I cracked open the beer usin’ the side of the counter and lifted it into the air before cryin’ out to the boys in the clubhouse. “We got ’em!”
A rally of cheers went up from the dozen men surroundin’ me as beers were quickly handed out, and someone turned up the music, Esterly’s “This Is My World” screaming through the air.
“How much?” I shouted over the noise before takin’ a pull of my beer.
Energy still coursed through, jerkin’ my knee as I sat on the stool, thrummin’ through my fingers as I drummed them against the bar top. This was why the club always had women on hand, biker bunnies who hung around because they liked the taste of men in leather and the feel of all the rough and wild between their thighs. The brothers could plug that excess energy after a ride or a fight into their outlet and finally come down from the high.
Needed somethin’ to take my mind off it so I could focus on what needed to be done then get back home to my woman.
One of the girls, a gorgeous redhead I’d once played around with named Tempest Riley, caught my eye from across the room and jerked her head up in question.
I looked away, not botherin’ to answer.
Everyone knew Cress was it for me, but it didn’t stop some of them from tryin’.
“Near three hundred pounds of green and a motherfuckin’ arsenal of guns. Seems the rumours are true, and they got an in with the Port Authority to smuggle this shit through the harbour.”
“Fuck.” The Fallen didn’t deal in anythin’ but primo marijuana. We grew it, sold it, and distributed it from sea to shinin’ fuckin’ sea. They were apeshit for it over in China, and we were in hot demand even across the world in Australia. It was Zeus’s gig when he cleaned up the club after his uncle Crux got The Fallen involved in some fucked enterprises, and it was one we were all good with. We still made cake, and we didn’t have to deal with the moral or physical fallout associated with the harder stuff.
But weapons… those could be sold for a tidy profit or, even better maybe, stockpiled in case of Armageddon.
“What’s Z say about the guns?” I asked.
“We’ll take some, not all. We don’t have the kinda apparatus to deal arms.”
“True, and I gotta feelin’ the Van PD are lurkin’ around that club. Best leave somethin’ to be found, yeah?”
Bat was quiet for a beat, readin’ into what I wasn’t sayin’ in the way he could. He was a former SEAL and one of the smartest men I knew. Had no doubt in my mind he knew I was keepin’ secrets; he just respected me enough to let me hold them close for now.
“Wrappin’ things up. Be back around three in the mornin’, set the time for Chapel.”
“Will do, brother. Stay safe.”
“Yeah. And King? Well done, brother. A gamble, but well fuckin’ worth it. Wish I’d been the one to think it up,” he praised.
And I felt that, the praise, like water and sunlight on the small tree of pride growin’ up my spine. I was learning my place, earnin’ my place in the club with men who had raised me, inspired me, and fuckin’ loved me since I was a boy. It felt good. No, it felt like comin’ home, to have that kinda respect from men I’d always seen as leather backed heroes.
“Thanks, man,” I murmured, tryin’ to keep the ache out of my voice and then decidin’ I didn’t give a shit if he knew how much I cared because he deserved to know I loved him. “Means a lot.”
“Means a lot you came home in the end,” he countered and then, as was his way, abruptly hung up.
“Hey, King!” Curtains hollered from near the pool tables as red and blue lights started to flash against the walls. “Think we got some company.”
“Fuck,” I muttered as I slammed my beer down and prowled to the door, Nova and Cy falling into step on either side of me.
There were two police cars parked at angles in the driveway behind the chain-link gates that separated the compound from the road, and Staff Sergeant Danner stood before them, hands on his hips, eyes hot on me even from across the yards of pavement.
“Need somethin’, Harold?” I called out, stayin’ on the doorstep instead of goin’ to him like he would’ve wanted.
“Got a call about a turf war out near Exit 78. Reports of shots fired and motorbikes. You know anything about that?”
“Hmm…” I rubbed my hand over my stubbled chin as I faux pondered. “Nah, not likely. We’ve been holed up here celebratin’ Nova finally sleepin’ with a girl from Nigeria.”
“Doin’ the ’round the world challenge,” Nova drawled as he took a seat on the stair and sprawled out. “Hit ninety-seven countries so far. Got a taste for somethin’ Nordic next.”