Page 1 of Blood & Ash

Chapter One

Goose slaps a palm against my door. “Yo, Blood. Your Pops called church.”

I rub my hand along the curve of Shelby’s ass. “I’ll be there in a second.”

Goose grins, doing a shake of his head as he walks off. The two of us grew up in this club together. My old man and his joined what was once a riding club that started picking up some runs to earn a little extra cash after Desert Storm ended. One thing led to another and eventually they patched over to the Saint’s Outlaws MC. Pure 1% in ‘94.

This club is all I’ve ever known.

Was born in it.

I’ll die in it too.

“Time to vacate, sweetheart. You ain’t gotta go home, but you can’t stay here.” I slap her ass, and she moans.

“Five more minutes,” she mumbles, hugging my pillow tighter. The tan lines from her bikini prominent on her sun kissed shoulders.

I scrub a palm down my face and rub last night’s sleep away. Grabbing the hair of the dog off the nightstand, I take a hard swig, then smack my jaws. My old man will kick my ass if I’m late. I tug on the first pair of jeans I spot off the floor and grab a t-shirt off the top of the pile stacked on the chair in the corner. I live in one of the apartments over the main clubhouse. Formerly the Mermaid Motel. Where there once was a mermaid sign on a weathered building, there’s now the club’s insignia painted on the side. A skull and clovers, a display of the original member’s Irish heritage.

The place was a real money pit, but my father saw the potential. The repairs and renovations done to the property over the years to make it what it is today cost a whack and then some. Came decked out with a great bar, though.

Plus, he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to own beachfront property on the strip. There’s nothing like it. Like being on vacation every day of your life when you wake up to the view I’ve got.

Shelby rolls to her back, giving me another view of something nearly as pretty. Propping herself up on her elbows, she stares at the ceiling as I hop around, struggling to get one of my boots on.Fuck me. What a gorgeous sight to start the day to. Her perky titties, stunning baby blues, and freckle dusted cheeks. Blonde tangled hair dangles over her shoulders. Look up beach bunny and you’ll find her picture as a prime example.

I lean down and kiss her lips. “I’ll get up with you later.”

“Yeah. Sure.” She grins. “I work nights the rest of the week.”

“Right.” Shelby spends most of her time answering phones at the emergency services dispatch office. I shrug my leather cut on and slick back my hair out of my face. “This weekend then.”

“All right. This weekend.” She blows me a kiss.

I pretend to catch it and shove it down in my pocket as I look for my cell phone and a lighter.

“On the dresser,” she tells me, knowing my habits better than I do.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“All right. I won’t.”

She flips me off and I nearly trip over my other boot. I’m so out of it I nearly forgot to put the damn thing on. I need to take a damn leak. Leaving her to laze about, I glance at the time on my phone. I’m going to be late.

Fuck it. I can’t stand my teeth feeling all scuzzy.

Rushing through the motions, I gargle some mouthwash as I drain my bladder and spit it into the toilet as I flush.

Shelby’s already fallen back asleep.

Wishing I could crawl back into bed and nestle my face between her thighs for breakfast, I head downstairs to church. I pass by the framed mugshots lining the stairwell walls up and down both sides getting a kick out of the latest addition from Slasher’s latest drunken weekend when he was locked up for disorderly conduct. Dumbass got to drinking and thinking about his ex and missing the daughter he’d helped raise for three years. Brother flipped when he found out she wasn’t his and broke things off. Now he has regrets because she moved in a new man.

He sobered and remembered why he broke things off to start.

Momma Tee waits for me at the foot of the stairs with a mug and a cigarette. Her purple hair teased out big. The bigger the hair, the closer to God is what she says when any of us give her shit about it. Woman is stuck in the damn 80s. Bet she’s had that same hairstyle since she was in the seventh grade.

“Thanks.” I kiss her cheek, accepting both.

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