“Do you think your brotherhood is more solid now than it was back then?”
“One hundred fuckin’ percent. Trip runs a tight ship. He don’t put up with any bullshit and he certainly ain’t gonna put up with any disloyalty. This is his kingdom and he’s gonna rule it like one.”
“What if someone else wants to be president?”
“Then they can throw their name in the hat durin’ the annual vote.”
“Has anyone ever challenged him yet?”
“Fuck no. Right now, nobody wants that shit other than him. Will someone eventually come along and challenge him in the future?” Ozzy shrugged again. “Maybe. But unless Trip does somethin’ really fucked up, can’t imagine the members votin’ for anyone else.”
“Do you guys have an actual election?”
“Haven’t needed one yet. No one’s challenged anyone’s current spot. No point in havin’ one if no one else gives a fuck.”
That was true.
She found the dynamics of the MC fascinating. The brotherhood, the businesses, an MC having an executive committee and even elections.
“Does the club have some sort of by-laws?”
He nodded. “Yeah. By-laws and rules. It’s up to Judge to enforce them.”
“What does he do if someone breaks a rule?”
“Depends on what it is. Usually it’s discussed in one of our officer meetin’s first, then we decide the punishment that he’s gotta dole out.”
“Like a verbal warning?” she asked.
“Could be.”
“Written warning?”
Ozzy made a noise at the back of his throat. “Ain’t a fuckin’ traffic stop.”
“Does the punishment ever get physical?”
“It could and has. Depends on what the brother did. If it’s bad enough, it could get a brother’s colors stripped.”
That didn’t sound pleasant at all. “What does that mean?”
“Means your ass is kicked out, your cut’s taken from you and you gotta remove any tattoos that indicate you belonged to the club.”
“Like that tattoo on your back?” She couldn’t prevent the squeak in her question because that back tattoo was huge. How did someone remove that?
“Yeah. When your colors get stripped, means your colors get stripped. Gotta cover that tattoo or remove it.”
She stared at him. “How do you remove it?” Maybe she shouldn’t ask. Maybe she really didn’t want to know.
“Coupla different ways—”
She lifted a palm to stop him and shook her head. “I don’t want to know. I can imagine and that’s bad enough.”
When he tipped his head in acquiescence, she turned her attention back to the pictures of when the Fury was considered an “outlaw” club.
Dangerous and violent.
It was hard to believe Ozzy had been a part of that. She didn’t see him as either of those things. At least, she hadn’t seen it. If he was, he was hiding it very well. She would think it would be difficult to hide that kind of behavior from her for so long.
And if she’d seen it, she wouldn’t be staying in his apartment or sleeping with him.
What she had seen was his protectiveness. Of her, of his club family. Also, she’d witnessed how stubborn he could be.
“Are there any of you in this box?”
“Yeah. Saw one.”
“Show me.”
He took the box and turned it over, dumping all of the photos she hadn’t gone through yet onto the bed. He sifted through them and finally picked up one of the yellow-aged Polaroids.
In her excitement, she plucked it from his fingers before he could give it to her.
She studied the photo of a very young Ozzy. “How old were you here?”
“Eighteen. It was taken right after I earned my patches.”
He had only a little bit of scruff on his face, not like the thick, full beard he had now. No lines spidered out from the corner of his eyes and his long hair in the photo was gray-free, but he didn’t appear happy or carefree.
With lips pressed into a slash and his expression hard, he looked way too serious for a teenager.
“You look like you have the weight of the world on your shoulders in this picture.”
He didn’t deny it. Instead, he took the photo from her fingers, stared at it for a few seconds, then tossed it back in the box.
He leaned over, grabbed the photos she’d already gone through and dumped them back into the box, too. He tipped his head toward the remaining pile. “Gettin’ late. Got plans to do somethin’ else other than look at old photos with you.”
“Are you telling me to hurry without actually telling me to hurry?”
“Ain’t afraid to tell you that,” he answered. “Want you naked beneath me soon.”
Her breath shuddered at his demand. “What if I want to be on top this time?”
“Ain’t gonna argue that. On top, under me, don’t give a fuck as long as I’m inside you.”
He might be a very skilled lover, but he certainly wasn’t romantic. He was direct and to the point.
“But this is history. The club’s history. Your history. It shouldn’t be rushed.”
“Then you can look at them tomorrow.” He lunged as if he was going to grab all the photos.