POWERHOUSE

It’s been two weeks since I saw the vehicle casing the dance studio, and yet, we’ve had no luck in locating the driver nor the automobile in question. When Country went to the car rental agency, they didn't have any records of a black sedan with that license plate listed on their books. They also stated that they had a promotional advertisement go out that had their company’s insignia sticker inside of the marketing packet alongside other materials to draw customers in, which means those fucking stickers are everywhere. The fucking car is probably not even a rental based on what we’ve managed to find out

Every road we follow ends at a dead end which has made us all more guarded, cagy, and overly cautious when it comes to the protection of the women and children. This has been a thorn of contention with the old ladies, but they know we don’t demand such extreme measures to be followed unless there’s a good reason behind it, so they’ve stepped back without too much of a fuss; however, with that being said, we’ve all gotten a glacial stare anytime they need to go somewhere and have to wait for an escort.

The women don’t comprehend how crucial it is for us to stay organized and coherent of where everyone is at any given moment in order to keep them safe. If someone goes missing, we have a last known place of origin to start searching.

We can’t start looking for our lost if we don’t know where to begin.

Not even a bloodhound would have any luck tracking without an odor to sniff.

Today, we have a spur-of-the-moment meeting with Pops that he called and asked for. His guys, along with all of our patched members are required to be in attendance, which means there’ll be a prospect on duty at the studio.

The guy is fresh to the MC lifestyle, has no clue what he’s doing, but he’s a good guy who we’d like to have join our ranks. The women have already grown attached to him, another little brother for them to dote on.

Beckett was brought to our attention right after I earned my membership patch. He’s too young in my opinion, but there’s something about him that intrigued Gunner and he formed a friendship with the kid before luring him into prospecting for the club.

“Watch out, ladies and gentlemen, this wolf pup has teeth and doesn’t mind biting,” Charlee jokes as she follows a pouty Salem and Aspen down the hallway of the clubhouse, while just behind them is a stomping Beckett. Salem stopped by to give Aspen a ride into work, seeing as her belly is too damn swollen, and since she can’t shift her seat back far enough to reach the pedals in her car, she needs someone to cart her around.

“Your women are pains in the asses,” Beckett grunts. I like this kid; he’s got some big brass balls on him. He’s going to fit in here.

“Tell us something we don’t know,” Shamus tosses back, even though his lady isn’t part of the pouty brigade.

“What’s their malfunction?” Gunner asks, reaching into his pocket for his pack of smokes and lighting one up. He leans back on the bar stool, puffing on the filter end of his cigarette while waiting for Beckett to answer.

“I thought you were quitting, Gun. You promised you were giving those up once Mane was born. Have you been hiding it from us?” Charlee asks, accusing her brother of a misdeed. “That transgression is unacceptable, big brother. You don’t hide things like that from your family. If you’re having a hard time kicking the habit, the least you could do is let us be there for you and help you.”

“Stop starting drama, Twerp,” Gunner berates his little sister then reaches around her and tugs on her ponytail. “I’m a grown ass man.”

“Cut it out, asshat,” she seethes, tightening her hairband. “And if you’re so grown, act like it.”

“You two have a bitch slapping match later, we’ve gotta go, but before we do, we need to find out why the women are pissy, a-fucking-gain,” Kruger interjects, stepping between the dueling siblings.

“Listen,” Aspen says, her tone soft and her face the picture of a woman trying to find her way out of a situation that could blow up if the wrong thing is said that’ll splinter the crosshairs.

“No, you listen,” Master snaps. “We don’t have time for bargaining with you women. There’s an unknown threat out there and I’m not taking any chances with you, my daughter, or our unborn child. Get it?”

I can tell that Aspen wants to argue back, but with the way Master’s shoulders are set, the way his entire body has stiffened, ready and willing to go into combat with her, she changes course and ends things by saying, “Got it.” It almost, but not entirely, takes the wind out of his sails.

With Hemmingway still missing, Master is not only stressed, he’s bitter, angry, and always on edge. Something’s going to happen that’ll tip the scales and he’s going to go nuclear on someone’s ass. Needless to say, his overprotectiveness is at an all-time high and the girls have learned which battles are worth fighting over with him. More often than not, they give in and back off when he uses that ‘do not fuck with me’ tone.

“Do not yank my chain, ladies,” Master warns. “Not with this. Not with y’all’s safety.”

“Okay, Master,” Charlee whispers, sadness radiating from her tone.

“Yeah?” Gunner asks, reluctant to believe his trouble-making sister would give in so easily. “Just like that?” Skepticism drips from his voice, causing me to hide my smirk in order not to draw unwanted attention toward me.

“Yeah,” Charlee answers, shrugging her shoulder blades. “Just like that.”

Charlee is badass for a chick, but she’s also empathetic to the men and women of the club and always, no matter what, has our backs. She’s a damn fine old lady and I know when women like her are involved with helping Salem adjust to our way of life, Salem will be the perfect old lady for me too.

SALEM

My head swivels from one person to another, like a ping pong ball, as they bicker back and forth. The men don’t appear to be amused by the ladies taking a stand, but I’m enthralled to see that these men are not like the biker stereotype you typically hear about with other MC’s out in the world.

Don’t get me wrong, I have a feeling these guys wouldn’t be troubled over snapping a woman’s neck if they wronged the club, but they aren’t disrespectful to their women, just immovable to their ‘I can take care of myself’ independence streak, and child-like temper tantrums. It’s not often I’ve witnessed these women take a stand, but when they do, it’s spectacularly done.

I’m talking about fireworks, spectacular.

Personally, I’m laid back, but that doesn’t mean I take any shit, I just know which fights are worth it and which ones aren’t. And having someone follow you for protection just isn’t worth it if it means keeping these kids and women safe.

“Beckett will be following Aspen and Salem today. Bull, Romeo, and Bear will stay behind and man the clubhouse as well as watch over the rest of you,” Kruger declares, pointing at the other ladies. “Are we good?”

“Yes,” the ladies hiss in correlation. I hide my smirk because even though they’re agreeing, they aren’t happy about doing so.

The three men staying back are going to have their hands full.

* * *

“Well, that was fun,” I tell Aspen as we jump into my car.

“Yeah, it was a barrel full of laughs,” she harrumphs. “These men are loving, caring, and devoted, but on the flip side of that coin, they are also barbaric, bossy on a level that isn’t normal, and they border on being cavemen in some of their delivery techniques.”

“It’s because they love you, Momma,” Oakley pipes up from the backseat.

“Yeah, Mom,” Juniper says in support of her sister. “And they love us.”

“Yes, baby girl, they do. They love you kids with all of their heart,” Aspen quickly confirms. “Sometimes that love strangles me.” Her last sentence is said under her breath so that the kids don’t hear her.

“Kinky,” I say with a wiggle of my eyebrows and a flutter of my eyelashes which causes her to break out into a fit of giggles and an acknowledging nod of her head.

“It can be,” Aspen admits.

“You’ll have to tell me more,” I jokingly plead. Thoughts of Powerhouse the biker, not Cole the man invade my thoughts. Him taking me, possessing me, commanding me in the bedroom has been a fantasy that’s been playing out in my head on repeat for weeks on end.

“I’d need a bottle of wine to tell you all about it,” Aspen jokes, “and that’s not going to happen until this little one vacates the premises.” Her hand rubs in tiny, soothing circles over her protracted belly that’s all baby. He or she is going to be a chunky monkey.

“It won’t be too much longer,” I state because she looks like she’s ready to pop any minute now.

“Three more long, torturous weeks,” she sighs. “I’m ready to be able to tie my own dang shoes again.”

“I bet,” I chuckle, because every joint on her looks to be swollen and more than a tinge uncomfortable.

“Do you have everything you’re gonna need for his or her arrival?” I ask, wondering what I could get as a gift for the new life that’ll soon be entering this crazy world.

“I have most of it,” Aspen admits. “I need more nightgowns, swaddling blankets, and bibs, the small stuff that Master and I will be going shopping to get next weekend.”

“Can we come pick out things for the baby, Momma?” Juniper asks from the backseat, bouncing around in excitement causing the car to slightly shake.

“That sounds like fun. You girls, and your brother, Nash, should pick out something special for the baby from yourselves. What do you want to get?” Aspen asks her girls.

“A toy,” Juniper answers.

“A nanny to change the icky diapers,” Oakley responds, wrinkling her nose.

Aspen and I crack up laughing before I calm down and say, “Nanny on aisle five.”

“I don’t think they carry those on shelves,” Aspen snickers. “What else, Oakley?”

“Fine. A blanket I guess,” Oakley says, pouting, crossing her arms across her chest with a harrumph, upset that she can’t purchase a caretaker to change those stinky diapers. “But I’m just saying, I’m not changing the baby’s butt.”

“I hear you loud and clear, young lady,” Aspen confirms, an amused smirk lifting on the corner of her lips.

“As long as we’re on the same page, Momma,” Oakley reiterates.

“Wait. Hold up. Are we supposed to change diapers?” Juniper asks. “I don’t want to change diapers!” Juniper is getting wound up and a disgusted look appears on her face.

“Your girls have the vocabulary of a petulant teenager,” I tease Aspen.

“Don’t I know it,” she grumbles. “Don’t. I. Know. It.”

“Oh, yay. She’s repeating herself. Daddy says that means her panties are in a twist,” Oakley tells me, leaning closer to me, her voice conspiratorial and low. “Daddy says that we have to stop talking now until she’s over her snit, Salem.”

“Is that right?” Aspen asks for confirmation, turning to glare at her daughter. I suspect Daddy is in for quite an earful later on tonight when little ears won’t be awake to hear.

“Yep,” Juniper pipes in. “So, we’re gonna be quiet now. Okay, Momma?”

“That’s a very wise idea, June bug,” Aspen confirms.

For the next ten minutes as we navigate our way to the studio, the car is eerily silent, but you can feel the steam radiating from Aspen’s skin pores.