Che (Golden Glades Henchmen MC 2)

"Which might explain why one of our import connections has ghosted us," Remy said, patting the wide head of one of his dogs.

"That's what I'm worried about," Huck agreed, nodding. "Their leadership up until now has been limp-dicked. But if someone is here who knows what they are doing, and actually has some balls, we could be in for a ride."

"Just in time for you to become a father," Teddy said, rolling a coin over his fingers.

"Trust me, that's at the front of my mind," Huck said, nodding.

The man actually logged everything Harmon ate into an app to make sure she was getting all the nutrients she needed. He wouldn't let her pick up anything heavier than five pounds. He'd damn sure considered all the ways he needed to protect his child. We'd all been doing a lot of grunt work to get the clubhouse shored up. That was why Harmon's raised bed had been a back-burner project. Well, that, and Huck thinking that Harmon being out bent over a garden bed in the heat was probably not great this late into her pregnancy.

"So what do you want from us?" McCoy asked, always the one who steered the conversation back to business.

"I think you and Remy should do some hanging out in that area for a bit, get some pictures of license plates to send to Arty. If you can get some of the men coming and going too, that would be great. We need to be more proactive on this. If we have to move, better to do it now instead of after they build up their numbers. We are still too small of a club to take on any large-scale organized crime."

"Have you given more thought to opening up?" Seeley asked.

He was the newest to the team, but had proved the hardest working, the hungriest.

"We're gonna have to do it," Huck said, shrugging. "We should have done it a year ago."

"You're too comfortable with your crew," Teddy observed.

That was true. Most of us had been with Huck when we were all chopping cars, some even before then. He knew he could trust us.

"It's important to have a solid foundation," Huck insisted. "But if I can get Harmon out of the house for the night, maybe we will do an open house, put some feelers out. It's not a high priority, but it needs to happen. You have ties to the streets still," he said, looking at me. "Know of anyone who might be interested?"

"I can ask," I told him, though I doubted it.

He was right. I probably had more ties to the streets than the rest of them, but not so much anymore. Every month or two when you were out of the game, players changed. It got harder and harder to be let back in.

Besides, I was starting to age out of that scene.

And sometimes, you had to know when to let it go.

"Good. And Seeley will ask around too. Young and hungry wouldn't be a bad thing with the possible action we will have coming over the next few years. If we could get us another eight to ten men, we have a chance of not having to worry about the organized crime syndicates in the area. Barring no complications, we will do an open house before the baby comes, so we can all vet the options."

He'd said it.

Barring no complications.

And God laughed his ass off.

Because not a minute later, the doorbell rang.

"Someone left the fucking gate open again," Huck grumbled, going toward the door, likely expecting the window replacement people or the driveway guys, all ready and willing to give us a quote for work that needed to be done.

"What?" he asked to whomever he found on the other side.

"Is Che here?" a female voice said, making me suddenly stiffen.

"Who's asking?" Huck asked.

"His wife."

Chapter Two

Saskia

I closed my eyes tight for a long second before opening them wide, desperately trying to clear the weariness from my vision, stay awake just a while longer.

I'd been driving for eight hours straight in a car that had a busted air conditioner. My clothes were sticking to me under my arms and down my back, and I had a somewhat constant drip of sweat trailing down between my boobs to soak my bra. Because that article of clothing needed to be any more uncomfortable than it already was.

The cold air would have kept me awake.

So would a radio to blast.

But beggars couldn't be choosers when they were lifting cars.

I didn't, as a rule, steal cars. It was a shitty thing to do. People needed to get places. But just this once, I had a feeling I might have been doing the poor soul a favor. The insurance money would likely get him a less junky junker.

He could even put his signature Axe body spray all over it and the fine layer of fast food grease and salt.