Gunner was peering into his vest. Granger, one of his dogs, stood between his legs with his chin resting on Gunner’s arm, which was belted across the bottom of his vest holding it against his stomach. He pushed one hand into his vest.
“What the hell is he doing?” Tank said under his breath. Tank was the eldest of Justin’s local cousins. He was a mountain of a man, covered with tattoos and a few piercings. He owned Wicked Ink, a tattoo shop, and he was a volunteer firefighter. Tank was also the cousin with the most demons, as he’d been the one to find his late sister, Ashley, when she’d committed suicide several years ago.
“Ow, shit,” Gunner ground out as he stood up. His vest opened, revealing a fluffy white kitten hanging on to his chest by its claws. “Sorry,” Gunner said as he carefully extracted the kitten’s nails. Granger wagged his tail, watching Gunner’s every move. “I rescued her last night and she needs to be bottle fed. I didn’t want to leave her alone.”
“You brought your pussy to a meeting?” Zander chuckled.
Blaine elbowed Zander and said, “Gives a whole new meaning to pussy whipped,” earning a rumble of laughter from around the room.
Gunner nuzzled the kitten against his nose and said, “They don’t mean anything, Snowflake. They’re just assholes.”
“Snowflake?” one of the other guys said.
“He’s got to sweet-talk her. She’s the only pussy he’s gonna get tonight,” Zeke added.
Zeke was the rare combination of smart-ass and genius, though he typically kept his smart-assery under wraps. Women called Baz prime husband material, but Justin thought Zeke would be the first of them to settle down. He’d always seemed more settled than the rest of them. He had a quiet, watchful way about him. Zeke had been a special ed teacher until a guy had made rude comments about “fucking retarded kids” at an event, and Zeke had gone after him. Zeke had lost his job because of the fight, and now he worked with Zander and their father in their family business, Cape Renovations. Zeke also tutored and volunteered at the community center.
“All right, enough.” Preacher glared at Zander and Zeke, and they held their hands up in surrender. “Gunner, how about you answer Cuff’s question? Do you need more help to transport the dogs?”
Gunner stroked the tiny kitten’s back and said, “I think we’re good. But a few extra hands wouldn’t hurt, especially when we get back to the shelter.”
A number of members called out, volunteering to help. Conroy held up his hands and said, “I’ll put together a sign-up sheet and Gunner can answer questions after the meeting.”
Justin’s uncle looked more like an aging movie star than a biker. He had a long, straight nose, wavy silver hair that hung to his collar, and an ever-present smile that set off his dimples. His children had inherited many of his traits, including those dimples. Tank not only shared his father’s burly stature, but also the jet-black hair of Conroy’s youth. Gunner was every bit as cocky as Conroy, and Baz shared his father’s ability to remain calm in any situation. Before the tragic loss of their younger sister, Ashley, she had shared their father’s zest for life, which had made her death even more devastating. Ashley had been the second person Justin had lost to suicide, the first being his birth mother when he was only seven years old.
As Cuffs returned to his seat, Preacher said, “We’re gearing up for the annual Suicide-Awareness Ride and Rally in honor of Ashley Wicked, Conroy and Ginger’s beloved daughter. Ginger is looking for volunteers to help with the event.”
Sadness moved through Justin and through the room, settling heavily around them. The closeness of the brotherhood included sharing celebrations and heartache. Even those who hadn’t known Ashley rallied around their family every year without fail, keeping her spirit alive and helping the family cope with the never-ending sadness of their loss. Preacher had once asked Justin if he’d like them to publicly honor his birth mother at the event, but since he didn’t like talking about his mother’s death, or the circumstances surrounding it, of which even Preacher wasn’t fully aware, he’d passed on the thoughtful offer.
As Preacher went over details for the September event, Justin put a hand on Tank’s shoulder and lifted his beer bottle, mouthing, To Ashley.
Tank tapped his bottle to Justin’s, and they both took a drink.
After the meeting, Gunner and Baz dealt with gathering volunteers for the night of the dogfighting-ring bust, and Zander went across the room to play darts with some of his buddies by the pool tables. Preacher and Conroy made their way over to the table where Justin and the others were sitting.
Preacher gave off an air of authority, exuding the confidence of a man who demanded obedience. He had serious eyes and pitch-black brows and mustache. He wore his salt-and-pepper hair slicked back and kept his silver beard trimmed. Justin hadn’t been sure what to make of the tattooed renovations expert when he’d first met him. But as Justin had gotten to know him, he’d found that Preacher was warm and patient. Preacher could joke with the best of them, but when it came to the safety of his family or his community, he didn’t mess around. Justin had no idea how Preacher and Reba had put up with his shit and his constant running away when he had first come to live with them, but he was thankful they had. Preacher had been more of a father to him in the first month he’d lived there than his biological father had been in the eleven years they’d lived under the same roof. And Reba? She was a godsend. From what he remembered of his birth mother, he had a feeling the two would have gotten along like sisters. Reba, being the stronger, older sister who would have looked out for his timid biological mother.
If only…
Preacher set his beer bottle on the table beside Justin and put a hand on his shoulder, his eyes moving around the table. “How are our boys doing?”
Tank smirked and looked at Blaine as he said, “This one’s thinking about getting a sex change and becoming a chick.”
“Did you say getting into a chick?” Blaine cocked a grin. “How’d you know I have a date later?”
Tank held his gaze and said, “I didn’t. Is Gunner lending you his pussy?”
“A’right, boys,” Conroy said as he sat down between Tank and Blaine.
Preacher sat beside Justin and said, “Hey, son. Are you still okay to check on Grandpa tomorrow?”
A few months ago, Preacher’s father, Mike, had suffered a fall and had moved in with Preacher and Reba. He’d fallen again a few weeks ago. Since Reba ran the offices of Cape Renovations and wasn’t always able to get away, Justin and his siblings took turns checking on their grandfather during the day. Mike was a jokester, like Zander, although he definitely had the grumpy-old-man thing down pat. Mike had grown up with a father who believed in fists as a form of punishment and he had run away at sixteen. He’d met his late wife, Hilda, at seventeen. They’d married at eighteen, had kids a few years later, and together they’d built a life free from abuse. Their new family hadn’t had much, but they’d had a safe, loving world in which to thrive. Although Mike wasn’t a biker, he respected the hell out of the club and supported their endeavors. After all, he’d raised his sons to be worthy of the Dark Knights’ patches.