~CHAPTER ONE: AXLE
“You know he hates it when you come through the front door, man.”
I leaned against the wall, crossing one boot over the other. I hadn’t been in the place five seconds before Cory—what passed for a bouncer in Junior DiSalvo’s eyes—walked over and puffed his chest out. The glow of ten flat-screen TVs behind him made his blond hair flicker bluish-green. Cups had a full house tonight. Hell, it was like this every night. Baseball season, hockey, football, no matter what, the upper middle class of Port Azrael, Texas found their way here. They guzzled their watered down drinks and chicken wings while cheering on whatever bandwagon sports team they wanted. But all of that was secondary to the real draw of this place. Junior had a fucking gold mine on his hands. And he owed every bit of it to me and my club, the Dark Saints M.C.
Yet, here was Cory trying to get in my face. He crossed his arms. The little fuck even flexed his ’roid-made biceps. I curled my fists to my sides and shot him a smirk. I pushed off the wall with my shoulder and took a step toward him. Cory’s blue eyes went up and up. Even with his six feet, I still had a good five inches on him. Plus, when it came down to it, I knew what I was willing to do to defend myself or my club. The Dark Saints didn’t hand out my club enforcer patch for nothing. Cory only knew how to look the part.
“Look, man, I’m just doing what Junior pays me for.”
I put a heavy hand on Cory’s shoulder. He wore a black t shirt with “Security” emblazoned across the front in white block letters. I squeezed him just a little, then dusted lint off him. His eyes flicked from mine to the patch I wore. Good. Maybe that’s all the reminder this little fuck-face needed.
“So am I,” I said. “Now, I’m going to have a seat at the bar. I’m thirsty. You can go tell Junior I’m here. If he doesn’t want me out here scaring off his paying customers, I suppose that’ll motivate him to get his ass out here sooner rather than later.”
Cory’s eyes widened. No way in hell he’d have the balls to say anything to Junior DiSalvo other than, “Yes, sir.” It didn’t matter. I knew damn well Junior already knew I was here. I looked over Cory’s shoulder straight into the security camera angled toward the front entrance. I gave it a wink, slapped Cory on the back, then walked over to the bar and parked myself on an empty stool.
I got a few sideways looks from a couple of college-aged kids on one end of the bar. Then the Stars scored a goal on the biggest screen over the bar and a cheer went up. I held a finger up to the bartender. She was a cute redhead with fake tits and a ready smile. Her name was Wendy or Stacy or something All American like that. Zig, our club secretary, had brought her to the club a couple of times last year. In fact, that’s how she ended up working here at Cups. It sure wasn’t because she knew how to pour a drink. I watched her overpour a gin and tonic and two martinis. Shit like that would have had her out on her ass at one of our hangouts. She caught me looking and pointed that ass right at me as she bent over to grab a frosted beer mug from the cooler at her feet. This earned her a round of cheers louder than the hat trick the Stars forward just made.
Wendy or Stacy poured from the tap and slid the mug in front of me. “Hey, Axle,” she purred, leaning over the bar, putting her tits on display. I can’t say I didn’t enjoy the view, but I couldn’t afford that kind of distraction. Not until after my business with Junior was over. Plus, second-hand tail wasn’t my scene. The chick was nice enough, but she was a straight-up biker banger. I didn’t want to be the one to break it to her, but that and the overpours would probably have her out of favor with Junior pretty soon. I gave it a month. I gave Wendy-Stacy a smile, then turned on my stool to look out at the crowd.
Two years ago, this place wasn’t much more than a dive bar like a dozen others along the docks. Now it was an upscale sports bar drawing big bank for the DiSalvo family. It was all a front though for some of their off-book businesses. That’s where my crew came in. We cleaned up the docks and drove the drug trade straight out of Port Azrael. We controlled all the shit that came in and out of our territory. From time to time, the DiSalvo family, especially Junior, needed to be reminded of that. For the most part though, it was a simple arrangement. We protected their businesses here along the port, they paid us well for it. From time to time, Junior’s father, Gino, sent us to deal with shit he didn’t want to dirty his hands with. But now we faced uncertain times since Gino DiSalvo had a stroke. Junior wanted us to think he ran the show now, but I had my suspicions.
I scanned the crowd. Shit. Even on a Tuesday night, I couldn’t find an empty table. Sure, having a Texas team in the NHL playoffs didn’t hurt, but I swear this crowd would have
been here no matter what was on. It wasn’t the games people came to Cups for, it was the girls. The waitresses all wore skintight tops made out of black-and-white referee-striped material tied just below their ample cleavage. Their tiny black skirts just hugged their hips, exposing their belly buttons and a curve of ass when they walked away. They were all lean, tanned, bubbly, and stacked. It was supposed to be all looking and no touching. I just fucking hoped Cory was willing to go rough enough to make sure it stayed that way.
As the Stars scored another one, movement toward the kitchen door caught my eye. Uncle Frank, Gino’s old-man brother, always perched there on a high-top table. Junior claimed he was there to keep an eye on the bartenders. It was bullshit. Frank was damn near blind in one eye. He sat there to ogle the girls. He wore a dirty apron to make it look like he had some legit purpose here. His bald head gleamed under a neon beer sign as the kitchen door swung open and a new girl walked out.
Uncle Frank grabbed her by the arm. Her tray of onion rings nearly overbalanced but she leaned forward, catching it deftly as Frank turned her toward him and put an arm around her waist. His wrinkled fingers tapped her flat stomach and she stiffned, looking for a way to wrench herself free. So much for all look, no touch.
She was fucking gorgeous. The girl had blonde hair piled high on her head and a deep tan. Her eyes sparked with fury as Uncle Frank whispered something in her ear. I downed my beer and slid off my stool. Wendy-Stacy called out behind me, but a red cloud of rage darkened my vision as I headed toward Uncle Frank. Fucking Cory was on the other side of the bar chatting it up with another bartender.
“Come on, Blondie,” Frank said. “Show me a little sugar.”
The girl twisted out of his grip and turned on him. I couldn’t hear what she said, but she curled a fist around Uncle Frank’s apron and pulled him forward so her lips pressed against his ear. Her brow furrowed as she spewed something in Frank’s ear hard enough I saw spit fly. Frank’s eyes widened and his mouth formed a bloodless line. Then the girl let him go, flattened his shirt with her palm, and pasted on a bright smile. Without missing a beat, she hoisted her tray higher and walked away from him.
Frank was still sputtering as she walked past me. Her shoulder brushed against mine and heat coiled through me, shooting straight to my dick. Stopping, she looked up at me. She had a cute little upturned nose and a downturned mouth with a sexy-as-hell beauty mark on her upper lip. A line formed between her eyes as she still wore the scowl Uncle Frank had put there. She stared at me with that same fierce intensity.
“Everything okay back here? You need any help, honey?” I asked, looking at Frank then back to her.
The girl widened that fake smile even as fire ignited behind her green eyes. “Oh, we’re fine. Aren’t we, Uncle Frank?” She spit out his name like it burned in her mouth, but the smile didn’t leave her. Only the slight flush of her cheeks and a furious pulse beating in her temple revealed her anger. Outwardly, she was all sweetness and smiles.
“Sure, Maya,” he sputtered. “Just a little misunderstanding.”
Maya. It was perfect. Just like her.
“Now, we just met,” she said to Frank, keeping her eyes locked with mine. “Miss Ballard, if you don’t mind.”
“Right,” Frank said. “Miss Ballard. No problem.”
“Excuse me,” she said, turning her focus back to me. Holy fuck. That flash of steel in her eyes stirred me as much as the view I had of her tits in that sexy referee getup. My fists clenched as I squashed the urge to wrap my leather cut around her shoulders and cover her. The idea of any man looking at Maya Ballard the way I was sent fresh rage pouring through me even though I knew it made me a hypocrite. At the same time, I couldn’t help imagining what it would be like to bend her over my knee or put her on the back of my Harley.
Frank got up and stormed through the kitchen door. He dropped a couple of “mother-fuckers” in the air before it closed. I raised a brow and crossed my arms.
“You mind telling me what the hell you said to the old man?”
Maya turned and served her tray of onion rings to the table of frat boys directly behind her. My blood simmered again as I caught them looking at her tits as she leaned forward to reach the far end of the table. The little pricks could have easily grabbed the plate from her to help her, but it was obvious they were enjoying the show too much. Dammit if I wasn’t too. Fuck. With shit stirred up at the club, I hadn’t had time lately for this kind of fun. Maybe Wendy-Stacy wouldn’t be such a bad idea. Except she wasn’t at all what interested me.
“Will that be all for now?” Maya asked, tucking her tray under her arm. The boys smiled and nodded, then she turned back to me.
“Oh,” she said, smiling up at me. “Thanks for your concern, but I can take care of myself.”
“I can see that. But I’m still curious. Frank DiSalvo is a legendary lech. Whatever you said made him move faster than I’ve ever seen him. He damn near tripped over himself to get away from you. I’m in awe.”
Maya raised a brow and batted her lashes. Still, a mischievous smile brightened her face and I knew it was genuine this time. She put a hand on my shoulder and went up on her tiptoes. Fuck me. She smelled clean and good but barely looked legal. Plus, like it or not, she worked for Junior. Messing around with her was a bad idea on about four different levels. But I leaned down until she pressed those sweet lips against my ear. “I’ve heard the same rumors about Uncle Frank as everybody else,” she said. “Now he didn’t confirm or deny it, but based on how fast he turned tail, I’m guessing they’re true.”
My shoulders shook with laughter. Maya batted those sweet, dark lashes at me one more time before she moved in for the kill. “I just told him if he ever got so much as the idea to put his hands on me again, I’d drive an icepick through the one ball he has left.”
With that, Maya Ballard tucked a hair behind her ear, hoisted her tray on her shoulder, and gave me a wink as she sashayed back toward the bar.
I adjusted my jeans. They’d gotten a hell of a lot tighter in the five minutes I’d spent talking to Maya. That, and every protective instinct I had flared as I watched three tables of men stare at her ass as she walked by. Damn. Where the hell had Junior found her? And what the hell was a girl like that doing in Port Az? I didn’t get the chance to think about it anymore as Cory walked up to me, clearing his throat.
“Boss wants to see you back in his office,” he said.
“I’ll just bet he does.” I said it under my breath. I had no doubt Junior had watched everything happening on the main floor from the security feed in his office. Keeping me waiting was just his way of trying to pull rank he didn’t have. Gino would never pull this kind of shit. If Junior kept it up, he was liable to wreck some necessary business relationships without which the DiSalvo crew wouldn’t survive. It was the kind of thing I’d have to bring up at church back at the club. Bear Bullock, my club prez, might think it was time to intervene.
I brushed Cory off when he made a move to usher me into the back office. I fucking knew the way. I strode toward the door and pushed it open, not even bothering to knock. Junior sat at his desk with his feet up on it. The shitbird didn’t even bother to stand up when I walked in. He just waved a dismissive hand toward an empty chair in front of his desk.
“I’m good, Junior,” I said. “The sooner we finish our business, the happier I’ll be. We’re at 2k for the week.”
Junior DiSalvo was like a shrunken-head version of his old man. Gino had been thick and beefy with broad, strong shoulders he’d earned working on the docks before his old man finally let him into the business side of things. Junior, on the other hand, had been handed everything on a silver platter. I swallowed my urge to comment on his douchey tanning-bed complexion and overly spiked hair. He wore a purple dress shirt rolled up at the sleeves and shiny gray suit pants.
“Things are tight everywhere, Axle,” Junior said. “I told you a couple of weeks ago we might have to renegotiate our arrangement.”
I leaned over the desk and planted my fists on top of it, letting the club ring on my right hand clang against the wood. “You can take that up with Bear. I’m the collections department, remember? This week it’s two thousand. You want me to spell out for you what happens if word gets out you don’t have club backing for this place? You think those pencil-dicked college kids out there are going to keep coming in here if they don’t feel safe?”
Junior’s dark eyes narrowed and his pulse jumped in his neck. I stood up, letting him follow my gaze. I’d never lay a hand on the little shit directly, it wouldn’t be a fair fight. Still, I didn’t hate watching him squirm as he imagined it.
“How’s your mother?” I asked, taking a page from Maya Ballard and planting a smile on my face. In her case, it looked sweet, in mine, I knew it probably had Junior thinking I was deranged. All the better. Junior was a dipshit, but he wasn’t an entirely stupid one. Bear had his suspicions about who was really running the show now that Gino DiSalvo was incapacitated. He figured it was Junior’s mother, Christine. I’d never met her personally, but Bear swore she was a stone-cold bitch and the real brains of the family.
“How’s yours?” Junior asked. A ballsy move. My own pulse quickened with fresh rage but I kept my cool.
“Look, you want me out of here as much as I want to leave. Let’s just take care of this week’s fee and I’ll get the hell out of here. You think there’s anything to renegotiate, you know how to get in touch with Bear. I’ll be happy to relay the message for you. Meantime, cut the shit, Junior.”
Junior set his jaw to the side. I could see his wheels turning as he worked out whether he wanted to give me more shit. He chose wisely, reached into his desk drawer, and tossed a fat, wrinkled gold envelope to me. I caught it against my chest then slid it into my back pocket without opening it. Junior wasn’t stupid enough to make the drop deliberately light.
“Next time, use the back door, Axle,” he said. “Or if you can’t remember that, keep your cut at home. If this place starts getting even the hint of a reputation as a biker hangout, that’s bad for both of our bottom lines. You feel me?”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, Junior. I feel you. But as long as we’re giving each other advice. You might want to have a talk with your uncle. I caught him out there getting handsy with some of the waitresses. He keeps that up and you aren’t going to be able to keep good people out there.”
Junior finally found a reason to take his damn feet off the desk. He sneered at me and rested his hand on his fist. “I don’t gotta worry about finding good help, Axle. Any girl worth keeping around out there knows how this game is played. You gonna walk around shaking your ass for money, you better expect to give up a little taste now and then. Frank’s harmless, anyway.”
The leather of my cut creaked as I stood up straighter. More than anything I just wanted to punch the smug look off this little asshole’s face. Never mind the fact he was a prick. With an attitude like that and by hiring jerk-off, useless bouncers like Cory, he was going to ruin this place by the end of the year. As much as I would take personal pleasure out of seeing Junior fail, Cups was good for the docks. It was good for Port Azrael.
I don’t know if he read something on my face. Or maybe he’d watched the whole thing with Frank and Maya unfold from behind the safety of his desk. He had six monitors on the oppo site wall displaying feeds from every security camera. I looked over my shoulder at them. He could see the front entrance, behind the bar, two angles of the main floor, the break room and the hallway leading to his office. I knew there were even more cameras than that because our people helped install them. When I turned back toward Junior, his smug smile widened.
“You weren’t getting any ideas about messing with one of my girls now, were you, Axle? I mean, I couldn’t blame you for thinking of it. The new girl is one of the sweetest pieces of ass I’ve seen in a while. How about this? When I’m done with her, I’ll send her your way.”
It would be easy. Junior wouldn’t even be able to move out of the way before I had his neck locked tight in the crook of my arm. One snap. Lights out. The thought of him looking at Maya on those cameras every night turned on something dark inside of me. Junior’s skin turned to ash as he saw it too. I knew what he saw. My grandmother used to tell me it was my tseena trying to come out. She said I had a demon inside of me like the Comanche warriors she claimed I descended from.
Junior blinked.
There was a soft knock at the door and Cory poked his head inside. “Sorry to interrupt, boss, but Wendy’s trying to cash out. The bar’s closed and the girls want to go home.”
Junior swallowed hard and nodded. The little fucker. It
wasn’t a coincidence that Cory just happened to knock right when it crossed my mind to lay into Junior. I knew he had a panic button under his desk. It wouldn’t have surprised me if he shit himself. I gave Junior a wide smile, tapped my knuckles on his desk, and patted the envelope he’d given me.
“See you next week, Junior. I’ll tell Bear you’ve got some issues you’d like to discuss.”
“You do that,” Junior said.
I pushed past Cory, jamming my shoulder into his as he let me by. Wendy’s smile brightened as she saw me come out. She raised a hand and called to me, but I wasn’t in the mood. I just wanted to climb on my bike and go as fast as I could until the rage in my heart started to settle.
Sweat poured down my neck as I hit the alley and mounted my Harley. I should have parked it right out front where all of Junior’s clientele could see it. Because, fuck him. As the engine roared to life between my legs, I rounded the curve and headed for the main road.
I didn’t get two blocks before I saw her. Maya. She walked alone, her tiny skirt swaying as she held her head high and headed for the next intersection. Dammit, what was she thinking? It was pitch black. The docks were safer now, but a girl like her, dressed like that? Anything could have happened to her. I veered to the right and pulled up alongside her.
I revved the engine hard then came to an idle. Finally, she stopped walking and tilted her head down toward her left shoulder, not quite turning to face me. But she knew I was there.
“You shouldn’t walk out here alone,” I said, trying to keep my voice even. “Climb on. I’ll take you home.”
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