“First order of business. Stormy.”
I wish there was a table for me to slide under. Yesterday I hadn’t liked the floor literally opening up beneath me, but I’d do anything for that to happen now. Snatcher said I could prospect, but is Drummer going to take that back?
“Snatcher’s told me you returned to the club three weeks ago. Yet I wasn’t informed.” He raises his eyebrow at Snatcher.
Snatcher’s face twists, and for some reason he glances at Pip. “Stormy was more dead than alive. It was a toss-up whether he’d make it. Wasn’t much point informing you until we knew whether he was a corpse or not. Then, well, the imperative was to rescue his woman once we knew about her.”
“You fucked up again, Snatcher. Dead or alive, or anywhere in-between, I had a right to know.”
“I suggested—”
“Shut it, Pip.” Drummer’s steely eyes settle on the man who I doubt has often been told to zip his mouth. “Snatcher’s the one in the president’s chair. You should have no influence over the running of the club, if things have changed—”
“They haven’t.” Snatcher glares at Pip, then his focus moves back to Drummer. “I take full responsibility.” His mouth twists. “We didn’t know who’d beaten him, and we couldn’t rule anything out. Wanted to see if we had a chance to speak to him before I informed you. You could say it was a technicality, he wasn’t actually back at the club, just in the vicinity—”
“Fuck that, Snatcher,” Drummer roars. “What you’re saying is you don’t trust the other chapters. You think one of them came across him.”
“Er, Drum?” Blade’s twirling a knife in his hands. “If he’d been seen in Tucson, we could well have given him a beating.”
“Yes, but…” Drummer’s voice trails off and he grimaces. “Okay, most of the chapters would have wanted their pound of flesh but wouldn’t have half-killed him.”
“I wanted to know what we were dealing with.”
Snatcher’s got Drummer’s full focus. A full minute passes before the mother chapter prez speaks again. I, and I think everyone else is holding their breath.
Instead of addressing Snatcher again, he turns back to me, his hard eyes softening. “No woman should go through something like yours did.” When I dip my head in agreement, he sighs deeply, and moves his head slowly left to right, then repeats the action before he brings it back to centre. “And just when I think it can’t get any worse, you fuckin’ blow up a Satan’s Devils’ clubhouse.”
I smirk. It’s wrong, but I can’t help it. “It was a good distraction. In my defence, I didn’t know how much C4 Gun had been used. He’d found some lethal stuff from somewhere.”
“Lethal in—fuckin’—deed.” Goofy rubs his chest.
Drummer spares him a glance of sympathy, then his face tightens again. “Utah’s a pain in my fuckin’ side. But you proved useful in that business with San Diego—though Lost might have something to say about Swift and Bolt hiding the truth from him.” He pauses and shakes his head as though he’d gotten off track. “Snatcher, you’ve been prez of this chapter since I took over this club and continued to play that role even when Pip came in and took over. I never doubted you were a strong prez. You always showed support for other chapters, and you lost Thumper just a couple of years back. Otherwise, you kept yourselves to yourselves, and I didn’t push that. You didn’t cause trouble but didn’t offer much either. Maybe I gave you too much rope, which I certainly won’t be doing in future.”
“Too bloody right,” Wraith says, his own eyes narrowing.
“Maybe we all need to prove we can work together and build trust between us,” Drummer continues. “I don’t want to lose a charter, and I don’t to break in a new prez. On my part, I agreed Stormy had three months to pull himself together. We’re just inside that. So, if you promise to play nicely with others, I’ll let you keep your charter, Snatch.”
A wave of relief crosses over Snatcher’s face. I’m relieved as fuck. Maybe we got the sympathy vote as we’re now down a clubhouse.
Drummer leaves his place by the bar and walks so he’s standing right to my front. His eyes view me. His expression is unreadable. “Snatcher’s brought you back in as a prospect. I’m sorry, Stormy. It’s too late for that.”
The club won’t be punished for my misdemeanours, no, all that’s going to land on my head. I deserve it, words, even deeds, won’t make them trust me again. All I can pray is that they leave me alive to make a new life with Cat. Back in Kentucky, perhaps. But hell, it hurts.
I left not wanting a team behind me. I’ve returned wanting nothing less. Now it’s all going to be taken from me.
I glance down to where my left hand’s cradling the cast on my right, wishing I could close off my ears and not hear the pronouncement I’ve no place in the club anymore. I knew I should have returned earlier, but even knowing that I’d do it all over again as being with Cat had got my mind back straight, I’m also aware I deserve everything thrown at me.
Drummer’s been quiet for a moment. When he starts speaking next, there’s no doubt he’s making a president’s announcement, as the president, presiding over all our clubs.
“You can take the cut off the man, but you can’t take the Devil out of him. As president of the mother chapter, I propose to vote for Stormy being reinstated as a full member. He’s quick thinking, proved himself as a team player, fuck, a team leader yesterday. We gave him space to get his head out of his ass, and he seems to have done that. Of, course,” I feel his eyes burning into me, and he waits until mine come up to reach his, “that’s what a good woman will do for you.” I just nod, it’s the truth. But I’ll be fucked if Drummer doesn’t continue. “If Utah doesn’t want him, he can transfer to Tucson. Always have a use for good fuckin’ brothers.”
Wait…
“Oh, Prez. I kinda like our clubhouse,” Blade interrupts.
“Over my fuckin’ dead body,” Snatcher growls. “He’s a member for Utah.”
What?
My eyes go to Snatcher, then to Drummer, then back. My mouth drops open. I don’t trust myself to speak in case my ears aren’t working.
“Brother’s fuckin’ naked,” Wraith observes.
“Got his cut right here.” Preacher stands up.
He’s holding the familiar leather which I’d left upstairs as left-handed there was no way I could sew on the prospect insignia. Now the sergeant-at-arms comes over to me and helps me put the cast and my good hand through the arm holes. As it settles on my shoulders, I shake my head.
I’m choked with emotion and it’s hard to get any words out. “I won’t let you down again,” I finally say earnestly.
“You sure you won’t consider a transfer?” Blade asks. I notice he’s now picking his teeth with the stiletto.
I open and shut my mouth, considering he might well have an ulterior motive and have no qualms refusing the offer. “I’m good here, Brother.”
“Hey,” Grinch calls out, his brow furrowed. “What about the fuckin’ beatdown? We’re still doing that, aren’t we?”