Page 16 of Hell Bent

Teller took a seat as he continued to look around, taking in the space. He saw a place that could use a coat of paint and some new damn furniture. “It could use an update.”

Vicious looked at Teller with a sideways glance. “You’ll come up against some opposition on that decision.”

“Who would want this place to remain the same? The chapter’s gone through an upgrade. Maybe the clubhouse needs to do the same.”

Vicious shook his head at his President. “Did you know the furniture was donated from our local Harley shop right after you came to the chapter?”

When Teller remained quiet, he continued. Leaning forward, Vicious reminded Teller nothing was wrong with free leather furniture. Even some of the large wall hangings had been donated. “We built that bar. Everything in this place that hasn’t been purchased or gifted to us, we,” he held out his hands to encompass the room, “the Royal Bastards, built it into what it is.”

He pointed to the large metal light over the bar. “See that neon light? That was made by one of our OGs. That’s our chapter patch and it isn’t gonna be taken down or changed.”

“I didn’t say I was changing things. I said it needed an update, Vicious. You need to stop thinking the worst of me. I’m not here to bust your asses. I’m here to be one of you.”

“You have an interesting way of proving that.” When Teller didn’t respond, Vicious changed the subject. “Have you thought any more on our conversation a few weeks ago?”

Teller had thought about it, but he hadn’t made up his mind about the idea yet. “I have. The problem I’m having with that hypothesis is no proof. There isn’t proof of the Bloody Scorpions or any other individuals doing the break-ins.”

“We need to add more cameras on all our businesses,” Vicious said, trying to keep the conversation going.

“Get with Sherlock on that.”

Before Vicious could reply, Teller stood up and walked away.

Vicious started after Teller as he walked across the open room. He wanted to continue talking about the issue, but lately, simple comments set the guy off. The man had too much pent-up anxiety and a hot temper. Prez needed an actual ol’ lady who he could count on to go home to every night, not a club girl. It would take a strong woman with a heart of gold to put up with Teller for more than a night of hard sex.

For the good of the club, and to keep anyone from looking at Teller like he wasn’t up for the position, Vicious only came around when he was summoned. And Player made damn sure he knew when he needed to be in the know. It was like having a fucking mother. The club was his life, his family. Not being there all the time was taking its toll. No reason to be a whiny bitch, he tossed back his whisky. He enjoyed the warmth as it ran down his throat and pooled into his belly. The only thing he enjoyed more than the taste of good whisky was watching Sabine Rousse. He’d been keeping an eye on her, making sure Jerome Michel wasn’t bothering the woman.

The dark-haired beauty made him want things he’d never given a thought about. He’d always been good with having a willing woman in his bed. Now, he found himself wanting only her in his bed. Even in his home, which was ridiculous since he hadn’t spoken to the girl since the night he walked her home. It was also nuts he’d thought about having her in his home. He never brought females to his house.

“What’s that look for, sweet cheeks?” Player asked Vicious as he dropped into the adjacent chair. Holding out a fresh bottle of beer, he waited for the brother to take it.

Setting his empty glass down, Vicious took the offered beer. “What did you call me?” He tried shifting the conversation.

“What’s the look about?” Player asked Vicious again, avoiding calling him sweet cheeks.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Player.”

Player sipped on the beer, thinking his brother was in denial big time. “You had a look.”

“Teller just walked off,” Vicious said off-handedly.

“The two of you kiss and make up?” Chuckling, Player took another pull on the longneck.

“Fuck you, asshole,” Vicious snapped and laughed harder at the man.

“You’re not my type, cupcake,” Player choked out as he tried to stop laughing at Vicious.

Turning his attention to Player, Vicious thought the brother had to be high. “What is up with you today, Player?”

“Just trying to tone down the stress.” Wiping at his eyes, he watched Vicious carefully. Deciding he wanted to know where the VP’s head was at, Player asked the question that had been on his mind. “You still watching that girl?”

Cutting his eyes to Player, Vicious saw where the conversation was heading. “Here and there.” Three or four days a week, and at least one to two nights. He was bordering on stalking.

“Must be the real reason you look miserable. You need to get laid.” Player didn’t state it as a suggestion—he wasmaking a statement. If Teller found out Vicious was spending time stalking some chick, he’d be pissed the brother wasn’t putting in time at the multiple businesses they owned. Shit would hit the fan in a big way. Everyone pulled their weight. He and Joker had been covering Vicious as much as possible, but he needed to get with the program.

“I’m not interested in a club girl.”

“You might not be, but I’m all about them. And there are two walking in right now.” Player pointed to Tea and Kiki. Shoving from his chair, he asked if Vicious was good before heading toward the girls.

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