Page 57 of Damascus & The Wildfire
I strolled into the clubhouse five minutes before our meeting, having gotten a text from Merrick thirty minutes before reminding me that, from Thane’s point of view, on time equaled late.
“Mornin’, darlin’,” Thane drawled. “This is Serpent. He’s the president of the Red Rock Riot.”
Thane gestured toward the man leaning against the pool table.
I nodded in hello. Serpent’s presence made me stand up straighter. His black hair brushed his collar in wind-torn waves, like he hadn’t bothered to run his fingers through it after a long, hard ride. A dark beard framed his mouth. His forearms, wrapped in tight cords of muscle, were a gallery of ink with snakes twisting through shadows and smoke. I recognized one piece as a Mayan deity from my brief stint in college as an archaeology student. The fact that this man carried that god on his skin made me wonder if he believed in what it stood for—power and sacrifice.
“And this is Jaguar. VP.”
Jaguar straightened from where he’d been lounging in a chair. His slow movements were fluid, embodying thepredatory grace of the large cat he was named for. He was leaner than Serpent, with the sleek build of an MMA fighter. His black hair was shaved close on the sides with a short, spiky mohawk running across the top of his head. A still-pink puckered scar cut through the side of his cheek.
I reached out a palm to shake with each of the men, their enormous hands swallowing my own.
“We’re just waiting on Hatchet, and then we can head to the office to talk,” Reaper explained.
A throaty laugh drifted from the hall. A stunning blonde with bright-blue eyes walked out from beside Hatchet.
A surge of jealousy coursed through me. I pursed my lips, reminding myself that Hatchet and I were not in a relationship.
Hatchet caught my gaze and pointedly stepped farther from the blonde as they entered the room.
“Kenna, this is Haven,” Thane said. “She’s Serpent and Jag’s old lady.”
Serpent AND Jag? My terrible poker face betrayed my curious thoughts as I heard the two men chuckle at my reaction.
“Did you pick one out that you liked, love?” Jaguar asked Haven, wrapping his arms around her. She pulled a small pistol from her purse, aiming the barrel at the ground as she handed it to him.
“The Springfield Hellcat,” she said proudly. “Hatchet says it’s the perfect size for me.”
Jaguar admired the small weapon, looking down the barrel before carefully handing it back to Haven. “Nice. We’ll do some target shooting when we get home to make sure you’re comfortable with it.”
“Let’s head to my office to chat,” Thane suggested. “Kenna’s the one who alerted me to the reporters digging into your club. I think she can help you.”
I trailed behind Thane, feeling Merrick close behind me and hearing the heavy bootsteps of the Riot men.
Once we sat down, I began to ask Serpent and Jaguar basic questions about their club and the reputational challenges they faced in their small community in New Mexico. A former member had madeheadlines—fighting in the grocery store, recklessly driving through a school zone, and—the last straw—assaulting an underage girl.
“Misconduct by one bad actor can tarnish an entire organization’s image,” I explained. “But this is repairable. You’ve already kicked him out. That shows you’re not willing to accept that kind of behavior.”
Serpent and Jag nodded, seemingly more open to my counsel than I’d have expected a month ago, before I’d found myself embedded in the motorcycle club world.
“Actions speak louder than words,” I continued. “We don’t need to tell the newspapers that your club is good. We need to show them. That’s how Eva approached reputation repair with the Mavericks. She found the stories that showed the community who these guys really are.”
Before I could say more, the unmistakable rat-tat-tat of gunfire sounded nearby, the shots ricocheting off the clubhouse steel siding.
The men were on their feet in a blur, hands finding pistols as easily as a normal man would find his phone. Jaguar, Thane, and Reaper rushed out as Merrick and Serpent reached for me and Haven.
“Get behind the desk,” Merrick ordered. “Now.”
I scrambled with Haven, dropping behind Thane’s solid oak desk.
“Stay down. I’m locking the door behind us. Don’t open it for anyone.” Merrick waited for a beat as I stared at him, my heart thundering in my chest. “Words, Kenna. Use your words. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” I squeaked. “Stay behind the desk. Don’t open the door.”
Serpent kneeled to kiss Haven and handed her the purse she’d left behind on the chair. “If anyone tries to get in here who isn’t us, don’t stop pulling the trigger until you’re out of bullets,” he added.
Haven’s hand found mine, and the lock clicked behind the men as they left.
