Claimed By My Father’s Outlaw

Chapter14

Raine's POV

"I'm telling you, something is going to happen at this Conclave," I muttered, staring out the window of the car as the venue came into view. "I can feel it."

Isla glanced at me from the other side of the backseat. "Oh, God. Raine, you say that every year."

"Yeah, well, this year I mean it." I turned to face her. "I'm watching the Revenants, every single one of them. Especially after what I saw yesterday."

She sighed, adjusting the strap of her bag. "Just be careful, okay? Don't go looking for trouble on purpose."

I waved her off. "Yeah, yeah. I know."

"I'm serious, Raine."

"So am I."

The car slowed to a stop outside the venue and I took a second to really look at my sister. She was wearing leathers like me, but instead of trousers, she had on a beautiful tight leather miniskirt that showed off her pretty legs. Her green shirt fit her perfectly, plus the dark green Iron Serpents patch on her shoulder. Her red hair was layered and styled, falling in soft waves around her face, and her makeup was flawless. She looked like she'd walked out of a magazine.

Meanwhile, I was wearing leather trousers, a plain green round neck and my green patches. And my only attempt at makeup was a slicked back ponytail and hoop earrings.

We were literally wearing the same colors, the same vibe, but somehow Isla looked like a baddie and I looked like the mechanic girl. It had always been like that between us. She was the pretty one. I was the one who fixed bikes.

"Ready?" Isla asked, opening her door.

I nodded and climbed out after her. The air outside was heavy with humidity, not unusual for a May Saturday night in New Orleans. The sound of bikes rumbling filled the lot. Men in different colour patches milled around, laughing, smoking and generally talking trash. The usual.

"Where's Dad anyway?" I asked, scanning the crowd.

Isla shrugged. "I have no idea. He disappeared before we left the house."

I frowned. That was weird. Dad never missed a Conclave. He lived for these things. But then again, maybe he was avoiding me after our conversation yesterday.

That still didn't sit right with me. I knew Dad wasn't some saint; he was probably one of the worst people I knew. But above all of that, my dad lived to weed off anything that could cause problem for his own club. And having Revenants traffick women was the exact thing that would eventually affect us, one way or the other. For him to just dismiss that rubbed me the wrong way.

I looked around, taking in the patches. Dark blue for the Revenants, purple for the Reapers, green for us. But no red. The Crimson Jackals weren't here.

"No Jackals," I muttered.

Isla followed my gaze. "Yeah. I guess they're smart enough to know when to stay away."

That made sense. The Jackals had been causing problems lately, stealing from the other gangs. Showing their faces here would've been suicide.

My eyes kept scanning the crowd, and I hated that I was looking for that Revenant VP. The guy with the stupid bike and the even stupider grin. The guy who'd kissed the smart words right out of my mouth.

Stop it, Raine. It was just a kiss.

Except it wasn't just a kiss. It was a mind-blowing, world-tilting, inside-out kind of kiss that I couldn't stop thinking about. And that pissed me off more than anything.

I shook my head, trying to clear it. I had bigger things to worry about, like the sinking feeling in my gut that told me something bad was about to happen.

"Come on," I told Isla, grabbing her arm. "Let's go inside."

She nodded, and we started walking toward the entrance.

We stepped inside, and the place was loud and crowded, and it STANK. A cigarette smoke cloud was hovering over our heads. Isla wrinkled her nose at the smell. Long tables were set up in rows, and men in patches were everywhere. Revenants and Reapers and Iron Serpents. All crammed into one room and trying not to kill each other. This was the only time of peace between the clubs.

There weren't many women, maybe one for every four guys, if that. Most of them were draped over some biker's arm or sitting quietly in the corner. Isla and I stuck out like sore thumbs.

Eyes followed us as we walked through. Some of those eyes were curious, but most of them were openly hostile, not even regarding the fact that we were daughters of the President of one of these bike clubs.

Isla noticed the stares too. She glared at a guy who was staring a little too much at her buttocks. "What?" she snapped at him. "Never seen a woman before?"

The guy looked away fast.

I stifled a laugh. "Isla! And you're the one telling me not to get into fights!"

"Maybe I should get into a few," she muttered. "Maybe then these cavemen will learn some manners."

We found two empty seats near the middle and dropped into them. Isla crossed her arms, still glaring at anyone who dared to look our way. Isla was fierce when she needed to be. I just kept my head down and tried not to draw more attention than we already had.

Around us, people were already settling in. The energy in the room was tense, it was like everyone was just waiting for an excuse to throw a punch.

Then the leaders started walking in.

The room went quiet and everyone turned to watch as the presidents and their seconds filed in and took their seats at the head of the room.

Dad was one of them. He walked in with his usual swagger, but right beside him was Ambrose, and they looked like they had grown friendlier over the last hour or so.

My mouth fell open.

The leader of the Revenants was the man my dad hated more than anyone. The man whose Vice President my dad had beaten bloody just days ago.

And they were walking in together side by side. Like they were old friends.

"What the hell?" I whispered.

Isla leaned closer. "Is that Ambrose?"

"Yeah."

"Why is Dad walking with him?"

"I have no idea."

It didn't make sense. Dad despised the Revenants. He'd made that clear a thousand times over. So why was he cozying up to their leader now?

I watched them take their seats at the long table up front. Dad sat down first, then Ambrose. They didn't look at each other, but they didn't look like enemies either.

Something was wrong.

Then the door opened again, and the Vice President for the Revenants walked in.

He was wearing his full Revenant patch, his leather jacket sitting perfectly on those broad shoulders. His black hair was packed into a small man bun, and his beard was trimmed just enough to show the hard line of his jaw. All eyes were on him, even the other women in the room.

And I couldn't, for the life of me, stop staring.