Whiskey Neat (The Uncertain Saints MC Book 1) (2 page)

I knew how to hold my own. They made sure of that.

I pulled my keys out of my pocket and opened the dressing room door to find a pasty white ass thrusting viciously into the willing vagina of his girlfriend.

“Excuse me,” I said. “Do you mind taking that outside before I call the police?”

The guy kept thrusting, but the woman’s eyes opened.

She promptly started slapping the man on the back of one thigh.

However, the man kept going, and I knew this was going to get nasty.

I’d detected the guy was on something the moment they’d come in here.

His pupils were dilated, his eyes were slightly unfocused, and I just knew –
I knew
– he was going to be trouble. His girl, though, hadn’t been wasted.

In fact, she’d been just fine.

And she looked nervous as hell to be in a sex store.

Now, though, she didn’t seem all that embarrassed if the coloring that rode high on her cheeks was any indication.

“She said to fucking leave,” the deep voice said from behind me. “Get your fucking cock out of her and get the
fuck
out.”

I coughed.

The guy listened to the man, though.

Thank God.

He turned around with a glare, pulling himself from the woman with little care that he was swinging it out for everyone to see.

He had a pretty sizable cock, but it was nothing compared to the monster dildo I used.

“Please leave,” I said again.

The man glared and bent down to pick up his jeans that were around his ankles, roughly pulling them up and over his still hard cock.

Luckily, he left without another word, the girl trailing behind him.

“That happen often?” The man asked.

I shrugged. “At least once a shift.”

His eyes showed surprise, and I thought it was kind of funny.

I didn’t think much of anything would shake this man, but it appeared that knowing that I dealt with that type of situation on a daily basis was upsetting to him.

Weird.

“That’ll be thirty-two fifty,” I said softly.

He handed me his credit card, and I swiped it, not able to help myself from looking at the name on front before handing it back.

Griffin.

That was an interesting name, and fit him aptly.

I wondered if he went by Griffin.

“Have a nice night,” he said as soon as I’d handed him the receipt.

I couldn’t say I wasn’t disappointed…because I was.

Very much so.

But it wasn’t all that surprising.

I didn’t get many second looks.

It was the red hair.

Match that with my pasty white skin, freckles on top of my freckles, and a scar that ran down the center of my chest, and it was kind of obvious why men didn’t bother giving me a second look.

Not that he could see that scar, but I’m sure if he did, he’d freak out just like the other men who’d seen it did.

It was my hair length, though, that fascinated most guys.

It hung down to the bottom of my ass cheeks if it was unbound; which it usually wasn’t.

And guys seemed to think it was really cool that I had such long hair, which was inevitably what made them stop to talk to me in the first place.

The next few hours seemed to drag by as I waited for the end of the night. By the time two A.M. rolled around, I was practically bouncing off the walls to leave.

Not that I had anything to go and do on my Saturday night.

Nobody in Uncertain, Texas had anything to do on any night, whether it be Monday or Saturday.

We had two restaurants that closed at eight P.M., two bars, a Walgreen’s near the interstate, a Dollar General, and a neighborhood grocer.

That was literally
it
.

Unless you wanted to go to the lake, something that I didn’t do. Not at night, anyway.

Being eaten by an alligator wasn’t really my thing.

Humming to myself, as I always did, I locked up and started to walk around the building where I parked.

As I spotted my car, I nearly choked on my tongue when the dildo that Griffin had purchased a few hours earlier, sat on my hood with a note that said, “I won’t be needing this.”

I laughed as I took it home.

I wasn’t laughing at all an hour later when I was using that thing of beauty and calling out Griffin’s name as I came.

Hard.

Chapter 2

When you think you’re in love, listen to your heart and not your dick. It doesn’t often lead you astray.

-Note to self

Griffin

This town fucking sucked.

It was the backwoods, ball sack of Texas, and, most of the time, I couldn’t wait to get the fuck away from this place.

But occasionally the place had its moments.

I’d been assigned to the county when I’d signed on with the Texas Rangers, and would probably be here for a long fucking time.

I’d sold my house after I found out I’d be relocating, and I was still living out of a box, even though I’d been in the small town of Uncertain for over a year now. The only thing that’d been unpacked had been the kitchen stuff and Tanner’s room, even though he only visited every other weekend.

I’d yet to see why this little stretch of highway even needed a Texas Ranger, seeing as the area had about five hundred people total, and not a single city hall among the four towns that I covered.

Uncertain was the quietest of the four towns, which was why I’d chosen it over the larger ones.

My soul needed time to heal after the divorce from hell.

Then I needed it even more, six months later, after going to the crime scene where Tanner’s body had been discovered.

The peace here was like none other.

Seeing Tanner like that, broken and so damn cold had marked me in a way that I knew I’d never recover from.

God, I could still remember the way his cold skin felt in my hands, how it felt like ice.

I viciously shut that line of thought down.

There would be no going down that path tonight.

“That was something,” an amused male voice said from behind me.

I looked up to find three men dressed in leather at my back.

I’d heard them walk up, but I didn’t think they’d bother me while I was taking care of the other asshole.

“Yeah,” I said, hauling the man up and shoving him back into his car.

He was knocked out cold and probably wouldn’t remember this in the morning.

Not that I cared if he remembered or not.

The fucker deserved to know what would happen to him if I caught him giving it to a woman who kept saying no.

A woman, who I noticed, was no longer there.

A woman who looked quite a bit like the red head from the sex store yesterday.

“We haven’t seen you lately,” the closest man said.

I raised a brow at him, getting back on my bike.

“Yeah?” I asked.

“Yeah,” the man closest said. “We want you to come to church today. We have a few decisions we need to make.”

I laughed.

It wasn’t a nice laugh, either.

“Yeah, I’ll see what I can do about that,” I said, walking away from them.

I hadn’t been back to the Saints clubhouse in months…
since Tanner’s death.

Which was, if I had to admit, why I was hesitating to go back.

Tanner had loved the Uncertain Saints clubhouse.

He’d loved watching the bikes.

Loved the boys.

Loved the water only a few hundred yards away.

He loved everything about Uncertain, Texas, and hated living with his mom, my ex-wife, Noreen.

But in the State of Texas, it was standard protocol for all children under the age of seven to stay with their mothers, even if their mothers were cheating pieces of shit who would do absolutely anything to stick it to their fathers.

I knew the boys were hurting, just like I was.

Knew they missed my boy nearly as much as I did.

Which was why I finally grew a pair and went to the clubhouse, even though it nearly tore me in half to do so.

Everybody there had a story.

A piece of their life that fucked them up so bad that they wanted to retreat into the darkness.

Which was what our club had grown into.

A group of men who all had their own sob stories.

Each of us had something in common.

Grief, anger and sorrow.

We were all tired of our lot in life…tired of the way the law handled things, or in some cases,
didn’t
handle things.

It was why the six of us had formed the club.

We were a team, bound together by grief and loss.

Mine story hadn’t been so bad when I’d started. Just a pissed off man that lost his wife to a piece of shit. Now, though…well let’s just say my life was definitely darker after Tanner’s death.

The first person I saw as I entered into what the men had started calling ‘Church’ was Peek, our unofficial ‘president’ of The Uncertain Saints.

He was the owner of three tattoo shops in our area, he was forty-four and a big pain in my ass.

He never let me spend a night alone, and was always there, even when I didn’t want him to be.

The second person I saw was Wolf.

His story was just as bad as mine.

His wife and unborn son were killed by a serial killer who preyed on cops and their families.

His best friend had succumbed to the same serial killer, and now Wolf was raising the best friend’s son, whom he’d adopted just a few short months ago.

The last person in the room was Mig.

His real name was Vitaly, but when he was in the Navy and flying, he’d been nicknamed ‘Mig’ because he was half Russian and a mean motherfucker.

A mig was an enemy aircraft-one that nobody liked to see. Since he wasn’t nice to anybody, he was deemed Mig by his colleagues shortly after arriving.

Mig found it funny, not that he’d admit it, though.

Mig wasn’t much of a talker.

He was a man who knew what needed to be done and just did it….and sometimes showed you how to accomplish it.

Which was what I liked about the man.

He didn’t waste my time with niceties, only got the job done and got out.

“We’re waiting for Casten, and Ridley, then we can start,” Peek said, kicking back in his chair and taking a sip of his beer.

I nodded, taking a seat beside Mig and reaching into the cooler that was built into the middle of the table, and grabbing my own beer.

I’d not had one in a long time, and as I took a sip of the cold brew, I realized just how much I missed it.

I’d been going for the harder stuff lately…the stuff that would take my mind off of the gaping hole in my chest quicker than a beer would.

“Okay,” I said, crossing my arms and looking at the wood grained walls of the room.

I counted the planks of wood as I waited for them to start, not really in the mood to do much more than enjoy my beer.

“Booked your arrest today,” Ridley said as he came into the room, shaking his blonde hair out of his face as he did.

His eyes were on me, and they were shining with barely contained laughter.

“He told us that you helped him,” Ridley laughed. “It was the greatest thing in the world.”

Ridley was a Sheriff’s deputy for Harrison County, the same county I was assigned to.

He was how I’d met the rest of them, and a large part of the reason that I’d joined up with The Uncertain Saints.

Before I’d loved the hell out of my bike, but I drove it out of necessity now since my wife was given my truck in the divorce settlement.

She’d also taken all of my money and left me with barely a dollar to my name.

I’d had to apply for a job as a Texas Ranger not only to get the fuck away from Noreen, but also to earn some extra cash since I was still expected to pay her a whack in child support.

Child support that I no longer had to pay.

“What happened?” Peek asked.

I sighed. “Pulled him over for erratic driving. He was trying to force the girl in the car to give him head while he drove. She said no, so he hit her, which made him swerve so hard he nearly hit me.”

“You saw the whole thing, didn’t you?” Peek asked.

I nodded. “Every damn thing.”

“Stupid fucker should’ve looked beside him before he did that. That’s what I would’ve done,” Ridley said.

I tossed him a look, which he laughed at.

“I meant if she was giving me head,” he amended. “I wouldn’t be having anybody watch my woman do that.”

Ridley was married, and happily in love with his wife.

His dead wife.

He’d met her right out of high school and they’d married about a year later.

She’d died during a home invasion, and Ridley still acted as though she were alive.

He didn’t date.

Didn’t go out willingly.

Didn’t stay out late on the rare occasion that he did happen to go out.

“Yeah, well I pulled the little fucker over and beat the shit out of him…accidentally. And his woman took off,” I explained. “Told the guy I knew where he lived if he wanted to file a complaint.”

I wasn’t a good guy.

I was a cop…but I was pretty sick and tired of our supposed justice system.

The justice system was flawed.

Cops are held back by rules that don’t apply to the criminals, good guys go down for crimes they didn’t commit, and bad guys walk away from crimes they did commit on bullshit technicalities because the prosecution can’t make the charges stick. Which was what was going on with my son’s murderer.

My wife’s new husband had gotten tangled up in a bunch of shit and my son had paid for it.

And what did Dick get?

A slap on the fucking wrist.

A reprimand.

Why?

Because Dick had money, and a lot of it.

Dick was an ‘upstanding businessman’ and he didn’t do anything ‘wrong.’

I called bullshit, and I was now taking it upon myself to dole out retribution to the men and women that I knew wouldn’t get into the system.

And with the help of some of the men in my MC, we’d actually done quite a good job at it.

We solved and tried the cases that the fucking system wouldn’t take care of.

Lack of evidence didn’t matter to us.