“Yeah. We got your back.” Maniac didn’t even hesitate, already making his way toward the front door as Tank flexed his numb fingers and tried not to focus on the acrid smell of burning fabric, plastic, and wood charring his nostrils. “I’ll call the others that are on our side. We’ll do an emergency meeting.”
“You can count on us,” Lynch said, and Ice nodded in agreement.
Nodding, Tank was unable to look away from the burning blaze as sirens flared to life in the distance. About damn time. Something had to be done to put a stop to the bullshit, or the club was going to get ripped in half trying. The club was supposed to make Santa Teresita a better town by keeping bad shit out, and not destroying it for Hammer’s or Fitzpatrick’s greed. It was time the members took the bull by the horns.
An hour later, members crowded the great room of the clubhouse where Tank was holding court. He didn’t even bother calling Raptor. The dude had made it clear he had enough on his plate, and his head and heart weren’t with the club. Tank had seen the despair and defeat in Raptor’s eyes the day he’d gone over to confront him. At this point, Tank wasn’t sure if the brothers could count on the president.
The members were clearly assembled in varying tribes—those who were with Raptor, and those who sided with Hammer.
Tank wasted no time laying into his brothers. “Seeing the room divided like this only makes us weak as hell, and you all know it. I don’t know what the endgame is here, or what we think we’re playing at, but if we bend the law any further to line our damn pockets, we’re gonna bring the Feds breathing down our backs, and destroy our town. Did you consider that in your plans?”
Hammer sat with his followers on the other side of the room, his boots up on the coffee table, a sick, satisfied smirk on his mug. Clearly the fucker didn’t have a care in the world. Tank was seriously starting to consider that the asshole was a sociopath, beyond saving, and they just needed to vote the waste of space out of the club once and for all, but he knew that he or any other member couldn’t initiate that or put it in motion without the president on board.
Hammer stretched and put his hands behind his head. “I don’t see any problem with it. The dirtbag wouldn’t pay up. You know we don’t tolerate that kind of disrespect. We’re not doing anything but covering our asses, protecting our name, and getting our dues. It’s all above board from my and Raptor’s view of things. You remember Raptor, don’t you, Tank? He’s the fuckin’ president, not you. And if you have a fuckin’ problem with it, then that’s on you, because I don’t see what all the fuss is about.”
“Oh, I very much fuckin’ doubt that shit,” Tank snarled, taking a few steps toward the sanctimonious bastard. “You don’t see a problem with burning down a main revenue source in town? By taking away his chances of paying us at all by immediately going off half-cocked and screwing up his place of business right off the bat? Nothing wrong with that at all?”
Hammer shrugged, not caring one bit. Smug sonofabitch. A wealth of pent-up injustice ate at Tank’s gut until he couldn’t see straight, he was so pissed. His brothers behind him were backing up his every word, adding in their two cents as he ripped into the asses of opposing club members.
“I’m with Tank on this one. That fire wasn’t sanctioned by the club. None of us discussed it in church. And if it had been put on the table, it never would have happened because the majority would’ve voted against it,” Maniac said.
Hammer shook his head. “What? If this had gone by the president, you mean? Raptor hasn’t seen the inside of this clubhouse in over a month, and a little thing like a useless fire isn’t going to keep him up at nights. You whining pussies are being fuckin’ ridiculous. What happened today was what was best for the club, what’s completely in line with our new direction that Raptor sanctions, by the way.” Hammer stared at Tank. “If you got a problem, Nomad, then get the fuck outta the club. You made the choice not to be a full-time member, so you can’t come barging in here telling me—the Vice President—what the fuck I can and can’t do. You’re way outta line, and I’m sick of your bullshit.”
Tank shot forward, and only Reaper, Snake, Neon, and Chainsaw grabbing on his arms and legs to restrain him, kept him from going after the bastard. Hammer knew damn good and well that Tank decision to go nomad had nothing to do with his devotion to the club and everything to do with taking care of his sick mother. The low blow cut what little self-control he had left in him.
“What, are you going to come after me now? Is the spokesperson for peace losing his fuckin’ cool? How sweet.” Hammer held up his middle finger and chuckled, throwing his head back. “No one’s gonna do shit, and you know it. So stop fighting a useless battle and get the fuck in line, pussy. Illegal makes us more money than any shit above board, and Raptor needs dough for medical bills right now. As far as I’m concerned, I’m doing the prez a solid, and you’re not gonna change my damn mind on the subject. Fall the fuck in line or we’ll make you.”
Several members yanked Tank back into a half-closed circle of brothers. A literal wall of flesh, holding him back from rearranging Hammer’s face and some of his internal organs until he couldn’t draw another damaging breath to talk. The idea of watching that asshole bleed on the wooden floor was Tank’s whole focus as he shifted his weight from foot to foot. Adrenaline charged through his brain, making everything hazy around the edges. He ran forward again, but they held him off, digging into his flesh and his upper chest as he continued to surge forward. Mindless. Willing to do almost anything so he could get hold of the useless waste of space across the way, still running his mouth to his other brothers.
“This shit is done. You can’t fight me. You’ll come around sooner or later, Tank, or you won’t. That’s not my fuckin’ problem. But me and my brothers are outta here. We’ve got more important shit to do than sit around for and listen to this bullshit. I’m in charge, running the show. Accept that and bow down, or get the fuck outta this club.” Hammer looked around the room, his glare fixed on the men surrounding Tank. “And that goes for all members. I’m sick of this pussy BS.”
Hammer strode out of the door with several of his cronies in tow.
Tank waited until he could hear their Harleys’ backfiring down the road, then he pushed past the men who’d been holding him back.
“It’s cool. Move. I got this shit under control. I’m good. It’s all good.”
Maniac edged close to Tank, giving their other brothers the side-eye. “What they’re doing isn’t fuckin’ right. We’re not gonna roll over like dogs because Hammer thinks he’s the fuckin’ voice of reason in this club.”
“No. We discussed that.” Tank blew out a long breath. “Damn. I fuckin’ lost it.”
“It’s hard not to do,” Ice said.
“We need to play it cool. We don’t want them thinking we’re planning anything,” Snake said.
Nodding, Tank ran his hand through his hair. “I fuckin’ blew it.”
“Nah. Hammer knows there are members who don’t agree with him,” Fester said. “We need Raptor to agree to step down then we can restore order back in the club.”