Page 10 of My Hotshot (Iron Fiends #9)
Dice
The word came out of my mouth before I even thought it. “No.”
Yarder nodded like he expected it. “Yeah, brother.”
“I’m not fucking doing it,” Throttle groaned, and threw his head back like a kid refusing to eat his vegetables.
Yarder’s eyes narrowed. That look alone could set fire to a grown man.
“You said we were done with the TV show,” I pointed out, crossed my arms, and leaned back in my chair. “Pretty sure we heard that.”
“Don called,” Yarder said, his tone clipped. “They need photos for promo. We’re the first season now. They’ve changed some shit up, and now they’re doing our club first. The Fallen Lords are getting bumped to the next season.”
“Fucking lucky,” Smoke grumbled. “They get to see how we got screwed and go in smarter.”
Yarder shrugged. “Probably. But it also means they’re not gonna come crawling back to us for another season.”
“Or,” Fade cut in, “the world’s gonna fall in love with the Iron Fiends, and the production company’s gonna decide to stick with us.”
Pirate leaned forward. “I can talk to Saylor and Mac. See if they’ve heard anything about what Don’s planning. Might give us a heads-up.”
Yarder nodded. “Do it.”
“Can’t they just use shit from the show for promo?” I asked.
Yarder threw his hands up. “I don’t fucking know, Dice. None of us want to do this anymore, but we signed the contracts. We’ve got to.”
“Tell them the rest,” Compass muttered from Yarder’s right.
Yarder sighed. “Also, when the show premieres, they want us there.”
“There where?” Cue Ball asked.
“Wherever they decide to do the premiere. They bring people in to watch the show before it airs on TV. I guess it’s a thing.”
“And when the hell is that?” Aero asked, with his arms crossed tightly over his chest.
“Two months.”
The room lit up with angry murmurs and curses. Chairs scraped. Boots hit the ground louder than needed. Smoke swore under his breath while Throttle groaned like Yarder had just told him he’d have to shave his head.
“What are we supposed to do if Boone and Gibbs are still on our ass in two months?” Smoke asked.
Yarder’s voice went serious. “Stretch has three more weeks to do whatever the hell he’s doing. If he hasn’t made a move by then, the Banachi are stepping in. By the time of the premiere, Boone and Gibbs are gonna be just a memory.”
Fade tipped his head and grinned. “I fucking really like the sound of that.”
Pirate bumped his fist against Fade’s. “Hell yeah, brother.”
That got everyone fired up. The noise shifted from complaints to celebration. Grins, fist bumps, excited mutters. Hope was a dangerous drug, and we were all getting a little high.
“All right, all right,” Yarder hollered over the noise. “Save the party for after. Right now, we gotta get through this damn photoshoot.”
The groans returned like clockwork.
Yarder nodded to Compass.
“They’ve got Aero, Cue, Pirate, Throttle, and Smoke scheduled at nine in the morning next Wednesday,” Compass rattled off, his voice businesslike. “Then at noon, me, Fade, Dice, and Yarder. And at four, they want the ol’ ladies.”
“Like, couple shots?” Fade asked.
Yarder glanced to Compass.
“Solo shots of the ol’ ladies, then couple and group ones,” Compass explained.
“Dove’s gonna hate this,” Throttle laughed.
“Sloane ain’t gonna be thrilled either,” Aero added.
“We’re just as surprised they want them,” Yarder said as he rubbed his temple. “But if the audience likes what they see, the network’s doubling down. As much as we hated the cameras, the money they gave us got us out of a tight spot. Let’s get through this. Hopefully, they won’t need us again until the next club gets their seasons.”
“This shit is gonna take all fucking day,” Throttle whined.
“Yeah, well, tough shit. I’ll send you the address. It’s an old warehouse on the edge of town. Bring your bikes, and try not to look like dumbasses, yeah?” Yarder said, already done with the conversation.
There were a few muttered “yeahs” and “fine, whatevers.”
“Anything else?” I asked, already tapping my boot against the leg of my chair.
“Not really. Unless you’ve talked to Stretch,” Yarder said, his tone a little too pointed.
I shook my head. “Haven’t called him. He hasn’t called me.”
“Anything new from Leo and Brynn?” Throttle asked.
“They’re keeping eyes on Boone and Gibbs,” Yarder replied. “Looks like they’re thinning their herd. Stretch is sticking closer to Gibbs now—Gibbs has three guys with him regularly. Boone’s down to two.”
“Trying to consolidate power,” I muttered.
“Exactly,” Yarder nodded. “Very few people in or out. Gibbs has a woman with him all the time.”
“Wife?” I asked.
“Nope. Not married, far as Leo can tell. Just some chick he’s probably got wrapped around his finger.”
I nodded slowly. “So… it just seems like Stretch flipped on us?”
“Pretty sure Boone and Gibbs don’t know he’s Iron Fiends,” Yarder said. “He managed to embed himself as one of their hired guns. Not sure how, but he did.”
“He’s still got time before Leo and Brynn move?” I pressed.
Yarder nodded. “As long as Boone and Gibbs don’t wise up before then. He’s got three weeks left to work his magic.”
Somewhat reassuring, but the knots in my gut didn’t ease.
“There is the matter of you,” Yarder added, eyes sliding over to me.
I straightened. “Me?”
“Yeah. What was up with the text last night? Smoke said it was a chick from your past?”
I nodded slowly. “Yeah. It was nothing.”
“A nothing that we might have to move into the clubhouse?” Yarder asked. “You’re the eighth one falling for a chick that ends up needing club protection.”
I scrubbed a hand over my face. “Not sure, Yarder. As of right now, no. She’s just someone I used to know.”
“Sure that didn’t change after last night?” Smoke asked with a smirk. “I saw the way she looked at you when we finally found her phone.”
“Dice finally falling for a chick,” Throttle snickered. “I never thought I’d see the day.”
I rolled my eyes. “I didn’t fall for her last night.”
Sixteen years ago, I had.
“Nothing to worry about right now,” I added, firmer. “Lainey’s not club business.”
Yarder watched me closely, and his face was unreadable. Then he gave a slow nod. “Fine. But let me know when that changes. I’m not much into being surprised.”
“Will do,” I said.
With that, Yarder banged the gavel on the table, signaling church was over. Everyone started filing out, some grumbling about the photoshoot, while Pirate was planning how to get out of the shoot.
I lingered in my seat, letting the noise drift out of the room with the guys. When the last of them was gone, I pulled out my phone and stared at the screen.
Lainey’s number sat in my contacts now. Simple. Easy. Too damn tempting.
I didn’t hit call. Didn’t type out a text. Just stared.
Maybe I wouldn’t be seeing her anytime soon. I hadn’t thought it through last night, not really. I’d let myself enjoy it—her, the quiet, the memory of what we used to be—but reality was crashing in now.
Boone and Gibbs were still out there. Still dangerous. And I was going to be tied up with this promo shoot and whatever else the production crew dreamed up in their quest to make us look good.
Bringing Lainey into all of this?
Might not be the smartest move.
She didn’t need this world and this chaos. And I didn’t need another weakness on the board—not right now.
Later might be better. Safer.
I tapped out a message to her and sat back in my chair.
I sat there and hoped like hell I’d figure out what to do before I lost my shot with her all over again.