Clubs: Motorcycle Club Romance (Savage Saints MC Book 6) Read online

  What a fucking night.

  I stood outside in the dry Vegas heat, smoking a cigarette. Across the street from me, a homeless person pushed a cart, a stark reminder that for all of the glitz and glamor of Las Vegas, it was nothing more than colored lighting to mask the darkness beneath it. It was like me, in a lot of ways; there was a reason that I’d moved here, and it wasn’t to make it rich.

  I leaned against the wall to The Red Door, a building and a club that, to outsiders, looked like nothing more than a biker’s hangout spot. Patrons were beginning to hail their Ubers, and when they saw me, I waved goodnight. To the billionaires, athletes, and celebrities that frequented this place, I just looked like an additional layer of security—just how I liked it.

  I needed the distance and the silence to make sense of everything that had happened.

  First, all of the fucking shit with the California Savage Saints had happened… and now she had shown up?

  Cassie Erickson. It was a name I would never forget. It was a face I would always remember.

  A face I remembered from fifteen years ago because I sure as hell hadn’t seen her since then. Until now.

  Cassie was the person who simultaneously had given me the best time of my adolescent life and had played the greatest role in turning me into the person I was now. Things were so good back in the early days in Phoenix; we seemed destined to be high school sweethearts, well on our way to becoming something. She was going to be a lawyer; I was never going to be that smart, but “sergeant-at-arms at a biker club in Las Vegas” was not it.

  Now…

  Wonder how the hell she wound up here. It’s a far cry from the courtroom.

  For that matter, I wondered how the hell she had been the last fifteen years.

  Her words crossed my mind every single day.

  “You’re the only man I could ever want, Brett.”

  Funny how that worked out.

  I heard Mama’s heels approaching but didn’t turn. I didn’t need another fucking lecture from her; I didn’t need another goddamn reminder that I needed to open up. That was for people who didn’t get burned by those who supposedly cared about them just… fucking vanishing into thin air.

  “Got a spare?” she asked.

  I looked over at her for half a second, saw sympathy in her eyes, and turned back. I didn’t want it.

  A cigarette, though, was something that could be spared.

  “Good show?” I asked, even though I didn’t care to hear the answer. I just hoped it would keep the conversation away from my feelings on Richard’s decision.

  “It’s always a good show,” Mama said. “And you know that.”

  It’s true, I thought without displaying any visible reaction. The brilliant part about charging so much money to attend these shows was that the rich felt obligated to believe the show was good, even on nights when Mama could be heard bitching at the girls until sunrise. God forbid the rich spent money on something that wasn’t worthwhile.

  “Barber, I know you ain’t gonna talk, but I’m also not gonna let you off the hook that easily,” Mama said. “You’re a vital part of this club. And if there’s something that’s troubling you, it’s not just going to affect you. It’s gonna affect all of us. So hun, can you at least tell me?”

  I took more reassurance than a man of my demeanor and background probably should have from such a simple statement.

  “It’s… nothing, I swear,” I said.

  Just because she had comforted me didn’t mean I had to be honest back.

  “I just let something get to my head that I shouldn’t have, but it’ll have no impact on the club.”

  Mama let out a puff of smoke in my direction, not quite blowing in my face but her feelings toward my stonewalling were pretty evident. I could at least look her in the eyes now. There was a little bit more confidence to me.

  “Is it one of the new girls?” Mama said with a snort. “Are you trying to fuck one of the rookies?”

  I usually would have laughed at that moment, or at least smirked at her.

  I definitely wouldn’t have responded the way I did.

  “There is no fucking way I’m going for anyone new up on stage,” I said, thinking of her. “I have a better chance of fucking a Sinner in the ass than I do of going for any of the new girls.”

  Mama visibly recoiled. She didn’t get a shocked look on her face often—years and years of heartbreak had made her somewhat invulnerable to a lot of the grief and feelings that most people had—but often didn’t mean never. She bit her lip as she eyed me up and down.

  “Am I talking to Barber or am I talking to the bitch?” she said.

  “Mama, leave it alone,” I growled.

  “I’ll leave it alone when you tell me what the fuck is going on,” she said.

  But I shook my head.

  “This is a waste of your time, and you know it. I’ll be good—you just let me be.”

  Mama sighed.

  “If this is your definition of nothing, I’d hate to know what your definition of something is,” she said as she finished her cigarette and stomped it out with her foot, leaving it for whichever new prospect we brought on board, or Walker if we couldn’t add anyone fast. “Listen, whatever you do is up to you. But hun, don’t be like me. Don’t throw up an immovable wall the second shit starts to get tough emotionally. I can do it because I’ve given up making a name for myself in this world. But you? You’re young. You’re, what, thirty?”

  “Thirty-three,” I said.

  “Well, ya look thirty,” Mama said. “In any case, you know how old I am? I’m letting you guess; it’s OK to be an asshole right now?”

  I had no fucking clue, and I didn’t care. I just needed to be left alone on a night like this.

  “Forty,” I said, because it was a round number.

  “Thirty-eight,” she said. “That biological clock is ticking, but I already threw a whole bunch of shit at it, and at this point, it’s a broken piece of shit in my run-down apartment. So I ain’t give two shits about myself. But you, Barber. You got some potential yet. If you stopped being a bitch.”

  Mama started to leave. I didn’t know how she had that effect on people, that ability to reach into their core and encourage them to speak, but…

  “If I told you I don’t like the status quo getting uprooted,” I said, “would that tell you enough?”

  Mama paused just before the door, turned to me, and smiled.

  “It’d be a start, and one that makes a whole lot of sense,” she said. “That doesn’t explain why you made it sound like you’d rather give it up the ass with Scar than have to hug my new girl.”

  That one, I wasn’t going to say anything on.

  Mostly because even I didn’t know the full story. How could I explain myself when I didn’t know everything about Cassie Erickson?

  How could I explain myself when all that I knew was sheer bliss, and then, one day, a departure so sudden that I wondered for months if she had gotten killed while out somewhere?

  There was no way I could. That was more dishonest than trying to rebuff Mama’s attempts to understand me.

  “Please don’t,” I said, taking a more begging tone than before. “That… I’m sure that’ll come out.”

  Mama pulled her lips back in a grimace, an involuntary expression that vanished moments later.

  “Just tell me this,” she said. “Did you fuck her recently?”

  I latched onto the word recently like a starving dog to a bone that had gone crusty. It wasn’t much to hold onto, but damnit, if it shut this conversation down…

  “No.”

  Mama glared at me for a few more seconds, but it was time for me to avert my eyes once more. I looked down at the ground, pulling out another cigarette. Mama waited about five seconds before I heard her walk away, the door to the club slamming shut.

  When I finally knew that she was gone, I turned my gaze to the stars above. Fuck if I believed in astrology or any of that shit, but what the f
uck did it mean that Cassie was back in my life? Back in my world? Back in my every working day?

  I had once seen her dancing. When she danced at that age, when I was just a senior in high school and her a sophomore, we were at prom, and we didn’t just dance together; we moved in synchronization. We were a single body, moving as one.

  I loved her. I really, truly did. I was planning on proposing to her a few months later. I never bought the ring, but I’d scoped out a few different shops and considered my options.

  It was a much happier time. Granted, we were just kids, even with me at eighteen years old, but we were blissful kids.

  Now?

  Fuck.

  Chapter 2: Cassie

  The end of my first night had arrived, and although I should have felt excited, I instead felt very nervous.

  It had nothing to do with the crowd. It had nothing to do with being topless. It had nothing to do with imposter syndrome, self-doubt, or anything else.

  It had everything to do with the fact that Brett Pierce was a member of the Savage Saints.

  I hadn’t seen Brett in fifteen years, and it was obvious he wasn’t the eighteen-year-old boy that I had left behind. He now sported a grizzled brown beard. It was well-trimmed, and the rest of his hair, ironically, was cleaner than I had remembered it, but the beard felt like a demarcation line of sorts; it was as if he was saying he was no longer the teenager I had said I loved but was now a man.

  But there were too many things about him that remained the same for me to believe I’d run into a lookalike. For one, his piercing brown eyes gazed at me the same way they had over a decade ago—seeming to see past me, see into my soul, see into my emotional state, and see all of me. It was both the scariest and most delightful thing about Brett; it put me on edge at first, but in time, I came to appreciate it as a gift that could make our relationship better.

  There was the casual slouch against the wall, a position that said that he was at ease and completely unaffected by anything going on around him. I knew better than to doubt Brett’s preparedness for trouble—something I had seen many times in the past—and yet, somehow, many a troublemaker thought he was someone who could be fucked with.

  I doubt they’re thinking that now.

  The thing that most gave away Brett’s presence, though, was something I really couldn’t describe. It was just… I just knew he was there. It was almost a sixth sense that someone of great importance in my life was there, and I sure as hell knew it wasn’t going to be my parents. God forbid they ever support me since what had happened fifteen years ago. It was all too sinful, and Vegas would have been too much.

  I had to confirm Brett was there with a look, but it was like I knew the instant I walked out on stage that tonight was going to be no ordinary night.

  And yet, to the rest of the girls, my debut could not have gone any better.

  “You did great!” Crystal said. “I wish I were as calm as you were my first night.”

  “Thanks,” I said, easily able to fake enough of a smile to reassure Crystal and not lead to more questions. “It was a little bit frightening, but I got the hang of it pretty quickly.”

  “I’ll say,” another girl, Angela, said. “I think I nearly lost my balance the first night on a leg kick. A leg kick! But it’s only going to get easier. You’re going to be here a while.”

  Let’s hope not too long. Law school is still the ultimate goal. But still, a grand a night? I’m not going to complain about that.

  “That’s the hope,” I said with a short smile.

  “Alright, ladies,” Mama said with a strong voice. “Gather round, gather round, time for the end of night recap.”

  The girls, in various states of dress and undress, hurried over to Mama, standing at the main door. I had on most of my clothes by now; I just needed to put my shoes on to head to my car. It looked like most of the girls were in no real rush to put on their clothes; perhaps some of them were waiting for club members, or maybe some of them had dalliances with audience members. I was too determined to make money to fuck up my standing with the club right now.

  Brett aside. But I’m pretty sure that’s going to result in more in awkward glares and maybe some gruff words than anything romantic.

  Even if, just like fifteen years ago, I still consider him the most attractive man in the area.

  “Great job tonight, really great job,” Mama said. “And let’s give it up for Cassie on her first night!”

  The other girls cheered, and I gave a genuine smile. I may have faked my confidence in the performance, and I may not have had much in the way of long-term plans here, but I sure as hell appreciated when people showed their appreciation for me. It wasn’t something that happened that often.

  “You shoulda heard what some of those rich assholes were saying about you all,” Mama said, leading to some laughs. “Seriously, we should be charging double if you all can perform like this. Good news for you all, then, is that when you kick ass like that, this talk is short! So, be here by seven tomorrow, and otherwise, get the hell out of here.”

  The girls thanked Mama individually. I decided I’d do so once I had my shoes on. I went back, slid on my Chuck Taylors, and made my way to the door.

  “Cassie? Can I speak to you in private for a moment?”

  Oh, damnit.

  “Yeah,” I said, trying to look positive.

  I tried to read Mama’s face, but there was nothing to read. She turned before I had confirmed I was coming, and she led me to a back room behind the audience’s chairs.

  The room she led me to was small, but it had about six more doors. In the middle lay a poker table that had empty glasses and some extinguished cigarettes. The place smelled of gambling men. I suspected that some of the Savage Saints hung out here when they got bored during the show, but I didn’t ask Mama about it. It had no impact on my job, anyway.

  “Is there anything I should know about you and Barber?” she said as I sat down.

  “Barber?” I said.

  I had no idea who Barber was.

  “Bearded guy, brown eyes—”

  “Oh, Brett,” I said.

  I had meant to play it cool if this conversation ever came up, but the way I said his name—dreary, as if it was a name that exhausted me—gave it all away.

  “His nickname is Barber?”

  “He cuts all our hair and keeps us looking professional for the clients,” she said. “Don’t dodge the question though, Cassie.”

  I bit my lip. How much to tell? Brett would surely find out about this conversation. He might even try to interrogate Mama for information from it.

  Or, maybe, given the way I removed myself from his life, he wouldn’t want to know any of it.

  “We knew each other as teenagers,” I said. “It… ended badly.’

  “Hmm,” Mama said. “And what was ‘it?’”

  In most workplaces, this would have been grounds for a complaint.

  It was too bad The Red Door and Las Vegas at large weren’t places where the standard rules of professional etiquette applied.

  “We dated for a couple of years in high school,” I said. “It was going all so well. And then something happened between my sophomore and junior years of high school, or the summer after Brett graduated. It… yeah.”

  Mama nodded, strumming her fingers on the table.

  “Good enough,” she said. “Cassie, keep this in mind. You’re one of my girls, and I’m gonna be looking out for you. I’m a member of the Savage Saints, but we treat our girls like royalty here. Once you’re a member of the burlesque troop, we take care of you at all costs. So if you ever doubt who’s side I’m on, know I’ll cover your ass before I cover for one of those assholes.”

  I tried not to laugh, and while I succeeded, it took an awful lot of effort. How could you keep a straight face when Mama spoke so gruff and coarsely?

  “However, Barber, or Brett, whatever you call him, he is an officer of the club. Meaning that he’s a man of importance h
ere. I am too, so I’m not going to let him pull some bullshit on you, some fucking power play. But if you do something to piss him off, if you try a reunion special for the sake of an old fling, if you do anything that shouldn’t go down in a normal workplace… honey, I’ve warned you. Don’t.”

  “Don’t worry,” I said, biting my lip. “I’m a professional. And Brett wouldn’t want anything to do with me anyway.”

  For as much as I had spoken with confidence and ease up to that point—or at least as much as I had faked such a tone—I sure sounded fragile right then. Maybe it was because I knew that Brett not wanting anything to do with me was entirely my fault. And this wasn’t like we both were at fault and I just took ownership of everything; I truly was the one who had walked out without warning, vanishing in full for a good fifteen fucking years.

  Fifteen. Years. And now, we’re co-workers.

  What are the odds?

  “Here’s to hoping that remains the same,” Mama said. “The exit is through that door right there. I’ll see you tomorrow at seven, sweetie.”

  I stood up, nodded, and walked past Mama as she pulled out her phone and sent off a few texts. I pulled my face away before I could be seen looking at her phone, fearful that even the appearance of looking like I was spying would create a whole lot of hell I didn’t want to deal with.

  Once I got out of the building, I took a second to reorient myself. The cars were just beyond the fence.

  I walked quietly, keeping my head on a swivel as I moved through the barely-lit night. I was—

  Someone was waiting for me at my car.

  “Hello?” I said, trying to keep my voice firm. “That’s my car. Do you mind?”

  The tall figure didn’t say anything. Shit. I didn’t have any mace, any weapons, any pepper spray. I was fucked.

  “Sir, I don’t think you’ll want to be on my car,” I said, deciding to posture a little bit. “I have backup to—”

  “My friends are your backup.”

  Brett.

  Oh my God… our first words to each other in a decade and a half, and it starts with me threatening him.

  Nerves rushed through my body. I felt both unbelievably terrified about finally having this conversation… but also a bit of a flash of heat through my stomach, the kind of tornado-producing butterflies that I hadn’t felt in years. No one else ever made me feel like Brett.