Addictive (Houston Defiance MC #2) - K.E. Osborn Page 0,50
make my way downstairs where the clubhouse is alive and buzzing.
“Morning, pres,” Frost calls out as I march past him.
I dip my chin continuing to walk toward the kitchen. Some of my brothers are already eating their breakfast as I make my way past. Chains and Chills are sitting together with baby Kobe in his highchair making a mess every-fucking-where. I reach down to Chains’ plate and pick up a strand of crispy bacon and begin chewing. It cracks in my mouth, and, honestly, I could moan.
“Get your own goddamned food. Bacon is not for sharing,” Chains blurts out.
“Now, is that a way to talk to your president, Chains?” Chills berates, her demeanor especially cheeky.
I ingest my mouthful, turning back to Chills. “Thanks, Chills, at least someone respects me.”
“I’m a growing boy, I need my protein.” Chains scoffs.
I burst out laughing, throwing the half-eaten piece of almost burnt pork rind back on his plate. “Fine, I’ll get my own.”
Chains shrugs, picks it up, then chomps down on it.
Chills groan. “Do you know how many germs are in a person’s saliva?”
“I kiss you all the time. How many germs are in your saliva?” Chains counters as I turn to walk off.
“That’s not the same, and you know it,” Chills retorts in the distance as I enter the kitchen.
“Nessie… I hope you’re cooking more bacon. I need a truckload.”
She spins around to face me from the stove where she’s cooking, wearing a black apron with the words ‘I’ll feed all you fuckers’ written on it. “Of course. What’s a morning at Houston Defiance if it doesn’t involve bacon and grits?”
True.
“No grits for me this morning. Just a fuck-ton of bacon. Oh, and a breakfast taco.”
She flashes me her gorgeous, pageant-worthy smile. “Please?”
“Please, Nessie,” I drone.
She turns back to the stove. “Coming right up. Go take a seat, I’ll have Lexi bring you a cup of joe.”
“So much fucking yes.”
“You in a mood this morning, pres?”
“What mood is that?”
“I don’t know, you seem… drained.”
“And you’re perceptive this morning.”
“Want me to add a side order of Tylenol to your breakfast?”
“Yeah, that’ll be great.”
I turn, heading back out into the main room. I don’t see Prinie anywhere—it’s my natural instinct to search and find her in the room. I’m drawn to her, I can’t help myself, but she must be in bed. That’s not a bad thing. She needs to rest. I head over to a table, taking a seat with Kevlar and Neon.
Their eyes follow me as I sit. A strange unease is on their faces.
“You okay?” Kevlar asks.
“Yeah? Why?”
Kevlar side-eyes Neon, then turns back to me. “I dunno, you look—”
“Fucking wrecked, man. Did you sleep at all last night?” Neon never holds back.
I exhale, rubbing my face. “No.”
I don’t elaborate.
They don’t push.
Lexi approaches with a giant mug of coffee. “Here you go. Hopefully, this helps.” She places the mug down in front of me, plus a blister pack containing white oval pills. My eyes shift to her, and I relax my muscles a little not realizing how tight I am holding myself.
“Thanks, Lexi, appreciate it.”
“No problem. Food’s on its way.” She spins on her heels, practically skipping back to the kitchen.
How she can have so much energy this time of morning I’ll never know.
I pop open the blister pack, letting the little white ovals of pure medical gold slip into my palm. I grab my coffee to wash them down when my cell rings. It startles me. My hand jerks, and the pills fall to the floor. “For fuck’s sake.”
Mack waddles over to investigate as I bend over. “No, buddy, not for you,” I tell him, picking up the tablets before my dog needs an urgent trip to the vet. He plonks down at my feet as I drop the pills on the table and yank out my cell to answer it.
When I see the number on the screen, the pounding in my head intensifies tenfold. My skin prickles as I sit staring, not wanting to answer the damn thing.
“You gonna stare at that all day?” Kevlar asks, snapping me out of it.
I swipe the screen, bringing the cell to my ear. “This is Wraith.”
“This is Sergeant Bennett, I’m calling on behalf of an inmate at the Harris County Jail.”
This is it. A Sergeant doesn’t call unless it’s bad fucking news.
I hang my head, my stomach churning so fucking much I want to be sick. I knew this was coming.
I was prepared for it, but I’m not ready to hear the damn words.