Discovering Me (Breakneck #4) (4 page)

I wait until I am out of her room before I light it. Piper smokes pot, but cigarettes, she hates. She’s subjected to that shit enough around the club, so I’ll respect her private space. I do my best not to smoke around her as much as I can.

When I inhale my first draw, the nicotine glides its way down my pipe and into my lungs. My nerves loosen up as I make my way down the stairs and out of the live-in. I’ll never give up this one vice. Does it control me? I guess in a way it sort of does and I don’t mind. Everyone has shit they won’t give up. The club, my bike, my guns, Piper, and my smokes are mine. You ask me to give up one of those, and I’ll laugh in your face. Each one of those serves a purpose in my life. I like it to stay that way.

When I walk into the clubhouse, it is quiet. No music blares, no rip-roaring laughter fills the air, and it confuses me. Where did the constant party from the other night go? They were set on going back to old ways, and it has disappeared that fast?

Something is up.

The door to Church is open and a few brothers sit around, so I head in, take a seat, and stub out my cigarette in the ashtray on the table.

When Smokey enters, we’re all here and the gavel smacks down. My brother’s face is unreadable. No expression and it is odd. Prez either has a pissed off face or a happy one. He has neither right now.

“We got fuckin’ problems.”

All my brothers and I shift in our seats and give him our full, undivided attention.

“Juan called. Petra was found murdered at the 24 hour pay-at-the-pump gas station near his house.”

Fuck!

“You know what this shit means.”

Every motherfucking wannabe gangster and MC around will try to take control of the snowball and dust business. My brother doesn’t have to say jack shit. We know Petra was murdered over his drugs. What I wonder is how the fuck they got past his bodyguards to ice him. Petra never traveled without at least three people at all times. When you run an operation like Petra, you take every precaution necessary.

“Tomorrow at noon, we’ll head over to Petra’s place to talk with the Mexican cartel. Ain’t no way that they aren’t already here. Petra kept mental notes and his front men informed. They’ll no doubt need the information we have. We’ll offer up our services to help keep things in check.”

This is not what I expected. I figure he would want to take control of the drug trade that runs through Jamaica.

My brother picks up his pack of cigarettes from the wooden table, flips open his Zippo, strikes, and slams the lighter back down. He hotboxes and stubs it out, the entire time he doesn’t speak a word. There is not one single expression on his face; I imagine he is in thought.

“We’re not in the drug trade, brothers. We have our small customers, and that’s the way we’ll keep it. We have enough bullshit. We’re not gonna deal with more than we got to,” he says while he grabs his gavel. “We’ll leave at 11:30.” He slams it down.

No lockdown for the family, but if we don’t do this right, we could put them in danger once again.

I’ll let Piper sleep, and I guess I will have to talk to her tomorrow. Make sure she stays more alert when she leaves the compound.

Guess I’ll go lay in my bed and get so high that I pass the fuck out cold.

***

Chapter Five

Piper

I am in the kitchen about to pour some coffee when Sniper comes downstairs, whistles, and nods his head towards the courtyard door for me to follow him. My face contorts in confusion. I thought we took care of everything we had to fix last night. Or was it my imagination? I shake my head out of my thoughts, pick up the pot, pour some coffee, and walk across the cold tile of the kitchen floor with my bare feet. I always forget to wear my slippers in the morning, and I regret it every damn time.

I push open the door and shield my eyes with my free hand as the morning sun beats down on my face.

“I couldn’t even drink my coffee first,” I say teasingly. “I was under the impression we fixed us last night. Am I wrong?”

Sniper huffs, sits down on top of the picnic table, and props his large, boot-clad feet on the bench. “Naww, babe, we’re good. Something else I gotta talk with you about.”

I shut the door, sip my hot coffee, and move over towards the wall to try to block the rays. “So whatcha wanna talk about?”

He jumps up, unhooks his sunglasses from his cut while he walks towards me, and places them on my face. “Better?”

Damn his thoughtfulness. “Yeah.”

He nods, studies me, and then takes my coffee from my hands. “I shoulda got me some.”

You bet your ass he should have got his own cup. I can’t function without my morning caffeine.

“Talk, Sniper. You drag my tired ass out here to steal my energy. What’s up?”

He takes another small sip and hands it back to me. I don’t remove my gaze from his eyes. He appears troubled, and Sniper is never, ever troubled.

“Club business. Carry your gun with you, and have the safety off if you leave the compound.”

Oh boy.
“Why…”

He said nothing about lockdown, so I imagine whatever it is, it isn’t that bad, or else he wouldn’t even give me the option to leave the premises.

“Dammit, Pipe! You know I can’t tell you,” he yells. His hands fly to his head so he can fist his hair. “It pisses me off how you still try to question shit. I’m askin’ ya nicely to carry your fuckin’ gun when you leave the compound. That should be enough of an explanation for you.” He kicks at the wall beside me.

I do know better, so now the guilt eats at me as I walk over to the table and set my cup down. “I’m sorry. I’ll do as you ask.”

Sniper faces away from me and grumbles under his breath. I haven’t seen him this anxious in a long time. It is a little unnerving. The man is a trained sniper, for fuck's sake. I walk over, wrap my arms around him, and lace my hands together in the front so he can’t move away from me. “I’ll try not to question you when I know it has to do with club business. I know you’re worried about my safety. I’m a stubborn bitch, what can I say.”

His body shakes against mine and his voice spits a venomous tone. “I care about you, and I would fuckin’ murder the entire fuckin’ town if somethin’ happened to you, Pipe.”

Good grief, nothing is going to happen to me. What is his deal? I unlace my hands and move around to his front, standing on my tippy toes so I am at least near his height. “You’re still beatin’ yourself up about yesterday. Don’t say you ain’t, because I know you are.”

He groans under his breath and tries to turn his face away from mine.

“Stop it!” I reach up and jerk his chin forward. “Would you like me to stay on the compound? At least until whatever the hell is goin’ on is taken care of?”
Please say no, please fucking say no.

“Hell no!” he roars as he jerks out of my hold. “I’m not fuckin’ trappin’ ya here more than I have to.”

I glare at him confused. This behavior isn’t Sniper. He’s never conflicted about anything.

“Fuckin’ carry your gun! That’s all I fuckin’ ask!” he screams at me as he stomps over to the door, flings it open, and disappears.

Okay. That was weird. I pull my phone out of my pocket and check the time. It’s early, but not too early, so Winter should be up. I need to get some advice on his behavior and attitude. She’s known him a little longer, and even with the amazing connection and friendship between Sniper and me, this area is not one I’m familiar with, with him.

I trudge my way inside, quietly shut the door behind me, and make my way upstairs to Winter and Braxxon’s floor. Her apartment door is open, and she’s laying on her bed reading on her Kindle. Great. Braxx is gone so it will be easier to talk with her.

I knuckle tap the doorframe. “Hey, can I come in?”

Winter puts down the Kindle, smiles, and word vomit flies. “Thank fuck! I love my books, but shit, I need real people, too!”

I leave her door open because she had it open to begin with, and with Win, she always has a reason for the things she does. Even the small and simple things like a door open, she has a reason.

“Sniper is actin’ weird,” I grumble as I climb onto her bed and lay beside her. “I kinda insinuated that I wanted to know what the club business was that had him wantin’ me to carry a gun with the safety off when I leave the compound. Needless to say, he blew up!” I exclaim frustrated.

I am a happy person who tries her hardest to keep things peaceful all around, and, when I can’t read one of my closest friends, it irritates me. A person I love is trouble, and I have to get some perspective as to why.

“He’s worried, that’s all that is. No worries. All you gotta do is appease him. Sniper is one of the simplest guys I’ve ever met. He loves you and wants you safe. I don’t see the harm in you carrying a gun with the safety off.”

There is way more to it than that. His normal behavior would have been something like ‘yo, Pipe, when you leave the compound, carry your gun and be on the lookout’. This morning was so beyond his usual self.

“I told him I wouldn’t leave, and he got even more pissed off though. Definitely not Sniper behavior,” I argue and fluff up the pillow behind my head. I already want to go back to sleep. I’m not a morning person, and getting up early to deal with a weird Sniper has made me grumpy.

Winter eases over on her side and motions for me to do the same. “He’s a man. There is one percent when it comes to normal behavior for them. Ignore it and do as he says. That simple.”

I snort. “Yeah, simple. Yep.”

She cocks one of her eyebrows while she gives me a gaze that says ‘you better watch it’. “Don’t get flippant with me.”

We both go quiet for a little while. It takes everything in me not to question her about what might be going down. Braxxon tells Winter almost all business deals and issues with the club. But if I ask her, she’ll get angry and accuse me of trying to get her to betray her husband’s trust. No matter what I do, I will never know what is truly going down by asking questions. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever. If I want to find anything out, I need to put my ear to the ground and the walls, and listen carefully.

“I’m goin’ to work today. With Storm gone and you on bed rest, we’re behind on paperwork and orders. I have those interviews to do as well. I’m still pissed y’all are makin’ me find an assistant. I’m not qualified for this shit.”

Winter rolls her eyes at me, moves to her back, and peers up at the ceiling. “I’d give almost anything to be outta this bed. You love Club Sated, and you love me. I trust your judgment. Besides, you know everything there is to know about the club and how to run it. Hell, you run it as well as me and Storm.”

I let a moan escape. I don’t care for a shit load of responsibility. In my mind, I’m still a little unstable from my past. I wouldn’t trust me at all. I love to party and sleep in when I can, and no way in hell do I want to do this today, but Winter saved me, and for that, I will always owe her one.

“Whatever. Guess I better go get ready,” I grumble and slide out of her bed.

“Pick me up some donuts on the way home?”

Gross. “Sure…” I drag. I love sweets, but donuts are disgusting. You’ll see a donut in my hand if I am starving.

By the time I shower, dress, and blow dry my hair, it’s time to go. I walk over to my nightstand, pull out my gun, and set it on the bed. Then, I pull up my skirt and strap on the holster. When I am satisfied it is tight, I pick my baby Glock back up, flick the safety off, and with care, put it in the holster. As I lower my skirt, I pray that I don’t shoot myself in the leg. I don’t recommend ever having the safety off, but I made a promise to Sniper, and I stick to my word.

Time to go be responsible. The freaking pressure.

***

All interviews have been a bust so far. Every damn applicant asks me more questions than I ask her. Why would they need to know if the guys from Breakneck come inside the club? Fucking whores. I take a red marker and write a giant X on their resumes right in front of them, and then the doorman Frank escorts them out the door. After I fix myself a drink, because hell if I don’t deserve one, I sense a presence behind me when I cap the vodka.

I turn around and the sexiest redhead I have ever seen stands in front of me. I’m jealous of her on the spot.

“Hello,” she says timidly. “I’m here for the open interviews.”

I put one hand behind my back and cross my fingers for good luck that this one will pan out. I can’t handle doing any more of these today. “Follow me.” I do not care if she sees my fingers behind my back. My patience disappeared an hour ago, and my smart mouth is ready to take prisoners.

When she sits down, it is with ease, and after she places her purse on the table, she crosses her hands in her lap. Change of pace, this one is. “Do you have any experience with being a manager’s right hand?”

I never said I had grace or spoke a managerial language.

“I do. Here, let me get my resume out for you,” she says quietly as she digs into her oversized purse, pulls out a folder, and hands it over. “I’ve had one job, but it was for multiple years.”

Well, ain’t she prim and proper.

“Jinx Kay.” I read her name and decide I already like her.