I smiled. "I don’t know. He ain’t written us a postcard." Because I could feel Little and Grim’s attention on me, I wrapped shit up. "Thanks for the history lesson."
"More than welcome." Our eyes met and held. "I can clean up a lot, Storm, but not everything. I ain’t a miracle worker."
After he slipped behind the wheel, I placed my hand on the door and loomed over him. "You’ll work miracles so long as I pay you enough. Don’t fool yourself about that." I clapped a hand to the roof as I backed away.
"As long as we both know miracles come at a premium," he called out as I walked toward the door, raising my hand in a salute without turning.
"We got a problem?" I groused as Grim moved to stand in my path.
"Why you talking to a pig?"
"Since when did you become Prez, and since when did I have to fucking answer to you?" I rumbled, eyeing him up as he made it more than clear that he wasn’t about to move out of my goddamn way.
Uncaring that the fucker outweighed me by forty pounds, I took his measure. We were about the same height, with me just eking it out on top, but the bastard lumbered around like a goddamn bear that was drunk on honey.
"Let it go, Grim," someone called out from the bar.
"He’s bringing pigs onto our fucking compound—"
"That’s exactly what a smart Prez does, you dipshit. You wanna get your ass busted for possession, that’s on you, but personally, I prefer to have a deal going with the local sheriff." I tapped my temple. "But then, you’ve made it quite clear that you ain’t got more than two brain cells to rub together." I shoved his chest, surprised when he staggered back—fucker needed to work on his core. "Now back the fuck away."
"You come in here, thinking you can change shit when things ain’t broke," Grim growled, shoving his face into my personal space.
"Ain’t broke?" I repeated with a laugh. "Look at this shithole. And look at your take now and tell me things aren’t changin’ for the better."
"He’s right," Little called out.
Grim was so wide that he took up most of the doorway, but I saw brothers behind him, nodding as they took in the show. They weren’t coming to my aid, which told me they were on the fence where I was concerned.
I got it.
I didn’t drink with them, didn’t party with them. I just sat in my fucking office, tending to my goddamn houseplants, working the numbers, getting the business on track until I could get home again.
Any drive I had to be Prez seemed to have been left in West Orange.
I was coasting, no doubt in my mind, but there wasn’t a snowball in hell’s chance that I was about to have this dumbfuck question me, so rather than try to negotiate peace, I decided to do shit my daughter’s way.
Ducking low, I surged upward, slamming my head into his face.
It stung like a fucker, but hell, it was worth it. For weeks now, this bastard had been questioning every fucking move I made, eyeing me askance like I was making bad decisions left and right, so the pain was worth it.
Hell, the pain felt good.
Pain was one thing that I could experience without feeling like a goddamn broken bastard.
Blood spurted from Grim’s nose, coating my cut and shirt with it. I reached out, slammed my fist into it again, watching with bitter satisfaction as the split in his skin tore even wider apart, cracking like a sun-baked desert floor.
He let out a yelp before he staggered backward, arms raising high, fists furled as he tried to defend himself.
"You don’t fucking question me," I snarled at him, stalking nearer to him even as he tried to move away.
I kicked at his shin with the flat of my boot, then curved my foot behind the back of his knee and drew it toward me. As it buckled under the force, I watched with even more satisfaction as he slammed into the ground.
"This ain’t a democracy. I’m your goddamn Prez and you do as you’re fucking told."
Grim wobbled on his knees for a half-second, then I shook my head as he went down. Face first. Another crack told me that the fucker would need to visit a clinic before the day was over to get that nose of his reset. At least, I hoped he did. Wasn’t sure if I could stand the bastard looking even uglier than he already was.
"Lightweight," I muttered under my breath, pissed because I didn’t even get a good fight out of that.
Peering around at the brothers who were studying their fallen comrade like the joke he was, I folded my arms across my chest as I demanded, "Anyone else got a fucking problem with me as Prez? Anyone else bitchin’ about how I’m doing my job?
"Your asses aren’t in jail, you got cash on the hip, and your families are fed and have a roof over their heads. What’s your fucking problem?"
When no one said anything, I shook my head and moved past Grim. The sneaky bastard’s arm shot out, and he tried to curve it around my leg, jerking me back, but I’d been raised on dirty fights with my real brothers, so I hopped up to escape his bonds, then slammed that same foot into his head.
Steel-toed cap first.
When he was out for the count for real this time, I growled, "Fuckin’ pussy." As I headed back to my office, I called out, "SL, follow me."
No one made a goddamn peep, and by the time I reached my door, I saw the small crowd had disappeared, Grim was still on the floor, and SL was doing as I asked.
"You tell me next time if there’s enough dissent to cause a fucking fistfight, you hear me?"
SL raised his hands. "Grim’s the only one causing problems."
I eyed him, unsure whether I could trust him or not. "Where’s Digger?"
"Sorting out security for the titty bar." My latest acquisition.
I grunted. "Okay." Well, I couldn’t give him shit when he was doing his job. Studying my VP, I demanded, "You happy with your paycheck?"
"Sure." He shrugged. "Old Lady’s even happier. We’re moving into a four bedroom house next week."
"Then you’d better watch my ass. I don’t expect you to have my back in a one-on-one fight, but a heads up when a dumbfuck like Grim has sneaky moves would be nice in the future."
SL grimaced. "Served you better to stay silent."
"Wouldn’t have if I’d ended up on my ass."
"Grim’s always pulled shitty moves like that."
"Yeah, well, like I said, a heads up would be nice."
Nodding, he muttered, "Sorry, Prez. You looked good out there. Strong. They won’t give you any shit."
"They’d better fucking not. Schedule a church in two hours’ time. Wider than the council. We need to see for real if there’s a problem with how I’m running shit."
"Thought you said it ain’t a democracy."
"And I wasn’t lying. But if you fuckers hate that money in your wallet so goddamn much, I’ll gladly start cutting back on your wages."
SL grunted. "I’ll call the meeting."
"Do it."
Four hours later, as I headed out of the clubhouse and toward my bike, I stretched my back, working out the kinks.
I hadn’t threatened to pull any of the fuckers’ cuts, but I wanted to get any bullshit out in the open, wanted to see if there were others like Grim amid the ranks.