Page 2 of Pink Poison (The Butchers MC #1)

Chapter one

Mack

Five Months Later…

“Hi, Junior. It’s me, Mom; Marissa. I know Dad has called you a few times, but I just wanted to reach out and remind you that Dad’s meeting is tonight—”

My finger presses the delete voicemail option as soon as my foggy brain can decipher who the fuck bothered to leave a message.

Marissa.

The woman who conned my father into moving to a podunk little town with her and her little brat of a daughter, Stephanie.

The last I heard of her, she was doing well in college, being the pride of the Waters family.

As if my going to a local tech school wasn’t worthy of pride.

Whatever. Grabbing my beer, I take another swig, letting the bitter liquid sit on my tongue before swallowing.

It’s been like this for weeks now. A phone call here, a phone call there, always about Dad’s business bullshit and precious little Stephanie.

It’s never, hey son, how are you? Call it petty, or fuck, even daddy issues—but is it so much to ask to have your only parent want to check on your wellbeing?

I’m only twenty-four, for fuck’s sake. Shit gets rough for me, too.

“Hey, you sad fuck,” Jameson grunts. “What’s with the long face?”

I blow out a slow breath, raising my head to see my best friend giving me one of his classic smirks. “Same shit, different day. Where the fuck have you been?”

He shrugs. “I was at Mo’s.”

Why the hell was he at Mo’s? “We have plenty of pussy at The Deli, man,” I huff. We’ve only been patched for two years, there’s no way he’s tired of the rotation of club pussy already.

His eyes narrow, almost daring me to challenge him. “You know I like to mix it up from time to time.”

I don’t bother giving him my two cents. Instead, I ask, “Yeah, and did you get what you wanted?”

“Sort of—” His words are cut off by the remaining members of our crew shouting, rallying around our newest prospect, Stone, who looks like he just went several rounds with Muhammad Ali.

“We got ourselves a fucking champion, boys,” Prez bellows, slapping Stone’s shoulder. “How’s it feel to know you’re patching in, kid?”

Stone’s mouth moves, but nothing comes out—at least nothing that I can hear with the way everyone and their damn cousin is yelling. I look back at Jameson and watch as he moves through the crowd to greet Stone, probably welcoming him to the family.

Family. I suppose it’s fitting that this crew is more of a family than my own. We look out for each other here, Prez especially. I owe a lot to that man, more than I could ever pay back in this lifetime, but I’ll keep giving him and the crew my all .

“Let’s get the fuck outta here and celebrate!” our vice president yells, gathering the patched members from their seats. “We’re goin’ to Mo’s, fuckers.” Seems like Jameson isn’t the only one tired of club pussy tonight.

With a deep sigh, I pull my ass from the plastic chair and pocket my phone inside my cut. Slowly, I walk toward Jameson and Stone, standing by the door as the others brush past us on their way out. “You look like shit, Stone,” I snort, getting a good view of his blood-crusted face.

He grunts before giving me a look that tells me I need to get my shit together. “And somehow I still look better than your depressed looking ass.”

“Whatever, fuckstain.” I push his shoulder, knowing that I won’t move him in the slightest. “Congrats on your wins and patch, brother. Let’s go see some tits to celebrate.”

Pivoting from the guys, I stalk to my bike, well and truly ready to get shit-faced and forget about that voicemail from Marissa.

Maybe, if I’m lucky, I’ll also drink out the reminder that I’m not good enough to be a fucking Waters.

Jameson runs in front of me, stopping me in my tracks.

“Mack, you’re not getting on that bike,” he grunts, pulling out his keys from inside of his cut. “Get in the truck, dumbass.”

“I’m not even buzzed, Graves,” I grit.

Am I lying? Yes . Do I give a single fuck right now? Not even a little bit. My focus is clear enough to ride. I mean, I think it is.

He pins me with a tired stare. Yeah, I bet he is tired. Tired of my shit. “You had five beer bottles sitting at the table. Quit being a bitch and get in the truck. I’m driving Stone, too.”

Dickwad. I kick my steel toes over the dirt towards his run-down, piece of shit truck.

Jameson always has this nasty habit of acting like an older brother when I least want him to.

Swinging open the passenger door, I slide into the backseat.

I may be an asshole, but given that Stone is beat to all hell, I figure he earned himself shotgun.

The truck shakes as Jameson fires it up before he leads us off the parking lot.

He takes a sharp right, driving along the frontage road towards the Club’s favorite strip club, Gimme Mo .

I watch the streetlights blur as we take a sharp right turn down the dirt roads, away from what minimal city life surrounded us back at the clubhouse.

“Why are you two being quiet up there?” I ask, breaking the silence in the truck.

Stone flips me off from over his head, letting me know he’s just not in the mood for conversation.

I wait for my best friend to address me, but his answer doesn’t come.

I watch his hands tighten over the steering wheel as we get closer to the shitty building that houses all the hottest strippers in the city.

Shaking my head, I pull out my almost empty pack of Marlboro Reds, knocking one loose to fit between my lips. I pat my sides loudly in search of my cheap lighter, triggering Jameson to grab one of his from the center console. “Don’t fucking steal this one.”

I take the lighter, striking the wheel twice to get a weak flame out of it. “No one would steal this shitty lighter,” I mumble. Lighting the end of my cigarette, I inhale deeply and let the nicotine-filled smoke sit in my lungs for a moment before exhaling.

“You’d steal it,” he snorts, pulling into Mo’s dirt-filled parking lot. “Hop out, Stone. I need to talk to Mack.”

Without a word, Stone pushes the rusty door open and drops out from the passenger seat. I cringe as the door cracks with the resounding slam, sealing Jameson and me together. “What crawled up your ass, Jamie?” I dash the ash from the cigarette on the truck’s floor.

“There’s something you should know before we get in there.” I narrow on his hands again as they white-knuckle against the wheel. “There’s someone working here that you aren’t gonna wanna see,” he warns.

Seriously? That’s what he’s worried about?

Jesus fucking Christ. I thought it was something important, not some bitch I used to fuck.

“I don’t give a shit. I’m here to have tits in my face, not to make conversation with the person behind them.

” I laugh, pushing the seat forward to open the door back up.

The crew walks in Mo’s towards their usual spot by the stage with Stone, all hollering and shouting their excitement. A flash of red hair behind the bar catches my attention, driving my need for another drink.

Preferably something strong and with a red-haired chaser.

Walking towards the dimly lit bar, I knock on the smooth wood counter. “I’ll be with ya in one minute, hot stuff,” a sweet voice replies, stirring my dick in the process.

“Take your time, red,” I say distractedly. She can take as long as she wants if it means I get to enjoy the view of her round ass and the tiny red thong that disappears between her cheeks.

A groan grates against my throat when the woman turns around, revealing her uncovered breasts. Saliva pools under my tongue as she gives me a little bounce, making her dusty pink peaks harden. “What can I get you…” She snaps her sultry, green eyes at my cut. “Mack? Like the truck?”

“I’ll take a Jack and Coke, and yeah, something like that.” I thumb my bottom lip as she bends over the well and grabs the bottle of whiskey I requested.

“Like what you see, Mack?” she flirts, shimmying her shoulders .

Grabbing my thickening dick over my jeans, I squeeze hard, willing the appendage down. “More like I love what I—”

A ridiculous display of flashing pink lights cuts me off.

“Next on stage—who you fine gentlemen in suits have requested to see all damn night— Bimbo Barbie!” the DJ announces.

Toxic by Britney Spears blares from the speakers, shaking the bar and tables.

Turning away from the bar, my mouth falls against my will.

Holy shit. A woman with pencil straight, light blonde hair, clad in nothing but a sheer, bright pink babydoll and matching, tall heels struts on the stage.

My drink is easily forgotten as I palm my rapidly growing boner, drawing away from the bar to see more of her.

The closer I get, the easier it is to see her blue eyes shimmer when the strobe lights hit her face.

Fuck. She’s drop dead gorgeous. Lowering to her knees, she crawls on all fours along the stage, giving everyone an easy view of her mouth watering tits.

They’re huge, and real given the way they are swaying from side to side.

Goddamn. I’ve never appreciated boobs more than I have right now.

Her eyes flit to the men wearing suits at the end of her stage.

She licks her hot pink-painted lips seductively, eliciting a roar from the crowd.

Pausing at the end of the stage, she sits back on her heels and teases the hem of her lingerie.

Slowly, so fucking slowly, she spreads her knees, flashing her barely covered pussy.

My brothers crow and whistle, demanding that she take her clothes off.

Fuck . I can’t lie, I want her to take everything off, too.

Precum beads at the head of my cock as she gives a flirty wink before whipping the flimsy cloth from her body, leaving her in the tiny thong. I walk closer to my crew and the suits, needing to see the vixen who will inevitably be bouncing her perfect tits in my face once she’s off shift.

“Take it all off, Stevie!” one of the suits yells, sounding more than familiar .

The haze of lust clears as I recognize the entire table from my father’s business dealings.

What the fuck are they doing here?

“Come on, baby. Daddy wouldn’t pay for college, but I will,” another howls, throwing a stack of cash at the woman who ignores it as she continues her routine on the floor.

I pull my eyes back to the dancer as she stands to her full height with her back facing the audience. Her hair whips side to side, revealing a birthmark I know too well. One I’ve memorized for years, burned into my brain, chased in my dreams.

Stephanie.

My hands move without thought, extracting my phone from my vest. Sliding my fingers over the screen, I click my camera and change it to video.

Raising my arms enough to get a clear image, I thumb the red record button, ensuring that I capture all of my fucking stepsister as she rakes in money from the crowd.

Red seeps through my vision as her dance comes to an end, releasing her from the music to gather the bills along the stage.

Her glittery hand shimmers under the dimmed lights with each handful, driving me to push the suits out of my way to reach her.

“Looks like the whore daughter doesn’t fall far from the slut mother,” I spit, holding my phone to her face. My cock throbs as her eyes immediately snap to mine, wide with fear. I can almost taste her tears before they even fall, smearing a thick layer of mascara under her eyes.

“W-What?” she hiccups, roaming her gaze over my body like she doesn’t know who the fuck I am.

“You heard me, Stephanie .”

Her shattered gasp sounds around the now quiet club, piquing the interest of the hot little redhead behind the bar to her rescue. “Are you recording a dancer, fuck face? ”

My lips quirk as I end the video and quickly send it to my dad and Marissa without context.

They’d love to know their daughter wasn’t even going to school, but whoring herself out for Dad’s associates instead.

“I just needed spank bank material for later, red.” I laugh.

Backing away from the stage, I pin my little sister with a deviant glare. “I’ll be seeing you, Stevie .”

Spinning on my heel, I walk towards the exit of the strip club, ready to feel the cool night air on my heated skin.

I hear my brothers clammer out of their seats, knowing I just fucked us over from Mo’s by recording.

“Mack, you better have a good fucking reason for that shit!” Prez yells sloppily. “I was enjoyin’ the show.”

“That was a prime piece of pussy up there, Mack,” our roadie gruffs.

Nausea coils through my stomach the further I walk away from their chatter. Jameson stands by his truck with a knowing look, a look that pisses me the hell off. His nonchalance replaces my nausea with rage. He fucking knew. “You rat fucking bastard.” I shove him back against his truck. “You knew?”

His hands push against my chest, forcing me to take a step back despite my dire need to lay into him. “I told you there was someone here you wouldn’t want to see.”

“Is she the one you’ve been fucking?” I seethe. I’m not entirely sure why I’m so pissed about the idea of his dick in Stephanie, but I am.

“She’s just a whore, remember?” he spits, confirming she’s who he’s been seeing rather than the club’s pussy.

Footsteps scuff lightly behind me like Jameson’s words forced them to pause quickly.

I turn my head over my shoulder and see my stepsister looking more like her usual self in a pair of baggy sweatpants and an old t-shirt.

“I’m n-not a whore,” she stammers as she looks right through me and towards my best friend, instead.

Brushing his hands from my chest, I turn to face the little nightmare I’ve been burdened with for the last five years. “ Whore enough to spread your legs for Jamie,” I bite. “ Whore enough to drop out of school and take money from Daddy’s clients.”

Her eyes widen, not out of fear like earlier, but out of surprise at my words. “Jamie?” She pales. Honestly, it would be funny how much color she lost if I wasn’t so fucking pissed. “I didn’t—I wouldn’t.” Her chest heaves as she tries to make an excuse for her actions.

I throw my thumb over my shoulder in Jamie’s direction and let out a derisive snort. “Pretty sure he just said you did, Bimbo Barbie .”

“She didn’t know,” Jamie grumbles, kicking his boot against the dirt. “I also didn’t know, not until today.”

The smirk falls off my face at his confession, hating that I can’t use this against her. “Doesn’t excuse that she was practically fucking the suits on the floor, knowing they work for her daddy.”

My anger hits its mark as Stephanie takes a step away from me. A loud ringing sounds from her pocket, making my smile reappear. “You’d better answer that, sis.” I laugh, dismissing her and my friend by walking just far enough away to overhear the call.