My jaw unhinges. Not quite sure how to respond to that. Has he been asking for opinions about me? And if so, what the fuck for?
“That doesn’t always happen,” he continues. “Lot of strong personalities. Different styles of runnin’ things.” He taps his chest. “Even though you patched-in under Hopper, you have a better sense of loyalty and your views are more aligned with the direction I want the organization to go in the future.”
Holy. Fuck.
Twenty-year old me wants to spike a football in Hopper’s face and do a touchdown dance. But I don’t dare say anything disrespectful about Hopper.
“That means a lot, coming from you, Priest.” Yeah, I feel like a suck-up, but they’re not empty words. Priest’s style reminds me of the gentleman outlaw types my uncle was friends with. He’s a hardass motherfucker for sure, but he actually cares about the brothers and their families. The ones that have the biggest issue with him are the Acorn, Hopper, and Smoke types of bikers.
“Did you know there are two kinds of nomad, Rooster?”
“Uh.” My mind blanks. Jesus, I thought I was finished with pop quizzes.
When I sit there slack-jawed with no answer, he continues, “I haven’t had to send them to New York since probably way before you ever patched-in.” He holds out one hand. “We have our nomads who aren’t affiliated with any particular charter. The laid-back ones just riding the wind. Maybe taking care of a job here or there if someone asks. Then, we have our more official nomads who answer to me.”
Those last three words land like a nuke. Sounds more like a secret hit squad then a charter of freedom-seeking bikers.
“Similar structure. Prez, VP, enforcer, road captain. No treasurer. Funds come directly from National.”
“Okay.” And why are you telling me this?
“If there’s an area we might want to establish a charter, they’ll go in and help set it up. And,” he sits back, “if a charter’s been a constant problem, they’ll go in and shut it down.”
Hit squad. Yup.
“They need to have a certain skill set. Diplomacy is at the top of the list.”
“That makes sense.” Can’t imagine many MC presidents feeling all warm and fuzzy when Priest’s super-secret hit squad stops by for a “visit.” Bet stuff goes sideways fast.
“Most of the time it’s an easy ride. We’ve worked hard to install good leadership in all our charters. So they fulfill a support role more often these days.”
“Sure.” Thank fuck Z was willing to take over when Sway got shot. Otherwise, it sounds like Priest would’ve sent his nomads to “support” us.
I meet Priest’s steady stare. For all the information he’s given me, there seems to be a whole lot he’s leaving out of the story.
Typical.
“Anyway.” He slaps the table as if he’s about to dismiss me. “How do you feel about Deadbranch?”
My head spins from the abrupt shift in conversation.
“Haven’t had a chance to talk to Digger yet. But they’re always welcoming.”
“Weather’s better in Tennessee. Can ride almost all year instead of only six months like New York.”
“I bet the guys like that a lot.”
“Your girl’s from Texas, right?”
“Yes. We were visiting her mom before we came here.”
He strokes his hand over his beard a few times. Wish he’d mosey on down to the point sometime this century.
“Is she planning to relocate to Nashville? That’s where most country artists reside, right?”
Exactly how much researching into Shelby has he done? “Uh, don’t know yet. We’re heading to New York after she finishes recording,” I remind him.
Fuck. Priest moved Z two hours away from home, which sucked for Z but at least he’s still in New York and not that far from upstate. I don’t want Priest getting any ideas about moving me to fucking Tennessee and thinking he’s somehow doing me a “favor.”
“That’s good. I’m sure you miss home.”
“Very much.”
“Good.” He slaps the arm of the chair. “I need to sit down with Digger. But I’m glad we were able to talk, Rooster.”
“So am I, Prez. Shelby and I are staying at the Cross downtown but we’ll be stopping in tomorrow.”
He chuckles. “That’s where we’re staying too.”
Fan-fucking-tastic.
“We’re heading back to Mississippi tomorrow,” he says. “This was a short check-in. It’s good Ice is here too. Then I don’t have to make the trip to Virginia.”
Thank fuck for that. Virginia’s close enough that Priest might decide to ride on up to New York when he’s finished.
“I was glad to run into him. Shelby was happy to see some familiar faces too.”
“Ah, right. The girl, Anya. She’s the one Ice is building his business around?”
“Yes.”
“Jesus Christ,” he grumbles, pressing his palm against the arms of the chair and standing.
Guess Priest isn’t warming up to all the porn money that’s about to come rolling into the organization.
But for now, I’m going to file it under not my problem and make myself scarce.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Rooster
“Are you sure it’s a good idea to leave and stay at the hotel with your national president visiting?” Shelby whispers as we’re walking toward the front door.
“Had my sit-down.” I jerk my thumb over my shoulder. “Now, it’s Digger’s turn.”
“What was the point of spending all the money on the RV if you’re paying for hotel rooms too?” She side-eyes me. “And you never let me help pay.”
“I feel like we’ve already discussed this before.” I bop her nose with my finger. “Can’t your man take you someplace nice for the night? I’d like to spend the morning in a nice, big bed with you.”
“We have a bed.”
“You can get some laundry done too. And, I found a room with a huge bathtub.”
Her eyes light up. Knew that would get her.
“You have my attention.”
“See?” We step into the parking lot. It’s even rowdier out here than inside. We work through the crowd, saying hello to people, and I introduce Shelby to as many brothers as possible. That bullshit with Bonehead ain’t happening again. Although most of these fuckers are so shitfaced, they won’t remember much by morning.
The hotel’s a bit of a ride but the night air feels good. Check-in is fast and then I have Shelby all to myself with no interruptions.
“This place is beautiful.” She cruises around the room, checking out things, then wanders into the bathroom. “Holy moly! I might spend the whole time in this tub!” she shouts.
“We’ll see about that,” I mutter, unpacking my stuff on the side of the bed facing the door.
A few seconds later, the rush of water patters against the tile. Shaking my head, I unpack her bag of bath stuff and bring it to her, setting it on the side of the tub. “Went right for it, huh?”