Club Justice (7 page)

“Three darts for five dollars … seven for ten … every balloon wins a prize!” the barker cried.

Zeke calculated the prize levels and peeled a couple bills off to toss them on the counter.

“It looks like we have one going after big game tonight!” the greasy carnie grinned. “The little lady has her eye on the prize. No pressure.” 

Ignoring the goading babble, Zeke sorted the darts out in front of him. Turning to Ginny he puckered up and tapped his lips with a forefinger in invitation. With a sultry smile, she wrapped her arms up around his neck and laid a kiss on him that drew an appreciative murmur from his growing audience.

“With promises like that one, you best not let her down.”

“He hasn’t yet,” Ginny purred.

“There is a first time for everything. This could be the day, sugar,” he quipped with a smarmy smile and a conspiratorial wink in her direction. “No worries. I’m sure you and I can work a little something out.”

Zeke snorted derisively and let the first dart graze the sleazebag’s ear. 

“Jesus, bro!” he yelped rubbing at his ear and stumbling to the side of the booth.

Ignoring the dramatics, Zeke calmly launched the darts in rapid succession. Not every shot found its mark, but more than enough.

“Damn, but you are a regular Quick Draw McGraw, man. You’ve done this shit before.”

Zeke met his gaze, flipping the last dart casually in one hand.

“What prize did the little lady have her heart set on?” the carnie continued, his eyes nervously following the projectiles trajectory. 

“The dragonfly blanket,” Ginny said, hiding a smile at the man’s sudden bout of manners.

“Here we go, enjoy” he said handing over the prize and raising his voice to the crowd. “This gentleman won his beautiful lady a plush throw blanket. Who’s next? Who wants to impress their girl? Come on now, gentlemen!”

Zeke shook his head at the tired shtick and wrapped an arm around his wife’s waist. Moving off, he tossed the remaining dart over his shoulder. He didn’t turn at the loud pop or the round of applause, but Ginny didn’t miss the sparkle in his blue eyes.

“Show off,” she whispered and stroked his ass as he swaggered down the midway.

Ginny leaned back against her husband’s chest and smothered a yawn in her new blanket as she stared into the flickering bonfire. The Toy Run, an evening at the County fair, good food, and the hypnotic dance of the flames were taking their toll. Zeke’s arms tightened around her and his breath was warm against her ear.

“Your old man is ready to call it a night. What about you?”

“That’s the best offer I have had all day.”

Standing with a boost from Zeke, Ginny dusted off the seat of her jeans and draped her throw around her shoulders.

“We keep you old folks up past your bedtime?” someone called.

“Nahhh … Zeke’s just feeling horny. Enjoy the shadow show and don’t let the noises worry you, boys,” Ginny murmured huskily, tossing the smart-ass a small tube of hand lotion from her purse. “Tonight’s entertainment is on me.”    

Zeke pulled her close with a chuckle as they left the bonfire’s light to raucous laughter and lewd comments.

“You kiss me with that mouth, Mrs. Brawer?”

“Among other things, stud,” she purred.

Chapter Seven

A low menacing growl drug Ginny from sleep. Gooseflesh rose on her skin as she reached for the nightstand. Slipping the nickel-plated Beretta from the drawer, she rolled out of bed and grabbed her robe. Tying the sash, she peeked down the hallway. Whistling softly, she was relieved when Gunny joined her. The hair on the huge Mastiff’s back stood up and another growl rumbled in his chest. Rounding the corner to the dining room, Gunny stalked to the sliding doors, his growl deepening.

Easing to the side of the door, Ginny scanned the shadows for what was unnerving the dog. Her heart thundered in her chest. Her ears strained, hoping for the roar of Zeke’s Harley. Leaving earlier, he had only said he had business to take care of. He would have her ass for not waking up the boys, but Lords or not, they were her babies. Something moved at the edge of the glass and she gripped the Beretta. Her brow furrowed as the shadow moved across the door. Steadying her hand, she shifted her body against the wall to flip the patio light on.

A terrified scream tore from her throat before she could stifle it. Stumbling back from the glass, she caught the hem of her robe on a cast iron plant stand, overturning it with a crash. The basement door burst open admitting her two eldest armed and dangerous. In Mox’s capable hands the assault rifle looked like a toy, but the gleam in his blue eyes was anything but playful. Rhys held up a staying hand to Garrett on the steps as he took in the source of his mother’s fright. Laying a calming hand over the top of the Beretta, he slid it from her grasp.

“That’s some pretty big firepower for a little spider, Ma,” he said in a teasing tone.

Ginny brushed nervously at her skin as she turned away from the patio door. “That’s no
little
spider,” she whispered. “And something out there is upsetting Gunny.”

Knowing her true terror of arachnids, Mox moved for the patio and tarantula. “I’ll take care of it, Gin,” he soothed.

Scrambling the rest of the way up the stairs, Garrett set the sawed off shotgun to the side and hurried to check out the spider.

“Rhys, you’re going to want to see this,” Mox muttered from the doorway.

Rhys rolled his eyes in disgust. “Jesus, Mox, it’s a freaking spider.”

“Whoa!” Garrett yelled. “There’re hundreds of them!”

Ginny shuddered, her hands still flitting over her hair and the back of her neck in paranoia. She inched further away from the patio door as a second spider started to scale the glass.

Rhys ran a weary hand over his face as his eyes raked over the backyard. His little brother wasn’t exaggerating by much. Tarantulas crept across the visible portion of the yard and cobblestones, slinking into the flower gardens and landscaping. Not native to the mid-west, there was no way an infestation of this type was a natural occurrence.      

Zeke brushed his fingers feather-light across his pouting wife’s nape. A chuckle accompanied the grunt as she elbowed him in the gut.

“You’re such a baby,” he mumbled.

“They are poisonous.”

“They’re venomous,” he corrected. “A tarantula’s bite doesn’t hurt any worse than a bee sting, and I don’t see you getting all in a sissy girl panic every time you see a bee or wasp.”

“I can’t help it! I can’t stand the thought of the huge, hairy, ugly things touching me.”

“You let dad touch you,” Rhys quipped, actually drawing a smile from his mother.

“Your father isn’t ugly.”

“Note she didn’t deny the huge,” Zeke said with a lecherous grin.

“Or the hairy,” Garrett piped in.

“Hey now, your father’s hair is in all the right places, not like that ape Ramirez.”

“I’m a little more interested in the Tarantula’s recent message than their president’s body hair.”  

“They left a message too?”

Rhys lightly punched his younger brother’s shoulder. “He meant the spiders.”

“It’s a calling card. The Tarantulas are letting us know that they stopped by my house without me knowing about it. It’s a warning.”

Garrett mulled over his father’s words. “They’re threatening us.”

“You got it.”

“So, we’re going after them, right?”

Zeke shook his head, taking a long pull on his stogie. “We don’t have to make the long trek down the turnpike to deliver our message. Work smart, not hard. One call and they will have a surprise waiting for them when they get home. It’s a benefit of being the Mother Chapter.”  

Leaning back against her husband’s solid shoulder, Ginny listened as he schooled their boys in the politics of club life. Garrett’s interest and inclusion left little doubt that he, like Rhys and Mox before him, would prospect in as soon as he met the age requirement. It was akin to being a military mother, pride and fear warred in her heart. She had run the gamut with Zeke; Marine, cop, and Lord. She had only been a kid, thirteen, when her brother and Zeke had gone off to the Marines. Zeke had been Trent’s best friend, and Ginny’s first and only crush. For three years, she had mailed off a letter a week to each, and haunted the mailbox for their replies. After Trent’s death, she had continued to write Zeke for what still qualified as the longest two years of her life. There had been times his infrequent letters were the only thing that kept her sane. As if reading her thoughts, Zeke’s arms tightened around her.

“Come on, baby. Let’s get some sleep.”

“What about the tarantulas?”

“I already called Gary.”

“The ones in my backyard, Zeke,” Ginny snapped.

“Aw Jesus, Gin. Give me a break. We’ll round the little bastards up tomorrow.”

“They come out at night.”

“It’s four o’clock in the morning. They’re headed to bed just like we are.”

Zeke stood, lifting her with him. Ginny opened her mouth to protest, but snapped it shut again at a warning look from her husband.

“Wise move, woman. You and I are already going to discuss tonight’s heroics,” he said, pointedly picking up her Beretta.

“But …”

“Bedroom … NOW.”

A small pout twisting her lips, Ginny kissed her boys goodnight and disappeared down the hall with a soft whistle to Gunny.

Zeke shook his head in amusement. “Does she actually think I’m stupid enough to leave that beast in our bedroom if I’m going to beat her ass?”

“Reminds me of Rhys putting on shorts and two pair of sweatpants when you went to get the belt,” Mox said with a chuckle.

“Like mother, like pretty boy,” Zeke snorted. “Clean up what you can of those fucking spiders before you hit the hay, huh?”

Rhys grinned at both the teasing and the wink his father tossed their way. Always the tough guy, but he would move heaven and earth for his old lady.

Moonlight filtered through the slatted wood blinds bathing Ginny’s curves in a soft glow. Only a fool would misinterpret the blatant invitation and Zeke was no fool. Letting Gunny out of the room, he locked the door. His eyes never leaving hers, he slipped the Beretta in her nightstand drawer and stripped from his clothes. Crawling into bed, he rolled to cover her in a fluid movement. Resting his weight on his forearms, he cupped her beautiful face, his lips capturing hers in a possessive kiss. She squirmed, a low moan rumbling against his mouth. The feel of her cool skin sliding against him felt like silk.

Without hesitation, he filled her, drawing a gasp of pleasure and the welcoming gouge of nails in his back. A shudder wracked his large frame, their gaze locking. The passion shining in this woman’s eyes and the velvet grip of her body was a siren call he couldn’t resist. It was never enough. No other broad compared.

Cupping her ass in one big paw, he shifted the angle of her hips, thrusting deep. Long legs wrapped around him, heels kneading the taught muscles of his ass in encouragement. Moans of delight rolled off her lips, eyes closed and head thrown back in pleasure as he set the perfect pace. They moved as one, rocking in a rhythm perfected over two decades together. Sweat slicked their skin and their breath became ragged. Hovering on the edge of completion, challenge hung between them. Blue clashed with hazel until a sharp yank on Ginny’s hair sent her screaming over the edge, her body bucking in release even as her husband quickened his pace to join her with a roar.

Her heart finally slowing its thunder, Ginny stroked her husband’s chest and smothered a smirk.

“I’m glad that we had this talk.”

“Smart ass woman,” Zeke grumbled as she burst into laughter.

“I couldn’t resist,” she giggled.

“And you couldn’t call down and get one of the boys to check shit out tonight. When are you going to learn you aren’t superwoman? It’s one thing to protect yourself when there is no other option, but to put yourself in danger when one of us is here is just stupid.”

“They’re my babies, Zeke. It’s my job to take care of them,” she defended, sobering at the tone of his voice.

“Rhys and Mox aren’t little boys anymore. They’re fully patched Lords. I was a Marine by their age. Treating them as babies isn’t doing anyone a favor.”

Silent, Ginny traced her finger over the fierce dragon encircling his right bicep. Finally, she nodded.

“You’re right.”

Zeke waited. She sighed and settled her cheek into the crook of his shoulder.

“And I’ll try and remember they are all grown up and to let you men do your manly thing and protect the little woman.”

“Sarcasm is so sexy on you,” he muttered into her hair with a chuckle.

Chapter Eight

Ginny tamped out her cigarette and blew an exasperated plume of smoke skyward.  In the kitchen, Kat calmly answered the health inspector’s questions on The Lantern’s food preparation, cooling and storing practices, as if a second visit in less than two months was routine. Though she knew everything was up to snuff, the visit smelled of harassment to Ginny. She turned at the door chime’s tinkling music and her eyes narrowed to angry slits.

Kramer scanned the crowded bar and grill with a contemptuous sneer. The financials he had pulled showed the restaurant operating well in the black and the Friday night crowd supported that. The yokel’s stares were hard and suspicious. It seemed Trinity wasn’t much for small town hospitality.

“Get out.”

The cool self-assurance of Ginny Brawer’s tone surprised, and infuriated him. Turning, he took a step toward her, crowding her personal space until they were nearly nose to nose. Fury burned from her hazel eyes and she didn’t budge.

“I told you to leave.”

“Looks like a full house tonight. I will eat at the bar,” he said, ignoring her. A low growl of frustration escaped him as she stubbornly blocked his path.

“We reserve the right not to serve assholes.”

“You can seat me, Mrs. Brawer, or I can sue you for discrimination.”

“If you were black, crippled, or gay I would be concerned. Being a spineless rat bastard doesn’t qualify you as a minority or disabled. It’s just a fact.”