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  CHAPTER THREE

  "'Bout time," my father says as I enter his office five minutes after noon. He looks exasperated, as if I were an hour late. He's forgotten that when I came in here ten minutes ago, he was on the phone and ordered me to leave.

  His short-term memory is shot. That's the reason he's stepping down. Every so often, he has a lucid moment and realizes that his temper and a failing brain are a lethal combination that could put the club in danger. And the club is the only thing he's ever loved.

  Cracker might also love Everest’s mother, or so Everest thinks. I have my doubts, but then again, Everest’s mother clearly satisfies a need that Cracker has. He stayed around for a couple of decades and still visits her and their daughter, whom he worships.

  In Cracker's head, the lines between all forms of desire are blurred. Cracker's English resembles Spanish, in that it has only one word for the ideas of both wanting and loving. Still, Everest is probably right. Cracker still loves/wants his old lady.

  And he does adore Juliya. Most of the time, I feel sorry for my sister. I can't imagine being the center of the old man's attention is easy. Plus, Everest and I are two overprotective brothers with an attitude. It must be a heavy weight to carry.

  Juliya and the MC are all Everest and I share with Cracker, all we hold dearly enough to put up with him.

  Cracker stares at a pad on his desk and frowns while going down the list he's written in large block letters.

  "Xander Wild tour?" he asks.

  "Yes," I say. "We're on. I'm taking four guys with me."

  "Fine. How long will you be gone?"

  "Just one week. We're only handling his security on the East Coast. We hand him over to another chapter as soon as he starts going west. You've got the schedule, and in case you have questions, Patricia will always know where to find us. After that, I plan to stay put for a couple of months."

  Cracker frowns at the sound of my assistant's name. Patricia's not afraid of him. Hell, Patricia's not afraid of anyone or anything. She's the only dominant woman at The Styx, and Cracker is spooked by the very concept of a woman holding a whip. He has a hard time wrapping his mind around the fact that some straight men like being bottoms.

  "We'll need to organize a meet with your brother when you come back." His eyes remain riveted to the pad. "I need to decide to whom I'm going to be handing the gavel."

  He can't seem to make up his mind which of his sons he wants to step into his shoes. He's told me he would favor Everest because he's been raised in the club, and he would have a firmer hand, which Cracker feels the club needs.

  Cracker's right about Everest being tougher. No matter how much he denies it, Everest is just like our old man, bossy and manipulative. The major difference is that Everest's so smooth, his victims don't realize they've been screwed until they're done for. He would indeed make the most effective president.

  But as long as Everest doesn't walk away from his police job, it's not going to happen. His membership in the club is already very questionable. We're not an outlaw MC, per se. Most of the club's activities are legit, but close enough to borderline to draw the attention of Internal Affairs. So, for as long as he remains on the force, Everest will not be our Prez.

  "How are you feeling?" I ask Cracker.

  "About the same way that you fucking looked yesterday," he growls. "Frustrated and way too tired for a man of my age."

  "Anything I can do for you?"

  "Yeah, talk your brother into coming here full time," he snaps back.

  The man doesn't realize he should be more careful about what he wishes for. He's got no idea how lucky he's been that I am the only one he’s had to deal with so far. Sure, Everest and I are in agreement about the future of the MC. However, we have very different ideas about how to make that future happen. I think it best to let things take their natural course. I'm fine remaining the VP until Cracker steps down. Everest is not as patient. If he comes here full time, he’ll not only do everything in his power to become president, he'll also make sure it happens right away.

  But then again, Cracker may know that already. That could explain why he’s tried to play us against each other. He failed. There will be no sibling rivalry on that front.

  The same doesn't hold true as far as Lisa is concerned. I don't care what Everest thinks or feels. She's mine. Just mine. And when I see her next, she and I will have an interesting conversation about her going around kissing other men.

  "Am I boring you?" Cracker barks.

  "Sorry, Prez,” I say. "I was distracted. What is it you were saying?"

  "Juliya. She's coming home from college at the end of the spring term. She's gonna spend the summer at her mother's. She called to ask if you'd all be around, and she asked about the Fourth of July party." He looks at me with raised eyebrows.

  "Yeah, yeah, I'll be here." Yep, his short-term memory is shot. I just told him two minutes ago that I was not going anywhere after my rock-star-sitting gig.

  Even though I've totally taken over the management of two of the MC’s activities I initially assisted him with, I go through the motions and spend the next half hour trying to bring him up to speed. It's useless, despite the notes he takes. He'll have forgotten all about it in a few hours.

  We have nothing much to say about the activity of The Styx. In a sex club, when there's no drama, it's same old, same old most of the time.

  I have tons to say, however, about the Friendly Persuasion Agency's booming business. Lately, we've been getting unofficial referrals from the police about cases in which their hands were tied. We're more efficient at times because we have no trouble crossing some lines the cops aren’t even allowed to step on.

  Also, unlike them, we're not hindered by state borders. That's the reason the police suggested to the families go to us for help searching for their kids who had joined a new cult. We checked out the pseudo-religious association—a “church” who teaches “divine intervention through love”—that had come recruiting in our neck of the woods. It was just a front for a bastard to get his hands on fresh flesh and easy money.

  After we brought back a few kids, the parents got together and hired us to invite the guru to move out of the state. After a little Friendly Persuasion Agency magic, he moved away. But he had his hooks deep in one of the kids. We brought him back home, but he was so brainwashed that he followed his mentor—and took a shitload of cash from his parent's home. I don't know what kind of business Carlos Sanchez’s father is in, but if he had that much cash lying around, it couldn’t be legit.

  It took me a few days to find the conniving little brat. He fought me with so much conviction that I had to call in a cage to bring him home.

  "How old is the kid?" Cracker asks after I tell him about Carlos.

  "He'll be eighteen soon. Why?"

  "Because he sounds like the kind of kid who's in bad need of guidance while we need new prospects," he answers with a smirk.

  It never crossed my mind, but he's got a point. The kid's smart and lost. He needs to belong to something, and hanging out with us could help him get a better grip on life.

  "You wanna take on another prospect?" I ask. "I thought we had all we needed, prospect wise"

  "Naw, one of them quit last night after I demonstrated some whip technics on one of the new girls." An alarmed look must have crossed my face because he adds, "Got no complaints from her. She's still in my bed, and I think she likes it there."

  I shrug. "Fine, then I'll reach out to the kid when I come back."

  We go over some more stuff before it's time for me to get ready for my next gig. Star-sitting should be interesting, especially since I do like Xander Wild's music.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The ride up from Point Lookout to New York State is uneventful. I picked Lobster and Waxer. They’re probably not the sharpest of our club, but they're real tight and loyal to me. We're riding with a prospect whose name I can’t seem to remember and an older member called Brains. He's not as quick on his
feet in case we need to fight, but he's got street smarts. The four of us have worked together before, and we make a good team. I’m hoping some of our experience will wash over onto the prospect.

  The first concert is set in Jones Beach Theater. As we drive east on the Meadowbrook State Parkway, I notice an exit sign for another Point Lookout. A home away from home. I wonder how many towns across the US share that name.

  Even though it's early when we arrive, a big crowd has already gathered. I look at the faces as we slowly drive to the parking area. It's mainly kids, all looking dazed. They don’t look stoned, but more like they need a nap, probably because of the sun. This is one of the first warm weekends of spring, and it's easy to get drunk on intense light exposure. Since Xander Wild's audience doesn't look dangerous, I wonder why he's hired us.

  I checked him out before we left. Alexander Hughes, aka Xander Wild, is in his early thirties, just a few years older than I am. In his interviews, he says he has two daughters, but he's never been married, and no one has ever been able to identify the mother or the kids. His only family I could find is a brother, Andrew Hughes, who is a police officer in Manhattan. The only dirt I could dig up was Xander's reputation as a womanizer. No history of drugs or alcohol abuse. He's pretty healthy and balanced for a rock star.

  His brother is the one who greets us at the gate that leads to the backstage area. Actually, “backstage” is not an appropriate term for the place since the back of the stage is against the ocean. Andrew Hughes isn’t in uniform, but his badge is visible on his belt, and I can see he's carrying. His holster shows when he extends his arm to shake our hands. He introduces himself as Andy and directs us to a sheltered place where we park our rides next to two very customized Harley Davidsons.

  "That one's mine, and the other one is Xander’s," Andy says with obvious pride. "I escorted him outside of the city earlier, and it was a smooth ride."

  "Any special reason why he hired us? Does your brother expect trouble?" I ask. "The crowd seems to be pretty tame."

  "It's not the audience we're concerned about," Andy says. "It's retaliation from an angry family."

  "What do you mean?" I curse myself for not following up on Patricia's booking of this gig. Maybe it's more than star-sitting.

  "Well, there was this girl, a regular groupie. A glittery bag of bones who attended all of Xander’s concerts in Manhattan last week. She managed to get banged by every member of the band, except Xander. He was not interested. He likes healthy-looking fleshy women." As he says this, Andy's hands go down in curvy motions, drawing a bombshell silhouette in the air. "Xander was so not into her that he couldn’t even go for a pity fuck. The stupid MC princess was insulted, and she's told her father that Xander raped her."

  "Oh, fuck," Lobster says. "What's the name of the MC?"

  "It's a New York-based club, the Lady Liberty Bastards," Andy answers. "I checked them out. It's a small unit that has had very few brushes with the law. I don't think they're a once-percenters, but I'm pretty sure they won't let something like that slide."

  "Did you try reaching out to them?" I ask.

  "Hell, if the cunt's a tramp, everyone in the club must know it," Waxer says. For once, he's quick to stress a good point, but his vocabulary leaves a bit to be desired since he’s speaking with a police officer.

  "Maybe everyone but her father," Brains adds. "The dad and the husbands are always the last to know."

  This is experience talking. The man's been married and divorced twice. He has three daughters with the first wife and two with the second. The last sweetie he brought with him to the club party is expecting. We all pray she delivers a son because six daughters are too much of a cross to bear for any man.

  "Is there a phone I could use somewhere?" Brains asks. "I know a guy in that club. I’ll try to reach out directly and see if we can’t patch things up."

  Before leaving the prospect with the bikes to keep watch, we each get our favorite weapon out of our saddlebags. I tuck mine, a brand-new Glock, into the back of my belt after putting a round in the chamber.

  Andy accompanies us to the administrative facilities. He shows Brains into a small office and says he's going to give us a tour. But then he looks at his watch. "It's six already. I've got to leave you for half an hour. I have to pick up a gal at the train station in Long Beach."

  "No sweat. We'll scout around, get our bearings," I say.

  We explore the arena after he leaves. The crew is putting the finishing touches on the stage, and I recognize Xander Wild and several members of the band all the way in the back. I had never thought I would be able to identify them, but then again, their faces are on the record covers. I’ve listened to the man’s records often enough to have looked at the cover hundreds of time and burn their faces in my memory.

  As we get closer, Xander Wild frowns like someone wondering what the heck three random guys are doing on his set. Then he obviously remembers, because he walks in our direction and welcomes us.

  "You must be the Friendly Persuasion protection unit.” He extends his hand to me.

  As he shakes everybody's hand, I make the introductions, "Lobster, Waxer, and I'm Ice."

  "I'm pretty sure you've been called in for nothing," Xander says. "Yet I'm happy to see you, because you're going to make one old dream of mine come true. I'm going to do a short run with fellow bikers and make believe I'm member of an MC."

  The man's smile is so sincere that the three of us smile right back at him. This is what charm is like. I thought my father had a lot, but this man oozes it. I take a step back to look around us as he lays it on for my two bros, who eat it up. I admire his ability. Not even a minute after meeting him, my men are so drawn in that they’re treating him like a best friend they would do anything for.

  If that's what he can do to those two, I can't imagine what his smile does to women and young girls. While he charms the others, I retreat to the back of the stage, where it drops into the ocean. The area is wide open, except for a little space hidden by three walls. It’s an ideal hiding space, only a few steps away from access to the ocean. I walk to the edge, and, sure enough, steel bars jutting from the concrete make a rusty ladder perfect for using when arriving by boat. Crossing to the other side of the stage, I look at the arena and wonder how exhilarating it would feel to have thousands of people gathering to hear me sing.

  Shaking my head, I try to look at my surroundings from another point of view. If I wanted to kill Xander, what would I do? I would wait until he got on stage because that’s where he would be the most exposed. I place myself at the center of the stage and look for the place I would pick if I were a sniper hired to do that job. I slowly walk around the entire stage and notice another ladder, this one shiny and new, running up the wall of the concrete structure, all the way up to a platform, where the lighting equipment is set up. From there, I should get a better look at the place from a different perspective.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  And a different perspective is what I really get as I look down on the stage. Andy's just returned with the woman he left to pick up at the station, and she's got that type of curvy figure that I love. If Xander likes his women with flesh on their bones, this one will be just about perfect. The man has good taste.

  Xander waves at her, and I notice two things. Her left arm is in a sling, and as she gets closer to them, Lobster and Waxer get strange looks on their faces.

  Xander picks up the girl cautiously and twirls her around him while she squeals with joy, "I can't believe I'm here!"

  The man's got a goofy grin on his face as he asks, "And how's my favorite girl?"

  That's when I see her face and blink. Twice. This can't be.

  "She's great," the woman answers, and I know I'm not hallucinating. This is Lisa's voice. What the fuck! She's his favorite girl now?

  I hurry down the structure, praying that when I get back on stage, Xander will have put her down. If he hasn't, there will be no need to protect him from the Lady Liberty Bastard
s. I will have taken care of him myself before they have a chance to get to him.

  As I take the last steps to the stage, my blood is pounding so loudly in my ears that I almost miss the rest of Lisa's answer.

  "Alexandra's just fine," she says. "She's going to be so mad at me if she ever finds out I went to your concert without her, she'll…" Lisa stops in mid-sentence when I land back on stage.

  She's midway between me and my guys. She seems to have recognized them, but she hasn’t seen me yet. She steps away from Xander then takes another step back. Her voice is shaky as she asks, "What are those guys doing here?"

  From behind, I can’t see Xander's face, but I hear concern in his voice.

  "Lisa, baby," he says. "There's nothing to be afraid of. They've been hired for my protection during the tour." He reaches a hand in her direction, but she recoils and keeps on walking backward, shaking her head, until she bumps into me.

  She spins around to face the obstacle preventing her from retreating any farther, then she lifts her eyes to my face. It's her turn to blink. She raises her right hand and puts it on my chest as if to make sure that she's not dreaming. Her face softens.

  The fright inspired by a chance encounter with two Iron Tornadoes on the stage turns into an expression of surprise. She's no longer afraid, but I can't tell if she's happy to see me or not.

  "Brian," she whispers, and the way she says my name conjures images of her naked body under mine. I almost forget where we are. I want her so badly that I struggle to keep my composure. I want to drag her to a quiet corner behind the stage and do her standing up against the wall.

  I take a deep breath and remember that right this second, it's not about me—it's about the MC. Forget about Brian. I'm Ice. I'm here for business. I have to be a cold-hearted son of bitch who's in charge of protecting a client, not some idiot ruled by his dick. But when I’m done with business, I will need to teach her a lesson, because my girl can't be seen jumping in the arms of another man.