Page 3 of Ravaged and Ruined
The heavy bass of the music hums through the clubhouse, vibrating in my chest as I keep my eyes on Lacey anyways. She moves like she owns the room, completely unaware of the effect she has on me. My jaw ticks as I watch another brother glance her way. Dog shifts at her feet, huffing, like he’s as annoyed as I am.
I grip my beer tighter. This shit needs to stop.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, dragging me out of the cycle of wanting something I can’t have. I pull it out and glance at the screen.
Unknown Number but I already know who it is.
I let it ring out. No fucking way I’m dealing with this shit tonight. As if I need another reminder that Ritorno Holdings is only days away from reopening the casino that got blown to hell less than six months ago. Or that Ritorno isn’t just any company. It belongs to Antonio Ricci, a man who built his empire on blood and fear.
Still, I can’t shake the sinking feeling in my gut. My grip tightens around the phone. This isn’t just business for Ricci. It’s personal.
I put the phone down and drag my eyes back to Lacey just in time to see a man get a little too close. His hand brushes her arm, and she turns, laughing at something he said.
I’m on my feet before I even register moving but I don’t make it far before the clubhouse doors swing open.
I take a slow breath, pushing down the possessiveness clawing its way up my throat. Lacey’s not mine. Won’t be. Can’t be. I remind myself of that fact as a group of women steps inside, their presence commanding the attention of the entire club.
The Royal Harlots MC, an all female motorcycle club and sister to the Royal Bastards. The group is led by Quinn, their president moving with a confidence that demands respect. The Harlots have their own reputation, their own rules, and they don’t take shit from anyone. Including us. They’re here as allies, but they don’t need us. That alone earns them more respect in my book than most men I deal with.
Quinn approaches, her short, messy blonde hair falling loose on top, the shaved sides only making her rebellion look more deliberate, her leather cut fitting snug over a white tank top. She carries herself with the kind of authority that doesn’t need to be announced. It’s just there, like a natural extension of who she is.
“Aero.” She inclines her head slightly, her blue-grey eyes locking on me. “Thanks for the invite.”
I nod. “Welcome to the fold. It’s about damn time.”
She smirks. “I’d say the same about you boys getting your heads out of your asses and making the connection.”
Behind her, the other Harlots move toward the bar, unloading cases of beer with their club’s insignia stamped on the labels. A sugar skull woman with long, dark hair, wearing a golden crown and her face painted in a Dia de los Muertos style, flanking her are two skulls, one on each side surrounded by dark roses and mechanical pistons emphasizing the club’s rebellious biker identity.
“We brought a little something from our brewery,” Quinn says. “Consider it a gift.”
I take a bottle from the nearest case, inspecting the label before popping the cap. I take a long swig. It’s good. Real good.
I nod in approval. “Is this what you were talking about when you said we had business to discuss?”
Quinn crosses her arms. “It is. I figured when your casino is up and running you’ll need a steady supply of liquor. Thought we’d get ahead of it.”
I push the thoughts of Ricci and Lacey aside for now. Business comes first. I glance toward my VP, Grizzly, who’s been listening in. He nods slightly, already seeing the value in the deal.
“Are you looking for an exclusive contract?” I ask.
Quinn shrugs. “Wouldn’t say no. But I’m not here to strong-arm you. Just think it makes sense to keep business in the family.”
I smirk. “Have you ever had to strong-arm anyone into a deal, Quinn?”
She grins. “Only the ones too stupid to see a good thing when it’s right in front of them.”
I chuckle, taking another sip of beer before nodding. “Let’s work it out. We’ll set up a formal sit-down, and get the details on paper but for now let’s just enjoy the party.”
“Looking forward to it.” She tips her chin, then turns to join her crew at the bar.
I lean back in my chair, watching as the Harlots blend into the party, their presence seamlessly folding into the chaos of the club. This alliance will be good for all of us.
Just as my attention falls back to Lacey, a familiar voice cuts through the noise, drawing my focus back to the club.
“Aero! You got a second?”
I straighten, giving Lacey one last look before I glance over to see Emery pushing through the crowd looking more serious than usual.
