4. Domino

4

DOMINO

“ A in’t that right, Prez?” someone says before clapping me on the shoulder.

I nod and take a swig of beer, though truthfully I have no idea what Graham was talking about. Luckily there are plenty of people around to pick up the conversation, and I order another beer before taking a step away from the bar.

Finding an empty booth in the back of the current Deviant Souls clubhouse, I settle in and prop my elbows up on the table so I can rest my head in my hands. My mind has been racing since yesterday when those five fucking traitors drove by and scared the shit out of Calista. I sensed the depth of her fear when she curled up behind me and clung to my back. I never want my girl to feel that way again.

Dammit . Not my girl. My… real estate agent. That certainly falls under the scope of people I need to protect, especially now that she’s involved in locating the next clubhouse. That’s all this feeling is.

Keep telling yourself that, buddy.

I’ll admit, I didn’t handle the situation as well as I could have in the moment. Calista wanted to have a conversation but I had to get out of there and gather intel on what the ex-members were doing and why they’re scoping out properties. It’s clear they wanted to be seen and wanted to start shit, though I don’t know for what purpose yet. I’m hoping the two men I contacted yesterday will have more information for me tonight.

When I got home, I had calmed down enough to send Calista a text making sure she reported back to me when she got to her place. The strangest thing happened when she replied an hour later; I laughed.

Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m snuggled up on the couch in my apartment with my favorite fuzzy dolphin sweatshirt, looking up new properties for a very important client of mine. He’s a president, you know. With very particular tastes.

I don’t think she was trying to be irresistibly adorable in her text, which only made me want her more. Can’t say I’ve ever been much of a flirt, but Christ, this girl has me wanting to be anything and everything to keep her talking to me.

“Prez, is this a good time to talk?”

It takes me a second to realize I’m the Prez. I’m not sure if I’ll ever get used to the title. I look up and see Jett, our enforcer, along with Diesel, who runs our garage. “Yeah, sure,” I reply, nodding for both of them to sit down. “Any updates?”

“Yes, but you’re not going to like it,” Jett warns.

Diesel taps his phone screen a few times and scrolls through what appears to be a bunch of photos. He pauses on one and hands me the phone.

"Shit," I mutter as I double-tap the screen to zoom in. "That's Rocky and Tank alright."

Rocky has a new eyepatch, and from the looks of it, a new MC logo on there as well. I knew it was him on the bike yesterday but it’s like a lead pipe to the gut knowing I was right. These men used to be my brothers. I would have died for them. I almost did a few times. Then everything blew up and we’re still trying to deal with the aftermath.

“There’s more. Keep scrolling,” Diesel says.

I move on to the next photo, cursing again when my worst suspicion is finally confirmed. “Fuckin’ Zeke.” The former Prez. “Didn’t his chicken shit ass flee to Mexico after he was caught with all that cocaine?”

That was the final straw for me and the majority of my brothers. Zeke was always a dangerous motherfucker with an unpredictable edge. That’s to be expected in this world. But when he got hooked on amphetamines, things got messy. Money went missing from the club funds as well as the profits from the garage we own. Some members even got arrested and thrown in prison while unknowingly distributing drugs and stolen goods to feed Zeke’s habit.

Six months later the club is still fractured. Zeke had a handful of loyalists who took off across the border with him, and now, apparently, they're all back here in Texas.

“He probably got into trouble there as well, only he found out the Cartel doesn’t fuck around with people stealing their product,” Jett says. I nod in agreement.

“Serves him right, but he’s got some fuckin’ nerve showing back up in my town. Following me and scaring my… real estate agent.”

“Uh-huh,” Diesel says, a stupid smirk on his face. “And how are things going with her?”

"How do you know she's a her?" I ask though I realize how foolish I sound.

Jett and Diesel chuckle at me but I just grunt in annoyance before gulping down half my beer.

“You combed your hair and put on cologne the last time you had a showing for a new clubhouse,” Diesel points out.

“I needed to look… presidential,” I justify, though my friends aren’t having any of it. “Whatever. Shut up.”

The two of them laugh while I glare at them and finish the rest of my drink.

"For real though, any luck with finding us a home base? I agree that we need a new space for a new era," Jett says.

I shrug and tell them about the two properties I’ve seen so far.

“Want me to go with you to the next showing?” Diesel asks.

“No,” I snap, pounding my fist on the table and making everyone’s beer bottles rattle and clank together. The two dipshits crack up laughing, and even though I know It’s at my expense, I’m just glad to have some levity.

There have been a lot of heavy days and weeks working through anger and betrayal over how Zeke tore the club apart. No way in hell am I going to let him destroy those of us who were strong enough to carry on without him.

“Just messing with you, Domino,” Diesel says once he’s calmed down. “It wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world for you to have a woman in your life though.”

“Like you’re one to talk,” I reply. “Can’t remember the last time I saw you with anyone. Or you,” I say, turning to Jett.

“Hey, man, I didn’t say anything. I’m good without a woman,” Jett is quick to reply, holding his hands up.

“Let’s get through one thing at a time,” I finally land on. “Figure out what the hell Zeke is doing back in town, secure a new clubhouse, and then…” I trail off, the image of Calista’s bright green eyes and sparkling smile floating through my mind.

“And then whatever will be, will be,” Diesel finishes for me.

“Cheers to that!” Jett shouts.

“Another round of beers on the house!” I call out, nodding to the bartender.

The men holler in approval and chant my name. Things might be messy right now, but it’s moments like these that make it all worthwhile. My heart squeezes up painfully in my chest and I realize I’m missing something. I want to share this moment with someone. Not just anyone, though. Calista. My girl. Dammit.