My preferred way out is obviously shared, but I’m probably the one who’s most vocal. I’m also in the minority.
To my disgust, the conversation proceeds in a different direction. Why are they even discussing bringing him into the club? Roadrunner’s got nothing to offer—he has no military experience—all he fucking knows is how to ride a bike. It’s clear as the fucking nose on your face, he’ll never fit in here. But I’ve said my piece. All I can do is listen and watch as they make a mess of things.
What comes next makes me snort a laugh—perhaps it’s a good punishment of a sort. They’ve teamed him up with Swift. Good luck with that. He might keep his life, but his balls are in serious danger. Roadrunner’s not going to make the grade in this chapter, and Swift won’t take prisoners. Maybe Road has been given a death sentence. I’ll just wait for the fireworks, it should be a good laugh.
But it turns out no one finds anything amusing when Swift gets kidnapped. Hell, I might hate the bitch, but however I feel about it, she wears our patch. And would you fucking believe it? It’s actually Road that ends up rescuing her. She’s soon back, not undamaged as she’s missing a fucking finger, but she’s still breathing. It could have been worse.
What’s more surprising, instead of seeing Road as an imposter, someone who shouldn’t have stepped foot in the club, they’ve done more than team up together. He’s tamed the bitch, or maybe she’s tamed him. Whatever, quickly they pass the friendship stage and become lovers.
This club is fucked up. Who needs members fondling each other at the table?
Jesus H Christ.
“Pip?” I walk into his office. “This isn’t fuckin’ working. I need my nomad patch back.” Before I go stark raving mad.
“Not getting it.” He doesn’t even look up, just continues shuffling some paperwork on his desk.
“Prez—”
“Stormy! I said fuckin’ no.” This time he does shift his attention. “I need you close. I can’t afford to have you—” He breaks off. His eyes shoot to the door, aware, just as I’ve become myself, of a commotion outside. “What the fuck?”
When he stands, I’m right there with him.
When he comes to an abrupt halt, I’m there sucking in air beside him.
I might never have met the man, but have no problem immediately recognising who our visitor is. I know it’s bad fucking news, and exactly what Pip had been trying to avoid. Drummer, the mother chapter fucking prez, and his top team have come all the way from Tucson.
Immediately I suspect Road, but apparently he did nothing to warn him, but given Drummer’s renowned sixth sense, it was that non-warning which caused an alert all was not right in the Utah club. Not right for Drummer that is, perfect for us.
It’s not just Drummer we have to worry about, he summons the prezes of the other Satan’s Devils chapters—Red, from Vegas, Lost from San Diego and Demon from Colorado. Our fate is to be discussed and decided. Fuck. Two out of the four will have no reason to love me when what I’ve done comes to light.
As Pip had thought and I’d dismissed because as always, I knew better, I fucked up by taking the hits from San Diego and Colorado.
Just like all those years back at the admiral’s mast, I’m going to be busted out of the life that I love. I might not want to sit around the table with the club members, but losing my patch? Not even being nomad? How can I live with that?
Should I sacrifice myself? Give up my patch to save my brothers? Or, hang on for the course. I decide to wait and see what transpires in one of the most serious meetings I’ve ever attended in my life. The admiral’s mast was easy compared to this.
I sit, my whole body tense, wondering whether I’ll be able to justify myself.
The first item on the agenda is Swift. I almost feel sorry for her. I might not like her, but it’s clear she’s found something here she was looking for, and I don’t mean her relationship with Road. Like me, though more honourably, she lost her military career, but discovered her place here. Now she’s going to lose it. If I can’t save myself, maybe I can put in a word for her.
I try to speak, but Thor gets in first with his fist to my stomach. I wait a moment before I attempt it again. Leaning away from the enforcer, I open my mouth. I almost surprise myself with the words that come out.
“Swift is as good, if not better, than any fuckin’ man around this table. Me fuckin’ included. I have no problem riding beside her. Hell, half the time I forget she’s any different to anyone else.” I might not have said that a few days ago, but she’s impressed me. Maybe it was how she dealt with being kidnapped.
They toss it around for a while, and the outcome is, Swift stays in the club. If it wasn’t against my character, I’d give her a thumbs up.
Pip, though, he’s not so lucky. He is the reason the club keeps what it does under wraps, and what seals the deal against him? Well, though he’s well balanced on his prosthetics, his two fake legs mean he can’t ride a bike. Pip’s out, but to be retained as a consultant, and Snatcher steps back into the top spot.
This meeting is tiring, and I suppose I’m still to be discussed. There’s another delay when Swift is voted in as fucking enforcer.
I suppose she’s got the skills, but hell. As if a female member isn’t bad enough, but as enforcer? That’s a fucking joke, isn’t it? But it seems it’s not.
When proceedings move on, the expected heat comes down on me. Yeah, seems they didn’t like me taking the kill shots for them.
It’s Lost, who speaks first. “Your excuse, as I understand it, is that you didn’t fuckin’ trust us to interrogate our captives. You fuckin’ thought both Demon and I would see the lure of lucrative deals instead. What the hell do you fuckin’ take us for?”
I have to defend myself. My hand crashes down onto the table. “I don’t know you,” I yell. “Yeah, it was unlikely, but Major and Alder were experts at twisting things to suit themselves. If enough money was on the table, you might have been tempted. I had the shots, so I took them. Problem solved.”
“You took the shots because it was a fuckin’ challenge.” Drummer’s correction thunders down the table. “I don’t buy your suspicions for a fuckin’ moment. You were showing off. What the fuck is your problem, Stormy?”
“I ain’t got a problem,” I say sullenly.
“From where I’m sitting, you have,” Drummer snarls.
Blade, the Tucson enforcer, offers to extract answers from me. I want to curl my fingers around beckoning then backing it up with the words, bring it on. But I stay silent.
Drummer looks like he’s seriously considering Blade’s offer for a second, but shakes his head. “No, he deserves to have his patch taken and sent out in bad standing.”
The blood drains from my face. “You-you’re sending me out bad?” I swallow hard. This, I did not expect. Take my patch, yeah. But to be prevented joining another club and being a target for any biker to take a shot at me? They’d do better to kill me instead.
I sit stunned, oblivious to the words continuing to fly around me. When Swift opens her mouth, I wonder whether she’s going to throw me to the wolves. I wouldn’t blame her, I’ve never tried to be friendly.