Page 3 of Blue-Eyed Jacks (Destroyers MC: Skilletsville PA #1)

Jackson

S hock’s current flavor of the month looked like she was going to pass out.

Her pale skin flushed an unhealthy pink.

Her hands blotched white and deeper pink as she braced them in clenched fists against the floor, as if she was holding the world in place by sheer will alone.

Her strawberry gold hair cascaded over her face with glinting rose-colored strands that twisted into tight spirals, but overall, it flew every direction.

I knew women of every shape, size, color, and creed.

I hadn’t seen her face, but could fill in the blanks.

She’d have blue eyes, I was almost certain.

Maybe, if she was one of the rare types of Irish-Celtic strains influenced by unique genetics, they’d be clear green.

She had freckles, golden to brown. They dotted her skin in tiny little flecks of color.

As a whole, she wouldn’t hold a candle to someone like Pinner’s Polynesian beauty queen, Hilea.

But in her form, she was still perfection in a misty isle fairy-touched way.

And she was scared to death or in withdrawal.

There was no mistaking the tremors rocking her entire body.

She was going to puke. It was only a matter of time.

In my active monitoring of the room, I noted that.

All while I listened in on Shock and Toro’s conversation, keeping another ear on the tenor of the room.

I was new to my role of Sergeant at Arms, and responsible for the kicking of anyone’s ass who threatened my president.

I intended not to screw this up. Therefore, I was hyper-vigilant tonight.

Which was a natural fit for me. I’d learned early to fight dirty and hard, while keeping one eye open for the next threat.

While I wasn’t a monster in size, I made up for it in sheer will and attention to detail.

I knew pain, knew how to wield it decisively and quickly.

And I didn’t let stupid shit distract me.

So why the fuck did it matter if some whacked-out chick puked on Shock’s shoes?

It shouldn’t.

Was I bored? This meet was club only. Tonight’s potential threats were cat fights amongst the hookers and the usual drunken assholes who bumped chests.

Even my counter part, BamBam, wasn’t much of an opponent.

He’d relinquished his .44 at the gate. Without it, he was a mass of beer fat with a short reach.

A wrecking ball, sure, but slow. I’d have him on the ground with his throat cut and bleeding out life in five seconds flat.

He’d be dead in thirty. And by that point, I’d have stabbed him at least fifteen more times.

He had no fucking clue how to defend Shock.

Could I be tuned in to the wrong shit because there was no other threat?

But of course, there were other threats. There always were. Despite wearing the same patch, drinking the same booze, and fucking the same whores, my brothers were always a threat. Some of them were not worth the urine to piss on them with. Shock being the main one.

Despite pushing forty, he had definition.

Big, sure. Most bikers packed on pounds as they got older.

But he also was goddamned ruthless. I measured his potential for violence as he talked shop.

In my determination, he had no soul. Nothing stopping him from drilling me between the eyes, brother or not.

And unlike his SoA, he kept his gun. Only a fool would tangle with that combination of ugly mean and armed.

Again, why the fuck did this girl matter so damned much?

She didn’t. In the grand machine of crime, she was cog grease. A statistic. Someone who shouldn’t factor.

But Shock thought enough of her to make her one of his pet projects.

I caught Sprout’s attention. He was Jolly’s kid.

The club let him hang around out of respect for his fallen father.

Jolly had been a legend and one of the deciding factors when I chose this quiet little town west of Harrisburg as my home club.

He’d left us too soon, leaving behind a wife and Sprout.

Murdered by the fucking cops. Which made vengeance nearly impossible.

To make up that lack, we all raised the kid.

Wrong? Sure. But Sprout was useful. He was barely fourteen and already doing more than most prospects ever did—without one peep of complaint.

“Sup?” He grinned like an idiot. It made his ears stick out. I often wondered if that was on purpose.

I slipped him my phone. “Give this to your Ma.”

He pocketed it. “And?’

“And nothing. Just tell her I gave it to you.” His ma was a smart woman. She’d figure it out.

“Sure thing.” He hovered.

“What the fuck you waiting for?”

He grinned. “I’ll get you a beer first.”

Goddamned kid. Too fucking helpful. He ran across the room, picking up two cups and filling each to the brim. He brought them back cautiously and handed one to the president first, then to me. “Here.”

Then he took off toward the kitchen.

“What? None for me?” Shock laughed, but under his friendly tone was a hint of accusation.

I handed my beer off, moving close so I wouldn’t spill it. The girl looked up at that moment.

Snared. Like a rabbit in a trap.

Her eyes were the gray-green of dense early morning fog hanging over a lake.

Or the glistening pale scales of a juicy fresh-water bass.

I forgot about the cup in my hand and when Shock grabbed it too hard, the foam sloshed over the edge, coating my fingers and breaking the spell.

I smiled at him. “I’ll get one for myself later. ”

His eyes narrowed and dipped down to the girl. A cruel grin twisted on his lips. “I’m sure you will. But this one’s mine .” He locked his stare on my face, daring me to argue, laying his verbal bait, and waiting to see if I was dumb enough to bite.

“Not a problem. We got plenty to go around.” I raised my eyebrow, acknowledging his game and begging for a reaction.

He slammed the beer, belched, and then turned his anger toward the girl.

I’d fucked up.

“Didn’t I tell you to show your tits?”

Sweat dotted her forehead, and she was unusually pale.

I stepped back, snagged a trash can, and slid it closer, just in case. It bumped against her shoulder as she struggled to get to her knees. The smell of it must have triggered something because she spun, grabbed it with both hands, and practically donned it as a hat as she wretched into it.

“Fucking Christ!” Shock jumped to his feet. Toro leaned back, but his eyes moved to me. In them, I read the question. “How did you know?” I sent him a wink and waited until the spit and bile sputtered to a halt.

But Shock didn’t give her any quarter. Almost as soon as she wiped her mouth on her sleeve, he was on top of her.

“Fucking bitch.” His fist hit her head. “No fucking sense whatsoever.” Another blow fell, this one to her back.

The trashcan spun from her grip, and I caught it before it could topple over.

A prospect was nearby, so I slid it in his direction to take care of.

I whistled to get the attention of another to bring a towel and began issuing orders.

“Get Ma.” I handed the towel to Shock, who wiped off his vest and pants before dropping it to the floor.

He hadn’t even gotten sprayed.

I picked up the towel and passed it to his woman. Then, I stepped between them to run interference. “You okay, man?”

He glared up at me. “What the fuck you think? She puked on me!”

She hadn’t.

I snapped my fingers and pointed at the closest whore. “Jewel, take him upstairs, make sure he’s cleaned off and comfortable.”

She grinned too widely. “Sure thing, sugar.” She oooed and awed over Shock’s predicament.

As she led him to the main stairs, I caught Pinner’s glare.

I shook my head at him. He’d been stepping out on his wife with Jewel for a while.

But since he was still married, and Jewel was one of our stable, he had no claim. And he knew it.

That cost me precious seconds.

Toro stood up and directed the party’s attention away from the girl on the floor. BamBam wasn’t as easily fooled, though. He stood over the girl, staring at me like I’d orchestrated the whole thing.

He was giving me too much credit. “What the fuck are you staring at?”

His fists clenched.

As much as I’d love to lay him out, there wasn’t time to waste. The longer things lingered in this limbo of fucking bullshit, the harder it would engrave into memories. “Don’t you have a president to protect?”

He frowned. The debate about staying or going upstairs was evident in his hesitation.

“Cookie, show him where Jewel’s room is.

If the door’s closed, make him comfortable outside.

” Cookie was a sweet little brunette with a penchant for sucking dick.

BamBam would be happy while he waited. Meanwhile, I had a lot to do in a very short amount of time if I was going to keep the two clubs at peace with each other, but also figure out what the fuck was wrong with Shock’s chick.

Ma helped the girl up. I quickly laid out the problem. “She got sick. Figure out why and fast.”

“Should I call Toolbox?” He was her doctor “friend” she’d introduced to the club. We all had to pretend they were just friends for Sprout’s sake, since he had no idea his mom was finally getting some after years of mourning.

“Do it. Make sure he knows it’s urgent.”

She hesitated. “You’re playing with fire. Stop.”

Pinner had the ill timing to slap me on the back to announce his presence. “Get her in the back. Tell my wife to keep Poppy away in case she’s contagious.”

“She seemed fine earlier,” Ma noted.

“I’m fine,” the girl mumbled, which was a damn lie. She was still pale and shaking. Her cheek was red and swollen where Shock clipped her. A trickle of blood trailed along her hairline. I ached to touch her, inspect the damage, and…

Pinner squeezed my shoulder. “Son, let’s not make fools of ourselves.”

I huffed out a laugh. “You’re one to talk.” I slid him a side eye that wandered pointedly to the ceiling.

“That makes me eminently qualified to dish out wisdom. Let’s get a drink.”

I could do that. I could play along with the lie that none of this mattered, that we were all just good friends here and not assholes of the first order. Smile and laugh despite wanting to spill blood and entrails over the dirty concrete floor.

We slammed two shots. Between them, I bullshitted and joked. Same as always.

When it came to shot number three, my joking mood turned snakily bitter. It didn’t go unnoticed.

Pinner dragged me outside for a smoke.

We stood by a barrel someone filled with kindling and set ablaze. He dragged a long inhale and then blew it out with passion. “You need to cool off.”

“Shock’s an asshole.”

“I said , you need to cool off.”

Damn it . “I know.”

“Didn’t know red hair was your kryptonite. Always pegged you for an equal opportunity kind of guy.”

“Listen to you talk. Mr. Brunette to blonde.”

“That’s enough.” Pinner’s scowl deepened. He had one of those unfortunate faces that was ugly most of the time. But when he frowned, he was downright hideous.

“Well, I think you know that you should know better,” I started.

“As should you.” The warning note in his voice was unmistakable.

“My kryptonite is whores,” I stated proudly.

“No, it ain’t.”

I crushed my cigarette under my boot and squinted at him. “Of course it is. My mother was a whore. Anyone who mistreats ‘em gets on my bad side.”

“Is that what this is? You sure?”

“Yeah. That’s all this is.” It should be, right?

“You’re lying. Maybe even lying to yourself. You met your type. And it’s ‘damsel in distress.’ ”

He was so wrong. “Oh, now that’s bullshit.

” My sainted, unsaintly mother was no damsel in distress.

She was a proud whore who managed to make a promising career out of prostitution.

Even her brief interlude of motherhood hadn’t affected her life plan of making a bundle of scratch by taking dick and then retiring early.

I’d learned a lot from her wisdom. Foremost was that women were prettiest when happy.

Even prettier when they glowed with pride.

Fragile women never turned my crank as much as strong ones did. I enjoyed seeing that gleam of spirit shining from them nearly as much as I loved watching them cum.

“Bullshit or not, son, that woman is trouble.”

“No shit.” One of the biggest rules of the club was, “Do not covet your brother’s shit.”

“Why did you slip Sprout your phone?”

He’d noticed that? I supposed someone would. I’d been in the center of the room. All eyes were on the two presidents, or should have been if you gave a rat’s ass about power.

“He wanted to call his girlfriend,” I lied.

Pinner sighed. “That is a rotten lie. That boy has access to no fewer than six hookers who’d gladly pop his cherry. He doesn’t need a girlfriend, let alone have one. Stop blowing smoke up my ass. Why?”

I scanned the party dregs that landed outside the club’s main building. I even searched the shadows between the rows of cars piled up around us. “To give to Ma.”

His grunt was something between acknowledgment and disagreement.

Toro joined us. “Are you hijacking my Sergeant, Pinner?”

Pinner laughed. “Naw, just catching air. I’m going to go in and see if my lady needs me to take her and Poppy home. That okay with you, boss?”

“You might want to stay home with them, and a word of advice, don’t offer anyone else a ride, got it?”

Pinner’s eyes shifted to mine. “Understood.”

Toro waited until Pinner shambled to the back door by the kitchen. He unwound the chain some numbnuts wrapped around it.

“We gotta go inside.”

“Yup.” I didn’t move.

“You are an ambitious man. I saw that in you the day you arrived on our doorstep with your dad’s blessing. One of these days, you’re going to replace me. So, I’m giving you advice. Don’t get derailed now. Not over some gash.”

His word choice needed work. That single moment of fog-green fantasy was enough to tell me a sordid tale.

She wasn’t a junkie, whoever she was. Those eyes were clear, not feverish or hazed out in a funk of drugged stupor.

And she certainly wasn’t gash. Every molecule of my body screamed that this woman was defiant to the core, but Shock was breaking her.

And when he succeeded, the world would lose an angel.

But unlike most men, I knew angels weren’t the sweet passive things that strummed harps and made sickly music to lull men into bondage.

Angels were demons with a righteous call to avenge the wrongs of evil. And they were damn sexy doing it.

Pinner was right in his own twisted way. I did have a type.