CLUB JUSTICE (The Trinity Falls Series) Page 6

  “Whoa!” Garrett yelled. “There’re hundreds of them!”

  Ginny shuddered, her hands still flitting over her hair and the back of her neck in paranoia. She inched further away from the patio door as a second spider started to scale the glass.

  Rhys ran a weary hand over his face as his eyes raked over the backyard. His little brother wasn’t exaggerating by much. Tarantulas crept across the visible portion of the yard and cobblestones, slinking into the flower gardens and landscaping. Not native to the mid-west, there was no way an infestation of this type was a natural occurrence.

  Zeke brushed his fingers feather-light across his pouting wife’s nape. A chuckle accompanied the grunt as she elbowed him in the gut.

  “You’re such a baby,” he mumbled.

  “They are poisonous.”

  “They’re venomous,” he corrected. “A tarantula’s bite doesn’t hurt any worse than a bee sting, and I don’t see you getting all in a sissy girl panic every time you see a bee or wasp.”

  “I can’t help it! I can’t stand the thought of the huge, hairy, ugly things touching me.”

  “You let dad touch you,” Rhys quipped, actually drawing a smile from his mother.

  “Your father isn’t ugly.”

  “Note she didn’t deny the huge,” Zeke said with a lecherous grin.

  “Or the hairy,” Garrett piped in.

  “Hey now, your father’s hair is in all the right places, not like that ape Ramirez.”

  “I’m a little more interested in the Tarantula’s recent message than their president’s body hair.”

  “They left a message too?”

  Rhys lightly punched his younger brother’s shoulder. “He meant the spiders.”

  “It’s a calling card. The Tarantulas are letting us know that they stopped by my house without me knowing about it. It’s a warning.”

  Garrett mulled over his father’s words. “They’re threatening us.”

  “You got it.”

  “So, we’re going after them, right?”

  Zeke shook his head, taking a long pull on his stogie. “We don’t have to make the long trek down the turnpike to deliver our message. Work smart, not hard. One call and they will have a surprise waiting for them when they get home. It’s a benefit of being the Mother Chapter.”

  Leaning back against her husband’s solid shoulder, Ginny listened as he schooled their boys in the politics of club life. Garrett’s interest and inclusion left little doubt that he, like Rhys and Mox before him, would prospect in as soon as he met the age requirement. It was akin to being a military mother, pride and fear warred in her heart. She had run the gamut with Zeke; Marine, cop, and Lord. She had only been a kid, thirteen, when her brother and Zeke had gone off to the Marines. Zeke had been Trent’s best friend, and Ginny’s first and only crush. For three years, she had mailed off a letter a week to each, and haunted the mailbox for their replies. After Trent’s death, she had continued to write Zeke for what still qualified as the longest two years of her life. There had been times his infrequent letters were the only thing that kept her sane. As if reading her thoughts, Zeke’s arms tightened around her.

  “Come on, baby. Let’s get some sleep.”

  “What about the tarantulas?”

  “I already called Gary.”

  “The ones in my backyard, Zeke,” Ginny snapped.

  “Aw Jesus, Gin. Give me a break. We’ll round the little bastards up tomorrow.”

  “They come out at night.”

  “It’s four o’clock in the morning. They’re headed to bed just like we are.”

  Zeke stood, lifting her with him. Ginny opened her mouth to protest, but snapped it shut again at a warning look from her husband.

  “Wise move, woman. You and I are already going to discuss tonight’s heroics,” he said, pointedly picking up her Beretta.

  “But …”

  “Bedroom … NOW.”

  A small pout twisting her lips, Ginny kissed her boys goodnight and disappeared down the hall with a soft whistle to Gunny.

  Zeke shook his head in amusement. “Does she actually think I’m stupid enough to leave that beast in our bedroom if I’m going to beat her ass?”

  “Reminds me of Rhys putting on shorts and two pair of sweatpants when you went to get the belt,” Mox said with a chuckle.

  “Like mother, like pretty boy,” Zeke snorted. “Clean up what you can of those fucking spiders before you hit the hay, huh?”

  Rhys grinned at both the teasing and the wink his father tossed their way. Always the tough guy, but he would move heaven and earth for his old lady.

  Moonlight filtered through the slatted wood blinds bathing Ginny’s curves in a soft glow. Only a fool would misinterpret the blatant invitation and Zeke was no fool. Letting Gunny out of the room, he locked the door. His eyes never leaving hers, he slipped the Beretta in her nightstand drawer and stripped from his clothes. Crawling into bed, he rolled to cover her in a fluid movement. Resting his weight on his forearms, he cupped her beautiful face, his lips capturing hers in a possessive kiss. She squirmed, a low moan rumbling against his mouth. The feel of her cool skin sliding against him felt like silk.

  Without hesitation, he filled her, drawing a gasp of pleasure and the welcoming gouge of nails in his back. A shudder wracked his large frame, their gaze locking. The passion shining in this woman’s eyes and the velvet grip of her body was a siren call he couldn’t resist. It was never enough. No other broad compared.

  Cupping her ass in one big paw, he shifted the angle of her hips, thrusting deep. Long legs wrapped around him, heels kneading the taught muscles of his ass in encouragement. Moans of delight rolled off her lips, eyes closed and head thrown back in pleasure as he set the perfect pace. They moved as one, rocking in a rhythm perfected over two decades together. Sweat slicked their skin and their breath became ragged. Hovering on the edge of completion, challenge hung between them. Blue clashed with hazel until a sharp yank on Ginny’s hair sent her screaming over the edge, her body bucking in release even as her husband quickened his pace to join her with a roar.

  Her heart finally slowing its thunder, Ginny stroked her husband’s chest and smothered a smirk.

  “I’m glad that we had this talk.”

  “Smart ass woman,” Zeke grumbled as she burst into laughter.

  “I couldn’t resist,” she giggled.

  “And you couldn’t call down and get one of the boys to check shit out tonight. When are you going to learn you aren’t superwoman? It’s one thing to protect yourself when there is no other option, but to put yourself in danger when one of us is here is just stupid.”

  “They’re my babies, Zeke. It’s my job to take care of them,” she defended, sobering at the tone of his voice.

  “Rhys and Mox aren’t little boys anymore. They’re fully patched Lords. I was a Marine by their age. Treating them as babies isn’t doing anyone a favor.”

  Silent, Ginny traced her finger over the fierce dragon encircling his right bicep. Finally, she nodded.

  “You’re right.”

  Zeke waited. She sighed and settled her cheek into the crook of his shoulder.

  “And I’ll try and remember they are all grown up and to let you men do your manly thing and protect the little woman.”

  “Sarcasm is so sexy on you,” he muttered into her hair with a chuckle.

  Chapter Eight

  Ginny tamped out her cigarette and blew an exasperated plume of smoke skyward. In the kitchen, Kat calmly answered the health inspector’s questions on The Lantern’s food preparation, cooling and storing practices, as if a second visit in less than two months was routine. Though she knew everything was up to snuff, the visit smelled of harassment to Ginny. She turned at the door chime’s tinkling music and her eyes narrowed to angry slits.

  Kramer scanned the crowded bar and grill with a contemptuous sneer. The financials he had pulled showed the restaurant operating well in the black and the Friday night crowd supported that. The yokel’s stares were hard and suspicious. It seemed Trinity wasn’t much for small town hospitality.

  “Get out.”

  The cool self-assurance of Ginny Brawer’s tone surprised, and infuriated him. Turning, he took a step toward her, crowding her personal space until they were nearly nose to nose. Fury burned from her hazel eyes and she didn’t budge.

  “I told you to leave.”

  “Looks like a full house tonight. I will eat at the bar,” he said, ignoring her. A low growl of frustration escaped him as she stubbornly blocked his path.

  “We reserve the right not to serve assholes.”

  “You can seat me, Mrs. Brawer, or I can sue you for discrimination.”

  “If you were black, crippled, or gay I would be concerned. Being a spineless rat bastard doesn’t qualify you as a minority or disabled. It’s just a fact.”

  “You have a smart fucking mouth and someone needs to teach you how to talk to a man,” he bit out between clenched teeth.

  “If there was a man standing in front of me I would take that under advisement. In the absence of one, get the hell out.”

  Somehow, the distinctive ratchet of a pump-action shot-gun managed to filter through the haze of his rage. He met Sambo’s serious gaze across the bar.

  “You are making a big mistake. I’m a cop,” he ground out.

  “Don’t tempt me, pig.”

  “He has no love lost for bullies hiding behind the badge,” Ginny whispered in a conspiratorial tone.

  “Nor do I,” a firm voice said behind him. “You’ve been asked to leave.”

  Kramer looked the deputy up and down with thinly veiled contempt.

  “You are out of your league, Barney Fife.”

  “And you are out of your jurisdiction.” br />
  Dragging his eyes from the earnest young deputy, Kramer caught sight of Zeke leaning just inside the door. The men flanking him looked to be barely out of their teens, but wore the Lord’s colors easily.

  “No Neanderthal displays to defend and impress your lippy old lady?”

  Zeke’s impenetrable mask didn’t falter at the jibe.

  “So this is what it has come to, Brawer, hiding behind a woman’s skirts, kids, and local LEOs?” Kramer asked with a mocking headshake. “I expected better.”

  “I’m here, Kramer. What is it you want?”

  “Your balls on a platter.”

  “Too bad I don’t swing that way.”

  Gritting his teeth at the laughter Brawer’s comment drew; he glanced around noting new arrivals from the back, all prominently displaying their club allegiance. At some point Ginny Brawer had moved out of the line of fire, and was now watching from a safe distance.

  “Calling in the Calvary?”

  “It’s dinner time,” Zeke replied with an insolent shrug of one shoulder.

  “I will handle this, Zeke,” the deputy said tightly.

  “Then handle it, Marchand.”

  “The owner of this establishment has asked you to leave. Either you do so or I will run you in for public nuisance and interrupting a place of business.”

  “Technically it was the wife of the owner that asked me to leave.”

  “Even if Ginny’s name wasn’t on the business, if you spent any time in Trinity you would know her word is as good as his.”

  “A regular rose among the thorns,” Kramer scoffed, shooting the smug bitch a look. “She must be something to command such devotion from the troops, Brawer.”

  “Long live the Queen,” Crux murmured with a saucy wink in Ginny’s direction.

  “Do you pass her around on a regular basis? Is this a perk of the club, or is it considered a special reward to get to fuck the president’s piece?” he taunted drawing an immediate reaction from the young man to Zeke’s right. The kid charged forward, a murderous glint in his eyes.

  Stepping between them, the deputy raised a hand in warning.

  “Rhys …” He didn’t look back when he spoke to Kramer again. “It is up to you, detective, easy way or …”

  “Are you threatening me?” Kramer spat.

  Marchand reached for his handcuffs.

  “What’s wrong kid? Haven’t made your bones and got a shot at the broad yet?”

  Zeke grabbed the boy as he went for his weapon. He didn’t say a word. Tension crackled in the bar as matching blue eyes clashed. Jerking his arm away from his father’s grip, Rhys pointed a finger at Kramer.

  “You keep running your mouth about my ma, and I will gut you right here in front of bar, God, and country.”

  Kramer grunted, a smart-assed retort dying on his lips as he found himself spun around and forced face down over a table.

  “You are under arrest. You have the right to remain silent. If you want to get out of here without a bullet in you, I strongly suggest you exercise that right,” the deputy muttered sarcastically. Hauling the handcuffed man up, he headed toward the door droning the remainder of the Miranda the asshole surely knew. His stomach churned spotting Mox blocking the door. Having had his run-ins with the brute on the football field, he was in no hurry to test the big man’s brawling skills. He breathed a sigh of relief and sent up a silent thank you when Mox merely held the door open. Outside, Marchand paused awkwardly. “I will be back to pay for dinner, Ginny,” he called.

  “Consider it on the house, Officer,” Ginny answered, good humor lacing her tone and putting a sparkle in her eyes.

  Kramer ground his teeth together watching her step docilely under Zeke’s brawny arm raised in invitation. His forearm curved under his wife’s chin in a loose chokehold and she tilted her face up to accept his kiss. The bitch went from cougar to kitten with her husband. The light played off faint scar tissue. Brawer’s file said they had been married for twenty years. Kramer smirked wondering what year the big man had busted his wife’s cheekbone open, and if that had been the blow that had cowed her.

  Zeke leaned back in his chair at the head of the table as the waitress removed the scarce remains of dinner. Twirling a toothpick between his fingers, he pondered Kramer’s visit. The sawed off son-of-a-bitch was like a rat terrier, relentless. Ginny’s laughter drew his attention and he smiled watching her wrestle with Kat over possession of an origami crown Sambo had fashioned for their queen. Kat tossed it to Amber, instigating a boisterous game of keep away. Kramer hadn’t cared for Ginny’s sassy spunk, but the guys loved her for it and though few believed it, she knew when to rein it in.

  “He’s going to keep chafing at your ass until you crush him, bro,” Bowie rumbled beside him, eyes on the women’s play.

  “As many enemies as the rat bastard has made, I think you would be surprised at how few of them would have the balls necessary to put him in his place. That would track to my door pretty damn easy,” Zeke mused.

  “So, we get an outsider to do the job, making damn sure to have an air tight alibi,” Crux offered. Sambo nodded, his amber eyes glowing eerily in the flame of his ever present Zippo.

  Not a man at the table wavered as Zeke mulled over the tempting solution, but in the end he shook his head.

  “Every time he comes up empty he discredits himself. After a while, his accusations start to look like the ranting of a whack job reading conspiracy theories into the puzzle on the back of cereal boxes. For now we wait him out.”

  Setting The Lantern’s alarm, Ginny slid onto the big hog and wrapped her arms around her old man. A little thrill went through her as the Harley roared to life. Handling the bike as an extension of his body, Zeke let it roll out smoothly before accelerating. The thrum of pure power went straight to her core. Pressing close to his broad back, Ginny closed her eyes and lost herself in the freedom she loved so much. Feeling her need, Zeke opened it up as they hit the edge of town. She smiled as they left the suburbs behind and climbed into the rural hills. Hurtling through the night, they took the sweeping curves at breakneck speeds. Ginny tossed her head back. The wind whipped through her hair and scoured her skin.

  Zeke let the Harley roll to a stop on the overlook. The lights of Trinity were faint in the distance and at the moment so were his troubles. There was nothing like a ride to clear a man’s mind and put shit in perspective. It had been a ballsy move on Kramer’s part to come into Trinity. The tenacity the asshole showed would have been admirable under different circumstances. He stroked Ginny’s hand pressed against his ribs. Lacing his fingers through hers, his thumb flicked over the stone of her wedding band. So many things had changed in twenty odd years, and yet there were those that never would.

  “You want me to give my ol’ lady PLATES for our twentieth anniversary?” Zeke spat in disgust, lip curling. With everything going on and it being a major anniversary, he had thought to get Ginny something nice and he didn’t think plates were going to cut it.

  “Not plates, sir, fine china,” the sales clerk corrected. His condescending smile faded as the Zeke stepped closer, lowering his shades to level a lethal stare.

  “Keep running your lips, kid, and I will knock all your pearly whites right out of that smart mouth.”

  Swallowing hard, the younger man retreated a couple steps, reaching up to tug on his collar. The menace the leather clad gentleman radiated didn’t dissipate with distance and he struggled to come up with a suggestion that might make this man’s “ol’ lady” happy.

  “While china is the traditional twentieth anniversary gift, platinum is the modern choice. Perhaps your wife would appreciate something along that vein. For something in-between traditional and modern we have platinum accented stemware, bowls, or keepsake boxes. Our platinum roses are classy and a bit more unusual, or if your wife enjoys something with a little more sparkle, platinum jewelry could be a hit,” a soft voice suggested.

  Both men turned to look at the elegant woman, but Zeke was already nodding.

  “Platinum is more Ginny’s style and God knows she likes shit that sparkles.”

  “Perhaps Vivian can be of more assistance to you then,” the clerk suggested, smoothly bowing out of the situation and disappearing.