“Anything to avoid, Stormy?”
Grinch snaps me out of my reverie, but I don’t understand his question.
He takes pity on me. “When we give you a beatdown.”
“His head, probably,” Goofy says, knowingly. “Unless we want to beat the sense back out of him.”
Mystic flexes his fists making his knuckles crack. “Oh, I do love a good beatdown. How about you, Storm?”
“Depends which end I’m on.” My statement makes them crack up. I don’t doubt they’re looking forward to it. A beatdown just short of death serves two purposes, one a punishment for the man being beaten, and hell, I can’t deny I’ve wronged the club badly. The second? Well, once a man’s used his fists, all crimes are forgiven. I’ll be starting again with a clean slate, albeit sporting a prospect rocker on the back of my cut and a few additional bruises. Idly I wonder whether it will be my original cut, or did they destroy it when I’d walked out?
That’s if that’s even on the cards. I find myself hoping they are going to beat the hell out of me, it will mean I’m back in the club. Snatcher’s given me no indication whether the sentence will be carried out, of if once everything’s sorted, we’ll part company, and next time I won’t be welcomed back.
Brute swings by the table and leans down. “She’s eaten everything but drunk no alcohol.”
That doesn’t surprise me. Cowboy goes all out, his meals would tempt the dead to rise from their graves, though I admit, it hadn’t had that effect on me. I risk a glance over at her, pleased to see her smiling. While I hate being apart from her, I know she could do with some space. During our altercation it was obvious her mind was all over the place.
Dessert has come and gone, most of mine devoured by the ever-hungry Mystic when I notice Honor and Duty rise and leave the table. I eye the spaces they’ve left behind, wondering whether I can go and join Cat. I’m still deliberating when Igor starts making the rounds.
“Church in fifteen,” he says, approaching our table.
“Us too?”
Goofy, Grinch and Mystic live at our old clubhouse and maintain a typical MC front for the club, and aren’t required when the discussion is about the business side of the club. But as Igor nods and Grinch groans, seems tonight they don’t get a pass.
As brothers finish up, taking dirty plates to be stacked on the counter, I stay where I am. I’ve no position here, and while it hurts, I know won’t be invited into church. My sense of loss abates when I decide I’ll take my chance to talk to Cat again. Maybe I’ll take her up to the clubroom and show her around, see if I can play pool one legged and one-handed. Leaving her on her own to stew and think about things wouldn’t be good for her to my mind.
“Whatcha doing?” Snatcher stops by my side. He’s frowning at me.
“Waiting for the room to clear, then I thought I’d take Cat upstairs.” I stare over at the woman who I’m still treating as mine.
“Need your ass in church.” His tone is gruff.
Yeah? That takes me by surprise. My initial enthusiasm fades. “I can’t leave Cat, not here with the prospects.”
“Take her up to the clubroom and switch on the TV. I’ll speak to Brute and make sure he looks after her.”
Brute might scare her. “Either that or she can wait in my room.” It’s not ideal. I don’t want her to be alone. It seems I don’t have a choice.
Gears is manning the front desk, so I first go to him, explaining under no circumstance is he to let Cat leave. Next I swing my way back into the cafeteria where Cat’s now sitting alone, watching Brute and Igor rinse then stack the dirty plates into the dishwasher.
She turns as she hears the clack of my crutches on the floor.
“I’ve got to get into church,” I tell her. “If you want, you can go to the clubroom. Brute or Gears will keep you company, and you can watch TV.”
“I’m tired, Finn. Can I go back to the room?”
It’s an excuse, but it’s easy to understand why she’s wary of spending time with strange men. I lead the way, and unlock my door. “Stay here, okay? I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“I’ll just go to bed early, Finn.”
I don’t bother to tell her I’ll be with her anyway. Sitting on the chair if I have to. There’s no way in hell I’ll leave her to her nightmares tonight.
I’m the only man walking into church who isn’t wearing a cut. I feel naked, excluded, as if there’s no place for me anymore. Also telling is how they scramble to bring in an extra chair, then all move up one until there’s space to place it. It puts me next to Road. Without being asked he takes the crutches and props them up against the wall behind.
Snatcher bangs the gavel and the room goes quiet. For a moment he doesn’t speak. When he does, I’m not surprised the topic is me.
“Your woman coped with her introduction to us.”
“She did. But she’s wary.”
“She needs time,” Swift says softly. “I like her for you, Stormy.
“We’ve got decisions to make about you, Stormy.” Snatcher seems impatient to move this along.
I hold out my non-cast-covered hand in supplication. “You’ve heard what I have to say, even I know I can’t justify myself. I knew I’d made a mistake the moment I took off my cut. But I couldn’t turn around and come back.” I take a breath and remind them, “Even before Cat was taken, I decided to return to the fold, prepared to take the beatdown or worse and to prospect for the club.”
“Or worse?” Thor parrots. “You think we’d put you down like a rabid dog?”
I shrug. “If that fits. But in that case, I want a promise you’ll make sure Cat is safe.”
Out of the corner of my eye I notice Honor tapping the table impatiently, making me recall it was after he’d received a call that we’d convened. I start to doubt my future is the reason for this meeting.
Snatcher confirms. “Words are words, Stormy. We,” he moves his gaze around the table, “will abide by the terms originally set. You are at this meeting as a courtesy only. From the moment you leave this room, you’ll be a prospect. Thor?”
The VP shoots something down the table toward me. It’s a prospect rocker. What can I do but pick it up and give a respectful nod toward the man I can once again call Prez? I knew I couldn’t come back as a full member, and hey, it’s better than being out of the club. The sympathy vote for my injuries was one I had no right to expect.
“I won’t let you down, Prez.”
As Snatcher looks dubious at my comment, Preacher narrows his eyes. “Your beatdown’s coming, Stormy.”
Again, I just nod. I know what to expect.
“Honor?” Snatcher changes the subject.
The brother addressed wastes no time. “Gun’s reared his head. I’ve got a ping on his location. The fucker’s in San Diego.”
“We calling on Lost to pick him up?” Swift asks.
Prez shakes his head. “Not happy bringing another chapter into this when it’s not their fight.”
“We work as a team,” Preacher states. “Each of us knows our part. Strangers might not help us. We can’t blow this, we’ve got one chance when he’s got careless, so we go in heavy and make no mistakes.”