Page 13 of Pink Poison (The Butchers MC #1)

Chapter eight

Mack

“Welcome back, boys,” the burgundy-haired bartender quips as we walk through the doors of Memento.

“Badass Del!” Kash shouts, jogging up to the bar counter.

I quirk my brow at my brothers to see if someone will fill me in on what I missed last night. “Since when has Kash been friends with the bartender?”

Stone shakes his head as he walks to our usual booth, leaving Graves behind.

“Kash made nice with her last night while he was handling our problem,” he grunts, following Stone towards the booth. “I guess she’s cool, as long as you follow the rules.”

Slowly, I trail behind Graves while taking in the familiar faces around the bar. “ Makes sense.”

Sliding onto the pew-like bench, I sit across from Graves next to Stone.

When Kash decides he’s done talking the bartender’s ear off, he’ll eventually find his place next to our President.

The ambiance settles into smooth conversation amongst the bar, lulling Stone and Graves into casual conversation.

Something in my gut tells me I can’t relax like the others, not with this meeting hanging over us like a dark fucking cloud.

Atticus Lennon .

Honestly, if we didn’t think he was a player in taking down the original members of our club, we’d leave him on the back burner. But how could we say no when the opportunity fell in our laps?

A hushed silence falls over the bar as the door swings open, letting in the sound of a familiar giggle—the giggle that has haunted my dreams since she forced it between her perfectly white teeth when she met me and my father.

“You’re a funny man, Creed Hill,” she tinkles from behind me.

Graves and Stone snap their heads towards the sound, leaving me frozen in time as the bane of my existence infiltrates my life once again. “Ho-ly fuck, is that…” Graves breathes.

“Pretty doll,” Stone grunts.

Turning, time moves slowly as she crosses through my peripherals.

Liquid heat rushes through my veins, burning me from the inside out the longer I stare at the obnoxiously tight, pink dress that practically constricts her natural curves.

Fuck. I hate to admit it, and I mean, I really fucking hate to—but I’ll be damned if she doesn’t look mouthwatering.

Maybe it’s because I’m partial to blondes.

Maybe it’s the fact that her tits are spilling out from the sides of the dress, making it look two sizes too small.

Or, maybe it’s the never-ending voice in my head that’s inexplicably obsessed with Stephanie Waters.

The one I’ve been trying to silence long before I caught her taking money on Mo’s stage.

Before I knew that my best fucking friend was screwing her behind my back .

“Gentlemen,” the man accompanying my little nightmare greets.

Stephanie flips her hair to the side before her eyes widen in surprise as she takes in who is seated at the booth.

Joy floods me as her mask slips long enough for hurt to decorate her baby blue eyes while she takes in my best friend.

As fast as her mask slipped, she rebuilds her emotional walls in time to stare at me.

Her eyes narrow, flaying me open until she reaches the Vice President patch on my cut.

“Mr. Hill,” Graves acknowledges as he stands, offering the space for the older man and my stepsister to slide into the booth. “Who might your guest be?”

“Caught your eye, did she, Mr. Hargrave?” Hill smarms. He places his arm over Stephanie’s shoulder before teasing the thin strap of her dress.

My teeth grind under the pressure of my jaw tightening.

I hate it—the sight of him touching her so…

casually . I shouldn’t, but I do. Stephanie leans closer to her date and slides her perfectly manicured hand over his chest, tracing a pattern with her nail.

Rage threatens to consume me, courtesy of her nonchalance.

Between the devastated look she gave my best friend and her ability to touch a man who is, in my book, lower than fucking garbage—all while giving me nothing, pisses me the fuck off.

I hate that I want to jump over this fucking table and beat the shit out of Hill for putting his hands on her.

I loathe the fact that I’m reminded that Jameson had her.

More than that, it’s clear that she felt something for him.

Worse, I despise knowing that I want to breathe the same goddamn air as her.

“We have history,” Graves snorts as he raises two fingers in a salute towards Stephanie. “Isn’t that right, Stevie ?”

“Oh, this is perfect.” Hill laughs hoarsely. “Since you’re already familiar with each other, sharing tonight shouldn’t be a problem.”

Sharing? Over my dead fucking body. “I have no interest in sharing your whore .” I glare at the whore herself. “Who knows where her cunt has been. ”

“In Stone’s face, per our last encounter,” Stevie snarks before fluttering her lashes at my Sergeant-at-Arms.

“Don’t speak, little girl .” Hill grips her shoulder harshly, leaving red splotches where his finger tips rested in his wake. “If you need to open your mouth, you can put it to better use on my cock.”

Stone glances in my direction, likely trying to gauge how I feel about hearing that he had his face in the one woman’s pussy I can’t stand. Shaking my head, I refuse to cater to her outburst. No. He and I will settle this in private, where he will let me get my licks in.

“Creed Hill,” Kash interrupts as he approaches the table. Perfect timing. “Kashton Reid, Butcher MC Enforcer.”

“I take it you’re the one responsible for the missing middlemen around the state,” Creed sneers. “I’ve lost a lot of money because of you.”

“Hazard of the job, man.” Kash shrugs before giving my stepsister his attention. He smiles, far too kindly if I have anything to say about it. “Nice to see you dressed, Blondie.”

Jesus fucking Christ. Has she seduced everyone at this fucking table? Standing, I slam my hands on the table, ready to flip it and drag Stevie out of here by her light blonde strands like a damn caveman.

“Sit. Down. Mack,” Graves grits, clearly not pleased with how this meeting is shaping up.

I follow his order, not bothering to address the outburst. Creed eyes me briefly before whispering to Stephanie, something meant only for her to hear.

My heart pounds, forcing my chest to heave with every breath I take.

I want to know what he’s saying to her, and why her cheeks are flushed.

No. I need to know. Relief washes over me, calming the storm in my mind when her eyes light with a familiar defiance as Creed pulls away.

At least she has some fight left in her.

“I don’t think that’s a good id—” she starts .

“I am certain I told you not to speak,” Creed reprimands. “Go on.” With a glint of deviance, he nudges her away. “Help relieve some stress from our friend over there.”

“Of course, Mr. Hill. ” She shuffles next to my best friend before sitting on his lap.

My jaw thrums while she makes an obvious show of grinding on him before sliding off his lap, and the booth.

Her crystal blues sparkle against the low light of the bar—challenging me and every man at this table to fall into her trap.

Her stiletto heels click twice against the floor, one for each step she takes to stand next to Kash, who hasn’t bothered to sit. “Excuse me, cutie.” She giggles.

“Cutie?” he all but growls. “I’ll show you cute.”

Her fake laugh rings out again, drawing the attention of other patrons around the bar.

The sound echoes in my head, stirring the familiar disdain I hold for her.

Everything about Stevie Waters is fake. Her laugh, her smile, her blonde hair, and her fucking bimbo attitude.

Like mother, like daughter. And like father, like son—I can’t stop myself from wanting her.

Sneering, I snap my fingers to get Kash’s attention. I’m done letting her play games tonight. If she wants to act , then I’ll give her a stage. Then we’ll see how well she can keep the facade going. “Come on then, whore ,” I drawl.

Her heated stare connects with mine, accepting my challenge without so much as a blink. “Where do you want me, Max ?” she purrs.

Fuck. My name should not sound that damn good from her pouty lips.

“Sit your ass down,” I demand, pointing to my lap.

She smirks. She fucking smirks like the little temptress she is.

I almost want to walk back my demand given the confidence she’s exuding.

Almost. But like the stupid bastard I am, I hold firm.

This is a game of chicken that I don’t plan on losing.

She sways her hips side to side, encouraging Kash and Graves to groan.

Turning, she gives me a full view of her incredible perky round ass before falling right into my lap.

Fucking tease.

Tension circles the table, so damn thick that I could choke.

My dick thickens, pressing firmly against my jeans.

It doesn’t take a genius to know that she can feel it through her poor excuse of a dress as she gyrates her hips.

Fuck. Me. I grip her toned thighs and dig my fingers into her soft skin, forcing her still.

“Don’t tease me, little nightmare,” I warn.

Her bratty laugh stretches the tension further, forcing it down my throat. I can taste everything she has to offer and everything she doesn’t. Heaven. Sin. Hell. Temptation. Redemption. She’s sugary sweet, masking the fact that she is nothing but poison wrapped in a pretty little package.

“Or what, Mack ?” She rotates her hips again, purposely grinding over my dick.

I wrap an arm around her breasts, pulling her flush to my chest. Teasingly, I drag my nose through her hair until I reach her diamond pierced ear. “Or I’m going to play with your slutty pussy before I handle business,” I whisper.

She shudders, as if the idea of me touching her is repulsive. “You wouldn’t.”