Vipers Rule Page 5

  “She’s, ah, coming on strong,” Cage said diplomatically as he stared at it, even as Rocco and Bear began rifling through.

  “She knows you,” Calla added. “Oh, is that milk chocolate?”

  “Christ.” Tals ran a hand through his hair. This wasn’t ever how he courted a woman. If he liked her, he said so to her. Asked her out. Kissed her.

  That’s exactly why she was doing this. Her way of telling him she remembered their discussions. A late-night talk he’d never forgotten either.

  Apparently, Maddie wanted to make sure he never did.

  * * *

  It had been a long night, and Preacher didn’t have to hang out at the shop watching Holly. Everyone knew she was his, even the guys from town who stopped in regularly to flirt with her.

  Granted, Holly always flirted back when he was around—he wondered what happened when he wasn’t, and decided he didn’t want to know.

  Most men kept a respectful distance, but it was a fine line. She wasn’t his old lady, but being claimed by the club’s president meant she had a certain amount of respect and to ignore her flirting was considered disrespectful. Of course, some men—mainly those from town who weren’t associated with Vipers, and sometimes men from other MCs—didn’t give a shit. They’d push and she’d let them (unless they put their hands on her—that, she never tolerated) until Preacher marched over and effectively scared them away.

  Tals had finally finished his tattoo, and he managed to avoid Preacher when he left. Smart move, since Preacher could tell this Maddie shit was going to be trouble. Maddie Wells always brought Tals trouble—and Preacher would’ve thought that by now Tals would be smarter about that shit.

  None of these guys were smart when it came to women. None of them. And he’d have to include himself in that pile.

  The guy hanging on Holly was tall and lanky, with heavily tattooed arms. He looked like an artist or a singer. Definitely not MC, but Holly was standing really close to him as they pored over the tattoo book together. She was smiling—flirting—and since she had no idea Preacher was watching, it wasn’t any kind of act to make him jealous.

  Which was why it was so effective in making him jealous. Enough to want to throw the fucking artist/singer poser through the wall.

  These days, he told himself he was hanging around to make sure she didn’t overdo it, since she wasn’t fully healed from the gunshot she’d taken months earlier, right in this shop. She hadn’t gone to many of the PT sessions Preacher had set up for her, but he often caught her stretching her leg while doing yoga poses.

  She wasn’t limping at all, didn’t seem to be in any obvious pain at the moment, although he knew from experience that gunshot wounds tended to ache with certain weather . . . and that would never fade.

  Unconsciously, he rubbed his thigh, the way he did lately every time he thought about Holly. Which was becoming disproportionately more and more frequent . . . and driving him up a goddamned wall.

  Now that Cage was back in place as XO, Tals was much happier to move back into his head enforcer role. Preacher had the time to step back from the situation and focus on other things.

  Like Holly. “Closing time,” he announced, causing Holly and Poser-Guy to look up from the book. He pointed to the clock, which read three in the morning. Nothing good ever happened after three a.m.

  Gigi and Calla were helping to clear the space, although once Preacher spoke, most tended to listen.

  Except Holly. “I have to do another sketch.”

  “He can make an appointment for another day,” Preacher informed her.

  Poser-Guy stared him down, and then his gaze traveled to the pocket on Preacher’s cut. He paled slightly, looked back at Holly and said, “I’ll call for that appointment.”

  And then he left. Quickly. Maybe he wasn’t as stupid as Preacher initially thought.

  “Are you going to stand there nightly and scare away all my customers?” Holly asked.

  “Until you take care of yourself, yes.”

  “I’m fine, Preacher.” But even as she spoke, he could see the slight clench of her teeth as she walked out from behind the desk. “Gigi, you’ll lock up? Money’s already in the safe.”

  “I’ll hang out and make sure she’s okay,” Calla said. “Just tell Cage I’ll be over in a few.”

  Preacher nodded, locked the front door before walking with Holly through the back door, across the alleyway and into the Vipers clubhouse from the side entrance.

  Rocco and Cage were there, heads together. “What’s wrong?” Preacher asked.

  Rocco jerked his head toward the table. “More roses. For Holly,” he added.

  “Maddie again?” Preacher asked, even though he didn’t need to. When Cage nodded, he asked, “Where’s Tals?”

  “Went for a ride,” Rocco confirmed. “Not to see Maddie.”

  “Who’s Maddie?” Holly asked.

  “Tals’s past,” Preacher answered, aware of how grim his tone sounded.

  Rocco sighed. “Doesn’t sound like a good thing.”

  Cage broke in with, “It’s not,” a frown creasing his forehead.

  “Do we need to keep them apart?” Rocco looked concerned now as well.

  “I can do that just fine on my own, but thanks.” Tals’s sarcastic drawl ripped through the air, creating instant tension.

  Preacher glanced at him but didn’t apologize. Why would he? “Was a time when you needed looking after.”

  Tals acknowledged that with a nod, his expression softening. “I’ve never not been grateful for you taking out the trash and turning Vipers around.”

  Truth was, Preacher had looked after Tals and Tenn from the time the two delinquents broke into this very clubhouse and announced they were ready to become a part of this charter.

  Cage, who’d already been staying at the clubhouse with some regularity, had watched the twins with quiet interest. He was almost the same age as the twins, dealing with his own rocky road to young adulthood.

  Preacher remembered looking at the blond boys and telling them, “I’m not running a fucking babysitting service.”

  Tenn’s eyes had shot with quiet fire, but it had been Tals who’d stepped squarely in front of Preacher. “I don’t see any motherfucking babies here.”

  The haunting truth of those words had stung Preacher way more deeply than he’d ever admit. Because those two and Cage? They’d never had a childhood. Hadn’t been Preacher’s fault, but he’d been breaking his ass, trying to figure out a way to stop the vicious cycle. To put choice—and pride—back into the MC.

  At that time, he’d met Sweet, the newest head of Havoc MC, and he’d made Preacher see things differently. Or at least gave him hope that things could be different, no matter how bad Vipers had gotten.

  “I heard you killed Dale,” Tals had continued, referencing Vipers’ old president.

  “How the fuck is that your business?”

  Tals glanced back at Tenn, not so much for strength as for permission. Tenn gave Preacher a long look before saying, “Your reach hasn’t extended to the other Viper charters.”

  The way he spoke—it wasn’t an accusation, but rather a stated fact. Before he could say anything, Cage informed them, “Preach had to clean house here first. How do you know so much about it?”

  Great, now Preacher had a twelve-year-old defending him, and another two waiting for him to invite them in. He could tell despite their cocky attitudes that they were hurting. It was only later he’d learn what charter the twins had come from—they’d actually run from it, and their mother.

  He’d put a hand on Cage’s shoulder. “Why don’t you come in, have something to eat and tell me what’s going on?” He paused. “Anyone going to be looking for you?”

  “Our mom. We have to check in, but she told us to come to you.”

  Great. Just fucking great, Preacher remembered thinking. Now he asked Tals, “You’re not seeing Maddie again, right?”

  “Gonna be hard to avoid, considering sh
e’s moving back here,” Tals said.

  “Fuck.” They’d have to discuss this later, and preferably not in front of Holly, who stood there waiting for him . . . and looking decidedly too interested in the conversation. “Let’s get you to bed.”

  “I’m not a child.”

  “You don’t take care of your leg, I’ll treat you like one,” Preacher retorted roughly and, with a hand on her back, led her away from the men and up the stairs to her room. It was down the hall from his.

  When she went inside and sat on her bed, the relief was evident. She rubbed a hand down her thigh, then looked at him guiltily before retorting, “It’s the snow that’s coming. You said yourself I’ll always feel it.”

  Instead of answering her, he grabbed her some Advil and opened a water. She took both gratefully, then stripped down easily in front of him, until she just wore a short T-shirt and a pink thong. Holly’s figure just made everything she wore look dirty and hot . . . in a way that made his cock ache. “Get some sleep.”

  “Are you coming back?”

  “Later.” Long after she was asleep.

  “Is it true?” Holly called as he went to shut the door behind him.

  “Gonna have to be a little more specific, darlin’,” Preacher drawled, knowing full well she was referring to the rumor that he’d killed the previous president of Vipers and wrestled control away, because she’d been there for his walk down memory lane. Sometimes he told her because he needed to remember exactly what this MC was built on and why. To remind himself that what he’d done mattered.

  He’d never had the luxury of going into the military—he’d considered it, but during the time he would’ve enlisted, it became obvious to him that leaving Vipers at that point would’ve put his plans back for far too long. Based on what’d been happening inside the MC, there wasn’t a moment to waste.

  He’d gone from foster care to MC life, becoming a young probie at fifteen. This was the violent and dangerous life he knew, although he wanted better. He didn’t want to live on the Jessamine side of Skulls, but he was tired of feeling dirty all the time.

  He could never stomach the violence Vipers stood for, but he’d realized it was his best chance to learn another way. He had no skills but criminal ones, and working with Vipers allowed him access to things—and cash—and he began to envision his empire.

  He’d bided his time until he was strong enough—and feared enough—and then he’d made his moves.

  “Did you kill the old Vipers president?” Holly prompted now.

  “You’ve been here for years. Why ask now?”

  “I think you might actually tell me. You know there are a lot of rumors about you.”

  He did. And he rarely thought about the old days, except when he felt the need to pull himself back from the edge. “You of all people should know not to believe everything you hear.”

  “But I can see it, Preacher.”

  He didn’t bother answering, or denying. She didn’t really need one, and yeah, he’d been a crazy motherfucker. After a while he was no longer sure where playing that role ended and his real personality began. He supposed, in the end, it hadn’t mattered. Both of those sides made up the leader he was, and he answered Holly’s original question with a “Yes.”

  She studied him for a long moment. “Why get rid of him? You were young for a power grab. You weren’t a legacy. Supposedly,” she added quickly.

  He wanted to ask her if she didn’t know him better than that, but hell, he was never really forthcoming. Holly had good intuition, and still, her question bothered the hell out of him . . . but any anger he had toward it was pointed directly back at him. He simply stared at her steadily as he answered, telling her, “He was molesting his stepdaughter. A man like that deserves to be put down, no questions asked. She was eight years old. A lot of MC members knew about it, but none of them did anything. So I killed him and I gave the men who’d known what he’d been doing the option of getting the fuck out of my sight or getting killed too.”

  It was Holly’s turn to stare at him. “How many of them took you up on the first offer?”

  “None of them. And yes, I kept my promise.” With that the conversation effectively ended. He shut the door in case it hadn’t.

  Chapter 6

  Tals hadn’t shown. Not that she’d been surprised. Upset, insulted and angry, yes. All of which she really didn’t have any right to be.

  She wasn’t going to be good at this rejection thing. Was he out with someone else? She knew she had no right to ask that, but she was back to being sixteen and seventeen and jealous as hell.

  At least he’d called. How he’d gotten her number, she had no idea, but again, that wasn’t a surprise. The Tals she’d known had always been resourceful.

  She was going to need the element of surprise. Until she figured out what that should be, she’d court him with the flowers. She hoped he’d understand—remember—why red roses, especially after she’d touched his tattoo last night, but it had been a long time.

  “Can I get you anything else?” the waitress asked. She was too young to remember Maddie, but she did give her a longer once-over than usual.

  “I’m good—just the check, please.” Maddie had excused herself from one of her grandmother’s dinners, saying she already had plans. She’d rather eat alone than deal with the questions.

  Grams had tried to head them off¸ explaining to her friends that Maddie had come home to regroup after leaving Hugh. She hadn’t given details, bless her, but news of Hugh’s cheating had spread pretty quickly. Although it was humiliating to have people learn the most intimate details of her life, it forced her to admit that she’d left the relationship years earlier. Now her focus was firmly on the past. On righting wrongs. On fixing things.

  She refused to worry about what might happen if she was too late.

  She looked around the streets as she sat at the window and watched the slow late-evening bustle that defined Skulls Creek. She wore a black slouchy beanie, a little makeup and glasses. And although she felt exposed, she was relieved to go unnoticed for quite a while. She ate lunch as she noted the cute new shops that lined the streets. She’d known this part of town had gone through a bad time when she was young, but this was always the way she remembered it—fresh and brimming with life. Some of the business names had changed, the signs looked refreshed, but Skulls Creek was alive as ever, and for the smallish-sized city, that was a compliment.

  Real estate agents could still call this place a haven to potential customers—they didn’t have to give the hard sell. A ride through town was enough to showcase the cozy yet cosmopolitan feeling.

  What used to be the bad side of town had changed. Rumor had it that Vipers bought up property here as it became available, fixed it up. Sold some of the properties and kept some. There was still a distinct feel between the two sides of town, but not in the good/bad way. This side was considered more artsy and modern as opposed to the more old-fashioned feel of the gated communities.

  There was room for both, an acceptance of the two sides of the city, even if Vipers MC wasn’t completely embraced.

  They’d never admit it, but Vipers would probably hate it if that happened.

  She paid the check, left the restaurant and window-shopped. It was close to ten at night, and several of the shops remained open, taking advantage of the post–holiday season shoppers. Across the way, Vipers Ink glowed softly. The shop was open, but it looked oddly empty. It was probably a bit early.

  Maybe they had time for a walk-in. She rubbed her side unconsciously as she began to walk across the street. She’d been promising herself she’d do this forever.

  The young man behind the desk wore a sleeveless T-shirt, despite the season, his arms covered in ink. “Can I help you?”

  “Do you take walk-ins?”

  “Depends on what you want and if Holly’s got the time.” He motioned to the tall blond woman sitting in the back corner of the shop. She was sketching something, and the shop wa
s empty, save for one young woman getting a tattoo on her ankle. And whining like she was being tortured. “Hey, Holly—got some time?”

  Holly looked up, her eyes a piercing green, and took her time walking over to where Maddie stood. She gave Maddie the once-over, although Maddie couldn’t deny that she did the same thing, though she hoped she was more subtle.

  Holly eyed her, then said to the younger guy, “Another one,” without taking her eyes from Maddie’s.

  “Another what?” Maddie asked sharply, in no mood for bullshit.

  “Just tell me what kind of tattoo you want—a little heart or butterfly? Make sure it’s hidden under your bikini line?”

  “Oh please. And I won’t bitch and moan like that one.” Maddie jerked her head toward the young woman who was now crying. Her tattoo was literally the size of a nickel. Holly raised a brow and let Maddie continue. “I was thinking of a dream catcher—here.” She pointed to her side. “Not sure of the exact placement. I was considering my arm, but . . .”

  “Too thin,” Holly said, suddenly interested enough to abandon the crying woman—and also pulling up Maddie’s shirt to stare at her side. “Come in the back and take your shirt off. I need to see you before I decide.”

  Maddie followed her into a private room that was both comfortable and functional. There were photos displayed of women who’d had their mastectomy scars covered with tattoos, along with reconstructed breasts that had tattooed nipples. “Did you do all of these?”

  “Yes,” Holly said. “Sometimes they’ll do it up front, but most of the time, they’re more comfortable back here. Now, shirt off.”

  Maddie stripped easily as she heard the young woman whine, “Aren’t you going to finish mine?” through the open door.

  Holly backed up, called out, “No,” then turned to her, and her eyes held a challenge. “Bra too—I’ll need to check the whole area.”

  Maddie unhooked her bra, meeting the challenge, and raised her arm for Holly to check out the area.

  Holly ran her hands there, murmuring about perfect contours and the ribs will hurt like a bitch, but mainly Maddie couldn’t make out what she said. “Good. Give me a few minutes to sketch. Don’t get dressed—wrap in the blanket if you’re cold.”