Chapter 35

CHAPTER

THIRTY-FIVE

SPENCER

Standing up on stage, Bren calls out for Kyle to turn up the music. She’s taught me a routine, and I’m a little too tipsy to actually do it. We’re almost finished here for the night. Shawn and Ryan need to get home to relieve their sitters.

We’ve snacked, drank, laughed, and now danced. I love this girls’ night. I’ve never laughed so much in my life. It’s amazing and beautiful all at the same time. Bren counts us off, and then we begin.

About five seconds into our routine, Bren bursts out laughing, mainly because I’m facing the wrong direction. Throwing my hands in the air, I spin around and bend in half as I giggle uncontrollably.

The music is lowered, and I sit down on the edge of the stage, my feet swinging back and forth as I attempt to control myself. Bren does the same beside me. I feel her gaze on me, so I turn my head to look over to her. I can’t wipe the smile from my face. This is the best night ever.

“I like you a lot, Spencer. I’m glad you joined this crew,” Bren murmurs.

“Me too,” I whisper. I feel like the cool girl. I’ve never been the cool girl.

Bren jumps down from the stage and heads toward the table where the other women are gathering their things. It’s well after midnight, and my cheeks hurt from laughing and smiling so much.

Shawn and Ryan give me a hug, promising to do it again soon. They leave the box of desserts they brought. I take a cookie and walk over to the stage again. My feet hurt, my whole body aches, actually, and it feels good.

Really good.

While I eat the cookie, I look down at my phone and send Evan a text that I’m ready to go. Staring at the device, I wait for his reply, but nothing happens. It says Delivered beneath the message, but not Read .

Chewing my bottom lip, I shift from foot to foot. He’s not responding. A million things run through my head, and naturally, they’re all horrible.

“You good?” Kyle asks, making her way toward me.

I have no doubt I look as nervous and upset as I feel. I can’t believe it only takes one unread text to make me feel this way. I’m ridiculous. I should be a lot more confident in this relationship. Evan has done absolutely nothing to warrant my distrust, and yet, every single time anything could possibly be negative, I immediately go there.

“Brew hasn’t texted me back,” I murmur.

She looks over her shoulder at the door. Then she bites the corner of her lip before she shifts her attention back to meet mine. “There are two prospects outside. Do you want to talk to them? They may know something.”

As soon as she says those words, two men in prospect cuts walk into the room. Their gazes cut to me and then shift to Kyle. Bren appears at our side. She clears her throat and opens her mouth to say something, but one of the men beats her to it.

“We need you to stay here,” one of them says.

“Stay here?” I ask.

Kyle takes a step forward. “What is happening?” she demands.

The two of them shift their gazes, looking at one another, and then return their attention to us. They aren’t going to tell us anything, not really. They’re going to feed us something to stop us from asking questions, but they won’t tell us the truth.

“Are they hurt?” I ask.

The prospect who seems to be more in charge of this takes a step forward. His gaze never leaves mine before he shakes his head once. “Nobody is hurt. Nobody is in danger. We’re just keeping you here as a precautionary measure.”

I walk back to the table with the desserts and sink down in the chair I’d occupied earlier in the evening. Reaching for another cookie, I nibble on it, giving myself something to do.

At the prospects’ news, I’m instantly filled with dread. I don’t know what is happening, but if they’re keeping us here, if Evan isn’t coming to get me and take me home, it’s bad. Then my next thought hits, and I wonder why the hell I’m sitting here . Why am I not going to the clubhouse?

I open my mouth to ask that when the door opens again, and I watch as Gnaw walks in. Kyle stands, starting to make her way toward him, but he holds up his hand. She pauses in place.

Sinking my teeth into the inside of my cheek, I listen as intently as possible as the men murmur among themselves.

Then I hear something that I do not like.

I hear her name.

The name.

Jasmine.

My entire body jolts to attention. Adrenaline replaces the sluggish effects of alcohol. Rushing toward them, I lift my hand and slap it down on the center of Gnaw’s chest. I hear Kyle gasp in the background, but I don’t care.

The prospects take a step backward each, no doubt afraid to get in my way because I am, after all, an old lady. They wouldn’t dare even look at me sideways, let alone attempt to touch me in any way.

“What about Jasmine?” I grind out.

Gnaw’s eyes are wide as he stares at me for a moment, no doubt in shock from my quick movement and my touch, especially in front of Kyle. But I don’t care, not at all. I need to know what the hell is going on, and I need to know now.

“Club—” he begins.

“If you are going to finish that with business , I swear to God,” I growl.

His lips twitch into a smirk, but thankfully, he doesn’t argue with me. Instead, he clears his throat, then dips his chin into a single nod before he decides to come clean, at least with as much information as he can actually tell me without violating the club business bullshit.

“Jasmine told some government agency that we were trafficking drugs and guns. They’re at the clubhouse without a warrant, on probable cause, and searching the whole place. She’s there as their fucking informant, thinking she’s hot shit.”

“That cunt,” I hiss.

“Basically,” he snorts.

“What are they going to find, Rider?” Kyle asks.

His gaze shifts to her, his lips curving up into a smile, and I watch as his entire expression softens. God, it’s beautiful the way they look at one another.

“They aren’t going to find shit,” he states.

“Take me to Jasmine’s place,” I demand.

Gnaw’s head jerks to the side, his eyes find mine, and he stares at me for a long moment. “You can’t,” he says.

I snort. “I can and I will. This girl is a problem.”

He lets out a burst of laughter. “Don’t worry, baby badass, we got this. Stay right here, hang out, and stay safe. Brew will be here soon to get you. They aren’t arresting anyone tonight. They got nothing on one damn person in that club.”

“How come you weren’t there?” Kyle asks.

“I was doing something for the club. I saw the red and blue lights from the police cars flashing, so I just kept riding by. I snuck around the back of the building, and that’s when I heard and saw Jasmine. The fucking bitch thinks she’s really going to get Brew put away. She’s that pissed about losing dick. It’s fucking insane.”

Inwardly, I smile hugely because he has just said what I wanted to hear, that Evan was done with Jasmine. Evan could tell me all day long, and I would still have something niggling in the back of my mind, but hearing it from someone else eases all of my tension.

“I’ll stay here,” I whisper.

He chuckles before he clears his throat. “Obliged, Spence.” Then I watch as he walks over to Kyle. He curls his fingers around the front of her throat and dips his chin before he kisses her. I turn away. The moment is a little too intimate for me to witness.

Gnaw tells both of us, plus Bren, to stay where we are until we hear otherwise. He also tells the prospects not to let us leave this room. If I knew where Jasmine lived, I’d probably be more apt to sneak out, but since I don’t, I plan on staying put.

He leaves us a few moments later, and Kyle’s eyes turn to me. They’re wide, and she seems concerned. “Let’s have a drink. I feel sober.”

“Me too,” Bren mutters. “Man, here I thought a night off from work wouldn’t be very exciting. Boy, was I wrong.”

Kyle and I both laugh. Bren pours drinks, and we sit at the dessert table again, ignoring any diet we might be on. We drink, talk, and eat until we all three start to nod off, and eventually, we end up with our arms on the tables and our heads on our arms, eyes closed, and I personally have some drool on my forearm before I’m moved.

brEW

The cop in front of me spits on the barroom floor. If it weren’t concrete and already covered in bodily fluids, I might take offense to that shit. “We will find what you’re hiding,” he growls.

I snort. “Nothing to find,” I say. “That bitch is pissed off because I won’t give her a dicking anymore. Got a woman now, and she’s angry it isn’t her.”

His head swivels, and he looks over his shoulder at Jasmine. She’s got her eyes narrowed and focused on me. I grin and jerk my chin toward her. I can’t help but chuckle as I watch her squirm slightly.

The cops eventually leave after hours of going through everything and making a mess of every nook and cranny. They also interview all of the clubwhore separately to try and catch us trafficking or pimping.

It doesn’t work, and they find nothing.

As they’re gathering their shit to leave, I call out to the one who watched me all evening. “I hope you at least arrest Jasmine for false reporting,” I say.

“Is it false?” he asks.

“Did you find anything, or did you just waste your whole fucking night?” I ask, arching a brow as I cross my arms over my chest.

He doesn’t say anything, but I can tell he’s thinking about it. I watch as he marches straight for Jasmine. He curls his fingers around her bicep and walks her out of the front door with the rest of the fuckers.

It’s three in the morning. We’re all exhausted, and not in a fun way. And now we have a whole fucking club to clean up. Atomic’s gaze flicks over to me. “Go to your woman. Mine made it home. We’ll worry about the rest of this shit tomorrow.”

I glance over to King, who jerks his chin toward me. “Let’s get the fuck out of here. Church tomorrow for everyone to discuss.”

It’s not like King makes any declarations about church or anything else. He always lets Atomic have his control over the club and everything it entails, especially when it comes to business. I don’t ask any questions about why he made the announcement. No doubt, it was just because it needed to be made and for no other reason.

What feels like seconds later, we’re on our bikes and heading off the clubhouse grounds. King and Atomic head toward town and their houses. I make my way toward Sal’s Bar. When I pull up to the parking lot, I’m not surprised to see Bren’s Jeep still there, along with the prospects’ bikes.

One of the prospects is standing beside the door. He jerks his chin in my direction. I open my mouth, starting to ask him where the other one is, but he answers me before I can say a word.

“He’s inside with the girls.”

“Gnaw?” I ask.

“He saw the action at the clubhouse, came here to tell the girls what was going on, then left. Don’t know where to.”

“I want the both of you to make sure that Kyle and Bren get home safely. I’ll contact Gnaw and let him know his woman is on her way home,” I instruct. He jerks his chin and opens the door, though he allows me to pass by him before he makes his way inside.

I walk into the strip club part of the bar and stop at the sight in front of me. The prospect is standing against the wall, his eyes focused on the only occupied table in the room. All three women have their arms on the table and their heads resting on them. Their eyes are all closed, and their mouths are open a little.

They’re passed out.

I head toward them. I don’t bother even trying to wake her up. Sliding my arms beneath Spencer’s body, I pick her up. For the first time, maybe in my whole life, I wish I didn’t have my bike here.

Her eyelids flutter open as her head lolls to the side, and her gaze finds mine as her lips curve up into a slow smile.

“Hey,” she breathes.

Chuckling, I dip my chin to look down at her. “Hey,” I rasp. “You good enough to ride on the back of the bike home?”

“Yeah.”

I set her down on the ground beside my bike, then climb on and hold out my hand. She slips onto the bike behind me, wrapping her arms around my waist, and scoots close to me. I can feel her heat on my back, and I know this feels right. Even if tonight was a fucked-up bitch of a night, this is all that matters.

Her on the back of my bike. Her arms around my middle. And the two of us heading straight home to slip into the bed we share.

I have the best fucking life.

No matter what gets thrown my way. I could not have dreamed of a better end to a night than this.

Not fucking ever.