Page 30 of Providence

In death and guilt.

Every day since I fucked Dippy in the shower and then made love to her afterwards, the terror had been eating its way through my defenses, threatening to leave me raw and messy. But there was no going back now. I thought I could play it on the fringes, dipping my damn toe in when I felt like it, like she was some kind of kiddie pool rather than the fucking tsunami she turned out to be.

So I could understand G’s fear. But I wasn’t going to let him pussy out on this. “I didn’t take you for a coward, Goliath. The man I used to know never ran from a challenge, not in the MC and not in his home life. Have you really changed that much?”

He growled, and stalked over. He reached across my desk, wrapping his hand around my throat. I kept my face impassive, even though I knew he could feel the thundering of my heart beneath his fingertips. Luckily he couldn’t see the hardening of my cock in my pants.

“Fuck you, Judas. You don’t get to manage me into this.”

His fingers flexed around the column of my throat, and I worked to make my face perfectly blank. “I’m not trying to manage you into anything, dickhead. I want you to be fucking happy, even if you don’t. And if you had any fucking balls, you’d admit that she makes you feel. Even if it isn’t happiness, you aren't a fucking black hole of death and misery anymore. She could make you happy. They could make you happy.” I swallowed hard. “I could make you happy again. Give us this.”

He let go of my throat, leaning forward to kiss me hard on the lips, punishing me for my words. There was no tenderness. It was like a punch in the mouth. All blood and teeth. Then he slammed his fist into my desk and left.

Well, that went well.

I wanted to get on my bike and ride for hours, but I had shit to do. MC’s didn’t run themselves and I had a lot of mouths to feed now. I gave that shifty motherfucker Ricky the okay to open up the strip joint again, and apparently it was so clean in there now you could lick the stripper pole. I was tempted to make him lick it to prove a point, but he’d probably like it. We’d need to do a run up to Canada for a shipment of Xanny soon. Good old fashioned weed was going out of fashion. It was all a cheap high these days, dirty fucking drugs made in dirty labs. But I was okay with lifting pharmaceuticals. Things with fucking recipes to follow and bored housewives making a side hustle. Selling steroids to fucking Insta models who didn’t care it would shrink their dicks. Crap like that didn’t keep me up at night. We didn’t have to pedal that dirty shit. The receptionist down at the local law office just wanted to get high on the weekend, the college kid who wanted to be insta-famous, fucking Ritalin addicted research assistants. All with disposable income and high class addictions. Easy money. Not quite clean, but I’m not selling crack to whores on corners either.

I slammed the laptop shut, the encryption on this fucker was better than the Pentagon’s. Or so Trigger’s contact told us. Trig had vouched for him, and I trusted Trigger. This Club was all he’d ever known. We were fucking family. He’d take over as President one day, the natural heir to this Club.

I was going home. First I’d touch base with my men, even if my heart wanted to be a few miles away, basking in the smile of a fucking angel. I slid the laptop into the reinforced metal draw of my desk. Paranoia saved lives and kept me out of fucking jail.

I walked into the common room, sitting down at the bar beside Shots. He slid two fingers of scotch to me, and I sipped it gratefully. My Brothers came over to speak to me, touching base or airing grievances, and I listened politely. Here but apart. I watched Trigger work his way around the room, a beer in his hand. Maybe I should hand over the Presidency sooner rather than later. I didn’t fool myself into believing it was anything but up to me. Trigger could never challenge me, would never challenge me. I was fucking immortal. He couldn’t take me out in a fight. Couldn’t put a bullet through my brain. Fuck, he was a good kid. He never would. But he was a wiley fucker too, planting the seed of us retiring, about possibly escaping the eyes of those who knew us.

He put the idea in my head and here I was, wanting to be home between the thighs of my lover instead of listening to Dodger fucking moan about Brick stealing his sweet butt or some shit.

“Women,” I said sympathetically. “You know the rules. She can choose whichever of you she wants, or fucking neither of you. If you guys think you are going to come to blows, set up a fight with Cain and box it out in the back lot and entertain the lot of us.” I grinned so he knew I wasn’t angry, and slapped him on the shoulder. Dodger wasn’t the fastest bike on the highway, so he laughed along with me.

As Dodger fucked off, I looked around the room at the other men. The men of Damnation MC. Would any of them challenge Trig? Would the Club survive the loss of four of their high ranking members? It would be hard for Trigger to hold onto, but he was up to it if he had enough force behind him. My mind immediately went to Goose and Bear. Fucking Goose and Bear, I couldn’t complain about their names now I guess. Bear was smart too, tough as well. He would be a good VP. And Goose was a huge fucker with a good left hook. He’d do well as Enforcer.

I sighed. I couldn’t leave that level of shit on their doorstep. The Club would have to be prepared, dissenters found and fucking pummeled into line. Trigger would have to do it by strength, but it would have to be gradual.

I whistled at Solomon, and when he turned, I tilted my head toward the door. The relief on his face was palpable. We’d left Dippy at home with Marco and the Archangel today, and while I knew that Marco had it all under control, the supernatural element made me twitchy. Marco couldn’t protect against Angels, and who knew where Raphael’s loyalties lay? I could confidently tell you that it wasn’t to us. He barely knew us. In the two weeks he’d been in our home, he’d mostly moped around the backyard, lying on the grass, looking up at the sky. Or he was in the guest room. Or sometimes he’d fuck off for a couple of days without a word, and I’d start sweating blood thinking about how I was going to explain to Lucifer that I lost his damn pet angel.

But up until today, we’d split our forces. Always two at home and two doing Club business. This was the first day that we’d all gone to our different jobs. I called over Trigger, staring him down a bit, the posturing bullshit ingrained into my very DNA.

“Solomon and I are heading out. Goliath stormed off about an hour ago, don’t know if he’ll be back. Cain is at the tattoo parlor in the city. You’ve got control of Damnation for the night. I want to be balls deep in Serendipity until sunrise, so unless the place catches on fire or the Cartel attacks, don’t fucking call me,” I said in a low voice. I clapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t fuck up.”

With that, I walked out the front doors and straight onto my bike. Solomon was there, his bike already idling beneath him.

We peeled out of the packed parking lot. The strip joint seemed to be doing bumper business. Apparently absence made the dick grow harder. The sun was just starting to lower, and the air was turning cold for winter. The wind stung as it hit my face, and I loved it. Every single second of flying, riding free on my bike, made me as giddy as it did the first time I rode.

I needed to get Dippy on the back of my bike again, the memory of her soft hand wrapped around my cock as I rode is forever burnt into my brain. Not that I wanted her to jerk me off on the bike again, I just liked having her body wrapped around mine as we flew down the open roads. A fucking machine between my thighs and a beautiful woman wrapped around my back; that was heaven.

We pulled up to the gates of our new place, and Bear let me through. I idled beside him. “We’ve got it from here. Go back to the Clubhouse and enjoy your fucking night off. The dancers seemed to have missed us, and decided to show it by taking off all their clothes on Shots’ bar.”

Bear grinned, but he didn’t run off like I thought he would. “Sounds like it's going to get rowdy. I’ll head down to help Trigger keep it under control. Cain came back a few hours ago, and G is in the garage fucking shit up.”

I looked at this weird, lanky kid. If you’d told me he turned into a fucking mongoose, I’d have believed it. But a fucking bear? No way. He seemed older than his years, his personality bigger than his body. I don’t know how I hadn’t spotted it before, the feeling of otherness. Maybe because they were Prospects and I didn’t usually deal with Prospects.

Either way, I nodded and lifted my chin toward the gates. “Got it. Go let your hair down, kid.”

Solomon had already roared up to the front door, and was messily kissing the woman of my dreams against the door jamb.

Fucker. But I’d be damned if the moment she smiled in my direction, I didn’t pull her from his arms and do the same thing.

She was it. I knew it in my soul. She was home.

16

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