn’t, but no one could have tried to tell me that back then.
I don’t know what Purgatory saw in me other than some punk kid with a chip on his shoulder. Still, the next thing I knew, I had a job to do for the club, a prospect cut on my back, and a place to live with the promise of a brotherhood I wouldn’t find anywhere else. I never looked back. Not even for a second.
“Please tell me you got something,” Clutch pleads with me, pulling me out of the past while rubbing a hand down his face and looking like he hasn’t slept in years.
“Clutch,” there is a warning in Spark’s voice, one anyone hearing would be wise to heed. Even though Clutch clenches his jaw, he doesn’t say anything else.
Spark looks at me and gives me a chin lift, “What’s the word, Friar?”
“I found him.” There is no reason to beat around the bush or sugar coat the shit I have to tell them. The technical shit also won’t mean a damn thing to them. Clutch’s hands fist on his thighs, and I know he wants to ask me more questions, but he holds himself in check. Everyone in the club respects the Prez and his position. It’s a testament to just how loyal Clutch is that he’s able to keep his shit together right now. “They hacked us early this morning and grabbed some more cash. More than they had before. I don’t know if they got cocky or didn’t give a fuck, but they didn’t cover their tracks completely. I know the town they’re in, but nothing more than that.”
Spark gives a nod, his eyes going unfocused for a moment, probably thinking about what needs to happen next. “I’m assuming you want to head out and check it out? See if you can track them down there?” I lean back in my chair and nod. “Crucify, Brimstone, and Chains will go with you.”
“Prez,” Clutch growls. “I want to be there and put my fist through this asshole’s jaw.”
Spark’s eyes are hard when they look at our brother. “I know you do, but you’re too fired up. Let them do their job. If they can, they’ll bring them back.” I can feel the anger rolling off Clutch, but he presses his lips together and keeps quiet, probably reading on Spark’s face that he isn’t going to win this one. “How are you traveling, brother? I want you to leave as soon as possible.”
“As much as I hate to say it, I think the fastest way would be to fly to Charleston and see if their chapter can hook us up with some bikes and then roll out to where we need to go,” even I can hear the reluctance in my voice at my plan.
Crucify groans and I understand. We’re not the kind of men who enjoy being trapped in a flying metal tube when we could be riding down the road with the wind in our hair and the sun at our backs. Still, the ride would be far too fucking long, and I don’t want to lose the lead.
“Make it happen. Leave on the first plane out. I’ll get with Mayhem and ensure everything is set up for when you guys get in.” Spark runs his fingers through his hair before leveling me with a look, “I want a word with the fucker who thought they could steal from us, so I have a feeling you’ll be driving back.”
Fuck. I already looked up how long of a fucking drive it would be and it’s not going to be pleasant. Over 40 hours on the road, and if we have a…guest, which means no bike which sounds like hell to me. Chains is the most recent one out of the group to be patched in. That means he should get the shit end of the stick, right?
I keep all my complaints inside, though, and push out, “You got it, Prez. I’m already packed, and I’ll get on top of tickets right away.”
Sparks smirks. “Where are you guys headed, anyway?”
I can’t help but grin, everyone in the room practically on the edge of their seats to find out. “Mistletoe Creek, Tennessee. And yes, according to the website they do have a Christmas fetish.”
Everyone throws their head back and laughs except for Clutch and Crucify, neither of them looking happy for completely different reasons. Crucify might not be happy about going down South right before Christmas, but I kind of am.
I could use a change of scenery and maybe the town might not only give us the twat who has been stealing from us, but a little Christmas spirit as well.
I guess we’ll find out.
CHAPTER 3
ROBYN
As I head out of my apartment in the middle of town and into the hustle that is Mistletoe Creek in the height of the holiday season, I feel out of sorts. I’m not sure if it’s because nothing I did in the early hours of the morning helped me to shake the nightmare of my past that woke me or if something else is throwing me off. I’ve been feeling the pressure of having put down roots and knowing I shouldn’t stay much longer.
I couldn’t leave before Christmas though. There’s something special about the holiday season in Mistletoe Creek and I want to experience it one last time. Then I’ll need to walk away. It’ll sting this time, more than it ever has before when I’ve left a place behind.
The town is decked out for the holidays and the season has been in full swing since the Christmas Festival at The Castle. It’s only for locals and really helps us transition into full-blown holiday mode. This is the fifth year I’ve experienced Christmas in Mistletoe Creek, and it is an experience like no other.
As I walk down the street toward Mistletoe Café and the town square, I definitely need a caffeine pick me up today. Not only because I didn’t get enough sleep, but because there’s something special about going into the café and seeing what others in the town are up to. Even though I’ve been here five years and have settled more than I have anywhere, I still hold myself apart a little.
The café is bustling when I walk in, and it puts a smile on my face. Everyone seems to be talking about the gingerbread decorating contest today and after seeing last year’s masterpieces, and a failure or two, I’m looking forward to it as well.
After I grab my peppermint mocha latte, I sit in a cozy chair and watch the people around me. I swear some of them seem to be shining even brighter today than they normally do. Is that Christmas magic at work or something else?
When people greet me and ask about how I’m doing, I keep my answers short and sweet. No one needs to know I’m going to be packing up and moving on after the New Year. I think some people would even be sorry to see me go. At least, I hope they will be.
