“That she is.” Sam’s appeared and must have overheard what I said. “Hey, you need us to do anything, Dart? Drum’s just called me and said he’s on his way back.”
I keep forgetting with the others away, I’m the only acting officer here. “Yeah, Sam. We got three presidents coming in tonight, probably accompanied by a man or two. Can you make up the rooms up in the guest house? Get the sweet butts on it.”
She laughs. “I’d rather do it myself. Their lazy asses wouldn’t get anything done, and they’ll need to rest up today if they’re going to be busy tonight.”
That they will. The visiting officers will need some release after their long rides, and our boys will be all too ready to fuck too after dealing with all the San Diego shit.
“Can I help?”
Sam puts her hand on Alex’s shoulder. “No, you just take it easy. We’ve got this.”
She doesn’t need much persuasion. While I can see she wishes she was stronger, her body still healing is taking it out of her. She lost a lot of blood after all. But it’s not long before she gets restless, so I take her outside to the pool and seat her in a lounger where she can watch the kids having fun under the careful eye of Sandy. The two women seem to be getting along well. Although we’re light on men at the moment, and she’s not getting the full Satan’s Devils’ experience, I’m thrilled at how easily she’s fitting into the club. At least her ordeal with Fang and Gator doesn’t seem to have put her off bikers.
After making sure she has a lazy afternoon, I keep a careful eye on her as she helps the old ladies cook dinner, which we then eat, saving a huge pot for the brothers who will be getting here any time now. Then it’s just a waiting game until they arrive. It’s impossible to miss the roaring as they all draw up, making the clubhouse windows rattle and shake, and then they’re all backing into their parking spots.
Asking Sam to make sure Alex and Tyler get back to their suite later, knowing I’ll be tied up the rest of the night, I wander outside.
“Dart! Can you make yourself useful and help Peg and Blade get our visitors up to the storage room?”
“Sure thing, Prez.” Exchanging slaps on the back with my brothers as I pass, I go to the truck where Peg’s just getting Snake out. I’m surprised that he’s still able to stand on both legs, but notice a fair bit of damage has already been done. One eye’s swollen shut, and his nose is crooked and bleeding. There’s more blood on his clothes, suggesting Blade’s been working with his knife. Oh, yeah, and last time I saw him, he had two ears.
Behind him there’s Poke, brought along as he’s the other officer involved. I spare him a look of disgust before I help our sergeant-at-arms and enforcer drag them both up to the last room they’ll ever see—the soundproofed and isolated location we call our storage room kept for precisely times such as these. After tying their hands to chains hanging from the overhead beams, we leave them alone with their thoughts. They know what’s got to happen and it won’t do them any harm to think on it for a bit.
By the time we get back down to the clubhouse our numbers have increased. The other presidents have arrived, and as I thought, each is accompanied by a man or two. Then it’s a waiting game while men take plates and help themselves to some food, visit the heads, or grab drinks from a flustered Jekyll who’s trying to man the bar and keep everyone satisfied, receiving no thanks and just being shouted at to hurry up. Yeah, we’ve all done our time as a prospect. He knows only too well, remaining stoic and taking all the flack thrown at him without complaint is the only way he’ll ever get a patch.
At last Drum shouts for us all to go into church. Jekyll’s now given instructions to find extra chairs.
As I go to take my customary seat, Drummer waves me to Heart’s. When I raise my eyebrows, he shrugs. “Too many of us to have empty seats.” We’d always left his space vacant as a mark of respect when we hadn’t known whether he’d ever come out of his coma. Now, I suppose, it’s a different scenario. Heart’s not here by choice, not because he’s unconscious in a hospital bed.
It seems all the visiting presidents have brought their VPs, which isn’t really surprising. This must be one of the most serious matters the club has ever had to deal with. Crash takes a place next to Red, Hellfire’s brought Demon, and Thor sits down alongside his prez, Snatcher. Drum bangs the gavel and we’re ready to start.
“You know why we’re here. Motherfuckers from San Diego wanted to take over the Tucson chapter, make a bid to have the mother title, and change the direction of the whole club.”
A chorus of outrage greets his summation.
“First off, lets clear the air. Any other chapter have a problem with Tucson?” Drummer’s steely eyes look around the table, ready to meet any challenge.
There’s a shaking of heads and a few “fuck noes.” Everyone sounds genuine to me.
Drum bows his head and takes a deep breath. When he looks up, a few lines have gone from his forehead. “Some time ago, we all met and decided that we were gonna get out, and stay out of the drug trade.” He nods at Wraith, who lost a sister to crack. “If any of you have changed your mind on that front, let’s get it out in the open now.”
Red waves his hand. “Far as Vegas goes, we agree with that decision one hundred percent. There’s enough temptation on the streets without stocking it in-house. Seen too many brothers get tempted and dip into deliveries. I say we’re out and stay out.”
There’s a rap on the table, then Hellfire speaks. “Agree with Red. Pussy and beer keep my crew happy. Don’t have no desire to feed no other appetites. And I got kids, Brother. Don’t want them brought up in a house where everyone’s snorting and wiping their noses.”
Snatcher’s nodding. “Same goes for me. Without the kids that is, Hell.” He lifts his chin to the Colorado prez while chuckles go around the table. “I’m too old to get into that lark. Drugs or kids,” he emphasises, just in case anyone misunderstood.
“Motion carried. Satan’s Devils stay clean on that front. Dart?” I hear my name, then remember I’m supposed to be recording things like this in the book. Hastily I pick up my pen and do so, ignoring Mouse’s smirk.
“Moving on, now we’ve got to discuss the situation in San Diego.”
“We gonna vote on Snake and this fucker, Poke?”
“Yeah, Hellfire. That’s what we’re here for.” Drum pinches the bridge of his nose, and after a second he looks up, his eyes full of emotion. “Never thought I’d see the day when we were voting on whether to send a Satan’s Devils’ president to meet Satan.” He shakes his head sadly as Red, Hellfire, and Snatcher all echo his sentiment.
“Ain’t got no option,” Red says. “Can’t leave them alive. Out in bad standing is far too good after what they’ve done.”
“Getting the club deep in drugs would be enough by itself,” Snatcher starts. “Trying to take out the mother chapter is something else.”
“I agree,” Hellfire says seriously. “Don’t like it, Drum, but we’ve got to get rid of the rot.”
Drummer drums his fingers on the table and takes a moment before he lets out a deep breath. “Let’s vote on it then. Snake and Poke to meet Satan.” His gaze turns stern. “This is a grave step we’re taking here and know I don’t do it lightly. Two members, two officers of one of our clubs. Take a moment, brothers. I need everyone in. One no and we discuss other routes.”
Silence descends, broken moments later by Wraith, who says aye. Blade follows quickly. One by one my brothers pronounce the death sentence. The three visiting presidents and their VPs, including Lost, are all in accord. When the vote gets to Drummer, he agrees with the rest.
I pick up my pen and record the grimmest decision ever taken by the club.
As the seriousness of the situation is sinking in, the quiet is broken by one word. “Prez?”
“Yeah, Lost. Spit it out.”
Lost looks down at his hands, which are twisting together, and then slowly lifts his head as if it’s become heavier overnight. One by one hi
s gaze falls on every man at the table. Only when he’s completed the circuit and met all of our eyes, he begins. “Fuckin’ bad business. I want to assure you, I had no idea we were running a dirty club. Don’t know how we got there, getting on for half the members involved, led by our prez and sergeant-at-arms. Fuck, I just don’t know what to say, brothers. I must have been fuckin’ blind not to see what was going down.”
“You had no inkling at all?” It’s Red who’s asked.
“None, Brother. Sure, noticed a couple had a habit of keeping to themselves, Poke and Snake were getting close, but didn’t think nothing of it. You know how it goes? With the numbers we have we’re not in each other’s pockets all the fuckin’ time.” He gets a few nods at that. “Thing is, Prez, I think you should take my patch. I’m the VP, and I should have seen it happening.”
As people start to protest, Drum bangs the gavel. His voice is cold, unemotional. “Lost is right. After Snake, San Diego is the VP’s responsibility. If we find he’s at fault, then he’s out, and out in bad standing.” My eyes widen. Fuck, I didn’t expect that. That sentence would mean he won’t be welcome in any club. I glance at the man in question, only to see acceptance of his fate already written on his face. He seems to have shrunk and looks a shadow of his former self. To be kicked out of the brotherhood would be a damning result.
Drum continues, “I’ve questioned Snake—”
“Left anything for us, Drum?”
“Yeah, Hellfire.” Drummer’s resolute eyes glare at the interruption. “You’ll get your chance.” There’s cracking of knuckles and men rolling their shoulders. Yup, we all want a turn at the man who betrayed his own club.
“Now focus. Snake was trying to turn his members. He was recruiting carefully and under the radar. The plan was to use easy earnings as an inducement, so he approached the men who could use a new source of income first. Poke is a gambler, heavily in debt. In fact, that was where it started. The sergeant-at-arms got involved by getting himself a loan from the cartel, and they suggested using the club as both mules and dealers to pay it all off. Snake himself was just greedy when Poke ran him through the numbers. Same with the other brothers they got on their side.”
He pauses and sips the beer he’d brought in with him. He’s drinking it slowly, as though wanting to keep a clear head. “Snake knew Lost’s as straight as they come, which is why he was kept well out of it.”
“What was the plan?” Hellfire again interjects. “What were they going to do with anyone they couldn’t get onside?”
Drum’s answer comes quickly. “Kill them, or turn them out bad.”
Growls go around.
“As far as I’m concerned, Lost is in the clear. Can’t know anything if it’s deliberately kept hidden.”
Lost goes to refute Thor’s support, but Drum stops him. “That’s my impression as well. Lost isn’t a drunk, he’s not lazy. He doesn’t go around with his head stuck up his ass.” He breaks off and looks around at everyone much the same way that Lost had done. “My gut feel is we need someone honest who we can trust at the helm. Lost keeps his patch.”
Our approval is shown by the stomping of feet and the banging of hands down on the table. I get out my smokes and pass them around, believing the tension has eased now that decision’s made.
“I disagree.”
I pause with my lighter halfway to my cigarette at the unthinkable objection from Snatcher. All eyes go to where he’s sitting at the end of the table, others, like me, frozen in pose.
“I propose that we make him president of the San Diego chapter. As you said, Drum, brothers there will need a firm hand to guide them, and I’ve heard nothing but good things about Lost.”
“Not our decision to make, Brother. You know the rules, chapter votes their own president in.” Drum closes his eyes briefly, then opens them again. “But we can make a resolution to let it be known he has our support. All our support.” His eyes query Red and Hellfire, who send him back chin jerks.
Lost’s sitting there as if he’s, well, lost. There are tears in his eyes that not only has he got an unexpected reprieve and remains a member of the club, he’s being put forward for top spot. His mouth works as if he’s lost for words. Then at last he manages just to get out a stammered, “Thank you, brothers.” There’s a wealth of emotion in those three words.
Drummer now turns his gaze on me. “I want you to go back down to San Diego, Dart. Lost is gonna need someone to have his six while he gets his house sorted. As long as the president’s vote goes the way I expect it, as long as Lost’s in agreement, I’m proposing you for the VP spot until things settle down. Lost, got any objections?”
Lost turns to me and grins. “Fuckin’ none at all, Prez. Dart’s a good man to have at my back.”
My mouth’s opening and shutting like a fucking fish. On one hand, I’m thrilled Prez thinks so highly of me. On the other, and on a more personal front, I want to stay here and explore where I’m going with Alex. There’s no fucking way she can go back to California while that bastard ex of hers is still breathing air. Finally I manage to stammer out some words. “Fuckin’ overwhelmed, Prez. Don’t know I’m the best person.” Fuck, I never considered myself officer material. I know I’ve been standing in for Heart, but there’s a shitload of difference between secretary and VP.
“From what Slick’s told me, you did everything right. You’ve been taking charge and making good decisions. That’s all we can ask of a second. Any of you fuckers disagree with me? Let’s vote it. Mother chapter proposes temporary VP for San Diego is Dart.”
There’s a unanimous round of ayes, which take me by surprise. Then I hone in on one word he’s said. “How temporary, Prez?”
Drum shrugs. “As long as it takes. Need you and Lost to decide what to do with Snake and Poke’s supporters. We left them on ice at the warehouse. Then you’ll need to kick the others into shape, sift through to find any more that don’t smell good, and go on a recruiting drive, get some prospects in or transfers from other chapters. Get SoCal back up to strength again.”
That sounds like it’s going to take months, if not years. I frown.
Prez is examining me carefully. “You don’t want to leave your woman.”
As I open my mouth to refute I’ve got any claim on her publicly, which would imply a permanency to our relationship, suddenly thoughts flash through my head—not least the curves of her body, the way she felt in my arms last night, the strength she’s shown with all the shit she’s been through, and the guilt I’d felt after I fucked Eva. Then there’s Tyler. Yeah, I’ve come to really care for that kid. I’d told her I couldn’t make a commitment, but perhaps I was wrong.
Knowing I’m going to take shit for this, I let a smile come to my face. “No, Drum. I don’t.”
I’ve got the reputation as a manwhore and rightly deserve it. With the good looks I was born with, I’m a target for the hangarounds when they come to the club. I only have to crook my little finger to get any woman I want. The incredulous looks of my brothers, with the exception of Slick and Mouse, who’d probably seen what was in the cards, almost make me laugh. Almost. I’d gone against club rules and touched an employee.
My thoughts come out of my mouth. “She can’t dance anymore. She no longer works for us, Prez.”
“That point’s debatable, Brother. But I vote we let it pass. From what I’ve seen, you ain’t going anywhere where you’re not wanted. Anyone want to disagree?”
Luckily, they don’t. Wraith even goes so far as to say, “Alex is a good fit with the club. So you’re officially clamin’ her, Brother?”
Am I really doing this? Christ. I think I am. The corners of my mouth turn up as in front of the brothers from my club, and from other chapters, “Yes. I am. If she agrees, I’m gonna make her my old lady.”
Drummer laughs as Red shakes his head. “And another one bites the dust. Is there something in the water in Tucson?” I flip my middle finger toward the Vegas prez.
“Anyone agains
t?”
“Don’t know the bitch, so surely that’s up to Dart.” Hellfire lifts his chin at me. “You making the brother a VP, trust he knows what’s best for the club.”
Lost looks at me. “I want to get back to San Diego tomorrow. Don’t want to leave things up in the air.”
And as quickly as I’ve claimed my old lady, I’ll just as fast have to leave her. But that’s what I signed up for, to do whatever is necessary for the club. “I’ll be with you, Brother.” Even if I don’t want to go.
“Dart’s taking an ol’ lady brings us on to one more thing,” Drummer says.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Dart…
The prez has gotten our attention. I wasn’t aware we had much more to discuss. “Alex, Dart’s ol’ lady, is black,” he begins.
Where’s he going with this? What the fuck does her skin colour have to do with anything?
Before I can say anything, Snatcher leans back in his chair and says it for me. “Bylaws don’t include bitches. If Dart wants to dip his wick in a black hole, that’s up to him.”
Demon nods at his Hellfire, then looks at me. “You gonna have kids? They’d be—”
“Don’t fuckin’ go there.” Mouse is out of his seat and has the Colorado VP out of his chair and up against the wall, his hand circling his neck. Demon flutters his hands in surrender.
“Didn’t mean anything by it. Just pointing out—”
“Sit down and shut the fuck up! Both of you,” Drum thunders. I swear his voice is so loud the room vibrates. Once they take their seats, and the prez has silenced them with a glare, he continues, “Talking of kids, Alex has already got one. A boy, six years old.” He gives everyone that stare, as I sit wondering why the fuck he’s bringing this up at the table. Suddenly his fist hits down on the table. “Tell you this, brothers. If it hadn’t been for that kid’s quick thinking, I might not be sitting here today, and we could have lost other good members of this club.” Now he’s caught their interest. No one speaks, and all eyes are upon him. Drummer’s tense stance relaxes and he sits back. “Boy was upset but knew something was off. Managed to get a warning to me, so we got rolling in time, and gave us the heads-up we were stepping into an ambush.”
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