Queen of Clubs Read online

  “I’m not a princess, I’m a fucking queen and you best not forget it.”

  His body lit up with her proximity and he felt almost bereft when she gave him a stern glare as she stepped back to the head position between the other two riders, which he now was relieved to realize were also women. He lightly rubbed the now-bare patch just below his belly button and tried to resist his urge to smile. He absolutely failed as he broke out into a human version of Andy’s dopey doggy grin.

  When a winded Mattie finally made his way up to Victor’s side, the lankier man looked at his boss first with surprise and then a knowing grin.

  Victor stepped forward toward Mina so their bodies were alone on the same plane, with Mattie behind him to his right, and the other women behind her on either side. He braced himself for the thunderstorm he could see brewing in her eyes. Even without knowing her, it was obvious Mina was here ready for battle and he was already willing to concede victory to her, as long as he won the war. This was going to be fun.

  5

  Mina

  This was not going to be fun. Honestly, intimidation was Mina’s least favorite part of serving as the Honey’s president, but it was a necessary skill for her club’s safety and survival.

  New Mexico was filled with bigger, badder rival clubs. When word got around about an MC full of girls who previously served as sweetbutts, it put a target on the back of anyone caught alone wearing a Honey’s cut.

  Mina put the fear of god in any man dumb enough to come hunting in her club’s territory, but she never enjoyed having to personify the baddest bitch around. It was easier to put the persona on as a character and separate her actual self when she had to take care of business.

  She applied her battle-armor burgundy lip color with a practiced hand and snapped the cap back on the tube. She looked in the mirror and practiced her best ‘I’m in charge’ face as she strapped a few of her favorite throwing knives into the hidden front pockets of her vest. She preferred the knives over guns because with a skillful throw she could intimidate men enough to get them to back down without actually hurting anyone and that was her primary goal.

  Shelli came up the stairs to lean against the door jam while Mina finished her battle prep. She snickered watching the normally serious president making faces at the mirror. “Ready to ride boss-lady? Got that game face on?”

  Shelli knew how much Mina hated the grittier parts of MC life, and she always tried to inject a little humor and levity in the situation before they went out to kick ass.

  “The question, Shells, is whether or not you’ve got your game face on. We all know you’re more likely to cuddle up with a good book than cut someone but you’re one of the only girls available today, so you’re gonna have to get your head in the game for me.”

  Shelli rolled her eyes at that and groaned, hitching her vest up a little like it was suffocating her.

  “You know riding is not my fave, even if I do get to be in control of my own bike. Why is all of this black leather necessary anyway? I’m dying from the heat and it’s not even that far of a ride.”

  Mina laughed at that, knowing that Shelli still felt a little uncomfortable around motorcycles, the primary draw of the club for her was definitely the sisterhood and not so much the adrenaline packed club rides through the neighboring mountains.

  “You know we need to wear club colors on official business, Shells. It helps our look and we need to look as intimidating as possible so we don’t have to try to be physically threatening. Its psychology 101.”

  “I guess I’ll have to take your word on that, you damn sure know I’ve never studied psych. I’ll just grin and bear it until you’ve gotten your answers.”

  Mina didn’t take Shelli on intimidate and interrogate tours like this one very often, but since Mattie had already given them a general idea about the guy they were visiting and he would be present today, she figured they were probably fairly safe.

  “Come on ladies, let’s get this over with,” she huffed as she pulled Shelli out the door behind her and they caught up with Isabel out in the courtyard, already propped up by their waiting bikes, one leg thrown over her amber vintage softail.

  The land around the airstrip butted up against Mina’s own property, but the closest road access was about a mile away, circling down from the county road around the edges of the airstrip to end up at the main house and hangar.

  On their way down the dirt drive, Mina carefully inspected the place. It did overall look cleaner and brighter than ever before, with no sign of any of the fortification a drug runner for the cartel would undoubtedly add — no thick privacy hedges or barbed wire topping the fence.

  Although, a rather large, white dog roamed the fenced in area — maybe he was a guard dog. Or at least, he could have been, had he not just ran up to where Mattie was working on the runway and rolled over to beg for a belly scratch.

  She smiled at that, there was something to be said for people who treated animals well, even if they were potential criminals.

  She was thankful to get her helmet off once they parked their bikes, the heat of the day was sweltering, even for such a short ride. Mina already instructed Shelli and Isabel to let her do all of the talking unless something were to go horribly wrong, which it certainly might if the man walking toward them was concealing a gun in his waistband like she’d just caught sight of.

  Mina was on alert in an instant. Her first response was to find the threat and mitigate, but the man in front of her looked like he was in some sort of weird trance.

  Was he dumb? Mattie hadn’t said anything about brain damage as far as she could remember, but the man was recently discharged from the military so all bets were off on serious injury. His eyes were oddly dilated and glazed over as if he was staring out at a mirage. She could see his pulse thumping in his thick, muscular neck and his increased heart rate only served to ratchet up her own. The gun had to go.

  She quickly stepped forward, drawing a thin sharp blade out of an inner pocket of her cut and holding it to his stomach.

  Dear lord, where was this guy’s shirt? She held the knife steadily between abs four and six, mystery man’s sweat dripping down to dot her little blade. She expected him to flinch or twist as she held the knife, but he still stood frozen. Why wasn’t he even registering the fact that she was about to disarm him? His gaze flashing up to meet hers seemed to rattle him out of his daze, at least enough to speak.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa. That’s no way to greet a man. Take it easy, honey.” She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Honey? He couldn’t do any better with the belittling terms of endearment than that? Or was he making a reference to the name on her cut? And take it easy? Didn’t he know that was the absolute worst thing to say to a woman holding a knife, especially this woman.

  “Oh so you think bringing a gun to the game is any way to meet a lady, sugar?” She couldn’t resist pressing him a little further. In her experience men as pretty as this one were nothing but rotten at their core. It took some longer than others to reveal it, but there was always something putrid lurking just beneath the surface. She pressed her blade down under the low-slung waistband of his jeans, hating the way his dusting of dark black hair highlighting his perfect abs gave her stomach a little tremor and as her gaze instinctively trailed lower, she encountered a uncommonly large bulge behind his zipper and felt her cheeks heat. Oh great, any guy this hot with a big prick was bound to be a big prick. Just what she and her girls needed next door.

  “Give me the gun and then we’ll see about that, sweetheart.” She couldn’t resist a little sass, this player pilot probably deserved it, after all.

  “You want it, princess, you just reach out and take it. You have the power here.”

  Oh hell no. And there it was, the douchey move she was expecting. Call her baby, honey sugar, sweetie pie — anything but princess. She slipped her knife higher, glad she’d taken the time to properly sharpen and oil it earlier that morning, and slid it up, removing a neat little p
atch of Mr. Arrogant’s pretty pubic hair. She leaned in close, making sure her lipstick left a light trace against the thickest vein of his throat, before she drove her point home.

  “I’m not a princess, I’m a fucking queen and you best not forget it.”

  She got a sick sense of satisfaction as his eyes bugged out of his head and moved away, taking his gun with her. When the weapons were secure, she stepped back and got a good, long look at him for the first time.

  He was large, over six feet tall and 200 pounds, with the thick, well-muscled physique of a football lineman or a rugby player. His upper body was deeply tanned from the sun, with a thin white band at the top of his pants where they had shifted down during his work. A dusting a fine, dark chest hair littered his pectorals and stubble coated his jaw. With grease and dirt coating his hands and arms, he was a portrait of virile masculinity.

  But as she met his eyes, his heated golden-brown gaze held none of the telltale signs she normally looked for. No rage or conceit decorated his pupils and despite her harsh words and dirty knife tricks, the air around him was pure. He exuded a naturally clean, magnetic energy that she felt herself leaning toward. Give her anger, pride, strife or pain — they had been her constant bedfellows in her years with the club. But this openness, this honest appreciation in his gaze for her, not her body or her beauty, but her as a person, a leader, that was a scary pill to swallow and she ducked her head before she dared raise it to begin her perusal anew.

  His upper body played host to a myriad of artwork — tattoos applied by artists well versed in their craft. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Isabel appreciating them, and even though she knew it was out of respect for the designs themselves, she had the uncomfortable urge to cover the other woman’s eyes.

  She caught an Air Force insignia stamped onto his left pectoral and considered it a good sign. Mattie had been right about his branch of service at least. Surely a former military man had no desire to hook up with the cartel, right?

  He stepped forward into her space again, just as Mattie joined them, before thrusting his hand out for her to shake.

  “I feel like we got off on the wrong foot. Hi, I’m Victor Gomez, I own Black Sheep Aviation, is there something I can do for you ladies?”

  Mina heard Isabel snicker a little in the background and she reached out to accept his handshake. Victor’s hands were warm and rough, completely swallowing hers as he gave her a short, firm shake. Her body gave an involuntary little shiver and the feel of his callouses against her skin.

  “I’m Mina Corsi, this is Isabel and Shelli. We’re your neighbors to the north,” she said when she got a handle on herself. “We just wanted to come out and introduce ourselves. I’m sorry about the gun, but you can understand that meeting someone new while they’re concealing a weapon can be a little unnerving.”

  Victor looked a little bit chagrinned at that comment, scrubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably and shuffling a little on his feet.

  “That’s fine, I’m sure it’s almost as unnerving as having a knife held due north of your genitals,” he said, giving her a small smirk. “I just saw the motorcycles coming up the drive and got a little jumpy.”

  Mina nodded in understanding, softening a little under his warm gaze and earnest expression. There was a heat in his eyes that caught her off guard and she felt the warm singe of a blush creeping up her cheeks. It was definitely time to regroup and ask the tough questions.

  She figured being direct was the best way to go, if he wasn’t intimidated enough by her holding a knife inches above his manhood and confiscating his firearm then she didn’t have many more tricks up her sleeve. He already seemed pretty unaffected by her normal tactics.

  “We wanted to see what you’re planning to do with the place, it hasn’t been a functioning airport in a long time and with us living so close, we were concerned about the air traffic.” She nervously rubbed the side of her neck, running her fingers across the lines of her club tattoo, two interconnected Hs surrounded by silversmith-style swirls. Anytime she was anxious she found herself tracing it subconsciously, reminding herself of who she was and what she stood for, those she’d sworn to protect.

  “I haven’t been up and running long, but I can tell you my intentions are to fly mostly during daylight hours and only with small planes. Noise shouldn’t be much of an issue, especially in the mornings and evenings.” Victor made an effort to look straight into her eyes for the next part of his statement, like he could sense her need to be put at ease, to trust that what he was doing here wouldn’t usher in the end of her hard-won safety and privacy.

  “I’ve got my old Cessna here and the newer 6-seater jet I was working on. I may pick up a few more planes and a spare pilot once I get this off the ground. I’ve signed a contract with the resort here in town to ferry their guests in from Albuquerque, Santa Fe and Taos, maybe a few more places once we get some more planes. And eventually I’m hoping to have a skydiving school as well, but that’s about the extent of it.”

  Mina looked up into his honest, golden-brown eyes and knew instinctively he was telling the truth. The business he described would not make him a millionaire but it would be enough to live comfortably, without catering to traffickers. She breathed a small sigh of relief and she could see the other women relaxing as well. Something about Victor felt natural, innately wholesome, like the grit and clarity of the mineral deposits that surrounded their valley wrapped up in a sinfully muscular body.

  Mina smiled and pointed at his tattoo. “Air Force, huh? Does that mean I don’t have to be worried about you crash landing into my garden any time soon?”

  “Barring any catastrophic engine failures, I pretty much guarantee I won’t be crashing through your property anytime soon, at least not by plane.”

  Just as Mina was about to respond, Shelli piped up from behind her.

  “Hey, Victor, even if it’s not for a crash landing, you should come over to see the place, get to know the rest of your neighbors. We can have you for dinner!”

  Mina’s head whirled around at that invitation, but Shelli just gave her an encouraging smile and a little shoulder shrug as if she didn’t have any idea the problems she caused. They almost never had company at the compound, much less male company. As hot as this guy was? She’d be beating off her club sisters with a stick.

  Victor either ignored Mina’s internal freak out or didn’t acknowledge it as he quickly accepted the invitation and Shelli set a date with him for later in the week. Mina watched the two finalize plans, still a little too stunned to speak.

  Before she knew what was happening, both Shelli and Isabel were mounting their bikes and Mattie was calling out his goodbyes.

  “Shelli, Isabel, I’ll look forward to seeing you guys later this week,” Victor called with a wave. He turned his gaze to Mina, pinning her where she stood with his stare.

  “Mina, it was an absolute pleasure to meet you, be safe getting back to your place and hopefully I’ll see you soon.”

  He held her hand in his one last time before he released her, and she walked away, wondering how an interrogation mission had turned into inviting their new next-door neighbor over for supper. What just happened?

  6

  Victor

  Well, that just happened. Victor was still reeling hours later as he bumped down a gritty two-track road toward Mattie’s house. When he stood speechless for much longer than he cared to admit after Mina left, Mattie had a good laugh at his expense and promptly declared Victor needed help if he wanted to woo and win a woman like that. With a quick and highly animated call to his mother, Mattie rallied the troops. Next thing Victor knew, he had a dinner invitation for home cooking and to pick the brains of some people his Mina considered family.

  Just before sundown, Victor pulled up to an older trailer house surrounded by pieces of forgotten cars and an assortment of horses and mules hobbled out on the grass. The yard was clean and well maintained, obviously with a woman’s touch in the vibrantl
y painted potted aloe and cactus plants along the walk. The door burst open and suddenly a plump Hispanic woman met him nose to sternum, her arms wrapped around his midsection. He shifted the plant he was carrying for her into his free arm, holding it up and out to the side as she affectionately squeezed him, before stepping back to meet his eyes, her own sparkling, her smile showing her pronounced laugh lines.

  “Welcome, mijo,” she said, eyeing him up and down before walking around him in a circle, muttering to herself. “So big and strong. Handsome, yes, you’ll be good for our Mina.”

  That pronouncement made his heart swell with pride, he instinctively knew this woman was a critical piece of Mina’s life here, and her approval would be vital to his pursuit.

  “Thank you Tia Rita,” he said, using the endearment Mattie told him his mom liked the most. He placed the potted plant beside the walkway, just as Mattie leaned out the door, yelling “Bring him in Mama, don’t stand out there eyeing him all night. Don’t you have stuff on the stove in here?”

  Tia Rita let out a little squeak and ran inside past her son. Victor moved up the steps and followed a laughing Mattie into an open kitchen and dining room, where Rita was busily scooping empanadas out of hot oil on the stove. Victor and Mattie settled in at the table while she finished up. A noise down the hall brought his head up, as a carbon copy of Mattie rolled into the room in a wheel chair. His hair was trimmed a little tighter and he lacked Mattie’s easy, almost childlike sense of humor, but he was warm and welcoming all the same. Victor elbowed Mattie and chided him about failing to mention his brother was a twin.