Free Death Lords Motorcycle Club: Chelsea and Wrecker (The Motorcycle Clubs Series) by Ella Goode Page A

have some left over.” She slides me a glance. “Unless you’ve got your own expenses you don’t want anyone to know about. You should stay away from that Ellerby kid. Drugs’ll kill you.”
    I lean my head into my hand. Great. Now the entire club will think I’m doing drugs.

4
    WRECKER
    “ Y ou know you can tell me anything, Chelsea,” Judge says as we’re clearing the dishes.
    Chels made tacos for dinner which were great, as all her food is, but didn’t say a word. She’s got worry written all over her face and Judge knows something about it. He’s been talking around the edges the entire night but I don’t think it’s about the two of us because his questions have solely been directed at her.
    “I know, Judge,” she mumbles.
    “Spoke to Helen today. She said you didn’t give her all of the money she needed.”
    Chels explodes. “It’s so wasteful, Judge. We could all bring food without spending a dime. Besides, I gave her five hundred.”
    “I okayed fifteen hundred,” he says quietly. “I appreciate you being a good steward of the club’s money but I don’t want you slaving over a hot stove cooking for the party. I want you and all the other folks to enjoy themselves. We can afford to foot the bill for the food and everything else. This is a way for us to celebrate Wrecker’s release and strengthen ties with our allies. The catered food says we are flush whereas a potluck might signal we’re struggling. We need to make sure everyone knows we’re doing well.”
    Chelsea clenches her jaw and then gives a short nod. “I’ll give her the money tomorrow.”
    “Not to make you more upset, but I want you to give her the rest. The Williston club is having guests and I told them to bring everyone up.”
    His words make her pause halfway between the table and sink. Judge is washing up so he can’t see her white face but I do. This fight about the money is so damned odd that I know I’m missing something. Something’s eating at Chelsea hard and I want to get to the bottom of it, but it’s clear she’s not saying a word while Judge is around.
    I take the plates from her. “Go on. We’ll finish up here.”
    She nods in short jerky movements and then flees to her bedroom. When her door slams shut, Judge and I flinch.
    “Are you—”
    “When you—”
    We both talk at the same time. He nods and says, “Go ahead.”
    “Are you really upset with how Chelsea’s handling the petty cash fund for the club?”
    He scrubs the plates and rinses them before he answers. “No. Helen called me and said that she saw Chelsea giving money to Sean Ellerby. Must be for drugs.” He’s so wrapped up in his concern over Chelsea’s supposed drug use that he doesn’t notice that I almost break two plates when I hear Sean’s name. “I never saw the signs. When you two were up in Big Stone did you see any signs of it? She must be shooting up under her nails or something cuz I haven’t seen any signs on her arms.”
    “It’s not drugs,” I say in a tight voice. I’m trying to keep my anger locked down but it’s not easy.
    “How do you know?” He sounds skeptical. He’s really saying that I’ve been gone from the family for three years and I don’t know anything. I open my mouth to tell him that Sean’s likely blackmailing Chelsea but then clamp it shut. She’s not going to want to say anything. I’ve already fucked up by not making Ellerby my first priority when we got home. I underestimated the snake. I thought I’d talk to him this weekend, take him down to the gulley and beat some sense into him away from the police.
    “I just know,” I say. I quickly wipe and stow the rest of the dishes. “I’ve got an errand to run. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”
    He nods absently, still caught up in his worry over Chels. As I reach the door, I turn back. “If Chels asks, say I went to the club.”
    Judge gives me a piercing glare. “You seeing a woman tonight? You be careful, son. Don’t