Harm's Way: Riot MC Biloxi Karen Renee (top non fiction books of all time .txt) 📖

“No,” Har cut him off, throwing the chamois on the counter. “I told you. Sharing women was great when it happened, but I’m done, man. Need to find a woman of my own. As for those winnings, just gonna add ’em to my bankroll.”

Brute gave him a hard look, then turned away. Har thought that would be the end of it, but Brute turned back. “You’re not gonna find another Trixie.”

Har blew out a breath. “This isn’t your business, but I’m not looking for another Trixie. I start looking for a woman, I want one who gets it. A woman who fits.”

“‘Fits?’ As in, fits in?” Brute asked.

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Not necessarily, because if that were the case, I’d be fine with a decent sweet-butt. I mean a woman who accepts my lifestyle and one where I bring something to her life.”

Brute shook his head. “You been watching talk shows or some shit? You sound like a chick, man.”

“You want my fist in your face, asshole?”

Brute held his hands up. “Nah, man. I’m just razzin’ you, Prez. Didn’t realize you’d gotten so serious all of a sudden.”

Har shook his head. “Not sudden. Trixie comin’ here and facing her shit storm over a year ago put things into perspective. She got what she wanted, and I’m thrilled for her. Problem is, I realized I want some of those same things.”

Brute’s head rose in a slow nod, his brown eyes probing. “Good to know, brother. I’ll keep an eye out for you.”

Har fought rolling his eyes. “Not lookin’ for a club bunny, man.”

Brute nodded. “I get it. I spend time outside our clubhouse, so I’ll keep my eyes open.”

After a head shake, Har asked, “What are you doin’ here? Just want to spend my money instead of yours?”

The grimace crossing Brute’s face made Har pay closer attention. After a beat, Brute said, “No. Massive and Wreck ran into some problems with distribution.”

If he could go back in time, Har would tell himself to fight harder against Brink, their former president, and the rest of his brothers. Other Riot chapters stopped trading in drugs years ago, though not all for the same reasons. Now that marijuana was becoming big business it was harder to make money without moving into harder drugs like meth and coke. Distribution issues with their product were becoming more prevalent and more of a headache.

Making matters worse, the city of Biloxi had passed stronger zoning ordinances which would prevent the club from opening a gentlemen’s club which would bring in more revenue for them. Yet fewer ways for other brothers to earn money meant the resistance to get out of the drug trade was as fierce now as it was fifteen years ago.

“What kind of problems? Same as usual?”

Brute shook his head. “Wreck thinks these two were undercover.”

Har’s brows knit. “Really? Why?”

“Just a vibe he picked up,” Brute said with a head shake.

He glanced at the clock. It was five minutes after five o’clock, and he didn’t usually work Saturdays. Putting the chamois in a bin, Har hit the button to shut the garage door.

Brute nodded at the chopper. “That finally finished?”

“Yeah. I’ll call the owner Monday morning. Need you to tell the others there’s church in the morning.”

Brute groaned.

“Get over it, brother. Besides, you know I’m talking about a ten-thirty meeting.”

“Yeah, but that means I’m not heading to New Orleans tonight.”

Har’s hand rested on the light switch when a thought hit him. “You have contact info for Stephie?”

“Come again?”

“You heard me.”

“Got a phone number, but not sure if it’s still the one she uses. Why the fuck do you want it?”

Har met Brute’s irritated gaze. “Saw her bike before I went in the house, and obviously before I knew who she was. It’s a sweet ride with a sweeter paint job. I want to know who did it.”

“I’d rather know what it’ll take to get her off the damn thing. Not safe—”

“Don’t even, man. How many times did that argument work against you from your parents?”

Brute’s jaw clenched.

“She ain’t gonna be any different. Hell, she’s a woman, it’ll be even worse, you go tellin’ her she ain’t safe and shit.”

Brute shook his head. “You’re right. And you mentioned she’s living here now. I need to find out where. It’s been a long time since she’s been out here, as far as I know. Things are different.”

“Yeah. Be good you let her know about that, too.”

He and Brute had been friends since they were nine years old and he hadn’t forgotten how much Brute hated having two stepsisters when his dad remarried. Though, he never rubbed it in when Brute complained after they were gone. The love he had for Stephie and Susan snuck up on Brute. In Har’s experience, love did that more often than not. It snuck in at weird times.

The look on Brute’s face said he didn’t like Stephie being in town.

“And she lost her entire stack to you last night. What was that all about?”

Har arched a brow, but didn’t answer. And he wasn’t going to let Brute know that Stephie had signed over an entire paycheck to get in the game. That was what concerned Har. It wasn’t that she had no business at a poker table, it was that gambling with a paycheck indicated serious desperation.

What would drive a woman like Stephanie Combes to desperation?

Chapter 3 Don't Get Your Knickers in a Twist

Stephanie

I DRAGGED MY ASS INSIDE the efficiency apartment I called home. My feet were killing me and I wanted nothing more than to sprawl on my futon, but my phone was dying and I had to keep it charged. As I plugged it in, I noticed I had a message from my sister.

“Stephie! Our former stepbrother... is he our former stepbrother? How does this even work? Sorry, I’m tired and babbling. Anyway, Sammy called. Wanted your number. Actually, he demanded your number and was insistent I tell him