~Eli~
Gage nodded as I walked into the office, pushing a battered folding chair toward me with his foot. He sat in one just like it, looking relaxed. That was a good sign. Rance had settled in behind Gus’s desk, his face thoughtful.
“So, you know why we’re here, right?” asked Gage, getting straight to the point. The question might’ve felt like a trap coming from someone else. But he was the president of my chapter of the Reapers MC, and I’d trust him with my life. Had trusted him with my life, actually. More than once.
“I’m thinking it’s about the bar,” I said, glancing toward Gus. The old man nodded, and a tension I hadn’t even realized I’d been carrying lifted.
“Gus says he’s ready to retire, and we need someone we can trust running the place,” Gage continued.
That was an understatement. The Starkwood wasn’t just a bar. It was a meeting place on some nights and a convenient alibi on others. Not to mention handy as hell for taking in dirty money and spitting it back out again, all shiny and clean. My new part to play wasn’t a surprise, either. Gus had always planned on me taking over someday. I’d planned on it, too—until I got sent to prison.
The club had done their part, bringing in the best lawyer their money could buy. He’d ultimately gotten me out of prison on appeal, but that’d come down to luck. For all we’d known, I could’ve been stuck in that cell for the next two decades.
That’s why they’d needed a backup plan—Peaches.
I knew Gus had talked to her last year about buying him out, and she was gonna be pissed when she learned that I was taking her place. Again.
“I’ll give you a good deal,” Gus told me, clearing his throat. “But it has to be reasonable, or it’ll look suspicious.”
“The money is covered,” I reminded him. “Haven’t touched it since I got out.”
“Obviously, the club will throw in some resources, too,” Rance added. “Just be aware that if you do this, there’s no going back.”
Somehow, I managed not to laugh out loud at that one. Wasn’t a good idea to laugh at a club president—not unless he was joking on purpose. “All due respect, I already served five years for the club. Running a bar is nothing compared to that.”
“And we appreciate it,” Gage said. “We all know what you did. You were tested, and you didn’t fail. We’ll get the papers drawn up. Thanks for coming over, Rance.”
“Anytime,” the Bellingham president grunted. “And, Eli, I wasn’t trying to question your commitment. Gage is right. We all know what you did for us. You know you’ve always got our support if you need it.”
“Appreciated,” I told him, savoring the moment. This was mine, now. All mine. Savage triumph hit as the full reality started to sink in. Today, the Starkwood Saloon was finally mine. Sure, I’d be working in a partnership with the Reapers, but I’d never expected anything else. Hell, I’d grown up in the club.
We all stood and slapped backs like it was any other day. Then Gage and Rance stepped out, leaving Gus and me alone in the office. I looked around the grubby room. It still held the same battered desk that’d been there when I was a child, although the old couch had been replaced at some point.
First time I’d ever gotten laid was on that couch.
“You could’ve given me a heads-up,” I said finally, after a long pause. Gus shrugged, and I noticed that his shoulders seemed narrower. Less bulky. My uncle was getting old.
“Wasn’t a done deal until today. There’s a process for things like this. Gotta follow protocol.”
I considered that, realizing he was right. And we still had one more step in that protocol. Not an official move, but an important one. Shit. Just thinking about it was enough to kill my mood.
“So…you gonna give her the news or should I do it?”
Gus sighed heavily. “My decision, my job to tell her. But I’m not ashamed to admit that I’m nervous. She might just torch the place.”
The point was valid.
“Yeah, we should probably hide the matches.”
“Peaches won’t need matches,” Gus said slowly, raising a hand to rub his temple. “She’ll shoot fire straight out of her eyes. Her mom could do it, too. Never piss off a Taylor woman, Eli. They’ll make you pay for the rest of your life.”
“Too late.”
Gus grunted, then nodded. “Can’t argue with that. Do me a favor. If she kills me, make sure they never figure out what happened. It should look like an accident, not a murder. Understand? She’s the closest thing I’ve got to a daughter.” He shook his head slowly. “You know, if you’d claimed her ass when you got out, this wouldn’t be such a big fucking deal.”
“Have you met Peaches?” I asked, raising a brow. “It needs to be her idea. Otherwise, it’s not happening.”
A faint, bittersweet smile spread across my uncle’s face. “Yeah, you’re right about that. Her mom was the same way... I fucked that shit up, and I’ve regretted it every day since. Don’t make the same mistake, you got me? She’ll never forgive you.”
“Oh, I’m aware. She still hasn’t forgiven me for locking her in that closet. I was only twelve, for fuck’s sake.”
“You left her in there overnight.”
“At least there wasn’t a snake in there.”
“Tell yourself whatever you have to, son,” he replied, shaking his head. “Now, I’d best get this over with. Send her in, will you? Oh, and I was serious about covering things up if she murders me.”
“I know. I’ll go round up some bleach and a tarp while you tell her the news.”
* * * *
~Peaches~
“Excuse me?” I asked, the words sharp and precise.
Gus wore the same calm, steady expression he always wore. Normal. Like he hadn’t just smashed my world to pieces with one sentence.
“You heard me, sweetheart.”
“No…” I said slowly. “Because it sounded like you just told me that you’re selling the bar to Eli. And that can’t be right. Because I’m buying the bar. We talked about it two years ago, remember? We even ran the numbers. We’re supposed to do a contract for deed at the end of the year. That’s only six months from now, Gus.”
“Eli has cash,” he said flatly. “With you, I’d have to carry a contract. I’ll be dead before you pay it off, baby. He made the offer, and I accepted. The deal is done.”
“What?” I asked, stunned. “Eli has cash? That’s crazy. He doesn’t even have his own apartment! He doesn’t have a job history—nothing. There’s no way.”
“His dad died while he was in prison,” Gus replied.
“He’s never even met the guy. You’re the one who raised him.”
“True,” Gus said. “The man was shit, no question. But he got killed by a drunk driver, and the driver’s insurance offered a settlement. Eli was the only heir. It came in a lump sum, and it’s been sitting in the bank ever since. That’s a much better deal for me than a contract for deed.”
“But we had a deal,” I insisted. “Eli has no clue how to run this place. He’s only been back a few months, and half the time, he’s fucking off with your club brothers. He spent the whole afternoon drinking instead of working!”
“Peaches, honey—”
“Don’t honey me, Gus,” I snapped, a wave of fury welling up deep within my chest. “You promised me this place. Said you could count on me to run it right. Or did I hallucinate all those conversations?”
“I can count on Eli to run it right, too,” Gus said, holding my gaze. Funny how he managed to keep eye contact. You’d think it’d be logistically impossible, what with the giant-ass knife he’d just stabbed into my back. “You’re damned good at your job, Peaches. I’m proud of everything you’ve accomplished here. But Eli is my blood, and he’s part of my club. I know you don’t want to hear this, but the only reason I talked to you about taking over was because I thought he was gone. He was always my first choice. Even if it wasn’t for the cash.”
His words made me see red. Literally. Flashes of crimson danced at the edges of my vision, and the air in the room seemed too thick for me to inhale at all, let alone catch my breath.
Motherfucking Eli King had done it again.
First, he’d stolen half my bedroom.
Then he’d stolen Gus.
Now, he was stealing the Starkwood right out from under me, and I could tell from the expression on my boss’s face that he’d been telling the truth—this really had been his plan all along. Turning away from Gus, I ran my fingers through my hair, trying to think. How could he do this to me?
I wanted to kill Gus. No. I wanted to kill Eli. I wanted to kill him dead and then stomp on his body and set it on fire. Because no matter what I did, it would never be enough.
Eli always won.
“I’d like a few minutes alone,” I said, forcing my voice to stay steady and even, despite the fact that I could feel screams of rage fighting to escape. I heard the creak of Gus’s chair as he stood, and the sound of his feet as he came to stand behind me. He probably had that look on his face—the same one he always wore when I was sad. Soft and kind, as if he wanted to wrap me in his arms and protect me and keep me safe forever.
I’d trusted that look when I was a little girl. Believed it when I was a teenager, too, even after I’d learned the truth about why my mom had left him. And I’d trusted it two years ago when he’d first talked to me about buying the bar.
God, I was such an idiot.
“Gus just wasn’t the man I wanted him to be.” My mom’s words echoed through my head. “My only mistake was thinking I could change him, Peaches.”
Why the hell hadn’t I listened to her?
“Doesn’t feel right, leaving you like this.”
“I don’t really care how you feel, Gus,” I said, refusing to look at him. Instead, I fixed my gaze on the signed poster from Daytona Bike Week that I’d given him for Christmas a couple of years ago. Finding it hadn’t been easy. I’d had to hunt down the artist, a guy who worked at Harley Davidson.
“I’ll always be here for you, baby girl.”
His voice held pain, and a part of me wanted to push down the anger. Wanted to wrap my arms around him and tell him it was okay. Just like I’d said it was okay when he canceled my tea party to work on his bike. Or all the times he’d asked me to help close the bar, even when I’d worked doubles all week. I’d never told him no. I loved him too much. Loved him and the fucking Starkwood.
My fury exploded, and I spun on him.
“Get out.”
Gus took a step back, and his eyes widened. He seemed almost afraid. Good. He should be frightened, because he’d just fucked up. Fucked up big time. Things would never be the same between us again, because Mom had been right about him.
I’d be damned if I’d give him another chance to hurt me.
He opened his mouth, but I raised my hand, holding it in front of his face like a stop sign.
“Get out!” I said, my voice rising. “Get the fuck out of here, you lying bastard!”
I stepped forward into his space, backing him toward the hallway with the force of my raw anger. His feet had barely cleared the threshold before I slammed the door in his face. I slid home the oversized barrel bolt with a satisfying thud, then turned to look at the poster again.
Rip it down, the rage hissed. Slice it to pieces. He doesn’t deserve it.
It was a solid idea, and I knew exactly how to do it, too. Stalking around the desk, I reached up and under the flat surface, fingers feeling for the survival knife Gus had kept hidden there for as long as I could remember. That would be in addition to the gun he’d taped up along the inner right side, and the baseball bat leaning against the battered file cabinet.
It only took a few seconds to find the knife, and one more to pop the snap holding it in the scabbard. The blade slipped free, ten inches of steel alloy that’d be more than enough to shred the pathetic reminder of how much of myself I’d given to Gus’s bar.
No.
It was Eli’s bar now.
I raised a finger to test the blade, mesmerized as a tiny bead of blood welled up from a cut so clean that I hardly registered the pain. The sight fed the rage burning deep within, and I thought about Eli’s smug face as he taunted me.
“You know, you’d be a lot prettier if you smiled.”
Oh, I could give him a smile. A truly lovely one. Right across his smug throat. Gus thought Eli should have the bar? Fine, Eli could have the fucking bar. Eli could have everything.
Good luck trying to enjoy it once I’m done with you, motherfucker.