Page 9 of Spooked (31 Days of Trick or Treat: Biker & Mobster #13)

CHAPTER SIX

HOUND

As before, I park in the employee’s parking lot behind SD Construction, enter the building and take the elevator to the top floor.

I’ve not notified my brothers of the exact time I’ll be arriving, but since they are expecting me to report back today, I take a chance that at least one of them will be free.

Luckily, Bullet is available, and I’m shown directly into his office.

After giving me a grin and a chin lift, he asks, “What gives, Brother?” He motions me to a chair.

Replying as nonchalantly as I can, I slap my phone down in front of him. “Got those photos that you requested.” And job done, I think to myself. I can get on with my life and forget the Sullivan House altogether.

Bullet takes my phone, holds it up to my face, then connects it to the computer in front of him.

As the pictures take their time to load, to centre myself and avoid too much thought about the images he’s going to want to talk about, I ask, “What do you think of the F.O.G.s stepping back up into officer roles?”

Settling back, putting his hands behind his head, Bullet chuckles. “Those oldies have done nothing but cause mischief since they retired. I reckon they’re fuckin’ bored. The accident gave them the chance to feel useful again.”

“What if they decide to step back permanently?” I speak the words before I’m aware that I have expressed my greatest concern.

Peg was always a fucking hard act to follow.

Deep down inside me, I’ve always been trying to compete, comparing myself to the man who went before.

What if I’ve not proved good enough, and this is an excuse to replace me?

Will the brothers notice the difference and no longer want me?

That wouldn’t even be a question if, going forward, I’m going to be plagued with a traumatic brain injury.

Who’d want a sergeant-at-arms who can’t separate fiction from reality?

Bullet barks a laugh. “Brother, I’ve been in the club forever.

Drummer was my prez from the day I prospected.

He wouldn’t have stepped down if he hadn’t thought Wizard was a worthy replacement.

” He pauses and purses his lips. “Change comes to none of us easily. Have to admit, I was dubious at first, but I gave Wiz a chance as he had Drummer’s backing and support.

” He snorts. “But he’s proved a great prez.

Different from Drum, but lacking in nothing.

I’ve no issues recognising him as Prez in his own right.

” He shrugs. “Same with Throttle taking over from Blade, Hawk from Wraith and,” he glances up to meet my eyes, “you taking over from Peg. You’re all the next generation, a recognition that the club has to move with the times.

” He holds my gaze. “Right now, Wiz is in a bad way. Hawk, Throttle and you need time to mend. Any other club might have folded or been at the mercy of our enemies. But we’ve got Drummer, Wraith, Peg and Blade to step up to help and run the club seamlessly.

With their reputations, anyone has to think twice about taking advantage of our weakness and coming for us.

” He breaks off, raises and lowers his shoulders again.

“Sure, they’re enjoying themselves, but I can’t see them thinking of being anything other than caretakers.

” Chuckling softly, he finishes, “They’ve all been there, done that.

And before the crash, I saw no signs of any of them wanting to hold officer positions again. ”

Touching my temples, remembering what happened yesterday, and the doctor’s ominous warning, I admit, “I worry they’re regretting the decision to promote me to officer.”

“Fuck no.” He looks amazed. “Look, you were in a coma. I attended church during those early days after the accident. If those men hadn’t stepped back up, we’d have been floundering.

It’s not a judgment on you, Brother, it just is what it is.

” He grins and leans forward, adding confidentially, “They are enjoying themselves, but it’s only with the knowledge it’s temporary.

I’m actually one of the F.O.G.s myself, and once retirement beckons, it’s not something you give up voluntarily. ”

“But you’re here,” I counter. “Running SD Construction like you always have.”

“Different from running the club, but even so, I’m going to be stepping down soon.

My heart sort of went out of it when Viper died.

And Carmen is going to be giving up her hairdressing business.

There’s a whole new freedom I’d like to explore.

I have confidence Shooter and Zane can run the business.

There’s no need for me to be here getting in their way.

” He leans back in his chair. “Know it’s hard to believe that power isn’t everything.

As you get older, things come into perspective.

Like wanting more downtime to be with your ol’ lady and enjoying life with fewer commitments.

” His eyes sharpen. “If you’re worried about your position in the club, don’t be.

Hey, I happen to know Darcy’s close to retiring, which is all Peg ever wanted her to do.

He’s always been on edge with her being a firefighter.

Once she hangs up her helmet for good, Peg won’t want extra responsibility.

He’ll want to spend every moment with her. ”

Feeling more at ease, I adjust the position of my left leg. “Them photos ready yet?”

Bullet snorts, then turns his screen around, so I can watch as he clicks on the file and opens it.

The first shot is one of my leg. The second one of the ground. The third some blurred scenery. He groans. I put my head into my hands. “Fuckin’ tell me it gets better than this, Brother.”

Shaking my head, I can only hope that it does.

“There was a gate blocking the driveway. Had a little difficulty opening it,” I admit, as finally he clicks on an image that makes sense.

“I can see.” His eyes widen. “You had to cut through that?”

“Sure did.”

“Should have called for help,” he remarks, as he steps through to the picture of the gate once it’s been opened. His eyes move to my leg encased in metal and plaster, and he shakes his head. “Surprised you even got through.”

Whether he’s giving me criticism or not, he continues clicking through the photos.

He lets out air as he sees the columns and the grand entrance.

“The other photos don’t do this place justice,” he says, and then continues to examine each of the many pictures I’ve taken.

“Fuck, Bro, this house must have been amazing in its day. You’ve captured everything.

” He grimaces. “Including the decay. The way the floorboards have fallen in, I’d bet good money dry rot riddles everything. ”

“It was pretty impressive,” I start, but am interrupted by the buzzing of a device on his desk.

He presses a button and snaps impatiently, “What?”

“Think you need to come out here, Bullet.” I recognise the voice of his receptionist.

With an apologetic glance toward me, he gets up and leaves. “Give me a minute,” he says as he opens the door and disappears.

Alone, I stay still. I’m tempted to go around to the keyboard and click through the rest of the images I captured, but I resist. That fucking mansion unnerved me enough as it is.

I don’t want to subject myself to remembering the distress, the panic, that an MC sergeant-at-arms, a seasoned Marine to boot, shouldn’t have experienced.

There was an unseasonal monsoon while I was in the mansion.

I heard the rain, saw the lightning, and was almost deafened by the thunder.

Yet no sign of it when I came out, and as for the house seeming to come alive around me…

the sooner I forget about that the better.

I stare down at my hands, watching them shake in my lap, remembering how the doctor warned about my prognosis when he talked about my TBI.

Hallucinations could well be part of that.

But what would that mean? If I were seeing and hearing things that weren’t there, how could I regain my role as sergeant-at-arms in the club?

The door opens, the sound making me jump.

Fuck, now my nerves are shot. Looking up, I expect to see Bullet, but he’s not alone.

I don’t recognise the woman who’s following him into the room, wondering why he’s allowing her to interrupt our meeting.

Surprised, I take a moment to examine her.

There’s something timeless and ageless about her.

She could be anything between late twenties to mid-thirties, at my guess.

She’s dressed in capri pants that show off her shapely legs, some kind of floral shirt covered by a light jacket, a nod to the autumn air.

Her face is stunning, with only a hint of makeup enhancing her features, and glossy red hair tumbles down around her shoulders in a mass of curls.

Her green eyes and generous freckles suggest the colour is natural.

The jacket is open, allowing me to notice a waist so tiny I wouldn’t be surprised if I could span it with both of my hands, ample breasts, and, as she turns slightly to take the seat Bullet directs her to, I can’t miss the ass that’s to die for, pert, round and firm.

Cocking a brow toward Bullet, I wait to be introduced.

“Ms Sullivan,” he starts, with a chin lift toward her, “This is Hound, my colleague, who just visited the property you were enquiring about.”

“Maeve,” she says, in a voice with a tint of an Irish lilt. She sits, but clasps her hands and leans forward. “You went there? To Sullivan House?” Her eyes flare with interest.

For some reason, I have to clear my throat before answering. “Yes,” I confirm, managing to repress the shudder that just the name causes.

Her eyes widen as she leans forward. “It’s still standing? You went inside?” Her questions tumble out fast.