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Christmas Comes Butch Once a Year
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Butch was sent to Vegas as a punishment many years ago. For the sins of his past, he must repay in kind. By being close to Ned Walker, he’s found a life for himself and his wife, Cheryl.
However, with the impending birth of their first child, tensions rise. After several failed pregnancies, the fear is there with every day that passes.
For Cheryl, she sees not only that fear for their child, but also the demons that haunt Butch. He’s constantly filled with regret for what he’s done, but she doesn’t know if he wishes to go back to Fort Wills or if he’s ready to stay in Vegas.
He was the child of a Prez. Leading is in his blood. Can he go back to being a club brother, or is it time for him to forge his own path?
Butch must continue to go forward, and to do that, he wants to take The Skulls in a new direction. He wants to help Lash expand them.
Does Butch have what it takes to be Prez? Or will he be stripped of his cut, and finally pushed out for good?
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Knocking back his second glass of whiskey for the evening, Butch knew he should be at home with his wife, Cheryl. She needed him now more than ever. They were getting close to that date when she’d give birth to their first child. They’d had several miscarriages between them, and even though he considered Michael his son, he, in fact, belonged to another man, another club brother who Butch was trying to get along with.
Not that it was hard.
He wasn’t in Fort Wills anymore and hadn’t been for years.
He still wore the Fort Wills patch and was still a member, but he hadn’t been back home in so long now, at least not to stay. Nope, that was for people that didn’t break their loyalty. Not that he ever wanted to be disloyal to The Skulls, but he had been. He had his reasons, and those who knew him and his situation were well aware of them.
The biggest surprise for him was Lacey.
They kept in touch.
They were the only two surviving members of a previous MC, one that had been slaughtered, and the name of which he refused to voice again. It was hard at times not to think about what had happened over the years. For the longest time The Skulls had been his life. Part of his very fucking soul, and now, there were days, he felt like he was no more than Ned Walker’s personal protector.
There was no other word for it. It sucked, big time.
Running a hand down his face to clear the feeling he was experiencing, he tapped the rim of his glass for the bartender to know he needed a refill.
“You know, being here alone, drinking, is not good for a man’s soul,” Ned said, taking a seat beside him at the bar.
“Do you have some kind of radar for where I’m at?” Butch didn’t even bother to turn to look at the much older man. He must be nearing his eighties, but no one actually knew how old Ned was.
Whenever he tried to find out information about the old man, nothing ever came up. Ned had his hand in so many pies it was fucking scary. From drugs, to fighting, to guns, and other shit that he didn’t want to think about, Ned was the go-to for most deals in Vegas.
“Don’t you have people to kill?”
“Probably, but you see, I’ve got you to think about.”
“You’re not going to pretend to me that you care, old man.”
Ned put a hand over his heart. “Damn, son, that hurt.”
Rolling his eyes, Butch watched the bartender fill up his shot glass.
“That’s his last for the night,” Ned said.
“I’m right fucking here, and I didn’t say it was my last one.”
“You’ve got a wife at home that is freaking out twenty-four seven, and I’m not having you hungover on the jobs that I need you to do. Last drink, or do you want to take this outside?”
Butch stared at his glass and figured he could take the old man. However, there were so many rumors when it came to Ned. Some people thought he had some kind of mystic voodoo on his side or at least something that always made sure he won.
The thing about Ned, no one had ever bested him unless they played dirty. The only time he could recall was when Tabitha, Ned’s granddaughter, was a young one, and they’d been attacked. They’d hurt Tabitha, even as they took down Ned.
Thinking about everything he’d experienced with his time of being in The Skulls, it was a wonder he was still sane.
“You’ve got to get home.”
“I’m going to. Can’t a man have a drink after a long day at work?” Instead of knocking the entire thing back, he sipped at it, refusing to rush the pleasure of enjoying his drink.
“You know, when Tiny made the decision for you to come here, I thought it was a big mistake.”
“I fucked up,” Butch said. “It was necessary.”
“You’ve proven to them your loyalty. Enough time has passed, and you’ve done what is right now. You can’t keep bringing up the past. They know everything, and you’re not keeping any secrets anymore. We’re living life the way we have to. It’s the way the world works. No one can hold that against you.”
“You keep secrets from Eva?”
Eva was his daughter and married to Tiny.
“Fuck yeah. Of course, I did. I still do. There’s a lot of shit in this life that she doesn’t need to know.”
Butch wasn’t about to tell him that Eva was sharp as anything and had probably already figured out everything he’d kept from her. That was for him to discover.
Checking the time, he saw it was a little after eleven. He hoped Cheryl was fast asleep.
They were into their eighth month, and because of all the other failed pregnancies, they’d agreed not to have sex.