Chapter 24

CHAPTER

TWENTY-FOUR

SPENCER

“So, there you have it,” I snap, leaning back on the couch and letting out a heavy sigh.

The room is filled with silence. The women stare at me with different expressions. There are slack jaws, wide eyes, and cringes. They are abundant and shared between Kyle, Shawn, and Ryan.

Then Ryan shakes her head. “That can’t be right,” she says in a whisper.

“Why not?” I ask.

“Brew… he doesn’t do things like that.”

I almost laugh in her face. Almost. But I don’t. Instead, I arch my brow and watch her for a long moment in silence. “What do you really know about your brother-in-law?” I ask.

Again.

I’m met with silence and stares.

Standing, I begin to pace the room slowly. I can’t sit for another moment longer. I need to move. I’m filled with equal parts anxiety, anger, and pain. The worst of all of those feelings is pain. It’s all-consuming and stronger than the rest.

Only Brew can make me feel this way, and it’s because he’s the only man who I have ever allowed to have this power over me. When we discussed being together and how that would look, I trusted every single word that he delivered to me. And I was made to look a fool.

“Spencer, there must be a reasonable explanation for all of this. When he gets home, we’ll all get to the bottom of it,” Shawn offers with a forced smile.

Shaking my head, I turn to face them, my eyes wide, and I know that I must look crazy, but I feel crazy, so at least if I do, I match inside and out. I hold my breath for a moment.

“Gnaw knew who she was. He didn’t tell me, but he knew. And this is Brew’s home. She knew where he lived. As much as I would love to believe that this was just some crazy woman with wild ideas. I want to visit my brother, and then I’m going home.”

“Spencer,” Ryan whispers. “Brew will fix this. I know he will.”

My lips curve up into a smile, although it’s a sad one. “I love that you believe in him,” I whisper. “I love that all of the men you have are so good to you. But I’m not any of you. I’m Spencer Maddison, and good things do not just simply happen to me.”

Kyle snorts, but it’s Ryan who speaks. “Spencer,” she whispers, “you know damn well that we’re all in the same boat, every single one of us. Don’t act like we haven’t all suffered.”

Guilt consumes me because I know that Ryan has had her fair share of shit in her life, and I’m sure Shawn and Kyle have, too. I shouldn’t have said that. I open my mouth to apologize, but Shawn speaks before I can. Her voice washes over me, and she calms me.

“I don’t think Spencer meant anything by what she said. She wasn’t thinking of anyone else. Just herself and her hurts, right?”

Nodding once, I clear my throat. “I was thinking of myself. I’m sorry. I honestly didn’t mean anything by it. I’m just upset,” I whisper as I walk back over to the sofa and sink down on the cushion. I curve my palm against my forehead and close my eyes. “I’m sorry,” I whisper.

Ryan lifts her hand and waves me away. “It’s fine,” she says, and both Shawn and Kyle agree, accepting my apology.

“I’m just honestly… disappointed. In Brew, but most importantly in myself.”

“In yourself?” Ryan asks.

Sliding my hand from my forehead, I curl my fingers around the front of my throat, closing my eyes and letting out a heavy sigh before I explain myself. And I feel like a gigantic idiot as I do.

“I fell in love with Brew when I was sixteen years old, maybe even before then. I’ve always loved him. I lost my virginity to him, and then he acted like I didn’t exist. I was silly, and I knew that I was too young and he was too drunk,” I whisper.

I’m not sure if my speech is more for them or for myself. These are things I’ve thought about before, but saying them out loud holds a different meaning—a different power. I continue.

“However, when this second chance rolled around, a smirk and wink was all I needed to fall all over again. Or maybe I never stopped falling. I may be almost thirty, but that doesn’t mean I’m mature or grown in any kind of way.”

“You’re mature,” Ryan whispers. “You’ve got a great career and a fancy car. You’re a good sister and a good friend. You’re a good woman. And I think you just need to talk to him.”

I can see I will get nowhere here. They don’t know who this mysterious woman is as much as I do. So, instead of arguing or crying, instead of feeling sorry for myself, I decide to stop.

“Okay, I’ll talk to him,” I whisper.

“Come to the bakery tomorrow?” Shawn asks. “Bring your computer. Get out of the house and hang out with us.”

Inwardly, I am screaming no. I don’t want to hang out at the bakery. I want to go home. I don’t say that, though. Instead, I give her a smile and nod once. “Okay. That sounds like fun,” I whisper.

Shawn and Ryan burst out laughing. “It doesn’t,” Ryan says. “But it will keep you busy, and who knows, maybe you and Ophelia can take lessons again with Bren and the girls.”

With that, we all burst out into laughter. Mine is fake, but I play the part. I just need to get through the week so I can visit my brother and then do what I do best and run far away from here.

I vow to never step foot in Pineville again after this. I am done with this place, and if I could, if he would listen, if he would allow it, I would take Humble with me when he gets out of there. If it were up to me, he would never step foot in Pineville again, either. That place has done absolutely nothing for us.

Once the girls believe they’ve done their jobs and convinced me to stay, they leave me alone again. I wave at them as they drive away. When their car is completely out of view, I turn my head and then my body to face Gnaw.

“Take me to the motel now, please,” I demand.

His cheery demeanor immediately fades away—vanishes. I watch as his shoulders drop, and then he grunts before jerking his head toward the pickup truck, which I hadn’t noticed.

Looking behind me, I suddenly realize that Rim has replaced Guts. There is only one bike here, so he must have brought the pickup. Without asking me what I want, Gnaw lifts my bag and places it in the bed of the truck.

“Ready?” he asks.

“Where are we going?”

His lips lift slightly. “The motel, Spencer.”

Smiling, I dip my chin in a single nod. “The motel,” I whisper.

brEW

Dinner is consumed, drinks are flowing, and the women have begun to make themselves available. Very available. I attempt to disappear into the shadows. Atomic always seems to bring me back to the conversation.

I want to read that paper.

I want to reach into his cut and pull it out. I need to know what is on there. I need to know exactly what the fuck these assholes are offering and what exactly Atomic is essentially agreeing to by eating, drinking, and partying with these fuckers.

What are the goddamn terms?

King, Atomic, and I stand near one another, holding cocktails in our hands. Glancing around, I realize that we’re out of earshot of anyone who would or could want to overhear us. I decide to start asking questions.

“Are you going to at least give us an idea of the terms?” I ask.

King clears his throat, rocking back on his heels before he speaks. “I have to agree with Brew on this one. We’re standing around accepting their hospitality,” he says, emphasizing the word hospitality before he continues. “And we don’t know what they are offering.”

Atomic jerks his chin, his eyes flicking between us, and then he lets out a sigh, reaches into the pocket of his cut, and takes out the paper. “We will have to tweak this and then draw up the finalized papers tomorrow. I was planning on going over it all with you at the hotel tonight, but it’s clear you can’t wait.”

“I really fucking cannot,” I state. “And we’re not going to bring this up to a vote with the rest of the club?” I ask.

Atomic shakes his head, but it’s more like a jerk before he answers. “We’re going to vote on it with the office-holding members. We’ll do a call with Gnaw, Fate, and Piston for the final vote. As much as I want to include the whole club, this shit needs to be dealt with tomorrow. I’m ready to go home.”

I am, too. More than ready. I want to go home to my woman. It’s been too many days without her. I’m not sure what she’s even thinking. I haven’t been able to find the time to get in contact with her.

She’s probably got a million things running through her head. She knows what a trip like this would typically consist of, which is what Nash is up to. I know it would kill her, and I’m trying to make an effort to be a better man for her—for us.

I want this with her.

I never realized how badly I wanted this kind of peace and security, and at the risk of seemingly like a big pussy, I can’t deny that it’s exactly what I want. I fucking love knowing that she’s in my bed waiting for me.

Atomic extends the envelope to King. I watch as he slips it from his fingers and opens it. Only a few things are written on the plain piece of paper. Glancing down at it, my eyes scan the scribbled words, and I frown.

Five members follow the truck from Austin to Biloxi, Mississippi.

Be guards for trucks and ensure the safety of cargo arrival.

Do not disturb cargo or driver unless needed to ensure safety.

The cut includes a direct deposit of ten thousand dollars per guard, totaling fifty thousand dollars per trip.

Five-year commitment with four five-year options to extend.

One cargo merchandise to be given to the club, their choice, per five-year contract.

*The Dark Horse MC will not have anything to do with cargo as far as picking up, procuring, or speaking with the contents of trucks.

My eyes widen at the sixth item. Lifting my head, I blink as I look up at Atomic. “Does this mean they’re giving us a girl once every five years?” I ask. I also try to ignore the fact that nowhere in this verbiage are any of these actually women.

He hums. “One of the items I wish to discuss with him. When I said we are not dealing with skin, I fucking meant it.”

I almost laugh because this is as far on the edge of dealing with skin without going over as a person can be. King coughs, likely feeling the exact same way as I am right now.

“Brother,” I snort. “This is dealing with skin. The technicalities are there, but at the end of the day, that’s what it is.”

Atomic nods a couple of times, then runs his fingers through his hair, tugging on the ends, before he clears his throat and begins to speak. It honestly sounds like he’s talking in circles and trying to convince us and himself that this is the right move.

“This could be lucrative for us, seriously fucking lucrative. It’s protection without having to loan any money or shake down any businesses, not that we would. We’ve got added expenses with Sal’s Bar. Income is going to be coming in from that, and it’s legit.”

“Yeah, and this is not legit, not at all,” I point out. “Are we working toward being legit or not?”

King chuckles, and Atomic looks like he’s going to explode. I don’t give a fuck, though. Yeah, he’s my president, but he’s also my brother. I’m always going to hold the fucker accountable for everything.

“We’ll never be legit. It’s nice to have some things in our portfolio that are, and we need to continue to be diversified. This is something that we can deliver and bring other clubs in on. It doesn’t have to be five of our men every single trip. We can take turns. I think it would be good in general. But I’m going to be asking for more money and no girl.”

“Fifty grand for what would probably be just a week’s worth of work ain’t a bad deal, and if we do it on a round-robin type thing, it could work,” King murmurs. “I don’t hate this.”

“Some of the guys are going to hate that it’s the Southern Mafia and the women are being trafficked,” I point out the obvious.

Atomic crosses his arms over his chest, tipping his chin slightly. “I get that. Trust me, I do. But this keeps those guys from fucking with us and fucking us. It keeps them from forming a new club close to home, and it enables us to have a pulse on what they’re doing a little more than being completely fucking blindsided again.”

I don’t hate any of that. I don’t. But I do hate the fact that we’re even going to be involved with these assholes. “I guess I agree,” I say. “Though I do have to say it’s under protest.”

“Same,” King grunts.

“We’ll get in, and then we’ll take control of this the way we need to take control,” Atomic says, his lips twitching into a smirk.

That is it. The decision has been made, and there is nothing else to do. We spend the rest of the evening drinking, and then we head back to our rooms. Tomorrow, we’ll have the meeting, and then we go home.

As much as I want to just tell them all to fuck off, Atomic is right. This is the best decision for the club, as much as we all dislike it. It’s better than our hands being forced to do something we really disagree with, and he’s right. This gives us an in that I think we’re going to need—even though I fucking hate it.