Page 13 of Trip (Sons of Hell MC #11)

C.C.

“Mom!”

“In the kitchen!”

Dropping my gear at the front door, I trudged toward the kitchen, still a little shaken at what happened at the track.

After Ansel left, and Trip told me to head home, that no one was driving today, I drove around for a bit, trying to make sense of what was happening.

I mean, I knew there was an issue with the car, but I never considered something nefarious.

From the first time my dad took me to see my first race, I knew I was gonna win the Daytona 500. I didn’t know when or how, but nothing was going to stop me from achieving my goal.

I wanted that checkered flag.

Walking into the kitchen, I found my mom standing in front of the stove, stirring something in a big stock pot. Taking a seat at the bar, I leaned my head in my hand and asked. “Whatcha cookin’?”

“Gumbo.” My mom smiled, then said, “Thought you’d be at the track all day.”

“So did I,” I began, hesitating at first. My mom paused, turning her attention from the pot to me. Her gaze softened, and she tilted her head slightly, the way she always did when she sensed something was bothering me. “Something happened at the track.”

“Did somebody get hurt?” she asked, her voice low and calm.

“No, but it was bad. Someone put metal shavings in the oil. Mom, if I was on the track with that crap in the engine, it could have blown.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line as she set the spoon down deliberately on the counter. “Metal shavings? Are you sure?” she asked, her voice threaded with disbelief, but her eyes told me she believed every word.

I nodded. “The new mechanic Trip brought in found it.”

Mom sighed deeply, removing the apron tied snugly around her waist. She hung it on the back of a chair, her movements slow and deliberate, as if she were piecing together the implications in her mind. “Who would do something like that?”

“I don’t know.” My voice cracked slightly, and I clenched my jaw to steady myself.

She walked over, wiping her hands on a towel, and reached across the bar to place one hand on mine. “You know I’ve never understood your need to drive, and I don’t have to. All I care about is you. What does Mitch say?”

I shrugged. “Don’t know. He wasn’t there.”

“Hello to the house!”

My mom smiled. “Speak of the Devil,” she muttered as the man himself walked into the kitchen.

“Hello, my beautiful ladies,” Mitchell Landry, my former crew chief, said happily. “Damn, Glorianna, whatever you’re cooking, I’m buying.”

My mom giggled, flicking her dish towel at him. “You big flirt. Now sit your butt down. C.C. has a problem.”

Doing as my mother instructed, Mitch nudged my shoulder. “What’s up, champ? Problems at the track already?”

“You could say that. Someone put shavings in the oil.”

Mitch stiffened for a split second, then asked, “What did Crane say?”

“It wasn’t him who found it,” I mumbled, then shook my head.

Mitch leaned back slowly, his brows knitting in a thoughtful frown. “Shavings in the oil? That’s no rookie prank. Someone’s trying to sabotage you, kid.”

I stayed quiet, the weight of his statement pressing over me like a heavy blanket.

My mom set a steaming plate in front of him, her voice soft but firm as she interjected, “This isn’t just about the race anymore, Cosette.

It sounds personal to me. Whatever they’re doing, they want to see you off the track. ”

Mitch scooped up a forkful of food, chewing without his usual gusto. “You’re sure it wasn’t Crane?”

I nodded, though the doubt gnawed at the edges of my certainty. “Crane wouldn’t risk his reputation over something like this.”

Mitch put his fork down, his blue eyes sharpening.

“Then someone else with access is gunning for you, and they’ve got the guts to go dirty.

You need eyes on your new team, girl. Got love for Trip, but his reputation isn’t what it used to be.

Trust is a luxury you can’t afford right now.

Not with the racing season right around the corner. ”

“It wasn’t Trip,” I stated.

“You willing to risk your life on that?”

Looking at a man I’d known my whole life, I asked, “What are you talking about?”

Mitch turned and said, “You need to ask him what really happened the day of the accident.”

Before I could ask more, the front screen door opened as the sounds of kids, women, and my aunties all rushed in.

Laughter rang out on the veranda as I found myself surrounded by the wives of the Sons of Hell Motorcycle Club, drinking mimosas and enjoying the late afternoon sun. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope.” Laurel, Banks’ wife, shook her head. “Our fearless leader literally jumped on the woman and started smashing her head on the ground. It was beautiful.”

Bailey, King’s wife, looked at her nails and muttered, “Bitch pissed me off.”

“When doesn’t she?” another woman named Phoebe replied. “From the moment she showed up at your wedding reception, you’ve had it out for her.”

“According to Jess”—Sarah chuckled to herself at the memory—“that feud started when Bailey walked into the kitchen and saw one of the club sluts naked from the waist up.”

“I’m not that bad,” Bailey scoffed. “Henley and Devlyn tag-teamed a cunt. I barely got a lick in.”

“Liar.” Phoebe snickered as she shuffled her tarot cards.

“Is it always like that at the clubhouse?” I asked curiously.

“No. It’s gotten boring since the kids arrived. King said we have to behave. Set a good example.” She groaned, rolling her eyes. “FYI, adulting sucks!”

“I heard Marlene moved out west,” Sarah informed.

“I thought she was shacking up with Mike’s new deputy?” Henley asked.

“Nope.” Sarah shook her head. “Dad nixed that shit real quick.”

“Hold up,” I butted in, looking at Sarah. “Your dad is the town sheriff?”

“Yep, and my mom runs the best coffee shop in town.”

Looking at my cousin, I snarked, “Sugar, why didn’t you tell me any of this?”

“Because I don’t gossip,” she replied, sticking her tongue out at me.

“Tap the deck, C.C.,” Phoebe instructed, placing the deck on the table.

Doing as she said, I barely looked and slapped it before asking the group, “So what do you all do for fun now?”

“Well, right now we’re waiting,” Bailey admitted as Henley giggled.

“For what?”

“Cameron,” all the women said at once.

Confused, I looked at the women who all had varying degrees of grins on their faces. “I don’t understand. Why are you waiting on a child?”

“Because Cameron isn’t just any child.”

“He’s a menace to society.”

“He’s the reason most of the brothers sleep with one eye open.”

Shaking my head, I said, “I still don’t understand.”

“Fine, I’ll tell her.” Bailey sighed and sat up.

“So, long before the brat showed up, Scribe pretended to be my gay best friend and, well, I didn’t take it well.

So I got him back by painting a very accurate and detailed female vagina on his lips.

” The woman smirked, adding, “Every time he talked, it looked as if the pussy was opening and closing. It was fucking hilarious. Well, since then, we’ve been in a prank war.

Until we each played the same prank and it backfired on us both.

Since then, King ordered the two of us to cease and desist. Only, I know my bestie is up to something. ”

“We all know he’s up to something,” Sarah agreed. “Why else does he have the greenhouse secured tighter than Fort Knox? Gunner tried sneaking in a few weeks ago, and he got electrocuted. My poor guy didn’t stop twitching for hours.”

Turning to Henley, I asked, “You’re married to Scribe. Do you know what’s in the greenhouse?”

The beautiful woman shook her head. “Nope. The only person who knows is Cameron, and he’s not saying shit.”

“Yeah, well, that’s about to change because I overheard King give Cameron a Special Request. He’s giving Cameron until New Year’s Eve to come clean about the greenhouse.

If he does, King has promised to announce to the club that when Cameron turns twenty-one, King will hand over the club to him.

If not, Cameron will have to wait until King decides to step down and pray the brothers vote him in,” Bailey informed.

Henley sighed. “Scribe is screwed. Cameron wants the seat bad.”

“Really bad.” Sarah nodded.

“Do you think Cameron will tell?” I asked.

“No,” Phoebe said absently, then smiled. “Reading time!”

Groaning, I looked at the woman and said, “Pheobe, unless those cards tell you who’s sabotaging my career, I really don’t care.”

Phoebe chuckled, her fingers hovering over the worn edges of the tarot cards. “Careful what you dismiss, babe. These cards might just have the answers you’re too afraid to face.” She flipped the first card, her eyes narrowing as she studied it with a frown. “The Magician. Interesting.”

I sighed, crossing my arms. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“The Magician reveals hidden truths,” Phoebe said cryptically, her gaze darting to Henley. “Or someone manipulating the situation to their advantage. You might want to keep an eye on that greenhouse.”

Henley raised an eyebrow. “Why me?”

Phoebe shrugged. “You’re married to Scribe. That makes you closer to the mystery than anyone else here.”

“Except Cameron,” Sarah pointed out, her tone laced with curiosity.

“True,” Phoebe admitted, shuffling the deck again. “But Cameron’s playing the long game. Whoever’s really pulling the strings may have different goals altogether. My cards rarely lie.”

“Rarely,” I muttered under my breath, earning a grin from Phoebe.

“Well, we’ll see if they lie this time,” Bailey said, standing. “Because I’m done sitting on the sidelines. If Cameron’s not going to tell us what’s in that damn greenhouse, then I’ll find out myself.”

“And get electrocuted like Gunner?” Sarah asked.

Bailey smirked, her eyes alight with mischief. “Not if I plan it right. Besides, someone’s got to shake things up before New Year’s Eve.”

I exchanged a glance with Henley and sighed deeply. “This is going to end in chaos, isn’t it?”

“Probably,” Henley said, unable to suppress a small smile. “But at least it won’t be boring.”