Chapter 4

Trix

Tonight, I'm sitting in the clubhouse talking to one of the oldest members of the Hellfire Hounds MC. Jamus is like a second grandfather to me. He has long, graying hair, dark eyes and talks a mile a minute. He's telling me all about how my brother got himself caught breaking into the Savage Legion's bar last year and was roped into working off the debt rather than them having him arrested. It's a humiliating state of affairs for the whole club, but my brother most of all. Tracker had been acting strange for the past few months and as he wasn't talking, I'd been determined to find out what he was up to.

Unfortunately, my mind is unfocused and keeps drifting back to what happened last week when my brother and two of his ornery sidekicks almost caught me in bed with that guy from the rave.

Since my grandfather is hell bent on marrying me off to the son of an allied club president, now was not the time get caught fucking around. I almost freaked out that morning when my brother showed up with Squirrely and Scrapper in tow.

Normally, I would have heard the roar of their motorcycle engines, but I was distracted by the sexy man I brought home from the rave who gifted me with morning after bonus sex. I remember throwing him out in a panic and jumping into the shower to wash away his scent while they waited to talk to me. It was too close a call, and an indication that I should be more careful moving forward.

Jamus' hand slapping down on the table between us draws me from my internal thoughts. He's angry and to be honest so am I. "There's no use gettin' all riled up about that stupid situation Tracker got himself into, but it's a fuckin' shame."

"I hope he's not getting worked too hard," I respond absent-mindedly, before taking a sip of my coffee. I'd missed half of what he was saying. I needed to keep my mind on the present and not on a hot man I'll never see again.

"Who the hell knows. This has been going on for months and every time your poor brother is close to paying his debt, they think up some other reason to punish him with more work. This is modern day slavery, I tell ya."

I don't even know why I'm surprised. "You mean they don't even pay him?"

"No," he growls. "They said he's working off damages."

"I hate the Savage Legion," I say. "They've been messing up everything for you guys for a long time." I can commiserate with my oldest friend because he complains about the Legion all the time. Jamus might not go into details because club business isn't for outside ears, but he makes it known that he's been good and frustrated with them for years.

"Yeah. Well, Tracker was a fucking idiot for listening to a dumbass like Scrapper in the first place."

"Let me guess, it was Scrapper's idea, right? Why in the hell would they do something like that knowing it could trigger retaliation that might wind up costing the lives of their club brothers?"

"You're gonna love this, Trix. They thought vandalizing their bar enough to close them down to make repairs would cost the Legion money and in turn give Tracker, Scrapper, and the rest of the idiots they run with bragging rights amongst the brothers. The stupid fools almost got your brother thrown in lock up."

My lips press together in a firm line as Jamus rambles on. "There is no shame in being arrested or even serving jail time, but it should be for a higher purpose." Thumping his fist against his chest, he continues, "I served a stretch years ago for knifing an asshole who tried to kill King. If you're gonna do jail time it should for a reason like that." He gives me that wicked grin of his I've come to know so well. "Then again if I'd let them kill him, things might have been different." His voice trails off, as he's clearly thinking of times past.

I reminded him absently, "But you don't like paperwork and managing men. You said it was like herding cats. You wouldn't have wanted to be president."

His face lights up with a genuine smile. "You're damned right about that. King has too much responsibility and aggravation in his life. He used to be different when he was younger, back when—" He stops and takes a swig of his beer. "Anyway, we all changed. But being club president has sucked all the fucking joy out of his life. I hope the same thing doesn't happen to your brother when his time comes. Tracker might be a bit of dumbass sometimes, but he's got a good heart." Wrapping the conversation back around to the original topic, he says, "That's why I hate to see him getting taken advantage of by those Savage Legion fuckers."

I press my hands against the outside off my coffee cup to warm them. "I just don't know why he would hide this from me."

"Fucking hell girl, he's not just hiding this from you he's hiding it from everyone."

I glanced around nervously before asking, "Does my grandfather know?"

"You better believe he does and he's furious about it. Tracker is lucky to still have his patch. He's gonna have to learn to stop letting Scrapper lead him around by the nose and use his own good common sense."

I come to my feet and look down at Jamus. "I'm sorry. This is making me so angry that I need to walk it off."

"I know just how you feel. I've been walking it off for months now."

My lips twitch. "I think you mean riding it off. That's what you do when you're upset. You go on long lonely rides up and down the coastline."

His angst evaporates in an instant. "You got me there, girl. It's the old school biker in me, thinkin' that everything looks less fucked up after a nice long ride on the open road."

Gazing down at Jamus I realize that he's now become the closest thing I have to a parental figure. He fills the roll of my mother, father, and the grandfather role my actual grandfather continually abdicates by being a degenerate asshole to me and everyone else.

I lean over and give him a kiss on the forehead. When I pull back, Jamus' expression is all kinds of shocked. It cheers my heart a bit that he's so taken aback by my heartfelt gesture.

"You know that you've always been like family to me, right?"

The shocked expression on his face turns pleased in an instant. "I've always thought of you and your brothers as the kids I never had," he responds quietly. There is something about his tone that's off a little, but I don't know why.

I continue, "Thanks for answering my questions about where Tracker has been every night. Honestly, I was worried that my grandfather had him working round the clock running drugs or something."

"Nothing like that, missy. Trust me, anytime he gets a rough assignment I make it my business to tag along." His hands tap each side of his waist where the leather vest he never takes off covers his belt. "I've got that trusty hunting knife I used to save your grandfather all those years ago, and my thirty-eight special on me at all times. So you don't need to worry about Tracker, not on my watch."

"You're good people, Jamus. And I'm glad you're in our life."

He looks bashful at that. "Thank you, girl. Now run along. You know I ain't good with feelings and stuff."

I can't help but smile. "Yeah, none of us are. Take care. I'll probably stop by tomorrow or the next day."

Jamus jerks his chin at me and takes another swig of his beer.

As soon as my back is turned, the smile falls off my face. I hate lying to the old man, but the fact is, I'm not going to walk it off. I go out to the parking lot, get into my car, and use my cell phone's navigation app to take me straight to the Savage Legion's bar in town. It's high time I had a talk with that brother of mine. He needs to grow up, get a backbone and stop letting those Savage Legion assholes exploit him for free labor. My brother needs someone to talk some sense into him and that's what sisters are for.

***

I pull into the parking lot of the bar, realizing rather quickly that I have driven past it a million times before. It looks worlds better than any of the establishments my grandfather is involved with, and I don't know why, but that pisses me off. These people are clearly making money. They can afford to pay a bartender. There's no need for them to be slaving my brother out.

As I stomp across the parking lot, deep down inside I'm hoping this is all some kind of mistake. It would be such a relief to walk through the front door and see that my brother isn't standing behind their godforsaken counter serving drinks while the Savage Legion rakes in the money from his hard work.

The minute I walk inside, I'm surrounded by huge, hulking men wearing Savage Legion cuts. It's only nine in the evening and the place is already packed. I feel like I'm walking into enemy territory, and I guess in a way it's true. I want to know what they're holding over Tracker's head to force him to work for free. For all I know they could be threatening our family, or God forbid, me.

And sure enough, my oldest brother is behind the bar, running his ass off. If I'm being honest, I've never seen him work so hard. It pains me to think the thugs from the Legion have him too terrified to take a break. I march straight up to the bar, snag the beer mug from his hand and slam it down on the countertop, holding it pinned to bar with my palm.

"What the hell are you doing with your life," I demand.

Several conflicting expressions jump onto his face. There is embarrassment, annoyance, but mostly surprise at seeing me here. While he's gaping at me, my peripheral vision picks up somebody walking through the side door behind the counter carrying a stack of boxes. It also registers that he's wearing an actual parka with the hood pulled up like he's an Arctic explorer or something.

Trying to pull the mug from my hand, Tracker asks cautiously, "How did you find out I'm working here?"

I yank it back and throw it behind the counter where it smashes into a million pieces. "You should know better than to try to hide things from me. I always find out."

"Yeah," he growls, "You sure the fuck know how to get in a grown man's business. By the way that's two dollars you owe me for the beer glass you just broke."

A familiar voice intrudes into our conversation. It's the person wearing the parka. "No lovers' quarrels allowed in the bar." Instead of his voice being all sugar sweet like it was the night we spent together, it's riddled with jealousy. God, why do all the really stupid things have to happen to me?

I turn on Vapor, more irritated than ever. I was going to tell him to butt out, but instead I find myself asking, "Why in the world are you wearing a parka?"

His irritated expression doesn't let up. "Because this bar has a walk in, and it gets fucking cold in there when you're rearranging stock for extended periods of time. Any other smartass questions you want to ask, or do you need to get back to harassing your old man?"

"Yeah, as a matter of fact I do. I thought you told me you owned a tattoo shop. Now, I catch you here playing stock boy in a biker bar. What's up with that? Are you moonlighting or what?"

"You've got a man. That makes it bad manners to be concerned about the details of my life."

He does sound jealous. I let that settle in for a second while I think of how I want to proceed. I can't very well tell him Tracker's my brother in a bar full of Savage Legion brothers, but I could definitely stand to go another round with his sexy ass. I bite down too hard and realize I'm chewing on my bottom lip. And he can see the switch flip in my mind from being angry to remembering how good we were together. I'm stuck and don't know what to say to him.

Vapor's hand comes up to make an imperious slashing gesture toward my brother. "I thought you were here to argue with your boyfriend." His expression turns challenging, "If you'd rather argue with me, we can go somewhere nice and private."

Tracker steps between the two of us. "She's not going anywhere with you, so don't think for a goddamn minute she is."

Both of Vapor's hands come up in a placating gesture. "I'm not trying to steal your old lady. I'm just trying to get her to shut up."

"Fuck you, Vape," my brother spits out. "You're always sticking your nose where it doesn't belong."

Vapor mutters, "Nose and miscellaneous other body parts," before turning and stalking away.

Tracker turns to stare me down. "You of all people should not have stepped foot in this bar and you know it." Grabbing me by the arm, he pulls me out the door Vapor just left by. When we're in the hall, he shoves me against the wall and pins me in place with one hand high on my chest, almost where my neck is. He knows I hate it when he uses his size against me. I always have, ever since we were kids.

"What in the hell were you thinking, coming here tonight? Do you have any idea what will happen if these men find out who you are? I don't trust them not to exploit such an easy opportunity." Glaring at me he shakes his head. "I thought you were smarter than this."

"I came here to check on you. I pushed Jamus into telling me where you go every night. Imagine my surprise when I discovered you're getting slaved out by the Savage Legion."

"It's not like that," he flings back. "And even if it was, you could have caught up with me tomorrow, or any other time I wasn't in enemy territory."

His stubbornness is pissing me off. Men all think they're invincible. "How would you feel if someone told you that I was being slaved out? Would you come right away, or would you check it out at your leisure?"

My brother backs up a couple of feet, his expression going from angry to exasperated. "Of course I would come right away. The thing is, Jamus doesn't have all the facts and neither do you."

I gaze up with him, trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together. "I want to understand, Tracker. Just tell me what's going on."

"This isn't the time or place for that conversation." When I don't immediately respond, he sighs. "How about I come to your place tomorrow? You can make me breakfast and we'll have a little sit down. I might not be able to answer all your questions, but I should be able to answer enough to set your mind at ease."

Relief surges through my chest. "I know before you say it, that club business is none of mine. Every Hound has told me that enough times over the years for it to be forever imprinted on my mind."

"They say it so much because you're too fucking curious for your own good. You can never leave well enough alone. You have to keep digging and digging until you know everything about everyone."

I can tell he's getting wound up again, so I cut him off at the pass. "I know what you're saying is true. I am too nosey for my own good sometimes. I can't help it that God made me with an extra big dose of curiosity. The thing is, when it comes to you, I have a right to know what's going on."

He knows what I'm saying is true because it's been drummed into us from an early age that because we're family, we need to be aware of what's going on in each other's lives. In the past, things have gone bad when someone was allowed to isolate.

Tracker runs one hand through his messy hair. "Yeah, I get what you're saying. I don't disagree. You just picked a hell of a time to decide to try and get some answers out of me."

"Jamus may not have all the details, but he wouldn't lead me astray, not about something this important."

"The old man's not wrong about this. He just doesn't have all the information. Look, you need to get the hell out of here. Go out through the back door, there's a sidewalk that leads to the front parking lot. Take it, get in your fucking car, and haul ass. I'll stop by bright and early in the morning."

"Alright I say reluctantly. "If you promise you're okay, I'll leave."

"I'm fine, I promise. Now get the hell out of here while you still can."

I look up at my brother, wondering if he's just exaggerating the situation to get rid of me. If so, it wouldn't be the first time. I'm curious because my family is so secretive. "Alright, alright, I'm going," I say when he doesn't relent.

I glance down the short hallway to the door at the end. After I've taken a few steps toward it, I hear my brother say softly, "Thanks for giving a shit. Not many people in our lives do."

I toss him a sad smile over my shoulder. "Ain't that the truth, brother. See you tomorrow morning. Come hungry or not at all," I tease.

"If I say I'll be there, I'll be there."

I give him a curt nod before opening the door and stepping out into the chill night air. When I turn the corner, hands come out to grab me. I elbow the person in the ribs and twist away ready to throw a punch, only to find Vapor frowning down at me. "Forgot what my hands feel like on you already, darlin'?"

"You're hell bent on being an intrusive ass tonight, aren't you?"

He takes out his vape, I watch him shove a new cartridge in and take a puff before responding. "I knew you were with one of the Hellfire Hounds because I saw their motorcycles at your place that morning you shoved me out a second story window. Good thing I didn't break my neck trying to get off the roof."

"Firstly, I'm not with any member of the Hellfire Hounds. Secondly, I can be friends with whoever I want, regardless of their club affiliations. And lastly, you're an athletic man who had just gotten a full night's sleep. My best guess is, jumping off that roof didn't involve a lot of personal risk for you."

His chin comes up and I can almost swear he preens for just a moment. "You could be right about that. I've jumped off a second story building before and landed on my feet."

I roll my eyes and fold my arms over my chest. "Yeah, I thought you looked like some kind of exotic breed of catman when we met before. This just goes to prove it."

He finally smiles at me. "You've got a fucking answer for everything don't you, beautiful."

I click my tongue at him. "You don't get to fling nasty comments my way and think you're gonna make it up with a compliment or two. I'm not that easy."

His eyebrows shoot up and he states playfully, "That almost sounded like a challenge. Shall we test how well my compliments work on you?"

I take a step back because I know if this sexy bastard gets his hands on me, I'm going to end up impaled on his massive cock in no time. Since this isn't the time or the place, as my brother so succinctly pointed out, I turn him down. "Hard pass. I've got more important things to do with my night than ride your glorious clock."

He stalks closer. "Your mouth is saying no, but your body is saying yes, sweetheart. I see a world of need and those pretty brown eyes of yours."

"I'm feeling very conflicted about you. On the one hand, I'm tempted to have a quickie because you're good at what you're good at. On the other, you're just a little too smug. That kind of behavior should not be rewarded."

"You're definitely the kind of reward that any man would work his ass off to get."

"What a silver tongue you have, Vapor. I'll bet you're used to talking woman into giving you what you want."

He chuckles, his eyes alight with mischief. He stops directly in front of me. "I've never had to talk a woman into having sex with me. Normally, they're begging for it. It makes me curious as to why you're not." He's so sure of himself then it makes me want to shoot him down for funsies.

"Maybe I'm just not into begging—for your cock, or anything else in this world."

"I would say you don't know what you're missing but we both know you do, thus the temptation."

"Regardless of what you may think, you are not irresistible." Letting my eyes wander down the ridiculous coat he was still wearing, I add, "Especially when you're wearing that stupid parka. It's not your style at all, by the way."

"That's because it's not mine. It belongs to the bar. We just keep it hanging in the back so whoever works in the walk-in will have something to wear."

"I don't know why I'm mind boggled at the idea of community clothing, but eww."

Vapor throws back his head and laughs. I love seeing him genuinely happy. If our trite, useless little banter is what brightens his evening then that's alright by me. I don't realize I'm staring at him until he stares back.

"Are you sure you're not messing around with Tracker?" Vapor's voice is deep and rough. He smells amazing. I quickly come to the conclusion that I really don't care if he lied about owning a tattoo parlor. He wouldn't be the first guy to exaggerate his circumstances to impress me. I move closer to him, like a moth to the flame. His big hands come out to rest my hips.

Looking into the depths of his beautiful hazel eyes, I can hardly remember how to breathe, much less speak.

"You're cute when you go all gaga over me."

I can't help but smile. Why do I like it so much when this man pulls out his arrogant side?

I trace my finger up the zipper of his ridiculous coat, barely noticing that he's wearing a black leather vest underneath. "Clearly bragging is your super skill, in addition to always landing on your feet."