SALEM

Slipping into the hot tub, I sigh as my muscles uncurl and loosen as the bubbly, warm water layers my body. As I lounge, I toss my ponytail over the lip of the tub and sink further into the depths.

“Who’s our babysitter?” I ask the girls. I know that more than half of the men left when Cole did. From the window in our room, I watched as they rode out of the gates and separated into two groups. One group of the crew turned right, and the second group went left.

“Huh. You think they left just one man behind to keep their eyes on us? You’ve got a lot to learn, Salem,” Charlee snickers. “According to my brother and old man, it takes more than one man to watch over me.”

“That’s because when you get bored you try to slip past your guards,” Cameron remarks, her lips lifted into a wicked smirk.

“Why would you do that?” I ask Charlee, curious about what makes her tick and react to certain situations the way she does.

“Because it makes me feel like I’ve got a noose anchored around my neck. Sometimes, it brings on a bout of claustrophobia and makes me want to scream. I’m afraid the weight’s gonna drag me down, and the current’s gonna sweep me away,” Charlee pouts.

In my opinion, her words are a bit over-the-top and overly dramatic. But she’s entitled to her emotions, and I am no one’s judge.

Instead, I try to be understanding when it comes to her experiences from being underneath the men’s thumbs, and empathetic to how she’s feeling about that. Seeing these guys in action, and more than that, hearing how they get sometimes, I can only imagine how exhausting it is to deal with their overprotective bossiness. I suspect I’d likely want to break free if I had been immersed in this life since birth too.

Whether or not I agree with her methods, she’s at the top of the hierarchy in the henpecking order. So, at the end of the day, it doesn’t matter if I agree with how she handles things.

Charlee’s the queen bee around here. Cleopatra’s ruling stead had nothing on Charlee. Even if that queenly moniker should technically belong to Cameron, we all know the pecking order. The ladies follow her lead, including her best friend. Hell, they look up to her because she was born into this lifestyle.

She knows the intricate ins and outs as far as how this world we find ourselves thrust into, and willingly choose to live in, rotates.

She may be referred to as the club’s princess, but if you were to ask me, she’s the one who runs things around here.

Her moral compass keeps the men riding that fine line of the right, and somewhat ethical pathway which keeps them from riding straight into hellfire. But at the same time, she can be as ruthless and malicious toward their enemies as the guys are. There are times the scales are evenly balanced, then at other times, they’re filled to the brim and are closing in on tipping over and spilling out.

“The problem with your acting out, Charlee, is that the rest of us end up paying the price for your need to escape,” Aspen interjects. “Our lockdown gets stretched out and we can’t go anywhere without someone’s nose up our asses.”

“She’s not lying,” Star snorts. “Swear, Shamus is the worst when it comes to hovering. He’s afraid that I’m going to trail behind you anytime you start to revolt.”

“They’re scared we’re going to riot,” Stella giggles, her words slurred from her sleepless exhaustion. But that doesn’t prevent her from raising her red solo cup to her mouth and gulping on her glass of wine.

When I hopped in and joined the ladies earlier in the frothy water, I had a cup shoved into my hand and was told to “unwind” and “forget the men”, yet here we are talking about them.

However, I believe the women have been patiently waiting for an opportunity to arise where they could get Charlee alone and speak with her on the topic of her untethered and uproarious, raging ways. I have the suspicion that her gumption has been bothering them for a while, but they didn’t want to tip over that metaphorical ladder unless they had the escape route mapped out and could climb back up the rungs.

While listening to the women lay out their concerns, I take a sip and just as quickly it spews out of my mouth. “What the holy hell is this? It’s not wine, is it?”

The girls laugh like a pack of hyenas. Tears stream down their faces as most of them grip their bellies from the harshness of their laughter. “It’s moonshine,” Jessia supplies.

“What? But that’s a wine bottle,” I point out the obvious. “If it’s moonshine, why’s it concealed in the wine bottle?”

“Because Gunner ‘forbid’ me from ever drinking it again,” Charlee snickers.

“Forbid you. Why?” I probe, knowing that the story behind this has got to be a good one.

“That would be because last time we had girl’s time and drank moonshine, Charlee jumped up on the pool table, performed a striptease, and Country ended up in a fistfight that took him weeks to recover from. The others had to split his runs between them, which had several of them pulled in different directions, and they were mentally as well as physically drained,” Star tells me.

Cameron guffaws, her laughing unrestrained. “Gunner begged for eye bleach for days after ‘the event’ as he calls it. He couldn’t even look at Charlee without gagging.”

“Serves him right,” Charlee huffs. “We’ll call it payback for the times I walked into less-than-ideal situations that no sister needs to witness.”

This sets Cameron off again. “She didn’t go near Gunner for weeks. Every time she looked at him all she could see was a bunny riding his cock.”

“It’s not funny, Cam. The bitch riding his dick was one who tormented me,” Charlee murmurs. “She was a bitch.”

“Can’t argue with that,” Cameron says in agreement. “I’m just glad we got a new batch of bunnies. These aren’t as bad as the previous ones have been. They’re actually pretty respectful and don’t go after the taken men.”

“I’ve only met them once in passing,” I admit. “I’m not sure I’ll ever understand why there’s a need for them.”

“Katy, Sabrina, and Jackie serve a purpose and provide their services to the single men. As long as they don’t terrorize our kids, respect us and our positions as old ladies, I can deal with their presence,” Charlee comments. “They really aren’t so bad, Salem.”

“If you say so. But when I saw them, all I could visualize was one of them ‘taking care’ of Cole’s needs.”

“And the jealousy bug hit,” Star surmises. I merely nod in agreement, because it’s one thing to know he has a past, it’s another for that so-called past to strut its way through the common room.

“Let me tell you why this flock of bunnies aren’t so terrible,” Aspen adds. Then she goes on to tell me about how poor Ella was cornered, and some pretty shady shit was spit in her face. How the old slew of bunnies tried their hand at getting between couples, how they worked to have women kidnapped, beaten, and how they injected themselves between the men and their women, causing questions to be raised and unease to ensue.

By the end of hearing it all, I’m appalled, angry, and ready to lead an army of soldiers to track down these shrews and take them out.

Permanently.

What a pathetic life these bitches must lead to where tearing children down is acceptable in their books.

POWERHOUSE

“This bitch is being hidden good,” Kruger spits.

“She’ll have to come out of her hovel at some point,” Texas adds. “She can’t stay underground forever and get what she wants.”

“Agreed. But we’ll need to lay a tempting trap and dangle a carrot in front of her face if we want to draw her out so that she’ll take a bite,” I suggest.

“The only thing she wants is Oakley, and we won’t be using her as bait,” Master includes, his tone scathing.

“I agree, but Oakley’s not the only person we can use to tempt her with,” I announce.

“What are you thinking?” Country asks.

“And swear to fuck, you better not say my old lady’s name,” Master grumbles.

“No. Actually, I was going to suggest you,” I confess.

“Me? Why would she want me?”

“Because you’re the one person standing in her way of legally getting custody of Oakley,” Malice says, grasping what I’m implying.

“That’s not true. Aspen adopted her and I adopted Juniper a while back,” Master reminds us, looking at us like we’re daft. I recall that day, it all happened simultaneously. They each legally adopted one another’s daughters, and at the same time they both adopted Nash, making him their son in the eyes of the law.

“This isn’t meant to be a slight toward your old lady, Master. But if you’re out of the picture, it’ll be easier for Sicily to sway Aspen into giving into threats and signing over Oakley,” Country conveys.

“She wouldn’t,” Master argues.

“We know that. You know that. But the question is, does Sicily know that?” Kruger adds, his words sincere and full of support, letting Master know we are on his and his old lady’s side.

“I think we should flip that coin and see what side it lands on. Either she takes the bait, or she doesn’t. It’s better to be on the offense than always being on the defensive or sitting on the sideline watching and waiting for her to act,” I divulge.

“It wouldn’t hurt to entice her and see if she reacts,” Texas drawls, scratching his beard, a habit of his while he’s thinking and considering the alternatives.

“We need to get with Gunner and come up with a plan,” Kruger says, his eyes sweeping over us. “Are we all agreed that using Master is the best option?”

We all nod our heads, fire up our bikes, and head back to the clubhouse to wait for Gunner to come back from his scouting mission.

Fuck I hope this works. It’d be nice to have at least one of our threats eliminated.