Page 16 of Paladin's Hell

Chapter 6

Hellfire

Thirty-six years ago

Bartending. Not my favourite pastime, but one I stoically undertake, ignoring the full-patched members partying around me. The air thick with the smoke of illegal substances, men partying hard in all different ways. Sweet butts casting snide glances toward the hopeful hangarounds flooding in from nearby Pueblo, some already being fucked in the open, some being taken into brothers’ rooms. Drinks are flowing freely, I’m rushed off my feet to supply them. A couple of brothers who’ve started early are already swaying on their feet. But I won’t be cutting them off, not in the bar of an MC. In the morning I’ll just clean up the mess, clear away anything broken, mop up any vomit or blood that’s been spilt. It’s all in a day’s work for a prospect. I’m just hoping my time of being at everyone’s beck and call is drawing to a close.

I’m pouring shots when my eyes are caught by two girls entering the clubhouse. Surprised, and more than a little concerned, when I recognise Moira, Jeannie, her friend, leading her by the hand, well, almost dragging her. As soon as I saw the other girl, I knew this hadn’t been Moira’s idea. I didn’t need that look of apology when she caught my eye to explain it to me.

Jeannie pulls Moira toward the bar. “Hey, lover boy. The mountain wouldn’t come to Mohammed, so I brought her to you instead.”

Putting down the cloth I was holding, I lean over. “Not a good place for you to be, darlin’.” I ignore Jeannie as I talk to my girl. Her friend doesn’t care, her eyes are scanning the room. I recognise that look, see it on most of the hangarounds who come to our parties. All looking for a ride on biker cock and hoping to snag a man.

Moira, though, she’s different. Her wide eyes are only on me. She looks like a startled doe, she knows I didn’t want her here. At least she’s dressed in a fairly conservative style, okay, her white jeans are figure hugging, but the baggy top keeps her other assets from being on display. Jeannie, on the other hand, is dressed to kill, her short skirt and tight, low necked top leaving little to the imagination.

“I’ll go.”

“Best if you do.” I want Moira out of here and fast. “Look, I’ll call you later. We’ll do something tomorrow if I can get some time.”

“For heaven’s sake, Mo. Let your hair down for once. Look, there’s dancing. I’m in the mood to party, you can’t leave me alone.”

For fuck’s sake, Jeannie. Let her go.I start leaning forward to suggest that in no uncertain terms, when we’re interrupted.

“Hey, what’s your name, darlin’?”

I tense as Bomber comes over, but he’s got eyes on Jeannie, and not on my girl. Thank fuck.

“Prospect! Why’s this lady not got a drink yet?”

Because she’s underage, I want to tell him. But it’s not my place. The MC doesn’t give a fuck about citizen shit like that. With his sharp eyes on me, I pour a tequila for her at her request, and pass Moira a soda. Bomber reaches over to pick up the shot, his arm brushing against Moira’s friend’s breast as he passes it to her. Not receiving any discouragement, his arm loops around her shoulders.

“You here for some fun…?”

“Jeannie,” she supplies, her eyes widening as she takes in his ripped chest, his low-slung jeans, his short tee forming a gap where the skin of his lower stomach shows. If I’m not mistaken, he’s already sporting a large bulge in his jeans. Of course, my eyes don’t linger there for long.

“I’m Bomber, darlin’. First time here I take it. I’ll look after you.”

Bomber’s okay. He’s already told me I’ll get his vote when my patch comes up at church. I beckon him to come closer. “Bomb, this here’s my girl.” I point to Moira. “She shouldn’t have come to the club. I’m going to escort her out. Can you watch the bar for me?”

His eyes narrow as he looks from Moira to myself. “Hangarounds are fair game. She’s yours? Prospects ain’t got no rights, son. Best take her out. I’ll stay here while you’re gone if you make it quick.” He pulls Jeannie closer to him. “This one and I have got business to attend to, isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

Jeannie’s beaming. She’s obviously got no more use for her friend now she’s used her to get into the clubhouse, bagging herself a handsome biker in the process.

I start to raise the flap of the bar when a voice roars. “Where you off to, Prospect. I need a drink.” It’s Blackie, my father. His name coming from the black plate he worked with before the steel mills closed.

Sighing, I signal Moira to wait. As I get back into position, she hops on a bar stool. “What do you want, Prez?”

He hadn’t missed the look I’d given Moira. His mouth curves. “I think I want me a bit of that,” he says as he steps closer to my woman. “Up for some fun tonight, sweetheart?”

Moira’s gone white as she struggles to find her voice. “Er, no. I’m with him.”

Later I’d come to think that was the moment that sealed her fate. Especially when I confirmed it. Pulling my back straight, I reinforce her words. “She’s my woman, Prez. Soon as I get patched in, I’m going to claim her.”

“Well, you’re not patched in yet, are you, boy?” His grin broadens as he turns back to Moira. “My son’s busy for now.” My eyes widen as he claims the relationship he usually prefers to forget, but as his head tilts indicating the queue of men forming, I can’t deny he’s not right. Then he continues, “I’ll let him take a break soon, but in the meantime, why don’t you and I get acquainted, particularly if we’re going to become family.”

She looks at me. I shrug. He’s acting out of character, but I’m in no position to argue. All I can do is take it at face value, and hope all he’s up to is questioning her to discover whether she’ll be a good fit for the club. For me, as the president’s son.

He doesn’t really give her a choice. His firm grip on her arm all but pulls her off the stool.

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