Page 45 of Forgiveness
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Flux
When Flux arrivedin the parking lot of the Insurgents’ clubhouse, he checked his phone and saw that Maggie had left a simple message asking him if he was doing okay. He tried to remember the stupid, light-headed-bitch-boy glow the text gave him as he headed into the clubhouse to piss all over everyone’s parade with the news about the damn Satan’s Pistons selling dope in Insurgents’ territory. More than anything, he wanted to text her back. His fingers were practically itching with the need, but he knew she’d have a slew of questions, and there was nothing he could share with her about any of this since it was club business.
Three other texts came in right as he was about to open the door to the clubhouse. Flux’s mouth went into a grim line and he switched his phone to silent before stuffing it into his pocket. The second he was out of there, Maggie would know it. That was a promise, but at the moment, he needed to keep his shit screwed on tight and help out his brothers—that took priority. Flux squared himself up, pushed through into the clubhouse, and smiled when the familiar smells wrapped around him: weed, booze, and pussy.I’m home.
“Fuck! Is that you, Flux?” Throttle asked as he slipped off the bar stool and strode over to him.
“Who else were you expecting?” Flux joked as he let Throttle pull him into a bear hug.
“Hawk said you’d be here tonight. Damn, it’s good to see you, bro. How’ve you been?”
Flux followed Throttle to the bar and picked up the shot of Jack that stood waiting for him. He threw back the whiskey, wincing as it burned down his throat. Several members seated around the club’s tables jumped up and came over to greet him as if he’d come back from the dead. Everyone wanted a hug—including a few of the club girls, who rubbed all up on him like he was a fucking corn cob and they were a stick of butter. From the corner of his eye, he saw Rosie crossing the room, her low-cut top leaving little to the imagination. Flux lifted his chin at the prospect who put down another whiskey neat in front of him.
“Long time no see.” Rosie’s sultry voice washed over him as the strong floral scent of her perfume wisped around him.
Flux took a step back and Rosie’s hand fell from his forearm. “Yeah … how’ve you been?”
“Okay. How long are you here for?” She took a step toward him.
Flux took another one backward. “Just today.”
“Too bad.” She ran her fingernail down his black T-shirt. “You’re looking real good, Flux.”
“Thanks,” he mumbled then picked up the glass and brought it to his lips.
“Go on and get outta here, Rosie. We got shit to discuss with Flux,” Smokey said as he came up beside him.
Rosie nodded then leaned into Flux. “Later,” she whispered in his ear then sauntered away.
“She’s got the best damn fucking ass,” Smokey said.
“What about Tania?” Animal asked as he sidled up to the bar. “You don’t know Tania,” he said to Flux. “She’s been with the club for a year now. Damn, is she hot.”
“But Rosie’s still got the best ass.” Smokey brought the beer bottle to his mouth.
No, Duchess has. She’s got the best of everything.
“You can get some sweetness later,” Rock said. The sergeant-at-arms clasped Flux’s shoulder. “Good to see you again, bro.”
“You too,” Flux answered.
“Maybe he can have a quickie. I bet you’re tired of those rodeo bitches. You need a club girl who knows how to please a biker,” Puck said, and the other men guffawed.
“I’m good,” Flux replied.
Club girls. Puck was right about how they knew how to make a biker feel like he was a damn king. Flux had loved all the attention they’d given him, and before he’d married, he loved all the fucking he could do with so many different women—it’d blown his mind. But not anymore. The only woman he wanted to be inside of was Maggie, and the realization of that startled him.
“What’s with the fuckin’ monk act?” Throttle handed Flux another glass of Jack filled to the brim.
“Maybe more whiskey will loosen the pipes,” Rags added as the others whistled and laughed.
“I’m just tense is all. Seeing those fuckin’ Pistons took me by surprise.” He took a sip. There was no way in hell he was telling the guys about Duchess. He didn’t need their ribbing, and he didn’t need to be reminded that he was acting like a damn wuss over her.
“Swearing off pussy? Now I’m fuckin’ concerned, bro.” Throttle clapped him on the back so hard that the blow stuttered through his jaw and down into his toes before he grunted and shook off the attention.
“No way. I get enough on the road. Chicks love a man with a cut and a Harley.”
