Page 98 of Kneeling to Candy

Why would it be any different for me?

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

BUTCH

Though the Aspen trafficking case is the highest priority assignment for our crew, the club still has other investigations to handle. The workload gets adjusted depending on the priority of the cases. There’s always an investigation underway or client looking for more security. The assignments can pile up, making work and social life balance difficult. But it keeps our pockets heavily lined, our bellies full, and our free time all that much sweeter.

Today is a busy day. We’re five days away from going undercover, meaning training has ramped up for all the crew. I spent the early morning hours with Candy and the team, going over scenarios we may encounter during the Aspen flesh trade operation, before leaving with Chase, Punk, and Ziggy to do a security install for some rich Denver client.

The customer—a real-estate investor—lives in a swanky new home near North Boulder. Flashy homes like his garner a lot of unwanted attention from shady people looking to make a quick buck. If you don’t have the top-of-the-line security system to go with your million-plus home, you’re fucking yourself over.

Mister Denver Investor learned the hard way what a poor security system does for you after his home was burglarized while he was away on a business trip. The guy was lucky he wasn’t home when the house was ransacked. Home invasions can go wrong when the homeowner is present, sometimes leading to unsavory interactions or death.

The fall weather is cool, but the sky is clear. Our days for decent riding weather were coming to a close.

Taking advantage of the weather, Ziggy and I decide to ride our hogs out to the site, while Chase and Punk drive in the Mercy Ravens Security van. I’m sure Chase and Punk wanted to ride, too—all bikers want to ride while they can. But someone needs to haul the equipment for the job.

With how tightly I’ve been wound since Candy came on the case, I think the guys knew I needed to ride more than them. They offered, and I didn’t turn down the chance. And since Ziggy is my best friend, he gets to ride, too.

The brief hour ride to Denver isn’t enough to chase my anxiety away. Though it will have to do. We have a security system to install.

And I’m already missing my woman.

The sooner we get this job going, the sooner I can get back to Candy.

As far as installs go, this was an in-and-out job. After a few hours of running wires, mounting security cameras, and monitoring the contractors installing all the new bullet-proof doors and lower level windows, our job is done.

Chase is talking to the homeowner, explaining how to access the security cameras from his phone, while Ziggy, Punk, and I haul our equipment back to the van. Once everything is loaded, Punk climbs in the van, waiting for Chase. I mosey on over to my hog, with Ziggy trailing a step behind me, talking my ear off about his plans for him and Jared this evening.

“The hubs gets worried before I leave for a mission—he’s cute like that. I like to help him relax by pouring him a stiff drink before giving him a stiffy. I plan on fucking him senseless tonight, chase all them worries of his away.”

“Sounds reasonable,” I chuckle, pulling my leather MC cut out of the storage compartment on the side of my bike.

We never wear our cuts on the jobs, opting to wear the Mercy Ravens Security logo Henley’s and tactical pants. It keeps our cuts protected from the dirtier jobs, as well as not scaring the clientele. Too many people fear bikers, thinking we’re all part of the one percent population. It’s whatever. You do what you need to do to keep the customer happy.

As I shake out my cut to unfold it, my marriage certificate to Candy falls out of the inside breast pocket onto the paved driveway.

Bending to scoop it up, Ziggy gets to it first.

Panicked, I yank the folded paper out of his hand. “That’s mine.”

“No shit.” Ziggy raises a blond eyebrow at me. “I picked it up to hand it back to you. It wasn’t like I was calling dibs.”

Ignoring him, I try to shove the paper square back into my pocket, only for my nerves to have my thumbs fumbling. It falls out of my hand again.

Ziggy snags it off the ground before I do. Damn him and his faster reflexes.

“Give me that,” I growl, lunging for it.

Ziggy stops me, one hand braced on my chest while the other holds my secret out of arm’s reach.

“Dude, what’s your deal? You’re acting weird—weirder than normal.” Ziggy eyeballs the paper with interest while fighting me off. “What is this?”

“None of your damn business. Hand it over.”

He holds up his hand with the paper, stopping me from attacking. “Fine, man. Chill.”

For a moment, I foolishly believe he’s going to give it to me. Ziggy sighs, shoulders slumping, putting me into a false sense of security. I, too, release the air in my lungs, my hand outstretched, waiting for him to hand it over.

---