“That’s enough of that bullshit,” Preacher called out.
Sabelia and Anya exchanged a smirk that included Heidi. See? Anya mouthed.
Savage leaned over the other end of the bar, calling out for a beer. Preacher shoved a cold one to him, along with a napkin. He took it and disappeared back into the shadows, moving toward the hall. He walked to the very end, where Czar and Steele had come in the back way.
“Heidi sent a note, Czar,” Savage greeted. “Too many clubs out there. And that fucking Pierce walked in like he owned the place.”
Czar glanced at his watch. “Have ten minutes before the meeting. Plank must like the band to come this early.”
“I hope that’s his reason,” Savage said, but he didn’t believe it. Pierce was too cocky. He was back in Plank’s good graces, and that didn’t necessarily bode well for Torpedo Ink.
Czar glanced down at the note and scowled. Savage felt the burst of black anger the president of their club hastily got under control. Savage did what he always did—bled most of that rage off. Czar was going to have to face Plank and look as if he was in complete command of his emotions at all times.
“They came early so they could listen to the band and Pierce could have another shot at talking to Alena. Heidi overheard them talking. Plank and Judge told him to take his chance while he could, before things had a chance of heating up.”
Savage swore under his breath. He needed to get back out there. He knew he was too late. He felt the shift in the other members’ emotions immediately. Seychelle’s voice changed subtly, pouring a calming vibe into the notes as she sang. Pierce had clearly insisted on Alena dancing with him, pulling her into his arms in spite of the song being on the faster side.
Could use a little help, here. One of you come and dance with me, Alena sent to the brothers. He’s all over me.
Was there desperation in her voice? Was she falling for Pierce’s shit?
Tell him to go to hell, Ice demanded. I’m your fucking brother. I can’t go rescue you.
Tell him to get his fucking hands off you. He’s dancing with you, Destroyer snapped. He doesn’t need to be grabbing your ass. He’s just showing off to his friends that he can.
I’ve moved his hands several times. Unless you want me to break them and start a war, get your ass over here and help out, Destroyer. You’re the only one he doesn’t know, and he thinks we’re together. Alena sounded pissed. And you owe me big-time.
Don’t dance. And where do you get the idea I owe you?
You kissed me when I was a kid and then won that damn contest and left me in that hellhole.
There was a moment of silence while all the members of Torpedo Ink digested that information. The band continued to play. Seychelle sang. Pierce pulled Alena closer to him, his hands roaming her body while she shoved at his chest, glaring daggers. No one was quite certain who she was glaring daggers at.
Are you shitting me? You were nine years old, and I kissed the top of your head. A brotherly kiss, by the way, to try to convey that not every man was an asshole.
I don’t care if it was on the top of my head. I made it into something else in my mind. I needed it to be, so it was.
You’re saying I owe you because you had a childish fantasy over a kiss that didn’t actually take place in the way you made it out to be in your head?
Savage could see how that was totally fucked up, and Alena wasn’t going to back down. Once she got something in her head, she was so stubborn, nothing could move her. Destroyer didn’t have a prayer in hell of winning this one, even if she was totally illogical. Destroyer was fairly new and had no idea how truly stubborn she could be.
Bet your ass you do. Now get over here and act mad and jealous. I’m sure you can manage that.
You are one totally fucked-up woman. And you’re going to owe me, Alena. Meals for weeks. Months. I detest dancing.
You like scaring the shit out of Diamondbacks. So don’t pretend you’re all put upon.
Of course Alena would find a way to make it seem like she was doing Destroyer a huge favor by making him dance with her. If it wasn’t so fucked up, Savage would have laughed. Alena thought Destroyer had kissed her when she was nine? Really kissed her? Didn’t she know Czar and Ice would have conspired to kill him? Hell, everyone would have killed him. There wouldn’t have been a contest for him to win because he would have been dead.
Destroyer moved out of the shadows, and when he came out of them, he came out looking like a berserker. He didn’t look at Pierce, as if he was a loathsome insect, so far beneath his notice. He towered over the Diamondback. His shoulders appeared nearly twice as wide, his chest nearly twice as thick, yet there wasn’t an ounce of fat on him. He caught Alena’s arm and pulled her to him.
“Woman, what the fuck do you think you’re doing? You want to dance, you dance with your old man. You’ve been independent way too long, and that’s the only reason you’re getting away with this shit.”
Reaper, Storm and Savage moved out of the shadows to insert themselves between Pierce and the couple as Destroyer whirled Alena away from them, his larger frame nearly engulfing her smaller one. Her slender arms went around his neck, and she leaned into him as if in total surrender, and then the crowd of dancers cut them off completely.
“Who is that guy?” Pierce demanded. “Where the hell did he come from?”
Savage raised an eyebrow. “He’s Torpedo Ink. You threw Alena away, Pierce. Did you think she wasn’t going to get snapped up?” He turned his back on the man before he gave in to the need to sink his fist into his mouth. He was skating on the very edge of his control. Even Seychelle’s sweet, calming notes, as golden as they were, couldn’t settle the burning in him any longer.
He shook his head and glanced down at his watch, a kind of despair settling over him. He would have to head to San Francisco to the fight club. He had no other choice. He needed to work off some of the rage before he went to his woman, and he had to do it after the meeting tonight. He couldn’t wait.
Reaper led Plank, Judge, Pierce, Shark and Lion into the meeting room. Savage followed them and closed the door. Absinthe, Keys and Maestro were already inside with Czar and Steele. They had argued with Czar and Steele about allowing both men in the meeting with the Diamondbacks. If everything went south, they didn’t want the president and vice president in jeopardy, but Czar and Steele had been adamant that they both be present. They wanted to see Plank’s face. Hear his voice.
“When you come into this meeting room with us,” Absinthe said, “you want to tell us the truth.”
The Diamondbacks looked at him with a small frown. It was Plank who answered. “We requested the meeting. That’s what we’re here for.”
“Do you have any recording devices on you?” Absinthe asked.
“No,” Plank answered for all of them.
Absinthe nodded and indicated for everyone to take seats around the table. Savage and Reaper draped themselves against the doors, where they usually blended with the shadows. Maestro and Keys seated themselves on either side of Czar and Steele.
Plank didn’t waste time. “I know you have to believe that we had something to do with Tawny Farmer’s body being dropped near your clubhouse. We didn’t. I came here knowing I could put us in jeopardy with you by you recording this conversation, but we owe you. We didn’t set you up. We could have set up a member of your club, but we chose not to. We burned all evidence we had that would have pointed in that direction. Tawny was slated to be … ended, but she was gone when we went to get her. We would have just disposed of her body where no one would have found her, but someone else got there ahead of us.”