The roar of a motor cut through the banter and the Prez pulled up to the gate in front of the Eights’s clubhouse. A prospect ran out and opened the gate. Moose put his game face on and put thoughts of Joey out of his mind. He hadn’t heard back from her since he got called in. Moose and his brothers fired up their bikes, and followed the Prez and Hawk as they took off out of the parking lot.
The Eights’ building was larger, and their club had more members because it had been around longer. Moose got off his bike and brought up the rear with Shooter, scanning the area. So far everything seemed on the up and up. But an ambush was always a possibility with the way loyalty traded hands in this lifestyle. Tiny walked in first and they followed.
Once inside, they were greeted by a burly man with an easy smile. “Thanks for coming in. The Prez will be out in a minute. He’s just finishing up an unexpected meeting.”
“Thanks, Snubs. I know how it is. That’s what a VP is for, right?” Tiny patted his upper arm.
Moose tensed. His nostrils flared and he narrowed his eyes as he focused on the man he perceived to be a threat. He did not seem like the club type.
“Easy, Killer,” Shooter whispered.
Maverick turned sideways and glanced at Moose.
Moose shook his head. Damn, I know what to do. I might want to take the guy’s head off, but I know there’s a time and a place.
“Come back here with us. We’ll get you guys set up with a drink. There’re a couple pool tables and some video games too, that’ll pass the time,” Snubs suggested as he gestured toward the mentioned items.
“Thanks for the hospitality,” Tiny answered, nodding.
“It’s my pleasure. We’ve never had beef with Mayhem and we’d like to keep it that way. You guys are dependable and have good heads on your shoulders. That can be hard to come by with an M.C.”
“We feel the same way about you,” Tiny replied.
Moose let their schmoozing drift into the background as he took inventory of the club. There were only about ten people, probably just Wanderer’s council plus a few stragglers.
“How about we play a game of pool?” Shooter urged.
“Sounds good to me.” Moose inclined his head toward the vacant pool tables.
“Let’s go grab some pool sticks then.” Shooter smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. The tension around Shooter’s eyes told Moose he was on alert.
“You rack them,” Shooter prompted.
“All right.”
They moved together silently as they fell into the familiarity of playing.
“So this place is swank compared to our clubhouse,” Moose small-talked, never one for too much quiet.
“True. But they’ve been around longer. You want to vote for a remodel?” Shooter snickered.
“Maybe I do.” Moose removed the triangle, slipped it into its slot on the table and grabbed the cue ball. He placed the white ball on the green felt, grabbed his stick and lined up the shot. “With the new wave of togetherness Tiny is hoping for, we might need to.” He took the shot and watched as a few stripes and a solid went into the pockets. “Stripes.” Moose looked up at Shooter and grinned.
“Yeah, I figured, you ass.”
“We’re ready to get the meeting started now. Sorry about the delay,” Wanderer said, walking over. The older president was a living legend. No matter what went down, he always kept his cool. But those who crossed him learned quickly his laidback style didn’t make him weak. He took everything from them before he ended their life, dismantling his enemies’ worlds, one piece at a time and when they were begging for death, he walked away and let them wallow in the mess they’d created.
“Looks like a draw. Lucky for you ’cause we both know I would’ve sunk that eight ball,” Moose smirked.
“There’s a thin line between cocky and confident,” Shooter retorted.
Moose laughed. “Holy shit, did you get that from the librarian or Oprah?”
“Fucker.”
They made their way to the group gathering around the bar.
“I think we’re ready.” Tiny turned to look at his men, who all nodded.