RUSH (A Stone Kings Motorcycle Club Romance) by Daphne Loveling Page B
Authors: Daphne Loveling
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and me.
The eyes of that little girl crying over her dad’s body had haunted me for years. I knew that Clayton Greene’s death wouldn’t have affected me much if not for the memory of her eyes. Everyone in town knew Greene was a worthless piece of shit. He drank from morning till night, got in bar fights regularly, and couldn’t hold a job for longer than a few months. He was charming when sober and sloppy as hell when drunk. If not for Seton, I might have thought his death was just as well. But even though I didn’t know her, watching her sob over her father’s body — the shock of suddenly seeing Clayton Greene as a father, with people who had loved him — it stuck with me. Even now, when I sent my guys out on a run, I thought about them as family men, as sons and fathers, brothers and cousins, as well as club members. And even though I didn’t let it affect my decisions — I couldn’t — it helped me not make those decisions lightly. It helped me to take the full measure of the men I sent out into harm’s way in the name of the Stone Kings MC.
I started to feel restless, so I left my office and called to a couple of the brothers that I was going out on a ride. I hopped on the bike and turned it toward the west side of town, out past the city limits in the direction of the mountains. As I rode, I thought about Cal. I wasn’t sure how to feel about him. His good looks and his charmer personality reminded me of his father, though he didn’t seem to have the same weakness for the drink. I even liked the kid; he made me laugh with his combination of earnestness and swaggering self-confidence.
After what had happened with Jethro, I had to be doubly damn sure about anyone new we took into the club. I knew it was a risk that I’d be softer on him because of how I felt about Seton. I couldn’t afford that, and neither could the club. I’d have to police myself, make sure he proved himself beyond a shadow of a doubt as a prospect, or he’d have to go. The ride out into Cannibals territory would be a good first step.
When I got to the club, I went to find Trig, who told me that the ride was planned for two days from now. “Frankenstein and Cal are both up for it. They know what the plan is, why we’re doing it, and they’re ready.”
“Good,” I approved. “Give them both guns for the trip.”
“Guns?” Trig repeated. “Sure, prez, but shit, they’re still doin’ beer runs and washin’ our bikes. You sure you want to ramp ‘em up this fast?”
“I’m not ramping ‘em up,” I retorted. I took out a smoke and lit it. “I want you to see how they do with this. If they get cocky, don’t take the shit seriously, I want you to tell me about it. You know guns make men stupid as shit. I want to see what they’re like when we let them play in the big sand box.”
“Sure thing, prez,” he said. I wasn’t sure if Trig completely agreed with me, but he didn’t argue. Trig was a VP I could count on. He was with me all the way, would carry out my orders without question. He had never openly challenged a decision I had made, but I still relied on his counsel, and I knew that when he offered a different opinion, it was damn worth considering.
I nodded once to confirm the plan, then continued as I lit a smoke. “Make sure Repo knows they’re to be packing, too. Just in case something goes down, make sure you’ve talked through a game plan with the prospects. Make sure they know exactly what their role is, exactly what they can and cannot do. They deviate from that plan by one fucking hair, you let me know.”
Trig nodded. “Got it.” He gave me a speculative look, and then drew a breath. “You know,” he began quietly, “no one blames you for Jethro.”
“ I blame me for Jethro,” I growled. I did not want to talk about this shit now. “I should have never sponsored that fucker in the first place.”
“He came highly recommended,” Trig murmured. “You trusted your
The eyes of that little girl crying over her dad’s body had haunted me for years. I knew that Clayton Greene’s death wouldn’t have affected me much if not for the memory of her eyes. Everyone in town knew Greene was a worthless piece of shit. He drank from morning till night, got in bar fights regularly, and couldn’t hold a job for longer than a few months. He was charming when sober and sloppy as hell when drunk. If not for Seton, I might have thought his death was just as well. But even though I didn’t know her, watching her sob over her father’s body — the shock of suddenly seeing Clayton Greene as a father, with people who had loved him — it stuck with me. Even now, when I sent my guys out on a run, I thought about them as family men, as sons and fathers, brothers and cousins, as well as club members. And even though I didn’t let it affect my decisions — I couldn’t — it helped me not make those decisions lightly. It helped me to take the full measure of the men I sent out into harm’s way in the name of the Stone Kings MC.
I started to feel restless, so I left my office and called to a couple of the brothers that I was going out on a ride. I hopped on the bike and turned it toward the west side of town, out past the city limits in the direction of the mountains. As I rode, I thought about Cal. I wasn’t sure how to feel about him. His good looks and his charmer personality reminded me of his father, though he didn’t seem to have the same weakness for the drink. I even liked the kid; he made me laugh with his combination of earnestness and swaggering self-confidence.
After what had happened with Jethro, I had to be doubly damn sure about anyone new we took into the club. I knew it was a risk that I’d be softer on him because of how I felt about Seton. I couldn’t afford that, and neither could the club. I’d have to police myself, make sure he proved himself beyond a shadow of a doubt as a prospect, or he’d have to go. The ride out into Cannibals territory would be a good first step.
When I got to the club, I went to find Trig, who told me that the ride was planned for two days from now. “Frankenstein and Cal are both up for it. They know what the plan is, why we’re doing it, and they’re ready.”
“Good,” I approved. “Give them both guns for the trip.”
“Guns?” Trig repeated. “Sure, prez, but shit, they’re still doin’ beer runs and washin’ our bikes. You sure you want to ramp ‘em up this fast?”
“I’m not ramping ‘em up,” I retorted. I took out a smoke and lit it. “I want you to see how they do with this. If they get cocky, don’t take the shit seriously, I want you to tell me about it. You know guns make men stupid as shit. I want to see what they’re like when we let them play in the big sand box.”
“Sure thing, prez,” he said. I wasn’t sure if Trig completely agreed with me, but he didn’t argue. Trig was a VP I could count on. He was with me all the way, would carry out my orders without question. He had never openly challenged a decision I had made, but I still relied on his counsel, and I knew that when he offered a different opinion, it was damn worth considering.
I nodded once to confirm the plan, then continued as I lit a smoke. “Make sure Repo knows they’re to be packing, too. Just in case something goes down, make sure you’ve talked through a game plan with the prospects. Make sure they know exactly what their role is, exactly what they can and cannot do. They deviate from that plan by one fucking hair, you let me know.”
Trig nodded. “Got it.” He gave me a speculative look, and then drew a breath. “You know,” he began quietly, “no one blames you for Jethro.”
“ I blame me for Jethro,” I growled. I did not want to talk about this shit now. “I should have never sponsored that fucker in the first place.”
“He came highly recommended,” Trig murmured. “You trusted your
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