"You’re right—I don’t need someone who’ll kiss my ass. What I do need is men on my council who’ve got fucking sense. Unlike you, dipshit."
Turning my back on him, well aware that he could attack but not believing he had the balls to do so, I returned to the table then scanned the men.
Most of ‘em looked uncomfortable. On edge. Not angry. Not even as if they were in agreement, but maybe they were too pussy to say anything like Grim made out.
Either way, now he’d raised this subject, I wasn’t about to let it drop.
The guys in here were the ones I was interested in ruling at my side. We were still missing some brothers who were working on rebuilding the clubhouse back home, but from Grim’s bitterness, I knew I could have a problem on my hands.
This was the first time I’d noticed something amiss, but it was also the first time I hadn’t just been going through the motions of ruling the place, trying to get it back on track. After everything with Cyan, I just hadn’t had the energy to make waves.
Having pissed six weeks away, though, and just before the new year, I knew that I had to get my ass in gear.
I narrowed my eyes at the men as I folded my arms across my chest. "Anyone else got a problem with helping the Mother Chapter? Anyone else got a problem with them weeding out rats from the sinking ship?"
When no one said dick, I didn’t smirk at Grim, because maybe they were too chicken shit to speak and he was the only one stupid enough to say a fucking word.
Letting my gaze dance along the brothers, I zoomed in on GIF. The SOB never sent me a message without at least eight GIFs. Lucky for him, they were usually funny. I swore the guy could write a conversation with GIFs alone.
"What about you, GIF? You got something to say?"
His eyes widened as he shook his head. "No."
"You sure about that? Because seems like Grim’s speaking for all of you and he ain’t got a right to."
GIF licked his lips as he cast a glance at his still-gasping brother who was rubbing his throat like I’d garrotted him. "We’ve been without a decent Prez for a while. It was hard at first, then it got easier, but you left again." He shrugged. "It was weird, but okay. Better now you’re back."
Was the fucker saying they’d missed me?
Heaving a sigh because I guessed they deserved an explanation, I rasped, "What do you know of the Famiglia in New York?"
The guys frowned at me.
"Not a lot. It ain’t our business to know, is it?" Mash rumbled, getting to his feet. He had a beard as well, one that was more like pussy hair than anything else, but even I knew why he kept the thing grown out—he had a pretty face. Way too pretty for a biker.
"Ain’t your business? Your fucking Prez and his bitch Old Lady made it your business when he got the MC involved in it.
"They run pussy, brothers. Sell bitches as if they’re fucking meat on a slab. Having a stable of whores is one thing, but they treated them like dogs. Hell, I wouldn’t want an animal to be treated the way those women were. And a lot of us here have daughters. I know I sure as fuck don’t want my kid ever being sold like she’s a leg of fucking lamb from the store.
"We helped liberate some in West Orange, and I got to know a few of those women. A couple are even Old Ladies now.
"You heard about those cunts, the New World Sparrows?" I got some nods, a couple of shakes of the head which immediately ruled those dimwitted fuckers out of the running of serving on the council. There was nothing but shit about the NWS in the news, and these asswipes hadn’t heard about them? "The Famiglia were their front."
Quickly, I scanned the crowd, eyeing the faces, studying their responses. Not only did I want to check for surprise or shock, but also, a glimmer of goddamn intelligence.
Pursing my lips afterward, not exactly happy with what I learned from that experiment, I barked, "Those fuckers were what your old Prez got into bed with. That’s on him and on you. You got involved whether you voted on it or not.
"Now, me? I won’t lead you into a war with the Mother Chapter’s enemies, not because they’re my family, but because I’m not a bitch like that. I don’t want to see any of you on the wrong side of things when shit hits the fan." I smirked. "Ain’t I kind?"
When they all squirmed in their seats, I watched them some more, taking in their reactions.
"Selling pussy ain’t never been the Sinners’ way. Neither is being a goddamn traitor to the people who put a roof over your fucking head.
"Peggy was an O’Byrne." On the receiving end of a ton of blank looks, I ground out, "She was the sister of Johnny O’Byrne. He was a Five Pointer. You know them, right? The most powerful Irish mob in the goddamn country?" At last, I got a response. "Johnny was a junkie, and he turned on the Five Points when the Famiglia sold him Colombian marching powder at a cut rate. Peggy was who he used to get shit done for those Italian fuckers, manipulating Sinners in jail to get them to protect their guys on the inside.
"The second Butch got involved with that, the second he let Peggy pussywhip him into shape, was the day he signed his death warrant.
"You bet your ass the Mother Chapter dealt with him and her. He was a rabid goddamn dog. But I ain’t rabid. I’m a smart fucker and I can guarantee that after a year in this place, you’ll no longer be in the red."
"We’re in the red?" Grim sputtered. Whether that was out of shock or from the choking I’d just served him, I didn’t know.
I frowned back at him. "Is that a joke or a serious question?"
He blinked at me. "A serious question."
Because I was nonplussed, I reached up and rubbed the back of my neck. "Look around you. The place is falling to pieces. Didn’t you realize business wasn’t going well? Everyone had fucking jobs outside of the MC. You dipshits know that’s not normal, right? Brothers work for MC businesses, not outsiders."
For my pains, I got some shrugs, that was when I saw Slayer heave a sigh.
"You got something to say, Slayer?"
The brother grimaced. "I was telling Butch that he wasn’t running shit right. Bitched at the council about it too when I saw the books and realized there was money going missing—"
"You were on the council? Thought they’d all gone on their merry ways." That was, of course, code for ‘were dead or wished they were dead right now.’
"They did, and I wasn’t on the council. Just did the bookkeeping because none of them could deal with figures like me." He shrugged. "I didn’t mind. Always been good with numbers."
"What did you learn from the books?"
It was a rhetorical question. I already knew from what I’d seen. Half the council had been on the take.
How sister chapters worked was they paid a tithe every month to the original chapter. That meant, so long as Rex received his payment from the branch, he’d never question the running of the place. Well, unless they went against the club’s bylaws.
Yeah, even a one-percenter club had rules we had to abide by or there’d be goddamn chaos. Each chapter did its own thing, paid its dues, but answered to West Orange. Their enemies were a sister chapter’s enemies. Same went with their allies.