Page 4 of Property of Azrael

Blondie pouts. “Are you sure there’s not something I can do to get that answer today?” Resting her arms in front of her, she leans over the conference table, flashing my brother and me an enormous amount of cleavage. Whatever doctor handles those man-made breasts is an artist. I’ll give her that.

“While I appreciate your dedication to the mayor’s agenda, the answer remains the same, I’m afraid. You’ll know something when we return.” Getting to my feet, I explain politely, “I don’t mean to cut our meeting short, but I have one more client consultation before we close the office. My brother will see you out.”

Before she gets another plea out past her red painted lips, I step out of the conference room and head into my office before closing the door behind me. Jerking at the tie on my neck, it loosens just enough to take the edge off the nagging pressure. It’s not long before my office door swings wide and Asher steps inside, his expansive arms crossed over his chest. The tattoos adorning both his arms peek out from under the cuffs of his dress shirt.

“That could have gone better,” he growls.

“That shouldn’t have gone down at all,” I bite back. “That house needs to see the backside of a wrecking ball.”

“It does, but you asked me to find a project in the area to get our firm’s name out there,” he pointedly reminds me. “So what better way than to work on the mayor’s pet project?”

The mayor doesn’t need to know about our club’s extracurricular activities, nor who, exactly, makes up its ranks. The Bastard Boilers MC lives life in the shadows, and I prefer to continue keeping it that way.

“The last thing we need to be on is the mayor’s radar, Ash, especially with the body count we’ve been piling up as of late.” If only the mayor really knew who cleaned up our town, and it’s not the police force. Though decent at their jobs compared to other cities in Indiana, it’s our club doing the dirty work. If anyone inspected our foundational work in the last few months, they wouldn’t just find structural wire and concrete keeping our builds upright. “Find something else,” I demand.

“I’ll do my best, Az, but it hasn’t been a simple thing to find that perfect project you’ve been looking for. It’s too much financial buy-in, or one of the other firms looking for a tax break swoops in and outbids us. Add in the rumors that have been swirling around about our club corrupting the community, and there’s just not enough investment opportunities around for all of us.” He shoves away from the wall and approaches my desk. “Would it be so bad if we let the cat out of the bag?”

I cock my brow. “So not only do you want the mayor sniffing around one of the few legit businesses we have, but you want to paint a target on the back of every member of our club. Get your head on straight, Ash. That no one knows who we are and what we do is best for all of us, the club included. I know you don’t agree with it, but believe me, lying low is the best course of action.”

“Whatever you say, Prez,” he snarls.

Being that he calls me by my rank in the club, I know he’s pissed. Clearly dredging up one of the few things my twin and I don’t see eye to eye on has set him off. My brother is notorious for being as stubborn as a mule, arguing his case ten times over until he gets what he wants. When he gets this way, he’s unbearable to be around, which is problematic, seeing as our club is leaving in a few hours to head down to Tampico, Mexico, for a week of fun and sun. The work we had to do to not only keep our place secure while we’re gone, but the calls to clear our commutes through other club territories had been a logistical nightmare. The last thing I want to deal with in paradise is Asher moping around in one of his moods.

Sighing, I shake my head. There’s only one thing I can do that will make this trip bearable for everyone.

“Look, we’re about to go on the first real vacation we’ve had in years. Since I don’t want us to be at odds the whole trip, how about I meet you in the middle? Let’s forget about this shit heap of a project until we get back. You and I can sit down and go over the architectural plans and see what we can do. I’m not saying yes, but I’ll give it a second look.”

Asher’s scowl fades slightly. “Fine.”

“Good.” Peering up at the clock, I grin. “Speaking of vacation, it’s about that time. You check in with the guys?”

“Yep. Fox and Van were finishing up the last checks on the bikes at the garage. Everyone is lubed and ready for the road trip ahead. Orion was out getting provisions.”

“Provisions?” I question. “He realizes this is a bike only trip, right? I doubt his saddlebags can hold much more than a few days’ worth of clothes.”

Asher chuckles. “He knows. That’s why he got an extra saddlebag for his condom stash.”

“Fucker.” I bark out a laugh. “Must think he’s gonna get lucky.”

“Thought that was the consensus of this trip, brother. A week of debauchery and easy pussy.”

“Will you be dipping your toes back into the pussy pool?” The words spill out of my mouth before my brain catches up with the question. A dark look crosses Asher’s face. Fuck. Too soon, asshole. Too fucking soon. “Ash, I didn’t mean to push you. I know that’s the last thing on your mind.”

“It’s fine.”

His words mean nothing when I know it’s not fine. Losing Kennedy affected him. Fuck, it had affected all of us. She is the reason our club became so tight-knit. Brothers in every way that matters. It brought us all back from the brink of the inky blackness of deep grief and gave us a purpose. To prevent what happened from breaking apart another family.

Most of the guys in our club have known each other since college. Our time at Purdue had given us all a solid foundation in our friendship, an excellent education. And for Asher, it gave him the love of his life. The cruelness of fate ripping her away so soon was a blow to us all, but Asher has never really recovered from it. That the two-year anniversary of her death is coming up fast weighs on us all. Asher needs a break from the reminder of her loss. A chance to heal away from Lafayette. Fuck, we all do. This trip is our clean slate to the emotional baggage we’ve all been carrying around for the past two years. I hope my brother will test the waters again. Kennedy wouldn’t want him to spend the rest of his life idolizing her like some goddess on a marble statue. She’d want him to be happy, just like I do.

“I’m going to cut out early,” he adds. “I need to pack some shit.”

“That’s fine. I’m going to finish up a few things here, and then I’ll head over to the clubhouse.”

“Sounds good.”

My head falls into my hands the second he leaves. My brother is a complicated man. Shit, so am I, but by pushing him to consider dating is a piss poor move on my part.

My phone dings on the desk beside me, and I peer over, seeing a message from Fox.

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