Nasty Bastard (Grim Bastards MC Book 4) (3 page)

“There’s nothing to figure out. Take your aunt’s money, go to the fucking great school, and just fucking forget me.” His beautiful brown eyes are filled with anger. “I’m not gonna have an old lady that would rather be somewhere else than by my side.”

His anger causes me to flinch, but I force out a reply. “I don’t want to be anywhere but at your side. If I have to spend the rest of my life serving burgers, that’ll be okay, as long as I come home to you every night.”

I can see something working in his eyes, something I don’t quite understand. Whatever it is scares the shit out of me. “I promise you, Layton. There’s not one thing in the world more important to me than you are.”

Standing beside the open door, he pulls his shirt over his head and crosses his arms across his chest. “We’re over, Gidget. You need to get your clothes on and get the fuck out of my room.”

Just as the words leave his mouth, two prospects, along with one of the club whores, pass the door. They all look at me, and I can see the laughter in their eyes, causing my face to heat with embarrassment. The blonde prospect stops walking and turns to Layton. He whispers something that I can’t quite hear. Layton nods then turns back to me.

“I got shit to do. You need to be gone before I get back,” he says, slinging his arms over the whore’s shoulder.

He starts to turn away, but I call out to him, not able to believe what is coming out of his mouth. I knew he was gonna be pissed that Aunt Tracia did this, but I never thought that anger would be at me. Sure, we’ve had a few spats over the years, and even broke up a time or two, but never has he dismissed me like I was nothing but trash.

His eyes are hard when he turns around. “What?”

“I can’t believe you’re talking to me like this, not after what we just shared,” I say, anger and pain filling my words.

Before replying to me, he motions for the prospects and whore to go away. As soon as they are out of sight, he turns to me and rips apart what was left of my heart. “Us having sex has nothing to do with it. We fucked. Get over it.”

Finally, I stand up, taking the sheet with me. I do my best to keep myself covered as I get dressed. When I’m finally covered, I toss the sheet down and walk toward him. As I get closer, he starts to fist his hands. For the first time, I notice his body is shaking every bit as much as mine. Something isn’t right.

“I know you love me, so why are you saying all this shit?” Reaching him, I place my hand on his cheek. “I love you, Layton. That’s all that matters.”

He jerks away from me, stepping out into the hallway. “Like I said, it’s over. You best be gone when I get back, or I’ll drag your ass out of here and have the Pres ban you from the clubhouse.”

With that, he walks away, leaving me to pick up the pieces of my broken heart.

Smoke
Thirty-One Years Old

Boz and I are finishing up our first round of beers, when Brew strolls into the common room. His eyes scan the room for a second until they land on us. As soon as they do, he heads straight to our table and pulls up a chair.

He lets out a relieved sigh when his ass hits the seat then motions for a prospect. “Get me a cold one, and bring a bottle of Jack to the table.”

The prospect looks at me and Boz, and I give him a nod, letting him know we’re ready for another. Then, I turn back to Brew. The brother is usually on the ball, not missing a damn thing, but helping his old lady with her nephew has him off his game.

My lips tip up as I ask, “Finally off diaper duty?”

“Shut up, asshole,” he replies, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “I’m too damn tired to listen to your shit today.”

“I heard Cam crying half the fucking night,” Boz adds, cocking a brow in Brew’s direction. “Is the little man sick?”

“Nothing to worry about,” Brew says with a shake of his head. “Addy thinks he’s trying to cut his first tooth.”

“Well, Cam has a set of lungs on him. That’s for sure,” Boz says, with laughter in his voice. “He kept my ass up, and we were a floor below him.”

I look at my friends, my President and Sargent at Arms, and wonder how the fuck this shit happened. A year ago, we would have been fucking whores or out making some cash. Now, we’re sitting around the clubhouse, sipping beers and talking about kids. This is fucked up. Before I can voice my opinion, a hand lands on my shoulder and a luscious set of tits are pushed up against my arm.

“Hey, Smoke,” Violet, one of the club whores, says, as she leans down and presses her lips to mine. “Wanna join me in the back room?”

Normally, I wouldn’t mind having her lips on mine, but not right now. She’s been here long enough to know not to interrupt a brother unless she’s called for. That shit don’t happen, and it ain’t gonna happen now, not when I’m talking to Boz and Brew.

I pull back and point out her error really quick. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Violet?”

“I just wanted to spend a little time with you,” she purrs, not realizing how pissed I’m getting, laying her hand back on my shoulder.

Pulling her hand off, I glare into her eyes. “You know that when we are talking, not to interrupt. Now, get the fuck away from me before you become the last one I find when I want to have a little fun.”

Her bottom lip pushes out, trying to look sexy. Instead, it makes her look like a fucking idiot. “I woke and you were gone. I was lonely.”

Fuck! She just announced to the whole damn club that I spent the night in her bed. That shit doesn’t happen with club whores. At least, it doesn’t for me. Last night was an exception to the rule; too many memories and too much fucking alcohol messed with my head. Same thing happens every time I hear Gidget’s name, and I’m betting it will happen again next time. After thirteen damn years, I should be over it, but I’m nowhere even close to putting the past where it belongs.

Yesterday, word spread around the clubhouse that Stone’s old lady, well the bitch he took to his bed after Gidget’s mom died, hit the road and left everything behind. Boz’s mom told me she called Gidget and told her the house and everything in it was hers for the taking. She didn’t tell me what Gidget’s response was, and I was too fucking scared to ask. Mostly, I was afraid to hear that she was coming back to sell the place.

Gidget’s only been back once since she left for college, and she brought her rich prick of a husband with her. It was for her mom’s funeral, and she stayed long enough to see her buried then hit the road. I stood two feet from her as the preacher spoke. The entire time, I had to fight the urge to reach out and pull her into my arms. She didn’t seem to have the same problem though. In fact, she never even looked my way.

Shaking off the memories, I look back at the club whore and focus on the here and now. “If I want anything from you, I’ll come find you. Until then, don’t come near me again.”

I let go of her, pushing her with more strength than I mean to. “Now, get the fuck gone.”

With her head bowed, she steps back and whispers, “I’m sorry, Smoke. I didn’t think about what I was doing. It won’t happen again.”

The prospect brings over our drinks, and I take a quick drink while I get my anger under control. Boz looks at me and mumbles, “Mom told me she talked to Gidget yesterday. Judging by your mood, guess she told you too, huh?”

My eyes jerk to him, not beliving he would call me out like that. “Don’t start your shit today, brother.”

More than once, Boz has listened to me cry into my beer about the one that got away. He knows, even thirteen years later, that shit still cuts me deep. I fucked up and I know it. I don’t need him throwing it in my face.

Brew arches a brow and asks, “Who’s Gidget?”

The question is barely out of his mouth when Hack walks up and plops into the seat across from mine. “We got a problem.”

Brew ignores Hack and asks, “She’s Stone’s daughter, right?”

My eyes narrow at him. She may not be mine anymore, but there is no way I’m gonna have anyone associate her with that fucking traitor. “Gidget’s not a damn thing like Stone. He was nothing but a fucking sperm donor to her. Once he saw she didn’t have a dick, he didn’t want anything to do with her.”

“She definitely took after her ma. Gidget was good to the bone. Would have made one hell of an old lady if some stupid fucker wouldn’t have told her to hit the road,” Boz says, shooting me a glare. “Stupidest fucking thing you ever did, brother.”

Boz and I were raised together. We’ve been best friends since we learned what the word friend meant. We rarely argue over anything more important than a game of pool. Can’t even remember the last time he pissed me off, but I’m angry as fuck right now. President or not, he either shuts his mouth or I’ll shut it for him.

“I said, don’t fucking start,” I mumble, grabbing hold of my beer. “I’m done talking about her, done fucking thinking about her, so just let it drop.”

Before he can reply, Hack slaps his hand on the top of the table, making an empty bottle fall over and roll to the floor. Realizing he’s finally got our attention, he tosses some papers onto the table and starts sorting through them. When he finds what he needs, he pulls it out and passes it to Boz.

Pointing to the paper, he says, “We have a huge ass problem. You fuckers can get back to your shit later. Right now, you need to listen to me.”

“What kind of problem?” Boz asks, picking up the paper and scanning it. “What does all this shit mean?”

With that, he hands it to me. I take a quick look, not understanding exactly what the fuck I am looking at. “It’s just a bunch of numbers.”

“The kind of problem where almost five hundred thousand dollars is missing from our accounts.” Hack leans in, pulls the paper from my hand, and points at the bottom line. “See here, one million, seven hundred and ninety-four.”

I nod, along with Boz. Brew pulls the paper from Hack’s hand and quickly scans it. “This is the reserve fund.”

Fuck! This shit shouldn’t be talked about it the middle of the common room. I look across the room, seeing only a few brothers at the bar and another getting blown by a club whore on the couch. There’s a prospect behind the bar, but other than that, the room is empty. Still, this is not the right place for this conversation.

Standing up, I lift my chin to Boz. “Your office.”

He nods in agreement then stands up and leads us to his office. He waits for us to get inside before shutting the door, then asks, “What the fuck is going on, brother?”

Hack heads to Boz’s desk and fires up the computer. We watch as he logs onto our club’s financials, and my stomach starts to twist in knots. Whatever the fuck this is, it’s not good. We all stay quiet as Hack’s fingers start to fly across the keyboard, pulling up one spreadsheet after another.

He turns to look at our Pres. “I’ve been going through the books like you asked me to. I’ve gotten all the payroll, bills, and other expenses squared away. Everything looked good, until I got to the reserve fund.”

The club is run like any other business, paying taxes and shit. We keep track of every penny in and out. There is a set of books for the government, showing all the money we make from the junk yard and the garage. The rest of the money is kept in a reserve fund. Not a penny of it goes in the bank, and no fucking taxes are paid. It’s money from shit that no one needs to know about but the brothers.

“On here, it looks like everything is in order, but the more I looked, the more inaccuracies showed up.” Tapping on the mouse, Hack brings up another spreadsheet. “This is February’s numbers. It shows everything going in and out. Here is the deposit for that month’s shipment. There are a few more little deposits after that. The only money taken out all month was for an engine repair for one of the old box trucks, rig two. It’s listed to have cost nearly twelve thousand. That fucking truck has to be nearly twenty years old. The whole damn thing isn’t worth that much money.”

The club owns five box trucks. They are used to move merchandise from point A to point B. They have to be in excellent shape to be put on the road, because we sure in the fuck do not want to break down carrying a load of guns or drugs. Rig two hasn’t been used in years, unless a brother needs to borrow it for personal use. It would have been junked out before we put that kind of money in it.

“I didn’t authorize that,” Boz says as he looks at me, knowing only he and I have the power to authorize that kind of expense. “I’d junk that fucking truck before putting that much money into it.”

“Me neither.” I shake my head, wondering what the fuck is going on. “No fucking way I’d even consider spending that kind of money on an old truck.”

“No, you didn’t,” Brew says, walking over to get a closer look at the computer. “I did the books while you were gone. That shit isn’t right.”

I start to ask him what the fuck is going on, but he answers before I can. “Rig four needed new brakes in February. I can’t remember the cost off the top of my head, but it couldn’t have been more than a couple hundred. There haven’t been any major repairs on any of the club vehicals since last year.”

Hack clicks a button, bringing up another spread sheet. “This is March. Same shit, only this time, there is a ninety-thousand-dollar debit marked Tone.”

“Nine. It was fucking nine-thousand!” Boz shouts, his voice getting louder with each word that comes out of his mouth. “Tone’s one of the prospects. He and Round got pulled over in Nashville. Of course, Round was packing his peice. Considering he’s still on parole, his ass would have gone back inside. The prospect stepped up, claimed the gun was his. The club covered his fines and legal fees.”

Brew shakes his head. “It was entered right. Financials may not be my favorite thing to do. I may even fuck up from time to time, but not like this.”

Hearing Brew attempt to defend himself, I get pissed. “We know that, brother. You never have to explain yourself to us.”

Hack reaches the desk and lays his hand on the papers. “These are copies that Brew made as backups, at the end of each month. I compared what’s here to what’s on our actual files. There’s five hundred thousand short from Brew’s backups to the actual balance, and I can’t find it anywhere. I’ve looked through all the accounts, and it’s not here.”