Page 6 of Kingpin (Blackjacks MC #1)

Chapter five

Kingpin

I awoke in one of the back rooms of the clubhouse, sometime around ten in the morning. My tongue felt like it had been coated in fuzzy carpet, and a splitting headache threatened to cleave my skull in half. With a groan, I sat up, rubbing my pounding temples.

After drinking too much yesterday in an effort to dull the memories of Hattie, I didn’t bother asking someone to drive me home. In that house, where we used to live together, where her clothes should have been nestled in the bureau, her absence would only hurt even more.

Staying at the clubhouse meant I wouldn’t be alone. Someone was always here—at the bar, in the kitchen, playing pool, or camped out in one of the back rooms doing…whatever. Sex. Sleep. Didn’t matter.

Slowly, I rose to my feet, stretching my aching, stiff body. My leg felt tender and sore now that the alcohol and painkillers had faded from my system. I moved with a slight limp, but it wasn’t bad enough to keep me confined to the bed all day.

After a quick trip to the communal bathroom, I washed my face, took a leak, and went in search of coffee to chase away my headache.

Emerging into the main room of the clubhouse, I spotted Big G seated in front of the television in the corner, ignoring the cheesy soap opera on the screen.

Roxie was nestled on his lap—barely twenty-three years old, with electric blue eyeshadow, cut-off denim shorts, and a hot-pink push-up bra visible through her skin-tight white tank top.

She giggled as she nuzzled into his neck, not-so-subtly shoving her hand down his pants.

Big G growled and swatted her ass lightly. She squeaked in surprise and wiggled closer, sucking on his earlobe.

“Please tell me one of you started coffee already,” I grumbled, shuffling by, not looking too closely at either of them in case I got an eyeful of skin I didn’t want to see.

“Hot and fresh,” Big G said. “Baby Doll should be stopping by with breakfast in a few minutes.”

“Thank God.” I headed for the kitchen door, then paused when I spotted Crash on the other side of the room. Slumped over a table, head pillowed on his arms, fast asleep. I pointed at him. “Was the kid here all night?”

Big G didn’t answer. Roxie had her tongue down his throat.

“ Hey ,” I snapped.

He broke away with a noise of frustration. Roxie stuck out her lower lip in a pout.

“What?” he replied, exasperated at being cockblocked.

“The kid wasn’t supposed to spend the night here. I said he could hang out, not move in .”

Big G shrugged.

“No offense, boss, but I wasn’t really paying attention to the kid or what he was doing after a certain point last night. And neither were you, trying to drown yourself in that bottle of whiskey.”

I frowned. Big G focused on Roxie again, cupping her ass with a squeeze.

He murmured something too low for me to hear, and she gasped, biting her lower lip.

If the club bunnies weren’t plastered all over Spike for his seemingly endless stamina, they usually made their way into Big G’s bed for the thrill of an older man who knew how to wield his experience well.

He never entertained the idea of marriage, but he was more than happy to oblige the ladies and take care of their needs.

“Aren’t you too old to be making out like a dumbass, horny teenager?” I barked. There was no denying the jealousy in my tone, even to my own ears.

Big G tore his gaze from Roxie to look at me, raising his eyebrows.

“Are you being the world’s biggest asshole because your painkillers wore off, or because of a blistering hangover from hell?”

I huffed and turned away.

“Both.”

“Baby Doll was right, you know,” Big G called after me as I shoved the kitchen door open. “Blue balls are making you bitchy.”

“Fuck off,” I shot back.

He chuckled, unfazed by my barbs.

“She’s going to be so pleased that you keep proving her right every time you open your mouth and that charming personality slips out.”

“Bite me,” I grumbled.

“You’re not my type.” Big G tangled his fingers into Roxie’s bottle-blonde hair. “You, on the other hand, are exactly my type. Keep going, sweetheart. You were on a roll. Don’t stop now.”

She shifted in his lap to fully straddle him, unbuckling his belt. When Big G slipped his hand under her shirt, I didn’t need to see any more. I’d been around bikers nearly all my life. They weren’t shy, and I was far from a prude. I didn’t give a shit if they fucked right in front of me.

But I missed having that closeness and raw intimacy with my woman. If I wanted sex, I could find my own club bunny. And if I wanted another relationship, I could start dating again.

None of that would fix the gaping hole in my chest where Hattie used to be though. Sex with anyone else would be empty, simply going through the motions. Like eating cardboard instead of a three course meal.

In the blessed solitude of the kitchen, I sighed and poured a cup of bitter, black coffee. Closing my eyes, I sipped at the piping hot brew and leaned back against the counter. As usual, Big G kept me in line, called out my bullshit. I was being a dick, biting people’s heads off.

Seeing Hattie had rattled me more than I wanted to admit. But that was no excuse. As the President of this club, my brothers looked up to me, relied on me to keep my cool, even when everything went sour. I should be able to manage a visit from my ex-wife without going to fucking pieces.

Pulling my phone out of my back pocket, I tapped the screen, navigating to my contacts list. Hattie was still at the top.

For over a decade of marriage, and another decade of divorce, that had never changed.

Blackbeard, my Vice President, occupied the second slot, which was only natural since he was my second in command.

My thumb hovered over the delete button. My chest hurt at the thought.

I should have done it a long time ago already. When Hattie handed me the divorce papers to sign. When she packed up and shipped out to Seattle. When she stopped returning my calls. When we hadn’t talked for years.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. The caffeine wasn’t doing much to stave off my headache.

Without giving myself any more time to think about it, I jabbed the delete button and tossed my phone on the counter in disgust. Maybe it was long overdue. But it still made me sick to my stomach.

The rev of a bike echoed outside, signaling someone’s arrival. Taking my coffee, I returned to the main room just as Baby Doll wedged the front door open with her foot. She juggled multiple bags of takeout from the Cattle Yard Diner.

“Breakfast has arrived, gentlemen,” she said. “Is everyone decent?”

“Depends on your definition,” I replied. “Most of us are clothed, at least. Can’t speak for Big G and Roxie though. Haven’t seen Spike yet either.”

As if on cue, Roxie let out a peal of laughter as Big G stripped off her tank top and buried his face between her tits.

Baby Doll deposited the bags of food on the bar and began unpacking them. Most of us couldn’t cook anything more than a bowl of cereal or a box of instant macaroni and cheese.

Except for Tex and Blackbeard. Cooking was a time-honored tradition among their big families, passed down with pride from one generation to the next. Cooking for the club was a massive amount of work though, with ten members and any number of club bunnies as guests.

So we resorted to takeout most of the time.

The smell of greasy sausages made my stomach churn. I inhaled a steadying breath and turned my head away.

Baby Doll pulled open a drawer beneath the bar and grabbed a rubber band. She stretched it taut and sent it zinging across the room, hitting Big G in the back of the head with an audible thwack .

“What the—?” he hissed, twisting around in his seat.

“Take it somewhere else, you two,” Baby Doll said firmly. “People are trying to eat.”

“Blue balls must be contagious,” Big G muttered.

He hooked an arm around Roxie’s waist and rose to his feet, picking her up effortlessly. She combed her fingers through his salt-and-pepper undercut, sealing her mouth to his neck and wrapping her legs around his waist. They disappeared down the corridor that led to the back rooms.

“That’s better,” Baby Doll said. “I bet we have about five minutes before she’s screaming his name and ruining our appetites in the process. So, eat fast.”

I circled around the bar, grabbing a bottle of whiskey off the shelf. Baby Doll snatched it out of my grip and shoved a takeout container into my hands, loaded with scrambled eggs, sausages, and two biscuits doused in gravy.

“No whiskey. Protein first.”

I scowled at her.

“You’re not my mother.”

“Thank fuck for that.” Baby Doll dug around in one of the takeout bags and deposited a smaller white paper bag on the bar.

“Your prescriptions. I picked them up at the pharmacy on my way here. And since we’ve already established that I’m not your mother, I have no problem prying your mouth open and ramming those pills down your throat, even if you cry and gag like a little bitch. ”

She flashed the most endearing smile despite her threat. I breathed a faint laugh.

“Jesus, you’re violent. And mean. You wouldn’t dare raise a hand to your president.”

Baby Doll snorted.

“Pulling the rank card, huh? You must be shaking in your boots.”

Opening the prescription bag, I examined the bottles inside until I found the ibuprofen and popped two dry.

I didn’t give her grief for talking trash.

She had to develop a thick skin as tough as Kevlar in order to ride with us, and she had more respect for rank than most men I met in my entire life.

Spike had accused me of playing favorites on more than one occasion, but he could whine all he wanted.

“I’m surprised to see you coherent this morning, Prez.” Baby Doll opened her own takeout container and stabbed a bite of eggs with her fork. “After all that drinking you did last night, I fully expected to find you worshipping the porcelain throne.”