“No one’s goin’ lookin’,” Zeus said, endin’ the conversation.
“Say what?” Boner asked. “We’re just gonna let her runaway all sad and alone-like? She’ll think we don’t give a shit!”
“God forbid,” Heckler grumbled sarcastically.
“Shut your mouth,” Axe-Man grunted at the asshole.
“Enough.” Zeus hit his meaty fist against the table, and we quieted quick. “No one’s goin’ lookin’ ’cause she talked to Lou ’fore she left, and she wants to be alone. Needs time, she said, to grieve and learn to live again. We’re gonna give ’er that. She knows she’s gotta home with us whenever she wants to head back.”
He said it strong and true, unwaverin’ as he always was in his role as Prez.
But I knew him enough to see the pain in his silver eyes.
He loved Cress like his own daughter, and her takin’ off couldn’t have sat well.
Sure as hell didn’t with me.
“We got shit goin’ down, and if she’s not here, maybe it’s for the better,” Bat suggested. “She doesn’t need remindin’ that King died to get Z outta prison, and we still got the Venturas to deal with.”
“What’s the update?” Zeus asked Buck, his VP.
The old timer was still burly as shit, his silver hair bright against his deep tan. He was a good man, and I could sense his relief at bein’ back as second-in-command instead of havin’ to lead the forces.
“Still got Honey Yves wrapped up with the Venturas, and Javier’s ampin’ up his diatribe against the club every fuckin’ chance he’s got,” Buck debriefed. “He’s tryin’ to shift focus from fuckface SS Danner’s corruption and incarceration onto us by sayin’ the disappearance of some local girls is on us.”
Zeus’s face collapsed into a deep scowl. “Motherfucker.”
“I say we just gun the fucker down,” Skell declared, slappin’ his hand on the table. “He’s in public enough. Someone just take one for the team and fuckin’ shoot him.”
“And this would be why you aren’t in charge,” Bat said, cuttin’ him off with the cold blade of his criticism. “No one’s goin’ down for the murder of Javier Ventura, or attempted murder. The man is cartel, so there’d be serious fuckin’ blow back if we got caught, and even if we were stupid enough to try, he’s always surrounded by tight ass security.”
“You were a sniper, right, can’t ya just get on a rooftop?” Skell continued.
Bat ignored him. “The real problem is, they’re tryin to bring the Organized Crime unit up here to look into us. Things could get serious if they do.”
“Our shit’s tight,” Axe-Man said.
“Don’t care how tight our shit is, we get the unit up here when we’re skirtin’ war with the cartel, more than one brother’s gonna end up in jail or dead.” Zeus’s eyes flashed, and his smile went predatory. “Got somethin’ in the works with the Venturas, we’ll see how it plays out. Javier found a way to track one’a us to the Grouse warehouse, we don’t need anythin’ else goin’ to shit, so keep vigilant and watch for tails.”
We weren’t about rules. We were a fuckin’ outlaw motorcycle club, so we valued freedom and spontaneity more than almost anythin’.
But this was our safety and the safety of our brethren, our families.
No one would say shit against Z’s rulin’ ’cause we’d already lost too much.
Mute, King, months lost to Zeus in prison.
We’d stay vigilant, travelin’ in pairs and packs even though it chafed.
“Good to have ya back, boss,” Boner declared after a moment of silence, and then he beat his fists against the solid oak table.
The rest of us followed, thumpin’ and hootin’ and hollerin’ ’cause we’d lost so much, but our Prez was back. And none of us had any doubt he’d lead us to fuckin’ victory against the motherfuckers who dared to fuck with us and ours.
Zeus’s smile was a grim slash in his beard, but he dipped his chin to his brothers and opened his palms to the sky like some kinda benevolent underworld lord.
“Good to be home, brothers,” he declared. “Better we exterminate the vermin darin’ to make this place, our fuckin’ place, their own. Let’s get it done.”
There was a roar of consent from around the table, and then the meetin’ ended, brothers gettin’ up to congregate in the common room or get back to their businesses.
“Hold up, pretty boy,” Z ordered mildly.
I stayed seated, wary of his casual tone ’cause Zeus wasn’t a casual kinda man.
Somethin’ was brewin’.
When the last brother finally closed the door to the chapel behind him, Z angled his head to stare at me, tatted hand in his beard.
“I’m so pretty you just wanted to stare at me a while?” I taunted.
His lips twitched. “Heard you were kissin’ a certain Hispanic girl at Eugene’s the other night.”
“Oh, yeah?” It shouldn’t have surprised me he knew. Fuckin’ Loulou knew everythin’ there was to know about the goin’s on of the brothers in the club ’cause we all told her everythin’. She was just that way to us, for us. Our Foxy.