“They’re pups and they didn’t have the sense to run away from a house full of dead bodies.” Cade whistled for the dogs. “And why not help them find a home instead of letting them run loose on the streets?”
He had a soft spot for strays. Selma, the golden Lab, who had been his comfort and constant companion since he was four years old, had wandered into his yard one evening and never left. He had been shocked his dad allowed the dog to stay, but Selma was smart enough to understand his father’s insecurities. Loyalty was the way to win his affection. Whenever Cade’s father was home, Selma never left his side, but Cade always knew he had her heart.
After dropping off the pups, they arranged to meet up with Matchstick, president of Demon Spawn, and some of the club members at a bar in town. Demon Spawn had been forced into their role as a Sinner support club, which meant all meetings had to be public in case resentment got out of hand.
By the time they reached the bar, Cade was ready for some serious distraction. Smelling of JD and tobacco and made up to look like an old western saloon with some scratchy Bob Seger on the jukebox, the bar was the perfect place to relax. Matchstick, a Zane look-alike with dark skin, dark hair, and brooding looks, brought two sweet butts and a pitcher of beer to their booth, and Cade settled down for what promised to be a much better evening than he’d expected.
A blonde with short, curly hair immediately slid onto his lap. The other girl, a petite brunette, took the seat next to Zane. Usually Zane sent the girls away, but they were gifts from the host MC and asking them to leave was the ultimate in disrespect.
“Don’t know much about that broker,” Matchstick said after they’d dispensed with the pleasantries and turned to business. “He usually kept to himself.”
“Hard to believe a major arms dealer was shot in your territory along with four of his men and you didn’t know anything about it.” Zane toyed with his glass, his free hand under the table, no doubt within easy reach of his weapon.
“We’re a support club, not a fucking babysitting service.”
Zane withdrew his weapon and placed it on the table. “Maybe you don’t understand the role of a support club.”
“I’m sure he does.” Cade put a warning hand on Zane’s arm. “I think it was just a poor choice of words. He knows what would happen if Jagger had to send up some of our brothers to remind him that we tolerate Demon Spawn’s presence only as long as they remain loyal.”
“Yeah, that’s right. Poor choice of words.” Matchstick ordered a bottle of whiskey on the house and then waved over his old lady, a statuesque blonde with fake tits and an orange tan.
“You want her for the night, Cade? I heard you appreciate a fine piece of pussy.”
Christ. His reputation preceded him, even up north. Usually, he would have laughed and made a joke, then accepted the offer, but tonight the reminder grated on his nerves. “Appreciated, but I got this little sweet butt in my lap to keep me busy … and a girl at home.” He squeezed the girl’s ass and made her squeal, cutting off Zane’s snort of disbelief.
Matchstick apologized again and excused himself to take a call. His VP, Skid Mark, a short, stocky man with a military buzz cut, took his seat and they segued into a conversation about the arms trade up north. But Cade felt a growing sense of unease. Whether it was the way some Demon Spawn brothers kept looking at them or the VP’s slightly off manner, Cade’s instincts were blasting a warning at full volume.
The blonde nuzzled his neck and Cade tensed. He’d almost forgotten about the sweet butt in his lap. Her hair wasn’t soft or curly like Dawn’s hair, and he was damn sure that color wasn’t real. He picked up his phone and sent a quick text to Jagger expressing his concerns about Demon Spawn, then flicked to Dawn’s number. He liked seeing her name in his address book. What she was doing right now?
Zane and Skid Mark were deep in conversation, and the girls were talking to each other. A quick glance around the bar assured him nothing was obviously wrong. Why not send a quick text and find out what the hell was going on?
Hey
He couldn’t think of any better way to start so he pressed SEND and drank his beer as he waited.
Hey yourself
Hmmm. No humor in her tone, but at least she’d texted back.
U working tonight?
Took the night off to spend with the girls. Just dropped them off. U back from Whitefish?
Still here
Nice place 2 be working
Not nice work 2 be doing. What r u doing on ur night off??
Fixing the sink
My kind of woman
Not so sure about that. You alone?
At a bar with a local MC
Another strip bar?
Fuck. Why hadn’t he lied when she asked him about Peelers? He wanted her to forget he’d gone there. Ever. He wanted her to forget the rumors about him. He wanted her to trust him, but how could he expect trust from her when he couldn’t even trust himself?
Just a bar