Page 87 of Caution to the Wind

“Nah, I figure not,” King mused, but it was a trap, and I knew it. His pretty face and casual, easy-goin’ demeanour belayed a mind as sharp as the edge of a blade. “But if Cleo called her to her side, I figure she’s special enough in her own way.”

I glared at the boy, the muscles in my arms jumpin’ ominously as I clenched my fists. “Your sister offered to have the club run her outta town, and here you are, makin’ like you wanna roll out a red carpet for her.”

King peered at me, thumb worryin’ at the pages of his notebook, somethin’ workin’ behind his eyes I couldn’t read. Finally, he jumped off the table in an explosion of graceful movement only a young twenty somethin’ could manage and clapped me on the shoulder before headin’ to the clubhouse.

“There’s not a man in this club without demons, Axe-Man. When a man’s got a rare opportunity to exorcise them, he’s gotta take it if he ever wants a chance in hell of findin’ some long-lastin’ happiness.”

“Why do you think I told her to fuck off?” I muttered as I followed him up the stairs.

A flicker of a smile, but he didn’t say anythin’ else, and his silence was smug. For a twenty-three-year-old kid, he shouldn’t’a been able to see so much, know so much, but from the time I’d first met him ago, he’d always been like that. Those pale eyes were scalpels, cuttin’ up human flesh and scrapin’ past bone to the heart of people.

It was fuckin’ eerie.

I turned King, and Mei, from my mind as I moved through the clubhouse to the long side room exposed by carved wooden doors pushed open and manned by our prospect, Carson.

He held out the small cardboard box for my phone without a word.

King and I dropped them in, and I clapped the kid on the shoulder before I moved into the smoke-filled room and the long wood table wreathed by my brothers.

Zeus, as Prez, sat at the head of the table. On his right, our VP, Buck, the only old-timer remainin’ from the club before Z ousted his uncle as President. He was in his early sixties but still big and fit as a bear, his hair gone to silver as bright as the rings on each of his thick fingers. Across from him on Z’s left sat my old friend, Bat, our Sergeant at Arms, and the seat beside him was left vacant for the Treasurer.

Me.

When Zeus had offered me a place in his club if I wanted it, whichever place I chose, I’d been fuckin’ relieved not to have to take up the mantle of enforcer the way Rooster’d once forced me to do. That role was taken by Priest McKenna, arguably the scariest motherfucker ever born, a man whom I knew based on my medical trainin’ was an honest to God psychopath who enjoyed dismantlin’ our enemies the way most men enjoyed dismantlin’ a good burger. Since we’d welcomed Wrath Marsden into the fold some years back, we’d even added a second enforcer. His immensity, rage, and history of violence made for a good contrast against Priest’s wraith-like, cold, and mechanical brutality. They sat side by side toward the other end of the table, as different as night and day but still somehow compatible.

Left to my own devices, I’d fallen naturally, even a little gratefully, into the role as Treasurer and Secretary of the club. I’d done my major in mathematics, and I’d always been drawn to numbers just as I was to art. So I enjoyed my role keepin’ the club’s books, figurin’ out how to clean our money, where to invest in legal businesses, and where to tap into illegal interests. I even did the books for Nova at Street Ink.

And I was fuckin’ good at it too.

Since I’d taken over, with the help of Zeus and then King as he’d gotten older and when his dad did a stint in prison, we’d made the club into a multimillion-dollar organization.

It got to the point where Zeus offered my services to other chapters to help them set up their own business ventures.

But today wasn’t about club assets and allocations.

It was about new threats.

More specifically, threatsI’d brought to my club’s doorstep.

“Mornin’,” I murmured to my brothers as I took my chair and pulled my glasses from the inside of my cut.

“Hey, bro,” Boner said, louder than the chorus of “heys” from the rest of the group. He leaned over the tabletop closer to me, his young face eager and bright with curiosity. “Heard you got a new lady lover.”

“She’s not my goddamn lover,” I snapped.

Across from me, King coughed to hide his snort of amusement, and Buck raised his brows at my uncharacteristic show of temper.

“Oh sweet,” Boner crowed, pivotin’. “So you don’t mind if I get a look at her, decide she’s worth pursuin’, and make a go at her?”

Curtains slapped his best friend on the back of his head. “Get a brain, would ya? We got more important things to talk about than who you can dip your wick in.”

Boner pouted. “I was just doin’ my due diligence. Bein’ a good brother. I don’t wanna chase some skirt Axe-Man’s got a stake in.”

“Not only do I not have a ‘stake,’” I growled, tryin’ and failin’ to stay calm. The past twenty-four hours had worn my patience clean away. “I don’t want that ‘skirt’ mentioned again in my goddamn presence. Got me?”

Boner blinked at me, shocked by my aggression.

“Got. Me?” I repeated through clenched teeth.