Bear

Chapter 9: Bear

"Ripper, Bear and I took care of the strip joint this morning." Brute relates to others as we gather for church, he nods to Hawk who sits tapping away at his computer. "Hawk's been sorting out the girls since this morning."

There's a firm scowl fixed to my face; for some reason, the one morning the club needed me was the morning that I was lying naked next to the woman I'd been craving for weeks.

Worse yet, because of my shoulder, I didn't even get to set the damn fire. I was there as a pair of eyes.

"Good." Pres nods, turning his attention to Razor who seems a little more preppy than usual. Bastard probably got laid last night. "And the job I told you to take the prospects out on?"

"The prospects did good," Razor takes a gulp from his bottle of beer leaning back in his chair. "Still a little green, but good."

"They get the job done?"

"With some help," He nods, looking around the room with a pitiful look. "Let's just say neither of them are cut out to be enforcers any time soon."

He mimics throwing up, the brothers laugh. A chuckle shakes my own shoulders, but it feels only half hearted and somewhat bitter.

Most of us learnt the feel of brutality from a young age— you either get a feel for it, or someone else makes you swallow the taste. The prospects are lucky they've gone so long without being fucked up. Guess that means we're the ones messing them up.

My phone vibrates, jumping on the table as it rings. Pres looks at it for a moment, his brow raising when he takes note of the name flashing on the screen. He ignores it, and I do the same without looking at the caller ID.

Whoever it is can wait; the club comes first. It stops buzzing.

"Do you think they're ready to be patched in?" Pres' question is open, one that's been discussed multiple times over the last couple months.

"I don't see why not." Ripper shrugs, even though he voted no the last time. "Sounds like the kids grew a pair."

Quiet murmurs pass around the room. Ripper does have a point, for all their previous loyalty neither had the guts to prove they could do what the club needed.

Until now.

Their loyalty is no longer in name, it's been written with a crowbar and blood.

"We'll vote on it."

My phone starts up again, it's insistent buzzing piercing the quiet room. It keeps going, even when I make no move to pick it up.

"Take it," Pres nods to the phone. His face is his usual mask of calm, but I know he hates being interrupted. He doesn't have to say anything else, I know the code. The club comes first.

"It can wait." My eyes flit to the screen where I notice 'Birdie' flashing on the screen, my resolve wavers.

"Answer it." Pres shakes his head, sensing that if I ignore it, it'll probably ring again.

"Hey, I know ran out on you this morning but now's not really a good time—" My voice is hushed, but in the quiet room I know everyone can hear our conversation. I can practically hear the eyebrows raising at that.

I've never been apologetic for leaving a one night stand before, but for some reason, I feel it's the least that Robin deserves. I wanted to lay beside her, to see what she looks like when she wakes up in the morning— hell I wasn't done fucking her. Last night was just a taste, and all I want is another hit.

"Hey, I'm just in Lidl," She sucks in an uneven breath, her voice, melodic and... detached. "And I was wondering if you wanted me to pick up some pineapple juice?"