Page 95 of 12 Months of Mayhem

I grabbed a beer off the bar and sank into one of the couches, trying to push the conversation out of my mind.

This wasn’t the club my dad had envisioned.

Running whores on the streets and acting like pimps?

Sending college kids on paid holidays to Mexico so they could bring drugs back across the border?

I’d heard whispers from other Hell’s Bandits chapters—some of them were not fucking happy about the reputation Dime was giving the club.

Tucson was my family’s legacy, and if we didn’t sort our shit out soon, the only legacy I’d have is of the Hell’s Bandits chapter that crumbled without a real leader.

But maybe that’s what it needed.

Maybe it was time I burned it all down, so we could build it back up.

CHAPTER FOUR

Calli

“Die Hard is obviously a Christmas movie,” Whip asserted, glaring across the table at Adrian like the guy had cursed his family. “The fact you think holiday action film is even a genre is grounds for an ass-kicking.”

Adrian chuckled, leaning back in his seat, his hand resting on my leg, thumb stroking back and forth absentmindedly. “It’s absolutely a genre. Die Hard. Lethal Weapon. The Long Kiss Goodnight. They’re not Christmas movies… they’re action films set during the holidays.”

Blue pointed the neck of his beer across the table at Adrian, narrowing his eyes like he was piecing together a puzzle. “Ah-ha! Iron Man 3! Definitely a holiday action film.”

The back porch of Dad’s house erupted in objections, the sound ricocheting off the walls like we were debating the club’s bylaws instead of movies. Who knew these rough, broody men had such strong opinions about Christmas movies and where the two did or did not cross over?

“Hell yes,” Adrian said, grinning as he raised his drink and clinked it against Blue’s bottle. The two of them seemed unexpectedly aligned in their stance—or at least, Adrian thought so. Judging by the devilish glint in Blue’s eyes, I suspected he was simply enjoying seeing Whip wound so tight.

But I guess credit where credit’s due, I was genuinely impressed with how well Adrian navigated these conversations without things getting awkward. Even more surprising, the club seemed to tolerate him so far, which was no small feat. His dark-wash jeans and casual T-shirt were safe choices around bikers, but the slicked-back hair, unfortunately, screamed electric car.

Still, I’d take the wins where I could get them.

Small victories meant fewer nerves. And fewer nerves made it easier to imagine that this thing—whatever Adrian and I had—might actually last beyond casual dating.

I covered his hand with mine, and he took it, giving it a reassuring squeeze. I waited for the butterflies in my stomach to stir, for that rush of giddy excitement that made my pulse race.

But there was nothing.

I glanced to my left, meeting Shay’s eyes where she and Dad sat at the head of the table. The corners of her mouth started to turn up into a smile but stalled when she saw my expression, and instead, her brow pulled into a frown.

“Anyway, I need to get going,” Adrian announced, squeezing my leg before getting to his feet. Shay continued scrutinizing me, but I shook my head and followed Adrian’s lead, scooting my chair out as he said goodbye. “It was so nice to finally meet you all.”

Everyone mumbled their goodbyes while Dad and Shay got to their feet, following behind us as I walked him to the door.

“I guess I’ll see you on Thursday for that game night at your friend’s place?” I questioned as we stood at the door.

“Yeah, we can—”

My dad cleared his throat. “You won’t be able to do Thursday.”

I turned, my eyebrow raised. “Um, and why is that?”

“You’re busy,” he stated, turning on his heel and disappearing around the corner as if the conversation were over.

“Dammit,” Shay cursed, shaking her head as he stomped away. “Sorry, I thought he’d talked to you about it.”

I frowned, staring at the space where he’d disappeared. “Busy with what?” I called after him, my annoyance flaring.

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