All the Sky (8 page)

It appeared that Billy was in some denial about the truth of things.

Havoc was good at filling in the blanks in the things people said, so he figured this was about Billy and Badger’s friendship more than anything. They were tight, and Badger was treating his baby sister like the club whore she was. It was pretty ironic, actually, because of all the Horde who were banging the club girls, Badger was the nicest—and the shyest. He waited for girls to approach him, and Havoc didn’t think he’d ever put a girl on her knees out in the middle of the Hall, or even in the hallway. If he had banged Jerri Rae, then she’d come up on him.

Isaac turned to Badger. “Go on and get with the cleanup. I got this.” Badger got up at once. To Havoc, Isaac said, “It’s gettin’ to be that time, Hav.”

Havoc looked over his shoulder at the beer sign by the bar, the old animated thing with the clock in it. Nearly midnight. Damn. He had to go close Valhalla.

“Damn. You sure, boss?” He wasn’t sure why he’d asked such a stupid question—Isaac could certainly handle Billy Knox.

The look Isaac gave him made it clear that the question he’d asked was not only stupid but dangerous, so Havoc nodded and got his ass up. He looked around the room. The brawl was well and truly over, nothing left but the sweeping up. Not such bad timing. More than once, he’d had to wend his way through the brawl to the door. Tonight, he’d made it through the whole fight.

And it had felt great.

~oOo~

He was surprised to see Cory’s old Explorer parked in the lot. She didn’t work Saturday nights, but she was behind the bar when he went in. She poured a red into a Bordeaux glass (Jesus Christ, it still hurt him a little, deep inside, that he knew the different kinds of wine glasses) and slid it over to a yuppie-looking guy in khakis and a button-down shirt. He smiled at her, and Havoc recognized the tone of that expression. He wanted in Cory’s faded jeans. Asshole.

Havoc shook the thought away. What the fuck did he care?

She’d been bartending almost a month, he guessed. She was good—she’d been telling the truth about that. She knew a lot about the business just in general, and she’d picked up the wine stuff fast—a lot faster than anyone else had. He’d had Dom run a full check on her, and she’d come up clean, but Isaac wanted him to keep an extra close eye on her anyway. He’d been pissed that Havoc had hired her the way he had. And there were things in her check that Isaac considered red flags.

They probably were red flags. The woman was dead broke. Divorced, no child support coming in, up to her ears in credit card debt, and hadn’t held a job longer than six months in all the years Dom had checked—and no job on the books at all for a year. The address she’d put on her application was her sister’s. And since then, she’d moved into Bonnie’s back yard. Her whole life was a temptation to theft. But there’d been nothing in her info to suggest she ever had. Still, he was keeping an eye out. The last thing he needed was another Larry Bellen situation.

Cory smiled at him as he went behind the bar. “Hey, Hav.”

“What are you doing here? Bonnie’s on tonight.”

The smile faded. It pissed her off that he didn’t bother with ‘hello’ and ‘goodbye.’ He knew that but didn’t much care. “She asked me to cover.”

“I thought you had a gig on Saturdays. In Rolla or something.”

She narrowed her eyes; he guessed she was surprised he knew that. “I…lost that gig. So I’m free on Saturdays, until I can replace it.”

“What happened?” He had no idea why he was asking.

And neither did she—she gave him that look again. “I guess the owner’s girlfriend’s sister plays or something. I didn’t really care about why. That gig kind of sucked anyway. The owner was always trying to get me to wear tight shirts.”

“Not a bad idea. You’d probably get better tips that way.”

“Jesus. That’s a shitty thing to say, Hav.”

“Why? I’m saying you’ve got good tits. Just tryin’ to make you more money. You’re living in Bonnie’s rusted-out RV, for fuck’s sake.”

“Just—just don’t talk about my tits, okay? And don’t worry about where Nolan and I live. I’m getting it figured out.”

“Where’s the kid, anyway?” Nolan hung out on her shift more than half the time. He was a good kid—quiet, and a little moody, but a good kid. Havoc was bummed not to see him; he liked having him around. Some of the regulars did, too. He’d taken to bringing his sketchbook and drawing for people, and he was making a little bit of money, without ever asking for it.

“He’s home. I didn’t know what it would be like here on a Saturday night.”

He laughed. “Not much different from any other night. These people don’t exactly know how to party.”

She laughed, too. Her laugh was like her singing voice—sweet and throaty—and Havoc felt it as if she’d touched him.

“No, they don’t.” She walked to the open end of the bar, headed out to the table that still had customers, and he went back to the office to prep the close, feeling suddenly, inexplicably pissed at her.

Later, when she came back with the tape and the till, she set it down on the desk and turned around without saying anything. Feeling out of sorts, he realized that he didn’t want her to go. The thought of being in the bar on his own tonight felt oddly lonesome, even though he was alone in here after close every night.

“Hey—what d’you drink?”

She turned back, her forehead creased with confusion. “What?”

“What do you drink?”

“Uh, I don’t know. Pretty much anything, I guess.”

“C’mon. What do you like?”

She shrugged. “Whiskey, I guess.”

That made him grin. “After my own heart. Pour a couple, would ya?”

She just stood there, staring at him, her forehead still creased.

After a few seconds, he felt defensive. “What?”

“Are you asking me to have a drink with you?”

“Yeah. So?”

Her brow still screwed up tight, she put her hands on her hips. “I’m not going to fuck you.”

“What? I don’t want to fuck you. Jesus! Forget it. Get out.”

She didn’t move, but her expression smoothed out. “Sorry—I…you surprised me. I’ll get you that drink, if you still want it.”

He stared hard at her, not sure why he was feeling like he was—pissed and stirred up and who knew what all. Finally, he raised his eyebrows and let that be his answer. She could take it however she liked. She left the office, and he went back to his paperwork, feeling like he was going to need to ride awhile tonight and get his head clear before he tried to bunk down.

She came back a minute or so later with two old fashioned glasses, filled with about four fingers of what he assumed would be whiskey. She didn’t fuck around when she poured a drink.

He took the glass she offered him. “You don’t pour this tall for customers, do ya?”

“Not unless they specifically ask for it. But you’re the boss, and you look like you need it.” She sat down on the plastic chair in front of the desk and lifted her glass to him. “Cheers.”

He was already swallowing down his drink, but he pulled back and lifted his glass.

“You’re different tonight.”

“What do you mean?” he finished his whiskey and got up from the desk. That was not enough. He went out and grabbed the bottle. After he poured himself another, he set it in the middle of the desk, about evenly between them.

“More talkative, I guess. You don’t usually strike up a conversation, and you certainly don’t ask for a drinking buddy.”

Again, he felt defensive. “That a problem?”

She sipped her drink. “No. I just got the impression that you don’t like women much.”

“Bullshit. I love women.”

“No, I don’t think you do. I think you love pussy. You’re not so interested in the person it’s attached to.”

He tried to decide whether he would be pissed at her for sitting over there having insights about him, and he landed on no. She was right. Chicks ruined everything.

He could put all the troubles the Horde had had over the past four years down to chicks. He liked Lilli fine. She was Isaac’s old lady, and Havoc paid her the respect her position was due. He liked Shannon okay, too, and thought they were both damn smart. But the fact remained that Lilli coming into Signal Bend was why Wyatt and his brother, Ray, were both dead. Ray fucking deserved it. Wyatt did, too, and Havoc had voted to send him to his Maker, but Wyatt wouldn’t have been in the position of having to choose between the club and his own blood brother if it hadn’t been for Lilli. And then Marissa Halyard, bewitching stupid Vic with her rich, pink pussy, getting him to spill secrets that got Show’s daughter killed. And fucking Riley Chase, bringing her fame to Signal Bend and making the Scorpions feel vulnerable. That got Bart gone and almost got Isaac killed. And C.J. had gone fucking nuts and shot Isaac because he hated Lilli and Shannon so much. And then Vic, again. And tonight, yet another chick was getting between Badger and Billy, turning a friendship sour. As far as Havoc could see, chicks were at the heart of it all.

They ruined everything.

So why was he sitting here having a drink with Cory, unwilling to let her go home to her kid?

“Well, I’m not interested in
your
pussy.” As he said it, he had a glimmer of understanding that it wasn’t true, but he pushed the thought away. Club girls only. That was his hard and fast rule. He had never had a girlfriend, and he hadn’t fucked anybody but club girls since high school. He finished the second whiskey and poured himself a third. She smirked at that but said nothing. He was cold sober. Took a lot more than that to get him drunk.

She tipped her glass—still her first—back and took a longer swallow. Havoc watched her throat move, all those necklaces wrapped around it, and his eyes drifted to her collarbones. She was wearing a top with a wide, rounded neckline, and her collarbones were bare from throat to shoulder, her slim, black bra straps exposed. He had the image of sucking on those collarbones again. It really pissed him off, and he made a quick decision to piss her off right back. “How come you don’t get child support?”

She visibly jerked at that, and her eyes went dark. “How do you…?”

“Background check.”

“But that’s not…you shouldn’t…”

He just looked at her. Instinctively, he knew it was better if she was pissed at him.

But the anger in her eyes passed, and she actually answered the question. “I’m supposed to, but my ex never has any money, either. No point, really, fighting him for it. We’re in the same boat.”

“Nope. Your boat has a kid in it.”

“Why do you care?”

Halfway through his third deep glass of whiskey, his lips were loosening up a little. “I don’t know. I like the kid. He’s a good boy—you’re a good ma.” What the fuck was up with him tonight?

She cocked her head at him. “You’re being strange tonight, Hav. You okay?”

Despite the part of his head that was kicking his mouth up the ass, he kept talking. “Yeah. Like I said, he’s a good kid.”

“Hoookay.” She drank down the rest of her first glass of whiskey. “Well, I need to get home to that good kid. So, I’ll see you later. You okay to drive—or ride, whatever?”

He laughed. “Yeah.”

“Alright, then. Good night.” She headed for the door.

“Good night.”

Stopping in her tracks, she turned back, gave him another inscrutable look, and left the office.

Fuck, he felt weird. He poured himself another glass.

~oOo~

It was well past two when he got back to the clubhouse. He’d decided after the fourth whiskey that a long ride was a dumb idea. He wasn’t anywhere near reeling, but he was respectably buzzed. The clubhouse was in its down and dirty phase, dark and on the quiet side, everybody back from Tuck’s and getting busy with the girls. He looked around and didn’t see any free chick. He really needed to get off. He was buzzed and restless and needed to work off the shit he’d wanted to ride off. Whatever it was.

But it looked like he was on his own. Damn. Well, then, more drinking. He went behind the bar and grabbed a bottle of Jack, then headed back to his room.

And then Gwen turned the corner, headed up from one of the dorm rooms. Gwen was probably past forty and looked it. She’d been a favorite of Isaac’s back in the day, but since he’d hooked up with Lilli, Gwen had never caught with any of the other guys. For one thing, the Horde was a lot younger than it had been before. Havoc had been one of the younger patches most of his time at the table. Now, he was one of the older guys, with Show, Isaac, and Len. Dom, Badger, Omen, and now Mikey and his shiny new patch—all under thirty. They all preferred the hot young chicks…like Jerri Rae, who was right now swallowing down everything Omen had to give her, on her knees between his legs, on the floor in front of one of the couches.

When Gwen was a favorite of Isaac’s, she’d had status, and she’d carried herself with it. Now she was a true passaround, taking what was left, coming in as a second or third with Len—which usually meant fucking one of the other girls. She’d been one who’d deal with Vic and his weird tastes, too. The loss of status had hit her hard, it was obvious.

But Havoc liked her okay. He liked a woman who didn’t scare easy. He wasn’t Vic, didn’t get off on really hurting women, pushing them to their limits. But he guessed now that Vic was dead, he was probably the roughest with the girls. Something about the feel of slapping a woman’s ass—hard enough to make his palm sing, to see his hand raise up in red on her meatiest part—he liked it. He could feel that hot buzz from his palm all the way through his cock. And he really liked it when they liked it. Gwen was one who did—or who faked a great game, and to Havoc, one was as good as the other.

“Where you off to, sweetcheeks? The night is young.”

She looked tired, but she swept that off her face with a toss of her brassy red hair and smiled saucily at him. She knew her place, and she knew the score. This was the kind of chick he fucked. Not one up to her neck in troubles—no matter how hot she was, how blue her eyes, how sweet her voice. He did not need that kind of bullshit.

“You got somethin’ for me, Hav?”

“Indeed I do.” He turned Gwen around and pushed her back down the hall toward his room.