Page 15 of The Enforcer

“Where to?” Jace asks, eyes on the road.

“Fuck if I know,” I growl, pissed all over again at Reaper’s fucking bullshit. He could have waited to get his dick wet until after I assigned someone else to watch Kirk. The fuck was he thinking? “Try the usual hideouts for that piece of shit. Start with his house. Maybe Kirk doubled back when he saw none of us were outside his house.”

The ride is spent in silence, my anger almost making me vibrate out of my skin. As the Enforcer, this is my lane to figure out what happens to Reaper. I have any number of options, but I’m not angry enough to have him expelled. Reaper has been a brother for nearly ten years and a damn good one. His problem is he thinks with his dick more times than not. This must have been one of those situations.

It wouldn’t be such a big deal if so much weren’t riding on keeping Kirk close. The club can bring in a lot of money for us and give us another avenue to sell the pills and coke to our top customers without resorting to hiring anyone to stand on a corner. And I have ideas for that place. I’m invested in making it the best nightclub to party in the whole damn state but Kirk pulling a disappearing act isn’t helping.

We make it to Kirk’s house with no issues, but it’s empty. I check everywhere, including the fucking cupboards, but come up empty. Jace checks around the back, inside an old, dilapidated shed that looks like it’s seen better days. Nothing. Our footfalls are heavy as we stomp back to the car, my irritation growing with every step.

Jace pulls out of the driveway, shaking his head. “Did Reaper say why he let him out of his sight?”

I scoff. “Said he was going to see his girl. I’m not sure why it couldn’t wait until I got someone else on Kirk, but that doesn’t matter. For deserting his post, Reaper will pay a fine and be sidelined until I think he’s learned his lesson.”

“Good call,” Jace says.

I grunt, not wanting to talk about it anymore. A shitty part of my job is making sure punishments are enforced, but it’s necessary in this case. Kirk could prove to be a problem if he isn’t found. I already called Prez to put him on alert that the fucker is roaming around, so Prez can watch his back. I’m not worried about that though—Prez didn’t become president by being a scared little bitch. He can hold his own and then some. But it’s best to be prepared.

The nightclub is our next stop and we get lucky. When we head inside and go up to the office, we find Kirk crouched on the floor, digging around in a safe. He looks up at us in surprise, probably wondering how we discovered him so quickly.

He stammers as he tries to close the safe. Jace is quick, kicking him away before he can close the safe door and I grab it just in time. Inside, there’s a stack of cash—can’t be more than twenty grand—some cocaine, and some books that look as if they’re financial records. I pull them out and flip through, cursing as I get a load of how far in the hole this fucker is.

“Where did you think you were going, Kirk?” I ask, still scanning his financial records. Kirk was skimming off the top of his own club, owing close to five hundred thousand dollars to vendors, insurance, license fees, and more. This fucker kept notes of all the shit he didn’t pay. It’s good in a sense so we can figure out who we have to pay off to keep this place in legal standings, but fuck. This fucker is terrible with money.

He cries softly, wrapping his arms around his knees. “This place is my life. I just wanted to?—”

“Bitch, please,” I mutter, shaking one of the books in his face. “There’s no way this place was your life and you didn’t even pay for the upkeep. You were about to go under. Looks like you were stealing from everyone.” I gather the rest of the books and the coke that’s still wrapped in cellophane and tuck it under my arm. “Jace, mind taking these back to Prez? I’ll wait with our friend here until he and Rooster”—Rooster is our treasurer—“can go through all of what he owes. I want to make sure there are no surprises when we try to reopen.”

Jace nods, taking the books and coke from my hands, and hustles out of the office. I sit down, pushing Kirk over to the couch. I lock the door and put a chair under it so I can walk around and snoop without him trying to run again. I’d hate to have to shoot him. We won’t get the club if he’s dead.

Just so he knows I’m not like fucking Reaper, I pull my gun from the holster under my leather jacket and show it to him. Kirk gasps, his face turning white as tears streak his face. “Don’t, please.” He holds his hands in front of him, like I’m going to shoot him here and now. His little puny ass hands can’t stop a bullet from my Sig Sauer anyway.

Rolling my eyes, I tuck my gun back into my holster and start looking around. I’m sure there’s something around here that will tell me all I need to know about our new acquisition.

By the time I get home, I’m fucking exhausted. Dealing with Reaper, hearing him bitch about being put on probation and his fine has my head thumping. I had to jack his ass up, making sure he knew who the fuck I am and there was no arguing his way out of this situation.

“Keep fucking with me,” I told him. “I’ll put forth for Prez to strip you of your fucking patch. Sit your fucking ass down and take your punishment before I make it worse.”

That got through to him. He coughed up the five grand I imposed on him and Prez agreed with my decision to put him on probation for three months. While he’s on probation, he’ll be riding with our Road Captain for any of the charity and chapter rides where attendance is necessary, but outside of that, he’s chained to the clubhouse, cleaning, tending bar and doing all the shit prospects would do.

Prez wasn’t any happier about it than I was. It’s been a few years since one of the members has fucked up this bad. If Kirk was just some regular guy that owed us money, I would have probably killed him and we would have washed our hands of the loss. But the nightclub will be very lucrative and is something Prez wants. So, we needed to keep Kirk around. At least until he signs the club over. After that, if he fucks up, we’ll put him in the ground.

By the time we had everything straightened out with Reaper and another of the members sitting on Kirk—Reaper needs a fucking babysitter while he’s babysitting to ensure he doesn’t run off for some pussy again—I’m fucking drained. Instead of staying at the clubhouse to shoot the shit with the guys, I head home, not wanting to be around any of them right now.

Once there, I head straight to the shower, wanting to wash the frustration of the day off me. The only good thing that happened today was putting Shane to bed.

While I’m under the spray, I touch my lips, thinking of how I lightly brushed mine across his. I don’t think he was awake, or even remembers, but I couldn’t help myself. His lips were soft and yielding, though only briefly. I want more.

“Zeke!” I’m called from my living room. Fuck, Shane would show up while I’m naked in the shower thinking about my lips pressed against his. My cock starts to harden and it takes much self-control not to pull Shane into the shower with me to have my wicked way with him.

“In the shower. I’ll be out in a bit,” I shout back.

I didn’t even realize how late it was, having spent most of the day sorting shit out with Kirk, Reaper, and Prez. I had hoped to be relaxing on the couch when he came over instead of ass naked in the shower with a growing migraine.

Instead of waiting, Shane opens the bathroom door and steps inside. The shower is glass, so I can make out his general shape, just as he can make out mine. I cant my hips so he doesn’t see how hard my dick got from just thinking about him.

He leans against the counter, looking in the direction of the shower. It’s no use asking him to wait for me to finish—it’s not like this is the first time we’ve sat in the bathroom while the other showered.

Crossing his arms, Shane asks, “Had a long day?”

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