Chapter 10 Havoc

“We should wake her,” I announced, pulling my gaze from the road to stare down at Molly. She’d fallen asleep hours ago after trying to remain awake with the three of us. Gunner closed his eyes only after she did.

Me? I stayed awake, talking to Slash so the old man wouldn’t peter out. I told him as much before he flipped me off.

“She’ll miss it,” I added.

“Yeah, probably.”

“But the sun is rising. It’s fucking awesome.”

We’d been stuck in this fucking U-Haul for two thousand miles. Gunner and Slash did most of the driving, but I gave them breaks whenever I wasn’t flirting with Molly. We drove straight through and only stopped for food, gas, and restrooms when necessary.

I couldn’t wait to get the fuck out of this truck and take a goddamn shower. Maybe I could persuade Molly to join me. Her head rested on my shoulder as she slept. Slash had shrugged off his cut and draped it over her, keeping her warm as she burrowed into it.

His gaze slid to her, losing the hard edge. She softened him.

Hell, she had that effect on all of us, bringing out a sweet side I didn’t think any of us possessed until we rescued her.

“Wake her,” Gunner ordered as he blinked, sitting up straighter beside me.

Thank fuck he didn’t snore much because I would have elbowed him in the gut the whole trip.

His gruff command irritated me. He’d been short with Molly most of the trip and grumpy as fuck.

“Hey, Molly.” I gently shook her shoulder. “Wake up, princess.”

She stirred, stifling a yawn before her eyes fluttered and opened wide. “Where are we?”

“Hocking Hills.”

“And your clubhouse, right?”

“Yeah, baby. We’re almost there.”

She kept her head on my shoulder, and warmth shot into my groin before spreading throughout my body. I wanted to kiss her but held back. We’d been in this truck for too fucking long, and I didn’t want to force myself on her after what she’d endured over the last few days.

We drove over endless hills, passing through thick forests populated with sporadic houses, and followed the road leading to the FRMC clubhouse. A lake skirted the stretch of pavement as we broke through a gap in the trees, and I couldn’t help grinning at the sight of it glistening in the early morning sunshine. The sun peeked over the horizon in an orange ball that touched everything in a golden glow.

Molly gasped.

“Pretty, yeah?”

“It’s beautiful.”

I reached for her hand and threaded our fingers. “A lot different than Las Vegas.”

“It sure is.”

She didn’t pull her hand away, and a smile curved my lips.

When we pulled up to the big sliding metal gate, razor wire looped along the top. I wondered what she would think of our clubhouse. Several buildings squatted together in a row and contained the clubhouse, bedrooms, and the repair shop business the club ran. We fixed everything from motorcycles to lawnmowers to trucks.

The cash flow was decent. Most of the members knew how to tinker on cars and make general repairs. We’d bought the best diagnostics machines, lift equipment, power tools, and all the shit we’d need back when we started. Hades and Grave provided the startup funds, and we only made money since the repair shop, Rebel Auto Repair, opened.

This was our main hub, where we completed most of the work, but we also had a storefront in the center of town where people could drop off and pick up their vehicles, motorcycles, and heavy equipment. Lately, tractors, lawnmowers, and bicycles have been added to the work orders. Every member took shifts at the store, some working more often than others. In addition to the repairs, we changed oil, rotated and changed tires, and provided basic maintenance.

When we arrived, it was dusk, and a prospect opened the gate, allowing us to pass through. With the approaching nightfall, several oil drums were lit, and the fires licked at the air as smoke rose into the darkening sky. The lot was full of bikes, mostly Harleys and members. The club was never quiet or empty.

Tall fences and the same razor wire surrounded the entire compound. There weren’t many windows, and that was intentional. A safety protocol that Hades insisted on when he was voted in as pres almost fifteen years ago. At the end of the buildings, the main garage spread across most of the southern edge of the compound. Multiple customer vehicles were parked in front of the open bays.

Slash parked the truck and opened his door. “Come on, Molly.”

She tugged her fingers free from my grasp, and I followed her out as Gunner exited on his side.

The doors slammed shut as we brought Molly to the metal door that led inside the clubhouse, opening directly into the bar. The walls were all dark gray except for the one behind the bar, where a mirror ran the length of it, showcasing all the bottles of liquor lined up, ready to serve the club’s members.

To the left was a long hallway and a set of stairs. Member bedrooms were located on the first and second floors, in addition to the public restrooms. The third floor only had officer bedrooms with private bathrooms. The pres had his own apartment.

To the right, the kitchen, a massive cafeteria-style dining room, storage, and the walk-in fridge and freezers took up most of the space.

Behind the bar, Hades had built on the chapel where we held church and his private office. We also had a vast storeroom where all the liquor and supplies for the bar were kept. It was efficient and organized, thanks to Hades and Grave, who stayed on top of that shit and delegated to the prospects.

The bar was the focal point as we entered, and the first thing most people noticed as they entered was the wall of fame covered in framed photos of the club and its members since the founding days back in nineteen eighty-five.

You couldn’t see it from here, but inside the chapel, framed cuts of members we’d lost hung as a reminder that nothing in this life was certain, we all had to meet our maker one day, and that brotherhood, loyalty, and trust were the foundation that brought us together.

Rock music blared from speakers anchored to the walls around the perimeter of the bar.

Molly squinted as we entered, her eyes adjusting to the dimmer light. She seemed a bit intimidated by the crowded room and all the cuts that hung over the members’ shoulders.

The chatter around us lowered to a dull murmur as Hades and Grave turned in our direction. They were both seated on stools and stood, heading toward us.

Maybe we should have warned Molly about Hades and Grave.

Grave, Slash’s uncle, looked like him, only bigger, with a few more scars on his face and a skull-printed bandana wrapped around his head. He never took it off, and I speculated he was balding beneath it but didn’t dare bring that shit up. His long beard touched his chest, and he only wore black.

Hades had thick hair the color of midnight that brushed the top of his shoulders, usually loose with gray sprinkled throughout. His goatee and mustache were trimmed close to his face. He was meticulous about that shit. But it was his glass eye, deep blue, a contrast to the pale green of his real eye, that people always noticed first. Hades loved catching them by surprise. A long scar bisected his left eyebrow, and another tugged the right corner of his lip into a perpetual smirk. He was big, bulky, and most of the club girls fought over his cock.

The floor shook as they approached us, and Molly took a step back. Slash pressed a hand against her lower back to keep her from bolting out the door.

Hades spoke first in that low, raspy tone that carried authority. He never had to yell to get everyone’s attention. He’d earned the respect of each member of this club, and we gave it without hesitation or second thought.

“This her?”

Slash nodded. “Yeah, pres. Molly, this is Hades.”

She stared up at him, biting her lip. “Uh, hi.”

His lips twitched. “We got shit to discuss.”

“Okay,” she whispered.

Grave looked her over. “Anyone follow you?”

Hell no. We made sure of that. “Nope,” I answered, knowing that question was aimed at us, not Molly.

Grave ticked his chin at Gunner. “Any trouble from the Bladed Serpents since the club?”

“None,” Gunner replied low. “Which doesn’t sit well.”

Grave grunted. “Agreed.”

“We need to take this to church,” Hades announced, spinning on his heel to walk in that direction. He paused halfway there, looking toward the bar. “Cora, stay with Molly. No one touches her.”

Cora rushed to his side. “Understood, Hades.”

Slash dropped a kiss on Molly’s forehead. “Go with Cora.”

“We’ll see you soon,” I added, reaching over to peck her cheek.

I WATCHED SLASH, HAVOC, and Gunner walk away, disappearing behind the bar, unsure what to do or say.

“Hey, I’m Cora.”

The girl with the pink hair that Hades had called stood in front of me, wearing a tiny pair of jean shorts, a black crop top, and more makeup than I owned. Her pink hair was styled in loose waves, dropping down her back and gradually fading into gray. Pretty. Unique. I thought she was gorgeous.

“I’m Molly.”

“And you belong to Slash.” She smiled. “But I think Havoc is staking a claim, too.”

I had no idea how to answer that.

“Come on. I’ll show you around.”

I followed her as she walked me through the bar to the right, showing me the kitchen and dining area filled with long tables and dozens of chairs.

“The fridge is always stocked with food. We make sure of that.”

“We?”

“Me and the other club girls. Cut sluts. Muffler bunnies. Whatever you want to call us.” She winked an eye with thick fake lashes. “We service the guys and keep the place running. Hades takes good care of us.”

Service the guys? My jaw popped open.

She snickered. “You’re too sweet and innocent, Molly. It’s adorable. I wish I still had some of that innocence.” A shadow passed over her features, but she quickly smiled, and it faded. “Each person here has their place. The members. The club girls. Even the hangers-on.”

I must have looked as lost and curious as I felt.

She reached for my hand and squeezed. “A hanger-on,” she explained. “They party with the club but aren’t members. It’s invite only.”

“I see.”

“Then there are the ol’ ladies, but there aren’t many. Most of the guys haven’t settled down. They like to fuck however and whoever they want.” She shrugged. “It’s a lot. I know. You’ll get used to it.”

“What’s an ol’ lady?” I understood about the others, just needed clarification on the one.

“Women claimed by members. Protected. They’re like wives.”

“Do bikers get married?” I blurted.

She laughed. “Some do.” Her smile softened. “I bet they would for you. Slash. Havoc.” She shook her head. “Havoc. He’s a wild one.”

“I know,” I agreed.

“Why don’t we meet the rest of the girls? I’m sure they’d like to get to know you.”

Why? I wasn’t staying here for long but didn’t tell Cora.

Slash, Havoc, and Gunner never said a word about claiming me, making me an ol’ lady, or keeping me here once everything had been handled.

Cora had to be wrong.