13. Rage and Hell’s Hunters

FITZROY

It’s days like today that make the job worth it. We secured the shipment, and I got to get my hands dirty when some wannabe thugs thought they could rip us off during the transfer. Nothing is more therapeutic than the sound of bones snapping beneath your fists. Pure bliss. And when they realized who they’d just fucked with? They pissed their pants before I threw the first punch.

I nod to the guys at the stop to indicate that we’re good to turn. No one followed us from the shipyard, and no one alerted the cops. We turn down the dirt path leading up to the MC Clubhouse. Tons of bikes line the front, but we weave past, parking in the back. I snap my fingers at two of the new prospects and point to Tank, who has the cargo strapped to the back of his Kawasaki Vulcan as we slide off our bikes. They get the hint and help him unload.

I check my bike and sigh. Gear is gonna be livid.

I wheel her back to the garage and knock on the metal frame of the 1965 Ford Shelby that’s lifted off the ground. Gear slides out front under the car and glares at me.

“Again, Rage?” He stands up and rushes over to her. “She took some shots for me,” I tell him.

“I can fucking see that. Stop shooting near the bikes, dammit.”

He bitches and groans every time, but he enjoys fixing shit. Has since we were teenagers. I love driving ‘em but fixing? Eh, not my thing. He rubs on her side and sighs. Oh no, I know that sigh.

“It’ll be at least two weeks.”

I grunt and glare at him.

“This is your own fucking fault. Take one of the spares if you gotta ride, but I am not a miracle worker.” He knows that’s not happening, and his shit-eating grin proves it. I hate driving on anything that’s not my girl. “Now get out of my shop. You scare away customers with your angry mug.”

The Club has multiple sources of revenue; the shop that Gear runs is one of the more… legit ones. I flip him the bird as I head back to the bar up front. I need to update Boss and get a drink.

The moment I step inside, the smell of weed, booze, and leather greets me. The jukebox in the corner is thumping, and men are gathered about playing pool, drinking, and chatting about the latest job. Mike is waiting with a smile on his face. He throws his arm around me as we walk inside.

“Rage, it’s a good day to be you, my friend,” Mike says as we reach the bar. “Lenny, give him a double round on the house! In fact, everyone gets a round!”

Lenny nods, already pouring drinks as cheers go up all around us. The rest of the guys pour in, and another round of cheers goes up.

He leads me to my booth at the back of the bar and slides in across from me. “Good work, as always. Tank said the shipment was in one piece.”

I nod. Mike smiles.

“Good news just keeps pouring in! First, those Grim Hearts bastards get taken out, and now when we get this stuff to the buyer, we’ll be sitting pretty for a while. He seemed interested in working with us again if things went well.”

A prospect sets the drinks and a triple order of cheese fries down on the table, nodding at first Mike and then me before silently walking back to the bar to stand and wait for Lenny’s orders. Lenny has been the bartender here for as long as I’ve been around, and according to some of the old timers, he was here before them as well. He was bartending when I first came through the door as an angry teenager, and I have a feeling he will be long after I am gone as well. Sometimes I wonder if the real reason the Hell’s Hunters runs so smoothly is because of Lenny.

I don’t know how much of that is true, but I do know that I would never cross Lenny, and it seems I’m not the only one who feels that way. It doesn’t take long for the hangarounds to start showing up. The work chatter ceases as men go to greet the ladies. The remaining scantily clad women start filtering through the bar, picking out men they want to try to win over. Most of ‘em come to try to make themselves an old lady by marrying a patch holder. But some come to let loose, get some quick cash, or for an escape.

Rubble slinks over to us and gives a nod to Mike and me. “Hey, Pres, any news on the secretary position?”

We lost Crow to the Grims in a little territory dispute a few months back. It’s why Mike’s having to act as negotiator, and I do not envy him.

I smile as I take a sip of my drink. Rubble will never be Secretary. He’s too greedy and is already on thin ice in the Club.

Mike looks at me and smirks. I narrow my eyes. I know that fucking look. Mike’s about to make my two weeks of no riding hell.

“Tell you what, Rubble, once Rage here gets a girl, then I’ll bring up votes for a new Secretary at Church.”

Rubble refuses to meet my eyes, so I turn my head and give Mike my I-will-fucking-end-you look instead. Bastard knows I won’t fight him in front of the men. Him, Crow, me, and Blaze all patched in together and are closer than most of the others, though I consider them all my brothers.

I down my drink and grab his as he laughs.

“Come on now, it’s a win-win. You need to live a little, and I need the riff raff off my back.”

It’s not even ten minutes before Rubble comes scurrying back, guiding two women to the table. You have to be kidding me. I’ve seen them before, but I honestly don’t remember their names. One’s a brunette who looks terrified and the other one is a redhead who is making goo-goo eyes at Mike.

At least the women have brains.

I snatch the fries from Mike. The redhead leans her tits over the table and flutters her eyes at the boss man. “Want some fun, handsome?”

“Not him,” Rubble snips, nodding his head in my direction. “Him.”

“No,” I say, and Rubble visibly gulps. How such a pussy ended up in the Club is beyond me.

The brunette one looks at him and me, then immediately turns and runs off to the other side of the bar. The redhead has a bit more courage but clearly also would rather not.

It’s understandable. I’ve been working on my don’t-fucking-come-near-me vibe for a long time. I really don’t like people, and it turns out, people don’t like me all that much. Just because I get a little stabby every now and then… Meh, I enjoy not being bothered.

Mike has mercy on the girl and says, “How about you do me one better?”

She licks her lips and nods. I turn away, not interested in watching Mike get his dick sucked. I never have been interested in the hangarounds or flings. They keep the guys happy. I prefer to expend my pent-up energy through violence, not sex.

I’m halfway through Lenny’s cheesy fries when the front door opens. The noise dies down, but I don’t turn around. There are others here who can take care of strangers. Then again, most strangers take one look at me and quickly rethink their decisions.

“You appear to be lost, lass. This is no place for a girl like you.” Lenny’s voice catches me by surprise as a chorus of aye’s rings out across the room.

I stay still. Something about this situation has me on edge, and that’s not a feeling that I’m used to.

“Didn’t ya hear the man?” another voice calls out. Blaze, I think.

A light tap on my shoulder has me sitting up straight, and before I can blink, my lap is filled with a small blond woman. Everyone in the bar freezes, including me, but she doesn’t seem to pick up on the vibe. She throws her arms around me and buries her face in my neck.

“I’ve found you,” she whispers, her soft lips grazing the stubble I’d been too lazy to shave this morning.

I slowly wrap my arms around her and bury my nose in her hair.

Shivers run through me as her scent hits my nose. I’m thrown back to a time I’d long forgotten, when my gran would bake all day, her fresh cherry pies sitting in the window to cool. She smells like those pies and the warm summer breeze that carried their scent to me. She smells like… home.

We pull apart, and I finally look into the eyes of the one person in the world brave enough to plop themselves down in the lap of Rage, the Hell’s Hunter’s top Enforcer, and gasp.

She smiles up at me, wiggling her ass against my rapidly growing erection, and says, “Hi, I’m Clover, and I’m your mate.”

“Clover.” Her name feels like honey in my mouth, and it’s a well-known fact that I have a bit of a sweet tooth.

“It’s very nice to meet you. You’re quite handsome!” she says, beaming up at me.

My cheeks start to burn, but I smile right back. This woman is adorable.

“Can you feel that we’re mates? Aldrich says that shifters can tell, but if you’re not sure, then I’ll just go. Rejection hurts, and two in such a short span of time would be the worst.”

“I… We… Wait… What? Rejection?”

I tighten my grip and search her face for any sign of deception. I’ve made quite a few enemies in my lifetime, and I wouldn’t put it past them to try something like this to trick me. But that feeling of home hits me hard again, and when I look into her bright, chocolate brown eyes, behind the pure, unfiltered joy that shines unabashedly, I can see the hurt. It’s there, and it’s fresh… and it makes me furious.

I want to ask her a million questions, but the only thing I can focus on is: “Who’s Aldrich?”

“He’s another of my mates. He’s actually my first mate. He’s stuck in another realm, so you can’t see him.”

I frown, not really knowing what to do with that, so instead, I listen to my instincts and lean forward, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead, inhaling and calming the confusion and rage that swirls within me with her scent. My mate. My home. She just waltzed into one of the most dangerous biker bars in the country and made herself comfortable in my lap. I’ve killed plenty of men, but the one who turned away such a perfect mate will find himself very uncomfortable before he dies. And he will die if I have anything to say about it.

“So… does that mean you’re okay being my mate? And that you believe me? Because I kind of need you to help me break this centuries-old curse, so, you know, I don’t die. But I also need your help because Aldrich is stuck, and he needs to be saved from this blobby old guy who wants to kill off my whole family. I think he’s getting tired of running actually…” She trails off, giggling. “I know, you’re big and strong,” she whispers to the air at her side.

I’m trying to figure out who she’s talking to when her words hit me like a ton of bricks.

“Of course I’m okay being your mate!” I practically shout in her face.

Her shoulders lower just a little, and I can tell a weight has been lifted.

“But, honey, I’m gonna need you to go back and repeat what you said about dying. Because that’s not happening. Now. Or ever.”

I shudder, repressing my shift. Lenny doesn’t take kindly to people shifting in his bar, and she said she knows I’m a shifter, or this Aldrich guy does, but that doesn’t mean she knows what kind of shifter I am… What if she’s embarrassed by me? I’ve accepted what I am and embraced it. It’s one of the reasons I’m one of the top enforcers in Hell’s Hunters, but I’ve had years to grow and learn and enjoy being what I am. She just met me. Although, she seems pretty chill.

I take another look at her with fresh eyes. She’s wearing tight, bell-bottom jeans that are absolutely covered in patches, and a loose pink sweater with butterflies and daisies embroidered on it that hangs off her shoulder. Her long blond hair flows in loose waves down her back, and I take a strand and run it through my fingers. Her brown eyes are wide and bright, and her cheeks are tinged pink. Physically, she embodies sweetness and goodness and looks like a complete flower child. But she has three mates. One rejected her, the other is… stuck? Whatever the hell that means… and then she’s got me. So if what she says is true, then she’s in trouble, and I seem to be her only hope.

I haven’t taken my eyes off Clover since she started talking, so when someone taps me on the shoulder, I don’t stop to think, I just react, pulling a small knife from one of the many hiding places on my body, and shove it up through the arm of whoever dared to interrupt me and my mate.

Mike’s grunt makes me pause, and an airy, tinkling giggle pulls me the rest of the way out of my Clover tunnel vision.

“What the hell is wrong with you, Rage? I assume this is your mate, then? You couldn’t give me at least a week more? Now I gotta follow through on the Secretary bullshit.”

I tune out Mike’s nonsense and smile at her, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips and taking in her scent once more. Someone in the room coughs, and I realize this room is full of sex-starved fools who might be checking out my mate. I glare out at the other club members.

“We’re going to the office,” I grunt, regretfully pulling my mate off my lap and placing her on her feet.

“Good idea,” Mike snips, pulling my knife out of his arm and handing it back to me.

Lenny is there with a clean dish towel, and Mike takes it, wiping the blood off. The wound is already healing now that the knife is out, and he leads us out of the stunned bar and into my office in the back.

I’m a little embarrassed because it’s dusty from lack of use, but my mate, Clover, is looking around wide-eyed and with a smile on her face.

“I’ll just leave you two to talk,” Mike says, winking at me.

Normally, I’d flip him off, but I’m still stunned by what just happened.

I found my mate… or she found me, I guess?