“We all know what he’s going through, and it fuckin’ sucks, but he’s the Jagged Outlaws’ president, and his ass needs to be here. It’s like he doesn’t give a shit about what happens to the club.” The others brothers murmured their agreement.
“Yeah, I hear you, and I don’t disagree. It’s just complicated,” Tank replied.
“But he’s the president. If he can’t handle it, he needs to pass the torch to one of the other board members, like Reaper or Snake—they’d both make good presidents,” Lynch retorted.
Silence fell over the men as they contemplated the enormity of the situation. A club with a faltering president was an invitation to disaster, and could cause chaos, dissension, and even war between brothers. Tank couldn’t believe that Raptor didn’t know what was going on. His lackadaisical attitude toward running the MC made it easy for some inglorious bastards to take full advantage of the president’s absence.
“Does Raptor know that Hammer’s lying in Fitzgerald’s bed?” Tank asked.
Maniac shook his head. “Fuck no.”
Anger prickled over Tank’s skin and tightened the back of his neck. “Why didn’t anyone fill me in sooner?”
“Shit’s been a little fucked over here, Tank. We’ve all been split down the middle with our loyalties.” Maniac hung up the pool cue and cracked his knuckles. “No one can get a hold of Raptor, but you’ve got the magic touch. Maybe you can talk to him.”
“Yeah, this is gonna be dealt with. We’re not hired thugs. We left that shit in the dust when Raptor’s pop was running this operation. I’ll have words and see if we can’t get things sorted out before it gets worse.”
“I wouldn’t take too long. Hammer’s got an agenda, and he’s working fast.”
Tank nearly threw his mug at the wall. “If the fucker wants a full-scale takeover, he’s in for a fight. Terrorizing hard-working citizens is old school and ass backward. Going against the word of our prez is more fucked—”
“Don’t get me wrong, Tank, we’re on your side, but who’s gonna correct the fucker? We can’t even get a hold of Raptor, let alone have him whipping these sonsofbitches into shape,” Chainsaw scoffed from his corner, shifting from foot to foot. “We need action, scare him back into line.”
Dread washed over Tank. Shit’s dire if Chainsaw’s opening his mouth. What a fuckin’ mess. The thought of going to war with his own brothers chilled him to the bone. There’s gotta be another way. I have to talk some sense into Raptor.
The deep rumble of Harleys outside the main door drowned out the overhead music. Tank jerked up from his seat, walked to the bar, and poured some bourbon into the mug.
“How many do we have on our side?” He winced at the bitter burn working its way down his gullet and noticed Maniac getting shifty.
“Enough. We got enough,” he answered.
“We need hard numbers, bro. Find out, okay? If Hammer’s taking this shit deep and dirty, we need to be prepared for the worst, and I need to know if we have enough backing to stop this shit in its tracks.”
Maniac saluted with a shit-eating grin before turning serious. “He’ll be here tonight, but we’ve gotta keep things under wraps. No one needs to know anything until we’ve got everyone in line and we know where we stand. We need to play along.”
Tank paced, chewing on his inner cheek. “It’s gonna be damn hard to pretend to suck up to that fucker, but we don’t have much of a choice. We’re here to protect the brotherhood, not watch it crash and burn all to hell.”
They nodded their agreement.
Tank rubbed a hand down his face. “Thanks for the heads-up.”
Maniac shrugged. “We would’ve told you sooner, but we get that shit’s rough with your mom and all.”
“Just keep me in the loop from now on. I’m in this all the way. I’ll even go back to being an active member.”
“We’d love to have you back full-time, dude, but Hammer will get damn suspicious if you switch out your bottom rocker at this point. We gotta play it cool,” Lynch said.
Tank nodded. Of course, he’d go active again in a heartbeat for the club. His loyalty ran deep, but his mother was in a bad way. Ever since her heart surgery, she hadn’t been herself, and he knew it’d be damn hard to be an active member and take care of her, even with the help of the caregivers he’d hired. Throughout his growing years, and even into adulthood, his mom had been his rock. She was his support during a painful and fucked-up divorce, and now she needed him, and he didn’t want to push her to the side. Damn you, Hammer. The mess this jerk was making burned Tank’s ass and caused a mass of conflict to erupt inside of him.
“After we get things squared, we’ll throw you a party when you trade in your nomad patch,” Maniac said.
Tank cleared his throat and shook his head, sensing the warming wash of nothingness invade his skull from the alcohol. “Yeah.”
At the sound of boots vibrating through the room, Lynch whispered, “It’s showtime.”
Tank shifted toward the door and watched as a stream of members walked through it. The last person he wanted to see at that moment was the one bringing up the front of the line. Hammer strode through the clubhouse like he owned it, his shitkickers caked with mud, chin stubbled like he hadn’t slept for days, and his long black hair was tied in a braid, falling right above his flat ass.
Hammer walked over to him and extended his hand. “Good to see your ass around these parts again, Tank.” While Tank tried to make the contact as quick as possible, the asshole used his leverage on Tank’s hand to pull him aside. “We’re gonna need you for a little collections project I got going on downtown. I need more muscle for the job. Can you free yourself up?”
A muscle in Tank’s jaw ticked as adrenaline surged against his temples, but he kept hold of his temper. The asshole was really trying his patience.
“Raptor knows about this project, right?”
“What the fuck? Yeah, of course. It’s been signed, sealed, and delivered with a fuckin’ bow on top. Does that work for you, or are you backing out of your commitments because life has you down?”
He was seconds away from reminding Hammer that he couldn’t say a fucking thing about commitment when Tank was nomad, but a slim little sweet piece inserted herself in-between them, breaking off the conversation. She blinked her fake lashes at Tank, giving him the Bambi eyes.
“We’re finishing up here. Climb up his fucking tree in a bit, slut.” Hammer elbowed the woman out of the way. She whimpered and scurried off.
Tank clenched his jaw. Now wasn’t the time to sink his fist into Hammer’s smug face. The fucker didn’t need to know which way the wind was blowing until he was pissing in it, then it’d splash across his face. For now, though, he had to hold it together, but the asshole made it damn hard.
Hammer squeezed Tank’s shoulder, hard enough to cause a ripple of pain to shoot down his shoulder blade. “Look, I get you’ve been out of the loop, Tank, but that’s no excuse for insubordination. I’m still VP around here and that’s not gonna change, so I don’t fucking appreciate you questioning my authority. I’m giving you a pass this time because I’m feeling generous, and tonight is gonna be a good night with all the sweet butts and booze. But question me again, and I will beat your ass into the ground.”