Outlaw Xmas: Insurgents Motorcycle Club (Insurgents MC Romance Book 10) Read online

  “I’ll keep him busy. Besides, he doesn’t have to be in front of a screen all day. There’s plenty to do.”

  “Maybe we can ask Banger to bring Ethan over for the weekend.”

  Chas shook his head and then pressed his lips on hers. “Sort of fucks up the punishment if he gets a sleepover, precious,” he said against her mouth. Hope squirmed in his arm and he pulled away. “Is cereal good for her breakfast?”

  “Yes. The Cream of Wheat’s on the stove. Just give her half a cup with a splash of milk and a little bit of banana in it. I’ll be down in a minute.”

  After Hope ate a few bites of her hot cereal and drank some of her juice, she was ready to go to school. As he was putting on her jacket, his phone rang. Glancing down, he saw Banger’s name light up on the screen.

  “Hold on, honey.” He placed the phone to his ear. “What’s up?” he asked.

  “I’m just letting everyone know that we have an emergency church this morning at ten thirty.”

  “I’ll be there. I just need to drop Hope off at preschool, and then I’ll come to the club and hang until church. Uh… has Ethan mentioned anything about Jack getting picked on at school?”

  “No, but that don’t mean shit with kids. So your boy’s getting bullied?”

  “I think so. I mean, the signs are there, especially making excuses not to go to school. I just wondered if Ethan said anything. Can you ask him?”

  “I’ll talk to him and let you know. What’re you going to do about it?”

  “Teach Jack to beat the shit out of the brat.”

  Banger’s laugh rumbled through the phone. “Sounds like the best plan. They gotta learn now so they can hold their own later in life. I taught Ethan some stuff and it made him feel a whole lot more confident. It’s about time your boy learned to defend himself.”

  “My thinking exactly, although I know Addie would fuckin’ freak out if she knew about it.”

  “Women are like that. They don’t need to know everything that goes on. I’ll see you later at church.”

  Chas slipped the phone into his pocket and shrugged on his leather jacket. “Come on, Hope, we gotta get going.” Hope walked behind him as he made his way to the garage.

  “Who were you talking to?” Addie asked as she came into the kitchen.

  “Banger. The club’s got an emergency church this morning.”

  “Sounds serious. What do you think it’s about?”

  He stopped and kissed her on the cheek. “Good one, but I’m not divulging shit.” Hope tilted her chin up when Addie bent down to kiss her goodbye. “I’ll see you later tonight.” He grasped Hope’s hand and went into the garage.

  In less than thirty minutes, he walked into the clubhouse, greeting the brothers as he took a seat at one of the tables. After he’d dropped Hope off at school, he thought about Jack the whole time he drove to the club. Just the thought of someone hitting his kid made his blood boil. He’d spend the weekend teaching Jack to defend himself, and if that didn’t solve the problem, then he’d intervene.

  There was no way in hell he was allowing this shit to continue. The faculty at the school seemed to be turning a blind eye to the problem, so he’d have to take matters into his own hands.

  This shit stops now.

  Chapter Two

  Hawk

  The din of angry voices ricocheted around the cramped room as Banger pounded the gavel on the wooden block. Hawk pushed off from the concrete wall and put two fingers in his mouth, letting out a high-pitched whistle. Slicing through the cacophony of shouts, several members of the Insurgents MC turned their attention to the front of the room and locked eyes with the vice president.

  “Give me the damn gavel,” he said to Banger. He threw it across the room and Wheelie and Rock leapt up, glaring at Hawk as their nostrils flared and their muscles flexed.

  “What the fuck?” Rock said as he pushed hard against the table, moving it forward a few inches.

  “You got a problem?” Wheelie said as he started walking toward the front of the room.

  Hawk crossed his arms. “Come get it, fuckers.”

  Banger blocked Wheelie’s path. “Sit your ass back down.”

  “You should’ve been respecting your prez instead of yapping away like a goddamn chick,” Hawk said.

  Pointing at the vice president, Wheelie breathed heavily. “You better watch your back, brother, ’cause this shit isn’t over.”

  “Any time, asshole. I’ve been wanting to kick your ass for a while.” Hawk glared at Wheelie as he retreated and headed to his seat.

  “Don’t make things worse,” Banger whispered to Hawk. “We got shit we need to figure out.”

  “I don’t like his fuckin’ attitude.” Hawk pursed his lips and leaned back against the wall, his gaze still focused on Wheelie.

  Silence fell over the room as the members fixed their eyes on their president. Banger scrubbed his face with his fist, then cleared his throat. “I know you’re all pissed about the recent shit Reaper’s been pulling in our territory,” he said.

  “Enraged is more like it,” Chas said. Axe and Throttle grumbled their agreement.

  “Okay, pissed as fuck, then, but we gotta keep our heads level to figure out what’s really going on and what’s damn rumor.” Banger picked up his beer and took a long drink.

  “Steel told me his sources are good. I knew the fuckin’ Deadly Demons weren’t going to honor the truce,” Hawk said.

  “You can never trust a damn Demon,” Rock said. Soon the brothers were cussing and yelling about the Deadly Demons, and Banger just rocked back on his boots, shaking his head.

  “Shut the fuck up!” Hawk’s voice filled the room. Once again, silence settled over the meeting room. “We have shit to discuss. I know they’re hooking up with some punk gang in Pueblo.” Looking down at a notebook on the table, he searched for the name. “What the hell’s the name of the asshole gang?”

  “The 39th Street Gang,” Rock said as he stood up. “According to Diablo, they work out of Pueblo, but they’ve been making some noise with another punk gang in Silverado. Fallen Slayers have been dealing with them for the past several months. The Night Rebels helped the brothers get guns and shit from Liam a while back.”

  “Aren’t Satan’s Pistons involved with the 39th Street Gang?” Axe asked.

  Rock nodded. “And they’ve been tied to the wannabe gangsters in Silverado. I told Diablo we should join forces and stamp out these damn punk gangs.”

  “We should kick their asses just for having a stupid-as-shit name,” Throttle said.

  Several brothers guffawed, and Rags slapped Throttle on the back. “Good one, dude. And you’re so right. I mean, how much time did it take for them to come up with 39th Street Gang? Total pussies. Fuckin’ lame.”

  “What the hell’s the name of the other punk gang in Silverado?” Jerry asked.

  “I don’t know. Diablo just ranted about these 39th pussies,” Rock answered.

  “West Avenue Bandits,” Bear said, and all eyes turned to him. He leaned back in his chair. “Tattoo Mike told me. He said the Fallen Slayers are having a helluva time with them. Steel’s ready to have the Night Rebels jump in and give them a hand.”

  “Did Tattoo Mike say anything ’bout the Deadly Demons being involved with these punk gangs?” Banger asked.

  “He said they don’t know who the hell’s helping them out. Satan’s Pistons are bent on revenge after what the Night Rebels did to their clubhouse in Arizona, but he said the brothers don’t think they have the money or manpower to fund two punk gangs.”

  “This shit has Deadly Demons written all over it,” Jax said, pounding his fist on the table. The brothers joined in, pounding their fists and yelling out death epithets.

  Hawk hung back and watched as anger filled the room. Neither he nor Banger stopped it, and from the hard look on Banger’s face, Hawk was pretty sure he was feeling the same rage that was coursing through each of the brothers, including himself. The Deadly Demons h
ad been trying to spread the drug, arms, and trafficking trade into Colorado—Insurgents territory ever since the club was formed thirty years before. During that time, the club wars had been fierce and rivaled any war zone in Afghanistan. After years of killing and bloodshed, a truce had been formed between the two clubs. It had held strong for the past eight years, but the outlaw grapevine had been reporting that Reaper was pissed as fuck that the Insurgents were making a shitload of money on legal weed while they struggled with constant harassment from the badges.

  Hawk balled his fists. I wouldn’t put it past these fuckers to snake their way into our territory by using non-biker gangs as their damn smokescreen. He glanced at the clock on the back wall. He’d promised Cara that he’d pick up Braxton from preschool in an hour. Turning to Banger, he said, “This shit could go on for hours. Pound the gavel and let’s move on.”

  Banger picked up another gavel and slammed it down on the block of wood. Voices lowered to a hush. “We’re all fuckin’ pissed, and Hawk and I are gonna keep monitoring this.”

  “I’ll keep digging to see what I can come up with,” Blade said.

  “If anyone can find shit through the internet, it’s you,” Chas said. Blade was a whiz when it came to computers, hacking, and anything else internet and computer related. He’d been a full member for the past few years and was proving to be a huge asset to the club.

  “And keep the conversation going with the Night Rebels. They’re closer to what’s going on since all this shit is in their neck of the woods. I guess that wraps it up. What do you say?” Hawk glanced at Banger.

  “That’ll do it. Church is over.” Banger brought the gavel down again, and the scraping of chairs against the concrete floor bounced off the walls as the brothers made their way out of the room and headed to the great room.

  When Hawk walked into the great room, hard rock beats blasted from the overhead speakers while voices strained to compete with the music. Hawk went over to the jukebox and lowered the volume.

  “That’s a lot better, honey,” a sultry voice said behind him. The scent of sweet roses curled around him as soft fingers ran up his forearm.

  He straightened up and turned around. A young woman with long light-brown hair and big blue eyes smiled at him. She looked like she was barely twenty-one.

  “Do I know you?” he asked as he took a step away from her.

  “I’m Heather. I’ve seen you around the club, but you always seem too busy to notice me. I’m one of the new girls.” She ran her eyes over his physique.

  “How new?”

  “A month. I was a hoodrat before, but now I’m a club girl.” She stepped closer to him. “I was hoping you were going to be here when I was initiated.”

  When a woman wanted to become a club girl, she had to go through an initiation where all the members had sex with her. If she passed, she donned the Insurgents patch as property of the club. It earned her free room and board and the protection of the club.

  Hawk placed his hands on her shoulders and pushed her back gently. “You’re wasting your time with me. I’ve got an old lady.”

  “I heard that, but what happens in the clubhouse stays in the clubhouse. Plus, variety is a lot more fun.” She reached out and traced her finger down his throat.

  Grabbing her hand, he pushed it away. “When a brother tells you to back off, you fuckin’ listen. I’m not interested. Find another brother who wants your pussy.”

  “You’re a hard one.” She pushed out her lower lip.

  “Only when people don’t listen.” Spotting Throttle at the bar, he walked away and went over to him.

  “What the fuck were you doing with the new girl, what the hell’s her name?”

  Hawk closed his eyes and tilted his head back. “Fuck. I don’t remember, and she just told me.”

  “You’re getting old, dude.” Throttle laughed.

  “I hate that shit. Let’s see… it was something with an H, like Heidi. Yeah… it’s Heidi.”

  “Who’re you talking about?” Wheelie asked as he leaned over to scoop up a handful of nuts.

  “The new club girl. Throttle was asking what her name was.”

  “Heather, and she’s damn good with her mouth,” Wheelie said.

  Throttle glanced at Hawk. “Heidi, my ass. Like I said, dude, you’re getting old.”

  “It’s more like I don’t give a shit.”

  “She’s sure giving Tigger a good time even though she’s looking at you.” Throttle lightly punched Hawk on his arm.

  Hawk turned toward the couches against the wall and saw Tigger lying back, his knees spread open, his head tilted back and his dick in Heather’s mouth. As she sucked him, she fixed her gaze on Hawk. He shook his head laughing and turned back to his friends. “The new ones always want to fuck the prez and the VP. It’s so damn predictable.”

  “At least you guys respect your old ladies, not like that sonofabitch Tigger.” Wheelie glared over at Tigger and Heather.

  “You know that’s his business, dude,” Throttle answered.

  “Sofia deserves better than that asshole. He’s always using her as a punching bag, and he fucks every chick that comes through this door. He never fucking misses a party.”

  Hawk saw the vein in Wheelie’s temple throbbing. “Get a grip, man. What happens between Tigger and Sofia is their deal. Has she filed a complaint with Banger about the way Tigger treats her?”

  Wheelie shook his head. “She’s too scared of him.”

  “Has she told you that?” Hawk glanced over his shoulder at Tigger. Heather winked at him and he turned away.

  “She doesn’t have to say a damn word. She’s always wearing sunglasses and long sleeves. Whenever he says something to her, it’s like she shrivels up.”

  “Until she files something, we can’t butt into another brother’s personal life. You know that.” Hawk brought the beer bottle to his lips.

  “And you better focus your attention on another woman. You’re asking for a whole lot of trouble sniffing around Sofia.” Throttle’s fingers wrapped around the beer bottle, but before he could bring it to his lips, Wheelie’s fist landed on his jaw. “What the fuck?” Throttle spun around and threw a punch at Wheelie.

  “I’m not sniffing around her.” Another jab at Throttle, then one back at Wheelie.

  Hawk stood watching as he finished his beer. Glancing at the clock, he grabbed Wheelie by the neck and pulled him away, then stepped in front of him.

  “Let me at him,” Throttled huffed.

  “Enough of this shit,” Hawk said. Wheelie jerked out of Hawk’s grasp. “I’d say you overreacted to what Throttle said to you. Watch yourself. You know messin’ with a brother’s old lady will get your ass thrown out of the club.”

  “I’m not messin’ with anyone’s woman.” Glaring at Throttle, his chest heaved in and out. “And don’t ever suggest that I’m making moves on her again. Have some goddamned respect for her.” He spun around and stormed out of the clubhouse.

  Bringing the beer bottle to his reddened jaw, he shook his head. “He so fuckin’ wants to get into Sofia’s pants.” He laughed.

  A tight feeling seized Hawk in the chest. “You’re right, but I’m hoping he doesn’t act on it. We have enough shit going on with the Deadly Demons. Wheelie’s a good guy.” He looked at the clock once more. “Fuck! I’ve got to pick Braxton up at school. I’m outta here.”

  As he drove to the preschool, he thought about Wheelie, and heaviness filled him. The way his brother looked at Sofia didn’t escape him, Banger, or several of the other members. He wasn’t sure if Tigger had noticed it, but the brother had seemed so preoccupied with banging anyone with tits that Hawk doubted if Tigger had picked up the attraction Wheelie had for his wife.

  Hawk couldn’t deny that Tigger treated Sofia badly. He was always at the clubhouse, leaving her alone most of the time. The few times she came looking for him, he’d been so rude and condescending to her that it took all of Hawk’s strength to keep his mouth shut and h
is fists inside the pockets of his leather jacket. But as long as Sofia didn’t complain about Tigger, there was nothing the club could do. Her loyalty to her husband was solid, and she never said a bad word about him.

  Hawk turned into the parking lot and jumped out of the SUV. Each time he entered the quiet hallways, he’d smile to himself over the looks he got from some of the teachers and parents at the expensive and prestigious school. He let Cara handle which schools their kids would go to. Braxton had been on the waiting list since he was a little over a year old, and Cara had just placed their eighteen-month-old daughter, Isabella, on the list. The whole thing seemed ridiculous to him, but Cara had insisted St. Rosa’s Academy was one of the best elementary schools in Pinewood Springs.

  The ringing bells echoed down the long hallways and several doors opened at once as children spilled out of classrooms. Leaning against the wall, Hawk smiled when he spotted his dark-haired son. When Braxton’s blue eyes locked on to his, the boy grinned widely and ran over to him. Hawk picked his son up and looked at the blue construction paper he shoved in his face.

  “Look, Daddy. I made a picture of my hands.”

  Hawk took the paper from him and saw the small handprints painted in red, purple, and yellow. “Totally awesome,” he said against Braxton’s cheek.

  After securing Braxton in the car seat, he slipped into the driver seat and switched on the ignition. “Did you have fun at school?” he asked as he drove toward their house. The four-year-old chattered on about everything he’d done that morning, and Hawk kept glancing in the rearview mirror at him the whole drive home. He still couldn’t believe he had a son and a daughter. He never thought he’d have a family, especially since his childhood had been wrecked with so much violence and betrayal, but there he was, with an adorable son, a precious daughter, and a wife who still made him hard just by looking at her.

  “When are we going to see Santa Claus, Daddy?”

  Focusing back on what Braxton was saying, he laughed. “I think we’re planning to do that next week, little buddy.”