Page 19

I throw myself into my chair and think back to when my father approached me about providing funding for the band, including a tour bus and crew as well as equipment, stagehands, and a manager to keep shit running smoothly.

I’ll admit, I was stunned. When I was going through the prospect period, I’d resigned myself to giving up playing with the band. I could barely carve out time for them then. I wasn’t sure how I’d make it work when I was a fully-patched brother. I figured the club would be my job, and maybe I could play for fun sometimes. But I should have known my father would have plans in the works.

Royal Bastards MC is huge. I’m not talking about our club, but the whole family. We have clubs all over the world. The mother chapter is in Orleans and run by the president of all presidents, Jameson. Nothing gets done without his say-so. That means he had to sign off on this. Though I was surprised, I can’t say I didn’t understand once all the cards were laid on the table. The MCs, at least those stateside, make most of their money running guns. In the UK, that’s much harder to do given our strict laws. And yeah, gun running is illegal everywhere. But in the States, getting your hands on guns is often easier than getting a doctor’s appointment. Over here, we need to think outside the box.

I don’t know the ins and outs of the deals struck between the two presidents. It’s not my place to ask. What I do know is we have a supplier bringing in shit from across Europe. Once it arrives in the UK, our chapter is responsible for distributing it to buyers. And what better way to travel around the country without raising too much suspicion than by tour bus?

I rub my hand over my face and chuckle, remembering how shocked I’d been when I’d first seen the modified tour bus that was big enough to hide an arsenal that would take out a whole city.

Some boy wonder at the Chaos Demons MC, one of the American clubs we’re friendly with, came up with materials to house the weapons that make them virtually undetectable to sniffer dogs, making it perfect for running both guns and drugs.

The knock at the door snaps me out of my thoughts. Before I can speak, it swings open and Tash saunters in, swaying her hips so much I wonder if she might dislocate them. I fight the urge to roll my eyes.

“Most people wait for a response before they enter.”

“We both know I’m not most people.” She smirks as she sits. She sits with her legs apart, her pussy playing peek-a-boo as she isn’t wearing any underwear. Does she think that’s attractive? My cock doesn’t even stir.

“Tell me about the incident.” I stare at her face, taking in her black eyes and nose. It might look bad, but it sure as shit hasn’t slowed her down any.

She huffs, folding her arms over her chest. “Same song, different tune. Some stupid bitch came in wanting to see you. I told her you weren’t here, and she became pushy.”

“She say what she wants?”

“No, and yes, I asked. But the way she was dramatically holding her stomach, I have to assume it was the same ‘I’m pregnant’ story as the last three. Honestly, this shit is getting old.”

I can’t argue with that. The last two times women said I’d gotten them pregnant were women I hadn’t even slept with. I don’t get it. I don’t go ungloved for a reason.

“And the face?”

“Some dumb bitch she was with didn’t like the fact we weren’t jumping all over ourselves to fetch you like a damn lapdog.”

“And the cops?”

“Don’t know who called them, but I sent them away. Told them I didn’t want to press charges, and they left. They weren’t happy, made me go to the station and make a statement. Assholes.”

“You get the name of the woman who hit you?”

“No, but she was a bitch.”

I lean back and take her in, knowing only half of what she said is likely the truth. “Anyone else witness this shit?”

She huffs. “The whole damn floor. Security had to escort them out. Neil was on the door. He said they were spewing shit the whole time.”

“Alright. I’ll follow up with him. Go home. You don’t need to be here looking like shit. It’s bad for business.”

“Tell me how you really feel, Lick,” she teases, but I’m not in the mood.

With a sigh, she gets to her feet and heads to the door.

“Oh, and Tash? The next time I catch you fucking someone here, I’ll ban you for life. I don’t give a fuck who you are to my father or the club. Do I make myself clear?”

She turns to look at me, her face paling, but I see the anger simmering underneath. “Crystal.”

She slams the door behind her, making me groan. I reach into my top drawer for a couple of painkillers and pop them into my mouth, drinking them down with the last few sips of my now warm beer.

When my mobile rings, I grab it from my pocket and hold it to my ear. “Yeah?”

“Who shit in your Cheerios?” my dad asks, sounding amused.