Joker (Hell's Ankhor #8) - Aiden Bates Page 0,13

chest. The way he was staring down his nose at me was the same way my teachers did in school—always looking for some excuse to berate or punish me.

I sneered back. “None of your business.”

Dante raised his eyebrows. “I think it is my business, since you’re sitting in our bakery, discussing plans for our clubhouse.”

Frustration lanced through me again. “Just because we’re in the same club doesn’t mean you get to butt into my fuckin’ life.”

“You really are an asshole, huh?” Dante asked. “Fine. Don’t sit here and take up valuable customer seating if you’re just going to brood.”

I stood up again. “You don’t know a goddamned thing about me.”

“I know enough,” Dante shot back. He turned and went back into the kitchen without another word.

Suddenly, I felt distinctly unwelcome in the bakery—from Dante’s cold shoulder, to Mary’s awkward look, to the glances from other customers seated or waiting in line.

Well, I’d gotten what I’d wanted. I’d pushed Brennan away and now Dante, too.

And I felt really fucking shitty about it. But that wasn’t anything new, either. I’d learned a long time ago that the closer I let people get, the easier they could hurt me—and the more easily I could let them down, which hurt even worse. As much as I relied on the club, I needed to maintain a boundary between us. It was better to be a little distant and remain in the club, than fail them and face the brunt of their disappointment—or maybe even get booted entirely one day.

Even if part of me wanted to get closer to Brennan, there was too much at stake. I couldn’t—I wouldn’t—risk the stability I had with the Hell’s Ankhor Crew, however shaky it had been getting lately. So I left the bakery, trying to ignore the heaviness in my heart.

6

Brennan

“So, here you’ll see how we’ll take out the locker room and change it to a smaller, narrower changing room only—that’ll give us more space for the gym itself. We’ll have to do some rewiring, too, but I think you’ll be happy with improved lighting.” I was standing at the head of the kitchen island in the Elkin Lake clubhouse with my schematics spread across the surface.

The club’s decisionmakers—Blade, Mal, Priest, Dante, Gunnar, Logan, Raven, and Nix were all in attendance, listening carefully to my plans and timelines. The paperwork hadn’t been signed yet, but if Blade, Mal, and the others agreed to these schematics, that’d be phase one locked down. And it’d be an amazing contract for me. If I knocked the gym and the kitchen out of the park, any further renovations were as good as sold.

“Looks great,” Mal said with a nod. “What are you thinking, Blade?”

“Gunnar?” Blade asked. “You’re overseeing the training sessions, anything stand out to you?”

“We’ll have to talk about the wiring,” Gunnar said. “Want to make sure we can mount some fans up top since the ventilation down there’s not good. But other than that… I think it’s great.”

“Anyone else?” Blade asked to the members gathered. “Questions? Concerns?”

Nothing but shaking of heads and excited grins. With that, Blade nodded once definitively. “Guess that’s it, then.” He extended his hand to shake. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

I shook his hand firmly and couldn’t even hide my grin. “Can’t want to start. Thanks, Blade.” I nodded to the rest of the members, too. “Thanks, all of you.”

“Nothing to thank us for,” Blade said. “You do good work.”

I always put my all into my work, but still, having it pay off like this was a rush. My first thought was that I couldn’t wait to tell Dad. We were close, and he’d taught me everything I knew about construction—he still worked on sites as a foreman, even though he was well into his sixties. Mom helped out, too, lending her accounting skills to my books during the nightmarish few months leading up to tax season. After eight years of small jobs and just barely turning a profit, this contract really felt like I was turning a corner. Finally, I’d be able to take my business to the next level.

Looking at the guys sitting around the table, though, I couldn’t quite shake a slight sense of envy tugging at me. It was in the way Blade and Logan communicated with a look, and the way Gunnar slung his arm around Raven’s shoulder as he peered at the laptop with the club’s financial spreadsheets. I had a good life—a great life, even. My folks were