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The papers were clutched in my hand. Proof that I owned this dump.
At least Mongrel hadn’t been joking when he’d said he’d gone back to force Victor to sign over the place. It was there in black and white on the contract. My mate had them tucked away in the breast pocket of his cut. My uncle’s signature looked a little shaky—like he’d shat himself as he did it—but it was most definitely his.
I kinda loved it, to be honest. Planned to frame it and hang it over the bar and everything. But first...
I hardly recognized Ivywood Bar. Sure, it had always been a dive. But when mom had run it, she’d taken pride in the place. And so had I. In fact, I’d been single-handedly running this bar since my mother had died, while my good-for-nothing uncle pissed away all the booze and my hard-earned cash. And yet, it had never looked like this when I’d been in charge.
Dear Old Uncle Vick had run my fucking bar into the ground and I was livid.
Viola was standing on one side of me, Addy on the other. The group gathered silently behind, just on the precipice, as we stared in dismay at the hovel which would surely lose its license if an inspector happened by. Good thing those guys were rare in the valley.
The MC boys had—wisely—remained outside.
“And you broke his hand, you say?” I growled.
“Grimm did.” Mongrel agreed, sitting on his bike with his arms crossed over his chest. He could hear me just fine because we had to keep the door propped open due to the smell. My eyes were already streaming. There was a dead rat in here somewhere. Either that or my uncle had curled up and died in a wall. One could only hope.
“And you broke?” I prompted.
I could hear the feral smile in his voice as he answered, “His ribs.”
Apparently, my giant of a mate liked it when I got all bloodthirsty.
“Not enough,” I grumbled.
“I’ll say. All right people,” Viola called out louder now, taking charge. “The cleaning supplies are there. Paint supplies are still in the trunk. We’re gonna want to scrub this shithole—no offense Sasha—”
“None taken.”
“—from top to bottom. Grimm gave me a sexy MC credit card and I’m not afraid to use it. But don’t be wasteful. Throw out anything that’s broken beyond repair and set to the side every piece of glassware or utensil for heavy duty cleaning. That old dishwasher behind the bar is gonna get a workout today. Who wants what?”
My people grabbed gloves, their preferred cleaning supplies, and got moving, chattering excitedly as they went.
“You,” Viola said, pointing at the two MC prospects who’d been riding shotgun and were still lounging on their bikes, recently acquired but as-yet unlit cigarettes hanging out of their mouths. “I would very much appreciate it if you got the furniture out and scrubbed that upholstery down with some disinfectant. Strong disinfectant. Never know what horrors those chairs have been subjected to in a place like this.”
To my utter surprise, the prospects gave my second-in-charge a respectful nod, slipped those cigarettes behind their ears for later, and trotted inside to do her bidding. Silver snickered until Viola turned and fixed him with a beady eye. “You, Silver, are gonna find out what died and clear it out of there.”
“Aw, why do I have to do the shitty job?” Silver whined but cut it off just as soon as Viola lifted an eyebrow.
“No, Silver, you are not doing the shitty job. Talia and I are going to brave the crappers. Unless you want to swap?”
That got Silver moving. Mongrel snorted behind me, loving the bossy side of Viola.
“And what am I supposed to do, boss?” I simpered.
“You’re doing the stock take. And if there’s any chance your shithead of an uncle drank straight from a bottle, we’re tossing it, yeah? Grimm was firm on this fact. We are to buy whatever we need to get ourselves up and rolling, including padding out the inventory to ensure it’s potable. He’s floating us until the customers start returning and sales level out.”
My scowl was back as I stomped inside. “Would’ve preferred to do the crappers rather than owe that alphahole a favor.”
“What was that? You want to send a heartfelt thanks to our generous benefactor? I’ll be sure to pass that on.”
I flipped her the bird and Mongrel caught the finger, drawing it up to his sensuous lips while staring me in the eye. Holy fuck knuckles, this man was hot. Like extreme, I’m burning up in a supernova, kind of hot. He kissed the offending digit then bit down gently on the pad in reprimand.
“Don’t you bad mouth my alpha,” he teased.
I rolled my eyes and went to pull away, but Mongrel laced our fingers together as he matched my let’s-get-shit-done stride across the room. Doing my best to ignore the way my eyes were watering, I really hoped Silver found the source of that smell soon.
“Seriously, though,” my beta murmured, tugging me round to crush against his chest. “Grimm’s trying. You don’t know him yet like I do. This is him offering the olive branch, yeah?”
