“I thought three might be enough,” she says and then adds, “Since it’s only two in the afternoon.”
“Pretty sure you get paid to fix drinks, not give us your opinion,” I say but then feel like shit when I can tell I’ve hurt her feelings. “A Coke is fine.”
Allie has been bartending for us since her cousin took a bullet for the club while we were backing another chapter on a run. She was like a sister to him, basically the only family he had left. She had nowhere else to go, and the club owed her for Wesley’s life. We always make good on our debts, and from what I understand, Hunter is off to make good on one of his own.
Five years ago, he left the small town of Brewton, Alabama, where we grew up, and didn’t look back. No one knew where he was going or what he was doing, except for me. He had his reasons for leaving the way he did, and even though his family wasn’t clued in, he did it to help them.
The Royal Bastards Motorcycle Club was expanding their chapter in Birmingham, and they needed members. Hunter had some affiliation with the club after doing a construction job for one of the members. He jumped on the opportunity, saying it would give him a chance to take care of his dad, who was on disability, and his younger sister, Skylar.
Apparently, his dad had a gambling debt a mile high, and the bookies were ready to collect in the form of flesh. It didn’t matter to them if the flesh was Hunter’s, his old man’s, or Skylar’s flesh they collected either. As long as they were paid, they didn’t give a fuck.
Hunter did some shady-as-shit jobs and paid off the debt, making his dad promise to stay away from gambling. He was sending money to his old man but had no control over what he was doing with it. He wasn’t paying his mortgage according to the text Hunter received from Skylar last week. She was losing the house and needed somewhere to stay, although she never once asked him for help. Looks like dear old dad never stopped gambling, he just got better at hiding it.
I’m tempted to order another shot at the thought of Skylar Baker. I’m not a man with many weaknesses, but she’s my fucking kryptonite. She is the only person in this world who can destroy me.
When Hunter left, he told me he would speak to the club about getting me in. He didn’t know if it was a possibility or not since he was pledging as a prospect himself. He would have to wait until he earned his patch or another member’s respect to mention another man joining as a hang around or prospect.
Months went by, and I gave up on Hunter calling me to come join him. I had worked out a life of odd jobs, anything to make ends meet. I was living on the damn streets, bouncing from one friend’s couch to another, wherever I could stay a few nights. There was no fucking way I was going back home to my parents, and I didn’t feel right living with the Bakers without Hunter there.
The night he finally did call me, I had just popped Skylar’s cherry. I had resisted as long as I could, held my attraction to her at bay for years. I had no fucking idea if I would ever hear from Hunter again. Hell, he hadn’t even shown up for Skylar’s birthday. She was upset, and a man can only fight temptation for so long. I was weak, and I wanted her, so I gave in.
But he did call, and I left a naked Skylar alone in her bed without even fucking looking back. To say I regret that night is an understatement. I never should’ve touched my best friend’s sister, but most of all, I never should’ve left her without an explanation. I still haven’t figured out how I would do things differently if I had a do-over. Fucked, I know.
Making a decision like that destroyed me in some ways. Luckily, I was in the right place to take out my frustration and anger, and my ruthless ways earned my respect with the Bastards. I had no issue doing the dirty work as a prospect. If they needed someone taught a lesson in a bloody way, I was all for it. I suppose that’s why I’m the enforcer now.
I will admit, though, that I wanted to call her dozens of times, but after pledging my loyalty to the Royal Bastards, I learned they have a code. They have rules, and the rules are clear. I couldn’t and won’t break them.
Besides, I wouldn’t have to worry about club rules if Hunter knew what happened between us. He still thinks we never crossed that line. The rules now say I can’t. Members can’t fuck with other members’ family without permission and a club vote. It’s very simple. Crossing that line causes club conflict, and our president, Charles Mason, is a stickler for the fucking rules.
Still, I’m curious if she thinks of me, wonders where I am. Then again, she’s probably already moved on, and the douche that fucked her and left her is the last thing on her mind. I know she’s a nurse and has her life together now, even if she has lost her dad and is losing the house she grew up in. That doesn’t mean she doesn’t have her shit together. Doesn’t mean she hasn’t forgotten about me.
“Did you guys finish up that job downtown yet?” Allie asks, placing the Coke I ordered in front of me.
“Just finished it up yesterday, and the crew is bidding on another job today.”
When I came to Birmingham to join the Royal Bastards, Mason was looking for a legit way to earn money. The Bastards needed a legal business to launder the profits from our gun trade. Hunter suggested starting a construction crew. We’d been doing that job since we were eighteen and had a lot of experience. Besides, a lot of money can be laundered through construction costs.
“So, where’s Hunter today?” Allie asks, trying to sound nonchalant.
“The sergeant at arms is on a run today,” I answer, although it’s really none of her business.
Truth is, Hunter did ask me to go with him to Brewton, to be there for his dad’s funeral and for his reunion with Skylar, but I opted out. Made a lame excuse that the club needed me here. As an enforcer, it wasn’t a bad lie. I am actually needed at the club since he took several members with him. I suppose he was just as afraid of seeing Skylar again after all these years as I am. Having the guys there with him probably made him feel ten feet tall and bulletproof.
“A run?” Allie asks, and I know she’s only asking because she has a thing for Hunter. I give her a look, letting her know the run was club business even though it was more personal for Hunter than anything. “Fine, I get it.”
After drinking half of my Coke, I hear the door to the clubhouse open. I don’t have to turn around to know Hunter’s back. I can hear Skylar raising hell about being brought to some frat pad.
“How many men live here?” she questions Hunter. “This is fucking ridiculous. I can take care of myself, you asshat.”
Gathering my courage, I turn around on the barstool, facing the woman who is constantly on my mind. Her long, wavy brown hair is the same, but Skylar is different, more mature-looking, and more grown-up. Still a fucking knockout.
She narrows her eyes at me, and my heart pounds in my chest as she makes her way over to me, her heels clicking on the hard wood of the floor with every step she takes.
I’m not sure what I was expecting, but Skylar rears her fist back and slams it into my jaw. I stumble off the stool, spitting blood on the floor as I shake my head.
That was one hell of a reunion, and Skylar Baker is one hell of a fucking woman.
Slugging Jake had not been my intention, but finding out he’d been here in Birmingham, only hours away from me, had really hurt. When we stopped by the house, I prodded and prodded until Hunter told me everything. Well, I’m sure he told me as much as he was willing to. He is definitely not the brother I grew up with.