Chapter 11

CHAPTER

ELEVEN

SPENCER

Desserts consumed, kids bathed and in bed. It’s time for the moms to relax, and I happily join them. Kyle lets out a sigh and sinks down beside me. I’m sitting at a table, Shawn and Ryan also joining us.

“So, what do you do?” Kyle asks.

I can’t believe I haven’t even told them my profession. I know what Ryan and Shawn do, the bakery. But I have no idea what Kyle does, and none of them know what I do for a living, either.

“I am a graphic designer,” I say. “Websites, business branding, signage, book covers. Whatever people need, I’m the girl who does it. What about you?” I ask, turning to Kyle.

She clears her throat, shifting in her seat slightly before she speaks. “I work at Sal’s Bar,” she states.

I stare at her, tilting my head to the side. “Do you dance?” I ask.

I don’t judge. She’s got the body to dance, but I am surprised that Gnaw would let that happen. I can’t imagine any of these guys being cool with that. They just don’t seem like the type who would be okay with their women showing everything they have to the world.

“No, I work in the bar. But I’m friends with all those girls.”

I can tell she thinks I’m judging her, but I’m really not. Reaching out, I wrap my fingers around her wrist and squeeze her. “Girl,” I whisper, “I wouldn’t care if you were the star of the show. I wouldn’t think of you any differently.”

She lets out a heavy exhale, and I don’t know why, but she seems relieved. Smiling, I shake my head once. “We’ve all done something shady for a good meal. Nobody is going to judge anyone.”

Shawn laughs, lifting her glass. “Amen.”

We all clink glasses and then take a drink. The rest of the evening, we continue to drink and talk shit. Lots of shit. It’s great. I feel like, for the first time in my life, I have a set of girlfriends.

I’ve never really had friends before, and this is fun. I’m excited to stay here in Pineville and be with them. I hope we can really become more than friends, the family the Dark Horse is meant to be.

The phone to the clubhouse rings, and I turn my head, watching it light up on the wall. It’s hilarious to me that there is even a landline here. I don’t understand why they still have it at all, let alone why anyone is actually calling it.

I watch as the prospect who has been working the bar makes his way over to the phone. He picks it up and holds it to his ear before his attention swings to me. His eyes meet mine. He nods once, then lifts his hand and motions for me to come over.

As if I’m some kind of robot, my body moves without me even thinking. I don’t know why, but I feel my chest squeeze as I walk closer to the phone. I find it hard to breathe, my heart racing faster and harder with each step I take.

“Phone’s for you,” he announces as he thrusts the receiver at me.

I wrap my fingers around the receiver and bring it to my ear, letting out a heavy breath before I greet whoever is on the other end of the line with a hello . There is a crackling sound, and my spine straightens, wondering what the fuck is happening.

Then I hear his voice.

“Spencer?”

“Humble?” I ask.

He hums, and my shoulders relax immediately. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Are you?”

He chuckles, although it’s not out of humor. It’s his way of saying that he’s okay, but he wishes he were anywhere else. At least, that’s what I assume he’s thinking because he doesn’t actually say anything.

Instead, he clears his throat and starts to talk about what’s happening with him and his case. “I need you to talk to Atomic and let him know that they accepted the deal. They’re going to let me stay in Texarkana. Judge signed off on it about an hour ago. At least that’s what my attorney says.”

“Thank God. For how long?”

He’s quiet for a moment. I can hear men’s voices in the background, and it serves as another reminder that he isn’t here, that he’s in jail. Closing my eyes, I try to keep from crying, but I fail.

The moment I open my eyes again, the tears slip out and slide down my cheeks. One after the other. I suck in a breath and hold it for a moment, then release it slowly as he tells me how long he’s going to be in prison, not jail, federal prison.

“Three years,” he says, and it’s like a punch to my gut.

“Humble,” I exhale.

I try not to full-on burst into tears. I don’t want him to feel worse. He can’t do anything about it.

He chuckles, although I can tell he doesn’t find any of this funny in the slightest. “It’s the way it is, Spence.”

“I’m moving to Pineville,” I announce, my decision suddenly solid.

My decision made at this moment.

This is where I need to be, for Humble but also for myself. I want to explore life with Brew. I want to know if my infatuation with him was just a fantasy my teenage self created or if there could be something real between us.

Not so secretly. I want there to be something between us. I want him to fall madly in love with me. Marry me and make half a dozen babies while living in our cabin in the woods, completely isolated from the world in our love nest, until we want to go see our friends.

Is that too much to ask?

“Spencer,” my brother murmurs, breaking me out of my thoughts. “You don’t have to stay there for me. Go back home, live your life. Be happy.”

I take a deep breath and exhale slowly, although it’s also shakily. “You’re my life, Humble. And there’s Brew.”

“Fuck,” he hisses. “Are you kidding me right now?”

“It’s nothing yet, but…” My words trail off, and I know this isn’t something he wants to talk about, especially while sitting in jail, but I don’t want him to feel guilty about me staying here either.

“I should be pissed,” he grunts. He doesn’t say anything for a moment. Then he lets out a sigh. “I don’t have a right to be, though, not with where I am. Just promise me something, Spencer?”

“Yeah?” I say, whispering the word.

“If he makes you happy, hold on with both hands and enjoy the fucking ride. I want you to be happy. It’s all I’ve ever wanted, for my little sister to find her happiness.”

Wiping the new waves of tears away, I choke out an okay . But I can’t get anything else out.

“And I’ll beat his ass for touching my sister when I get out.”

I burst out laughing. He joins me, then he gets really quiet as the seriousness of his situation takes over again. “I have to get going, but tell Atomic. Hopefully, I’ll be taken there soon and we can get visitation set up.”

“I will do that. Humble?” I call out into the phone. He hums, waiting for me to continue. “I love you, and I’m sorry it took you going to prison for me to come and visit you.”

“As long as you’re home, healthy, and happy, I couldn’t give a fuck less.”

He ends the call, and I pull the phone away from my ear, staring at it for longer than I should. Eventually, I hang it up and make my way back to the table. The girls are chatting among themselves but aren’t overly loud.

I tell them what just happened, and they all give me sad looks. I would give myself a sad look, too. There is a damper put on the rest of the evening, but in the end, it doesn’t matter much because the men arrive shortly after… covered in blood.

brEW

There doesn’t need to be a debriefing tonight. We’ll probably do that tomorrow, but for now, we are all going to shower, fuck, and rest. At least, that’s what I’m going to be doing.

Walking straight toward the table full of old ladies, I ignore the clubwhores, who are all perched at the bar. The other brothers can enjoy them. I have a purpose tonight, and I walk with that purpose straight for her—Spencer.

She stands as soon as I approach her side. Wordlessly, I reach down, shove my shoulder in her stomach, and pick her up. She’s draped halfway over my front and back. Feeling her fingers grip my belt, I move toward our room.

I’m covered in blood, the blood of the men and women I killed. The blood of people who would have done the same thing to me if given the chance. And the blood from the artwork I gave Loner… or rather took from him.

Stepping into the bedroom, I close and lock the door behind me. Slowly, I release Spencer. Her body slides along the front of mine until her feet touch the floor. I don’t look into her eyes immediately.

Instead, my focus is on the room.

It’s immaculate.

I’m shocked.

“Beautiful,” I murmur.

She looks over her shoulder at the bed, then shifts her attention back to meet mine. There is clear confusion on her face. She doesn’t know what has me completely stunned.

“What?” she asks.

“It’s fucking clean. I think it looks better than when I moved in here.”

She laughs, and I’m pretty sure this room has hardly ever heard laughter. I like that. It bounces off the walls around us, and that just makes me think about the fact that her cries and screams of pleasure will do the same.

“I have no doubt that this room was never cleaned. It was gross,” she says, wrinkling her nose.

“I know it was,” I laugh. “I’m sorry. Never had a reason to clean it.”

She takes a step toward me, then another. She lifts her hand, placing it on the center of my chest, and tilts her head back. Her eyes find mine, her lips press together in a thin line, and I sink my teeth into my bottom lip as I watch her.

“Your cabin isn’t going to be this dirty and messy, is it?”

She appears horrified. I don’t blame her. This room was a complete shit show. Lifting my hand, I cup her cheek as I look into her eyes.

“My cabin is clean, Spencer. It’s nothing like this. The cabin is a home. This was nothing but a crash pad.”

“And a fuck pad,” she says.

Laughing, I clear my throat. “It’ll still be that. It just looks a bit different now that I have you.”

Her hand slides up the center of my chest, stopping at the base of my throat, and then she shifts it so that her fingers wrap around the side of my neck.

“And it will only be me?” she asks.

Dipping my chin, I touch my mouth to hers without deepening the kiss, and I murmur against her lips. I don’t lie to her. I tell her the truth. There is just her. I can’t even imagine fucking anyone else. And if I’m anything like my brother, there will never be anyone else again.

Spencer is a fucking dream come true.

“Yeah, beautiful. Just you.”