Rogue

"Have I fucked up in some way?" Hollis asks.

"Na, why?" Lucas answers with a shrug and a sip from the bottle that's been attached to his hand all night.

"Just thought I was past my bouncer duty days," Hollis ventures, hoping to finally draw some information from his friend. There has to be a reason the boss specifically, and adamantly, requested he and Lucas were the only two watching the door tonight. And if anyone here was to know of Finnley's motives it would be Lucas, his number two, his oldest confidant.

"Oh, and I'm not?"

"Touche," Hollis says before taking a sip of his own beer. He wishes it was something stronger. He's aggravated at the menial task thats been given to him tonight, but he's starting to get even more aggravated about Finnley and Lucas being so damn secretive about it.

He wants to push the matter further, but he can tell now isn't the time. Even though he knows Lucas is just rilling him up, there's a distinct shortness to his voice Hollis has come to know as Lucas' warning tone. Come to think of it, Lucas has been rather off all day. Maybe he's just as peeved as Hollis about doing the job of a lowly prospect.

"The princess is supposed to come tonight," Lucas finally says, his tone bored as if Hollis should know that's tonight. Granted, a more seasoned member probably would have been able to decifer that Finnly wanted his vice president and sargeant in arms to intercept the princess instead of some overzealous kid. But if this princess is important enough to need a high ranking member to escort her through the clubhouse, then Finnly should've thought it important enough to clarify that with them.

Hollis cuts his eyes at Lucas. He's looking out through the mass of people gathered in the front yard, only a small fraction of the crowd gathered tonight, clearly searching for the infamous princess. Hollis wonders again, this time to himself, why he needs to be here. Lucas clearly knows who they're waiting on. Receiving guests has never been a two person job. Hollis has half a mind to kick off and find someone to entertain him for the night. Finley might get mad that he didn't see the assignment through, but Hollis knows he won't stay mad for long. So long as someone's there to greet her and escort her through the mob of bikers and beauties filling the house and the yard, what does it matter who it is?

Nevertheless, Hollis settles back against the door frame with a swig of his beer. His rigid loyalty will keep him in place until the task is complete. He's sacrificed more than an evening for the sake of his club before. As annoyed as he is, he can play the golden retriever role assigned to him for the night.

But the aggravation at being kept just barely inside the loop pushes Hollis to prod more. "And this is our princess?"

"Technically, " Lucas says, the irritation evident in his voice.

"Huh," Hollis muses over the last swallow of beer. "How does that work?"

Lucas raises an eyebrow as if to ask what he means before pulling a prospect away from the pass around he's attempting to flirt with to fetch us another round. The prospect looks visibly upset, but he hurries to fulfill Lucas's request anyways. Hollis laughs inwardly. The prospects are all convinced subservient behavior to all patched members will help them join the ranks. Finnley isn't looking for that, though. Yes, the respect shown to higher members is important. However, if he was here, Finn would be more impressed by a prospect who told Lucas he was busy, even if busy just meant trying to get his dick wet. Blind service means nothing. Dedicated service built on loyalty is what he looks for when putting the prospects through the ringer. Hollis had learned that the hard way. Lucas had knocked the shit out of Hollis for questioning him, but Finnley respected him a lot more after that.

"I mean, I'm no expert in this lifestyle, " Hollis presses on, "but isn't the princess supposed to be his daughter? Finn doesn't have any kids. "

"I wouldn't let him hear you say that, " Lucas says. He looks around as if checking to make sure the coast is indeed clear, but the wicked smirk twisting his lips hints he wouldn't mind the show that would inevitably happen if Finnley did hear that statement.

"You know what I mean. "

"She was his princess long before we were a club. Kind of fitting actually, " Lucas adds after a minute of contemplatiom.

"How's that?"

"Because she never got to be a queen. "

The prospect returns with two new beers. Unfortunately for him, his Barbie look-a-like has already been snagged by someone else. Hollis felt for the kid, but that didn't stop him from ribbing him along with Lucas. The laughter stops and Hollis perks to attention when a car slows to a stop in front of the gate. His hand instinctively slides to cover his piece, thinking the worst as the occupants of the unknown vehicle remain inside for far too long. Hollis curses himself for being too caught up in nonsense to notice the car approach in the first place. Finally, the back door opens and a pair of long, tan legs swing out gracefully. A tight black dress soon joins the legs, but a curtain of long blonde hair blocks Hollis' view of her face. He catches himself waiting with baited breath to see whether or not it matches her hot body.

She closes the door and turns towards the house, her hair fanning out in a way Hollis thought only happened in the movies. Now that he can fully see her, Hollis notices two things. The first being that her face is indeed a beautiful match to her smokin body. The second that he already knows her.

She strides through the gates. Hollis tries not to blink as he watches her, convinced she'll disappear as soon as he does because she must be a hallucination. As wild as that thought is, its the only explanation. She hates the club. She'd made it incredibly clear she wanted no part of it, so there's no way she's willingly walking up to the front door of the clubhouse now.

"Woo hoo hoo," Lucas exclaims, jerking Hollis' shoulder back and forth. This jarrs him from his thoughts and starring. When he looks back, she's still walking their way. Hollis can't believe it. He wonders briefly if she's here to find him, to tell him she'd made a mistake and wants him back. Those thoughts pause when Lucas excitedly says, "It's game time boys," before stepping towards her.

Hollis pushes himself away from the doorframe. If Lucas is going to abandon post, Hollis knows he should stay and cover, but he has to stop Lucas from reaching her. He can't tell whether he wants to protect her from a member of the club she apparently hates or if he just doesn't want Lucas hitting on her. Either way, he needs to stop this.

She pushes through the pair of boys effortlessly as if they aren't even there. She doesn't make eye contact or even say a word, which hurts Hollis more than he's willing to admit. But at least the situation is over. She isnt here for him, and she isn't swayed by Lucas's devilish charm like every other girl around here. Hollis resigns himself to going back to his post to wait for the "princess" when he catches sight of Lucas rushing to catch up to her. He briefly considers letting the whole issue go before deciding to chase after them.

"What? No hello?" Lucas asks her. When she doesn't respond, he holds his hand to his chest in mock pain. "Aw, now that just hurts."

She snubs him again, but Hollis notices she doesn't squirm away from his touch when Lucas places his hand at the small of his back and redirects her towards another room. Hollis is puzzled by how comfortable she looks walking through the rowdy house. Besides being in the midst of the same motorcycle club she'd screamed about hating, she had never been a partier before. The dress clinging to her feminine curves must have been tucked in the back of her closet because Hollis had never so much as seen it on a hanger. Yet, she seems to blend in seamlessly with the other scantily clad blondes wondering around them. She isn't swayed by the dirty looks a couple of those girls throw her way, clearly jealous of her close proximity to Lucas.

Hollis knows he should say or do something. He can't think of the right thing, though, so he just trails along behind them. His heart races when the trio reaches the door to Finnley's office, which Lucas knocks on. Now Hollis only has seconds to get them away from the door before Finn opens it and sees them there. He might've toyed with the notion of leaving his post earlier, but Finn would be furious to see them here, even more so when he sees her. Finn doesn't consider a piece of ass, no matter how hot it is, an excuse to mess up. Hollis has seen first hand how poorly that excuse works.

"Come in," Finnley calls.

Before Hollis can stop him, Lucas opens the door and gestures her to enter with grand flourish. Finnley doesn't look up from the drink he's pouring at the small bar in the corner as she walks in and stands brazenly in front of his desk. She waits silently as Finnley adds sprite to the highball glass, something Hollis has rarely seen him do. Finnley finally looks up. Hollis braces himself for the lecture to come. He's taken aback when Finn grins at the pair waiting in the doorway and then at the attractive blonde in his office.

"Welcome home, Emmie."

* * * * *

"I'd hardly call this home, Finn."

Finn's grin doesn't falter despite my attempt at sounding dismissive.

"What happened to home is where ever we're together?" he asks.

He strolls towards the desk, obviously not as affected by our proximity as I am. I wrinkle my nose at his offer of the drink he'd just made. Finn tutts his disapproval.

"Think that little of me, Emmie?"

I draw my lips into a tight line at his remark. The irony isn't lost on me, and judging by the smirk on his face it isn't lost on Finn either. At least now I know Finnley remembers the words I'd hurled at him in anger just as well as I do. It'd been so long since we'd last talked that I'd thought Finn had forgotten about me. In fact, I'd thought the invitation to the clubhouse had been a fluke or a cruel joke. I'd wrestled with accepting it for days before deciding to show up if only to ask what game he was playing by reaching out so nonchalantly.

I reach across the thick mahogany desk between us, yank the glass from his hand, and take a sip. I'm determined to keep the upper hand here. Just because I came when summoned doesn't mean I'm here for Finn to walk all over.

"Good girl," Finn murmurs, making me choke on the drink. "Thank you boys. I've got it from here," he says in an obvious dismissal of the pair that led me here.

It takes everything in me not to turn around. It took a great deal of restraint to ignore Hollis like that. I hadn't seen him since our break-up six months ago. I'd known running into him here tonight was a possibility, but I was almost thrown off my game when he was the first person I saw after stepping out of the Uber. All of the pep talking I'd done on the way over almost went out of the window. Meeting with Finnley is hard enough, but I've had a lot longer to run through this scenario than I've had to imagine what would happen next time I saw Hollis. I'm not prepared to face him, especially not in the same place I'd told him I'd never enter before pushing him out of my apartment.

I breathe a slow sigh of relief when the door clicks closed behind us. Not that being alone with Finn is going to be a cake walk, but it would feel like one compared to being in a room with him and Hollis.

Finn gestures towards a chair on my side of the desk. He waits until I finally sit down before turning back towards his bar. He doesn't add anything to his whiskey, so it doesn't take long for him to take a seat in the large, leather wing back chair on his side of the desk. He takes a sip from his drink, dragging out the anticipation of why he called me here. My patience is wearing thin, but Finn exudes a confidence that declares he's in charge. Something in me balks at the tough facade I'm struggling to maintain and submits to waiting on him.

I take advantage of waiting to study Finn. He'd definitely grown in the past few years. Last I'd been this close to him, he'd been more boy than man. There are no remnants of youth left in the person sitting across from me now. His boyish face has transformed into a chiseled jawline hid beneath a light five o'clock shadow. His dark hair is still unkempt. However, it looks less like a disheveled mess and more like an intentional act to elude to post-sex bedhead. The trick works, because one look at the strong arms peaking out from the sleeves of his black t-shirt and that's exactly where my mind goes next. Granted, I already know what he's capable of in that department. So much else has changed about him, though, that the devil on my shoulder is curious to know how much that has changed as well.

Finn lifts his glass to his lips which makes his arm flex slightly. The action drags my attention away from studying the inked drawings covering nearly every inch of his arm. I fight the urge to bite my lip. Finn chuckles lowly, snapping me back to my senses. I flick my eyes back to his. He smirks at me as if he can tell the devious thoughts I was just having. I scowl at him.

"So," I say sharply. I'm tired of waiting, and I need to take control back if I want to get out of this room unscathed. "Did you summon me here just for a drink?"

"Among other things." Finn winks, but I steel myself against his charm. I'd slipped once. I won't do it again. "How've you been, Emmie?"

I grit my teeth at his repeated use of my nickname tonight. I want to correct him, but the glint in his eye stops me. He's toying with me. Pushing me as far as he can to get a rise from me. I relax myself and force a smile, not ready to hand control back over to him so easily.

"Good. Busy, but clearly not as busy as you I see." I wave a hand around the room for emphasis though we both know I'm referring to much more than what's within these four walls. I'd stopped keeping track of Finn years ago, but even I know the depth of Finnley's reach in this town. Plus, Hollis's revelation that the motorcycle club he'd in is actually Finn's had caused me to do a little digging, though that didn't produce as much information as I'd have liked.

Finn chuckles again, but there's no humor behind the sound. "Yeah, well, idle hands and all that."

"Well you've certainly risen to the challenge."

I sit back against the cool leather seat and and take a victory sip of my drink, pleased to see his smirk finally falter. My words might not have affected him much, but repeating Griffin's words sure have. I watch Finn fight to reign his anger in over the rim of my glass. Pain flashes in his eyes, sparking my own hurt to the surface. I fight the urge to console him. It's not like he was ever there to console me.

"Not like I was given much choice."

I toss back the rest of my drink to swallow any residual sympathies I might give him. I slam the glass down on the desk a little harder than necessary before standing.

"Well, it's been fun, but next time you wanna catch up, feel free to just text me," I call over my shoulder, already halfway to the door.

"I'm going to take down Griffin," Finn says, his tone even despite the rage I can sense bubbling under the surface.

I freeze with my hand on the door knob despite every fiber of my being screaming at me to walk away. But I know walking away isn't an option anymore. Not after that statement.

Finn smirks when I turn back around. I struggle to match his cockiness, but there's no use. He's got the upper hand, and he knows it.

"I'm serious, Emmie," he says, his smug features warping to match his message. "I'm taking him down. I want you to be a part of it."

Finn waits patiently for my reply, which I finally give by making my way back to the seat I just abandoned. Finn lowers himself back into his own seat. Once again, he seems perfectly content in drawing this out. Again, I concede to his authority and his agenda. I watch him silently, afraid of what I might say if I speak. Afraid I might back out of partaking in my long awaited revenge, yet just as afraid of doubling down and committing to a plan I so desperately want to be a part of. My throat suddenly feels dry, as if the words I'm holding in are burning me. I eye the empty glass I had slammed down earlier. Picking up on my gaze, Finn swipes the glass and brings it back to his mini bar for a refill.

I exhale sharply once his back is to me. This is crazy. I should leave. Revenge would be sweet, but it isn't mine to take. I'd given this situation over to God years ago, just as we were taught growing up. Finn returns with my drink just as the devil on my shoulder pipes up to ask what good that's done me. Griffin is still out there thriving while we've suffered. Maybe it's time we take control back...

I greedily take the glass as soon as it's offered, tipping it back immediately to drown any possible rebuttal. I nearly drain the glass in one drink.

"I'm in," I blurt as soon as I've pulled the glass from my lips.

Finn, who looks as if he was about to say something, closes his mouth. Surprise flashes across his features before he composes himself.

"Are you sure?" I nod my reply. Finn tilts his chin downward to even our gaze. "Are you sure?" he asks again. His tone is so authoritative that I have no choice but to verbally reply.

"Yes." I clear my throat, unhappy with how small my voice sounds in comparison to his, and take another sip of whiskey.

"I know I'm asking a lot of you, and it's okay if you want to walk away."

"I said I'm in," I quip, some of my own attitude coming back in my tone at his repeated attempts at confirmation.

Finn holds his hands up defensively. "I just want to make sure you know what you're agreeing to here. That you'll be able to see it through once your convictions set in."

"I'm very comfortable in my spirituality, thank you."

"We're not talking about sex and underage drinking anymore, Emerson," he snaps. The shortness in his tone paired with my full name make me shrink back in my chair a bit.

The weight of the situation begins to hit me, and I regret getting an attitude with him. He's grown quite a bit in the last couple of years. I can't even begin to imagine the morale dilemmas he's faced building his motorcycle club into what it is today. That is if he still has any religious pressure remaining. Not like I haven't noticed the seat next to his parents at church has remained empty for years now. Meanwhile, his statement is correct. The philosophical discussions we used to have with his brother, Rowan, are still the hardest morale struggles I've ever faced.

"I- I know," I finally concede.

Finnley stares me down a moment longer before finally relaxing back into his seat. He sighs and rubs a hand over his face.

"I'm sorry," he says softly. "I just need to make sure you're really committed. Because once you're in, there is no backing out."