Page 21 of Trip (Sons of Hell MC #11)

C.C.

“Let me get this straight,” I slurred as I leaned forward in my chair, waving my finger back and forth. “King lowjacked you?”

“Yep.” Bailey smirked, slowly nodding her head. “Didn’t even ask. Just had my bestie slap a bracelet on my wrist and sent me on my merry way.”

“What did you do?” I asked, pouring another shot of tequila into the shot glass for the both of us.

“Threw a goddamned hissy fit,” she hiccupped. “You see, they are these big badass men and we little women desperately need their help, and King had no problem leading the charge. Fucker thought he knew what was best and refused to listen to anyone.”

“Yeah. I get that,” I groaned. “Trip says he’s trying to protect me. I don’t need protection. Don’t they realize women are more than capable of taking care of themselves?”

Bailey chuckled, her laughter unsteady as she reached for another chip. “Oh, and let’s not forget the whole macho ‘I’m the boss’ thing. Like, excuse me? Last I checked, I didn’t need help to wipe my own ass!”

I clinked my glass against hers and sighed, feeling the tequila heating my insides.

“Don’t even get me started. Trip is on some power trip because the men with dicks have decided it’s too dangerous for a fragile thing like me to drive.

Who do they think we are, damsels in distress from some medieval fairy tale? ”

Bailey smirked, wiping at an invisible tear. “If anything, we should be the knights charging to save them from their own egos.”

“Exactly!” I exclaimed, slamming my glass down for dramatic effect. “They think they’re untouchable, these leather-clad protectors of justice or whatever, but half the time, they’re the ones causing the damn chaos.”

“Amen, sister.” Bailey’s grin widened. “If they weren’t so busy growling and brooding, maybe they’d actually notice that we’ve been holding the fort this whole time.”

“Here’s to us,” I declared, raising my glass again and giving her a wink. “The real warriors in their twisted little kingdom.”

“Oh, there you are,” Laurel said, plopping her ass down in a chair as she grabbed the bottle of tequila and groaned. “I see I’m late to the party. So, what are we talking about?”

“Bossy men,” Bailey damn near shouted, drawing a few looks our way.

Laurel tipped the bottle back, barely bothering with the glass, before setting it down with a thud. “Bossy men, huh? Sounds like my kind of conversation. Let me guess. Trip’s being a control freak again?”

I rolled my eyes. “When is he not?”

“Ugh, don’t get me started on Banks,” Laurel groaned, dragging her chair closer. “That man couldn’t lead his way out of a wet paper bag. Do you know he wants me to have another baby? Me? At my age. I told him to go fuck himself. My uterus is closed.”

“Told King the same thing.” Bailey snickered. “Said I was a one and done girl.”

“What about you, C.C.? Do you want kids?” Laurel asked.

Shrugging my shoulders, I admitted, “Never gave them much thought. Besides, I like my life the way it is now. Having a kid will put the brakes on a lot of things. Things I’m not ready to walk away from.”

“Like the circuit?”

I nodded. “Been my dream since I was little and could hold a wrench in my hand.”

“What does Trip say?”

I looked at Laurel and frowned. “What do you mean? Why does it matter to him?”

Laurel looked at Bailey, who slowly shook her head and said, “Our girl over here is on the fence. She’s not sure she wants to be a part of our group.”

I crossed my arms and leaned back in my chair as the weight of everyone’s gaze landed squarely on me. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I replied, my voice sharp but steady.

Bailey smirked, the kind of smirk that said she knew more than she was letting on. “Oh, come on, C.C. You’ve been riding the Trip train since the wedding. You just don’t want to admit it.”

Bailey tapped her nails on the table, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “It’s not a bad thing, you know. Wanting a place to belong. Even I had to admit that once.”

I rolled my eyes, but my defenses softened. “Belonging isn’t my issue. I’ve always had the circuit, and that’s enough for me.”

Laurel tilted her head. “For now. But life has a funny way of throwing a wrench into your plans, doesn’t it?”

I sighed, knowing they weren’t going to let this go. “Alright, fine. If I’m on the fence, it’s because I don’t know if I’m ready to deal with all the baggage that comes with your group. You guys have history, drama, and enough complications to fill a book.”

Bailey laughed, a throaty sound that echoed through the room. “Honey, we are the book. Stick around long enough, and you might even get your own chapter.”

Laurel raised an eyebrow, her smile widening as if she’d won some mysterious argument. “Think about it, C.C. We’re not saying ride him into the sunset. Just... give our boy a chance.”

I scoffed, shaking my head.

Looking up at the mountain of stairs before me, I tried not to make too much noise, not wanting to wake my mom or brother. Bad enough I was three sheets to the wind. I was in no mood for a lecture on the Southern rules of decorum for a genteel Southern lady.

There wasn’t a genteel bone in my body.

Never had been, never would be.

I paused, leaning against the wall for support, and caught my breath.

The stairs loomed above me, a mountain to climb in my inebriated state.

I giggled to myself, imagining what my mother would say if she saw me now.

Her rules of decorum, drilled into me since I was a little girl, seemed absurd in this moment.

I could almost hear her disapproving voice echoing in my head.

“A true Southern lady always conducts herself with grace and poise. She never raises her voice, and most certainly never touches a drop of alcohol.”

I snorted in derision. Grace and poise were not my strong suits, and I’d long ago given up trying to fit the mold of a genteel Southern belle.

With a final push, I made it to the top of the stairs and carefully made my way down the hall to my room.

I winced as I fumbled with the doorknob, grateful that the house was quiet and everyone was asleep.

Collapsing onto my bed, I let out a sigh of relief.

The events of the night swam in my head, a blur of laughter, music, and forbidden fun.

It had been worth it, despite the looming hangover I’d surely face in the morning.

Kicking off my shoes, I felt my phone vibrate. Digging it out of my back pocket, I swiped my thumb across the screen and saw that I’d received a new text message.

Clicking on the icon, the app opened, and I read.

Unknown: Stay away from the track tomorrow.

That was it.

Nothing more.

Closing my eyes, I flung my arm over my eyes and muttered, “That ain’t gonna happen.”

“Lacey called me last night.”

“I know. She called me too.”

“Fucking shame. Kid had talent.”

“He walked away, Mitch. I tried everything to get him to stay. After Mr. and Mrs. Hall died, he was done. There was nothing you or I could have said to get him to stay. The drive left him the moment he laid his parents to rest.”

“It’s like the family’s cursed or somethin’.” Mitch shook his head. “First Bill and Mary, and now Calvin?”

Ansel whispered, “Lacey told me he made it through surgery.”

“Kid always did have a hard head.” Mitch smirked, then asked, “What the fuck was he thinking riding without a helmet?”

Shaking his head, Ansel sighed, rubbing his hands down his face. “I don’t know, Mitch. I don’t know.”

“You gonna go visit?”

“No,” Ansel quickly said. “Trip wouldn’t want me there. We didn’t part on the best of terms.”

“Still,” Mitch said. “He was your best friend.”

“Still is, even if he hates my guts.”

“When does the new engine get here?”

“Tomorrow,” Ansel replied, leaning back in his chair. “The Bourbon Kings will deliver it as soon as it arrives.”

“And C.C.?”

“I’m not changing my mind, Mitch. My decision is final.”

“He’s not gonna like it. He was expectin’ to sit behind the wheel.”

“I’m going with C.C.,” Ansel firmly said. “Crane can get on board or he can find a new crew to work with.”

The sun shone brightly the next morning, and I woke up with a start, the events of the previous night rushing back to me. I groaned, my head throbbing as I remembered the copious amount of alcohol I drank.

After doing my morning business, I headed downstairs in desperate need of some coffee. Walking into the kitchen, I saw my mom and Mitch sitting at the breakfast bar, their heads close as my mom giggled at something Mitch said.

Heading for the coffeepot, I grumbled, “What’s so funny?”

“Oh, Cosette,” my mom’s chipper voice rang out, and I cringed. “I didn’t hear you come in last night. I thought you would be spending the night with Trip.”

“I’m not a child anymore. I don’t spend the night with anyone.”

“My apologies,” my mom scoffed. “Then what would you call it?”

“Well, I certainly wouldn’t call it a sleepover,” I retorted, pouring myself a cup of coffee. “And for your information, I didn’t stay at Trip’s last night because we had a fight.” I took a cautious sip of the hot coffee, wincing as the bitter liquid hit my tongue.

“Oh, Cosette, what did you do now?” my mother asked, her voice taking on an edge of disappointment. “That young man will only take so much before he hightails to the next woman.”

I rolled my eyes, already tired of this conversation. “I’m not stopping him.”

Mitch, ever the peacemaker, jumped into the fray by changing the subject. “Thought you’d already be at the track since they are testing the engine today.”

I shrugged.

My mother raised an eyebrow, her giggle from moments ago a distant memory. “You’re not going to the track today? After all the hard work you put into your career. I never pegged you for a quitter, Cosette.”

I wasn’t a quitter. I never quit anything in my life.

I just refused to be somewhere I wasn’t wanted.

“Cosette, what is it?” my mom asked.

“Trip benched me.”

“Why would he do that?”

“I may have lost my temper and said a bunch of things I didn’t mean and stormed out.”

“Cosette, your temper will be the end of you.” My mother sighed, shaking her head. “You need to learn to control it, especially if you want to succeed in a man’s world.”

I rolled my eyes again, the bitterness of the coffee reflecting my mood. “I know, I know,” I muttered, taking another sip. “I just wish he’d trust me.”

“Maybe he’s waiting to see if you will trust him first,” my mother offered. “Trust goes both ways, Cosette.”

I snorted.

“I know,” I said, pushing away my half-empty cup. “Besides, it doesn’t matter because someone sent me a text and told me to stay away from the track today.”

Mitch gave me a curious look, and his eyes narrowed. “What text?”

I hesitated, not wanting to worry them, but knowing they deserved an explanation. “I got a strange text last night,” I began, turning to face them. “It just said, ‘Stay away from the track tomorrow.’ That’s all.”

“You know who sent it?” Mitch asked, looking down at his cup of coffee.

“No. Sender was unknown.”

“Then maybe you should listen to it,” Mitch cautiously said, getting to his feet. “If the track isn’t safe, I wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”

I stared at Mitch, confused. “Do you know something?”

The man shook his head. “Nope. Been out of the game for a while now. You know that.”

“You’re lying. What aren’t you telling me?”

“Seriously, C.C.,” Mitch gruffy replied, digging into his front pocket for his keys. “I don’t know anything. I need to get going. I will see you ladies later. Thank you for the coffee, Glorianna.”

“You’re welcome, Mitch.” My mother smiled up at him as he kissed her cheek and left.

The second I heard his truck pull out of the drive, I turned to my mom. “He’s lying. Why would he lie?”

“I don’t know, sweetheart, but if you think something is wrong, you best go check it out.”

“I think you’re right.”