Discovering Me
Page 7
“Are you going to stay with her,” she asks.
“I am. I’ll kick off my boots and cuddle her if you want,” I smart off. I don’t like to explain myself to anyone, not even our first lady.
Winter gives me a disgusted face and walks off, and I shut the door. I walk to the bed, sit and kick off my boots and shrug out of my cut before tossing it onto the chair in the corner. This won’t be the first time I will sleep in the same bed as Piper. Hell, we do it all the time. We get high or drunk and fall asleep as we talk bullshit life. When we’re alone, we don’t have to be Sniper and Piper, the pranksters. Yeah, we love to live life to the fullest and not to be serious all the time, but we do have brains and we do use them.
“I figured you’d come in here and make yourself at home,” she mumbles, half asleep.
Smartass.
“I’m sorry, Pipe. I’ll have your number changed,” I say as I lay down next to her and pull her body into mine.
“I know you are. You’ll fix it. Now go to sleep.” She yawns so hard, her jaw pops.
I bury my nose into her hair and sniff and she giggles and tries to jerk away from me. That giggle is how I can tell if we will be okay or not. I loosen my hold on her, bring a hand up to her nose, and squeeze. “Honk.”
She turns to face me and her eyes crack open. “We’re fine, Snipe. No worries.”
I study her face to make sure her giggle and her words are the truth.
“Stop it. You’re freaking me out a little. You get playful when you’re uncomfortable with something. You think it hides your discomfort, but it doesn’t with me. Stop honking my nose and don’t study me. We’re fine. Promise.”
I lean my forehead against hers and don’t take my eyes away from hers. “I’ll make sure when we’re pranking one another, I’ll think before I act.”
Her eyes close and she nods her head, and our foreheads rub together. “Let’s go to sleep.”
“You got it, darlin’.”
What a fucking day. It is messed up how you can go from a kickass morning, and then the afternoon can take a turn for the worse in such a short amount of time. I’ll have to grovel and buy her a new helmet and leather for when she rides with me. She has to know how sorry I am, and if I have to buy her stuff to prove the seriousness of my apology, I will.
Piper is one of a kind, and the thought of losing her is beyond any words I could come up with.
“Never go to bed angry,” she whispers. “My grandma told me that once.”
I’m confused. “Why?”
She snuggles into my chest. “Not just with your spouse, but with anyone. She said going to bed angry makes you a resentful person.”
Ah. “All right.”
I don’t know what else I could say to that. I guess it makes sense in a way.
My phone chimes in my pocket, and I groan as I dig it out. A text from Braxxon. Fucking peachy.
Prez – Church. Now.
I lean back into Piper and kiss her on the forehead. She doesn’t stir, so I know she fell back asleep. I must have drained her mentally if she is that exhausted. It’s Monday night. Nothing’s happened, but the drama with Piper and me, so I wonder what the Prez could want.
I sit up, reach for my boots, and slide my feet in, not bothering to lace them. I walk over to the chair, grab my cut, and slip it back on before digging in my pockets for a smoke and my lighter.
I wait until I am out of her room before I light it. Piper smokes pot, but cigarettes, she hates. She’s subjected to that shit enough around the club, so I’ll respect her private space. I do my best not to smoke around her as much as I can.
When I inhale my first draw, the nicotine glides its way down my pipe and into my lungs. My nerves loosen up as I make my way down the stairs and out of the live-in. I’ll never give up this one vice. Does it control me? I guess in a way it sort of does and I don’t mind. Everyone has shit they won’t give up. The club, my bike, my guns, Piper, and my smokes are mine. You ask me to give up one of those, and I’ll laugh in your face. Each one of those serves a purpose in my life. I like it to stay that way.
When I walk into the clubhouse, it is quiet. No music blares, no rip-roaring laughter fills the air, and it confuses me. Where did the constant party from the other night go? They were set on going back to old ways, and it has disappeared that fast?
Something is up.
The door to Church is open and a few brothers sit around, so I head in, take a seat, and stub out my cigarette in the ashtray on the table.
When Smokey enters, we’re all here and the gavel smacks down. My brother’s face is unreadable. No expression and it is odd. Prez either has a pissed off face or a happy one. He has neither right now.
“We got fuckin’ problems.”
All my brothers and I shift in our seats and give him our full, undivided attention.
“Juan called. Petra was found murdered at the 24 hour pay-at-the-pump gas station near his house.”
Fuck!
“You know what this shit means.”
Every motherfucking wannabe gangster and MC around will try to take control of the snowball and dust business. My brother doesn’t have to say jack shit. We know Petra was murdered over his drugs. What I wonder is how the fuck they got past his bodyguards to ice him. Petra never traveled without at least three people at all times. When you run an operation like Petra, you take every precaution necessary.
“Tomorrow at noon, we’ll head over to Petra’s place to talk with the Mexican cartel. Ain’t no way that they aren’t already here. Petra kept mental notes and his front men informed. They’ll no doubt need the information we have. We’ll offer up our services to help keep things in check.”
“I am. I’ll kick off my boots and cuddle her if you want,” I smart off. I don’t like to explain myself to anyone, not even our first lady.
Winter gives me a disgusted face and walks off, and I shut the door. I walk to the bed, sit and kick off my boots and shrug out of my cut before tossing it onto the chair in the corner. This won’t be the first time I will sleep in the same bed as Piper. Hell, we do it all the time. We get high or drunk and fall asleep as we talk bullshit life. When we’re alone, we don’t have to be Sniper and Piper, the pranksters. Yeah, we love to live life to the fullest and not to be serious all the time, but we do have brains and we do use them.
“I figured you’d come in here and make yourself at home,” she mumbles, half asleep.
Smartass.
“I’m sorry, Pipe. I’ll have your number changed,” I say as I lay down next to her and pull her body into mine.
“I know you are. You’ll fix it. Now go to sleep.” She yawns so hard, her jaw pops.
I bury my nose into her hair and sniff and she giggles and tries to jerk away from me. That giggle is how I can tell if we will be okay or not. I loosen my hold on her, bring a hand up to her nose, and squeeze. “Honk.”
She turns to face me and her eyes crack open. “We’re fine, Snipe. No worries.”
I study her face to make sure her giggle and her words are the truth.
“Stop it. You’re freaking me out a little. You get playful when you’re uncomfortable with something. You think it hides your discomfort, but it doesn’t with me. Stop honking my nose and don’t study me. We’re fine. Promise.”
I lean my forehead against hers and don’t take my eyes away from hers. “I’ll make sure when we’re pranking one another, I’ll think before I act.”
Her eyes close and she nods her head, and our foreheads rub together. “Let’s go to sleep.”
“You got it, darlin’.”
What a fucking day. It is messed up how you can go from a kickass morning, and then the afternoon can take a turn for the worse in such a short amount of time. I’ll have to grovel and buy her a new helmet and leather for when she rides with me. She has to know how sorry I am, and if I have to buy her stuff to prove the seriousness of my apology, I will.
Piper is one of a kind, and the thought of losing her is beyond any words I could come up with.
“Never go to bed angry,” she whispers. “My grandma told me that once.”
I’m confused. “Why?”
She snuggles into my chest. “Not just with your spouse, but with anyone. She said going to bed angry makes you a resentful person.”
Ah. “All right.”
I don’t know what else I could say to that. I guess it makes sense in a way.
My phone chimes in my pocket, and I groan as I dig it out. A text from Braxxon. Fucking peachy.
Prez – Church. Now.
I lean back into Piper and kiss her on the forehead. She doesn’t stir, so I know she fell back asleep. I must have drained her mentally if she is that exhausted. It’s Monday night. Nothing’s happened, but the drama with Piper and me, so I wonder what the Prez could want.
I sit up, reach for my boots, and slide my feet in, not bothering to lace them. I walk over to the chair, grab my cut, and slip it back on before digging in my pockets for a smoke and my lighter.
I wait until I am out of her room before I light it. Piper smokes pot, but cigarettes, she hates. She’s subjected to that shit enough around the club, so I’ll respect her private space. I do my best not to smoke around her as much as I can.
When I inhale my first draw, the nicotine glides its way down my pipe and into my lungs. My nerves loosen up as I make my way down the stairs and out of the live-in. I’ll never give up this one vice. Does it control me? I guess in a way it sort of does and I don’t mind. Everyone has shit they won’t give up. The club, my bike, my guns, Piper, and my smokes are mine. You ask me to give up one of those, and I’ll laugh in your face. Each one of those serves a purpose in my life. I like it to stay that way.
When I walk into the clubhouse, it is quiet. No music blares, no rip-roaring laughter fills the air, and it confuses me. Where did the constant party from the other night go? They were set on going back to old ways, and it has disappeared that fast?
Something is up.
The door to Church is open and a few brothers sit around, so I head in, take a seat, and stub out my cigarette in the ashtray on the table.
When Smokey enters, we’re all here and the gavel smacks down. My brother’s face is unreadable. No expression and it is odd. Prez either has a pissed off face or a happy one. He has neither right now.
“We got fuckin’ problems.”
All my brothers and I shift in our seats and give him our full, undivided attention.
“Juan called. Petra was found murdered at the 24 hour pay-at-the-pump gas station near his house.”
Fuck!
“You know what this shit means.”
Every motherfucking wannabe gangster and MC around will try to take control of the snowball and dust business. My brother doesn’t have to say jack shit. We know Petra was murdered over his drugs. What I wonder is how the fuck they got past his bodyguards to ice him. Petra never traveled without at least three people at all times. When you run an operation like Petra, you take every precaution necessary.
“Tomorrow at noon, we’ll head over to Petra’s place to talk with the Mexican cartel. Ain’t no way that they aren’t already here. Petra kept mental notes and his front men informed. They’ll no doubt need the information we have. We’ll offer up our services to help keep things in check.”
