Ignite (The Disciples 4)

“God damn it.” I snap my eyes open and give up on letting them adjust. If I keep them closed, I’ll only see the reason I got so fucked up in the first place.

I swear I can still smell her, it’s like my nose is holding her unique scent hostage. I was supposed to go back to manage the Pussycat last night, but that went down the toilet.

Fucking fantastic.

Crystal is gonna be a bitch. I’m sure she’s already called Derrick to complain. I grip the cool sink for a moment as I mentally prepare for the avalanche of messages.

A tap on the bathroom door reminds me that Jessamine is still here.

“Hey, Axel? I’m gonna take off, and Ryder’s back.”

I swing open the door. Jessamine stands dressed, her purse and shoes in hand. She looks way better than I feel.

Her eyes move to the door, and sure enough, Ryder’s massive body fills the space and he stands, arms crossed, his face void of all expression. Which means he’s pissed.

“We’re waiting. What the fuck, man?” he hisses as I walk past him.

“I’m hungover as fuck. I need a line.” I growl all this as I grab my shitty phone, which I refuse to look at. My pack of cigarettes and lighter are on the nightstand and I reach for them.

“Thanks, Jessamine.” I slap her ass as I pass her.

“Do I need to be worried about you? What the hell has happened?” Ryder walks behind me, but I can feel his eyes staring into the back of my head like he thinks that’s gonna tell him something.

“If you tell me you had a dream, I’m gonna punch you.” I turn to him and light up a cigarette, inhaling as we walk down the stairs.

“I did,” he replies. “I’m not sure how to feel about it.”

I throw back my head to laugh. “Perfect.”

Ryder has dreams that sometimes come true. I say sometimes because I’ve never bought into it. He dreamed that the wife of one of our brothers had breast cancer. It was true and he saved her life, so everyone freaks when he announces he had a dream.

“Hold on.” I stick my head into the kitchen.

Amy stands at her state-of-the-art Viking stove, listening to Frank Sinatra. She’s making what appears to be an enormous amount of bacon.

“I need a favor?”

She looks up and smiles. Amy has a soft spot for me. I think it’s because I don’t sugarcoat things. We both have that in common.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like shit and I’m late.” She nods and looks down at the bacon, then at her watch.

“Twenty minutes. That’s a first for you.”

I hesitate for a second and turn to Ryder. “Twenty minutes?”

“Yep.”

Frowning, I look back at Amy. “Can you please make me a spicy Bloody Mary?”

She turns to me, her eyes scanning my face. Amy’s wise and she’s known me since I was twelve. This woman knows all, anything and everything. No doubt she has a book’s worth of secrets.

“I’ll get on it. You’d better get in there.”

“You’re the best, Amy.”

“Wait.” She wipes her hands on a towel. “Here, start with this.” She hands me a steaming cup of black coffee. I smile at her. I’m closer to Amy than I am to my own mother.

“Thank you.” I wink at her and she shakes her head, but she can’t hide her small smile.

Ryder and I enter the conference room. At least I got a good amount of nicotine and a few sips of coffee before I have to force my head to work.

This is where we take care of all Disciples business. Our sacred place. Our Church.

The large wooden table is full.

Blade sits at the head along with my empty seat on his right. David and Ox sit talking with a handful of prospects in the back.

“Fuck.” I drop into my chair as Ryder sits too. Rip raises an eyebrow at me.

“How you holding up?” He grins and I motion for him to hand me his sunglasses. Fosters slides them across the table. He’s our newest member—came from Australia, the Melbourne charter. He got caught with the wife of one of his brothers and decided it was best to remove himself. Their loss. Our gain.

He’s a fucking machine and loyal to a fault. Blade glances over but keeps talking with Frosty, our club’s hacker.

“I need a fucking a bump, otherwise I’m gonna be worthless,” I announce as I stand and walk to our safe. I move aside the guns, passports, all kinds of shit.

This is the one spot that Amy doesn’t have access to and it’s a freaking disaster.

“Where’s the coke?” I say, continuing to push aside tons of prescription drugs.

“Never mind.” I grab a couple of vials. Dropping back into my chair, I dump the powder right onto the old wooden table. The many cracks and stab marks show the history of our club. Covering a nostril, I snort the white powder. My eyes instantly water, and my pulse races. Leaning over, I take the rest into the other nostril.