Sunlight punches into the bar as the door swings open.
Chaser swaggers inside slowly, slipping off his sunglasses and tucking them in a pocket of his cut. Two club brothers remain close to his back. One’s about Wrath’s size—I figure he’s Chaser’s SAA. Reminds me of the fucking Terminator the way he never stops scanning his surroundings. The other brother looks familiar but I don’t remember his name.
Chaser doesn’t so much as lift an eyebrow at all the extra Lost Kings inside the bar. It wouldn’t surprise me at all if more of his guys were waiting outside or nearby just in case.
A taller but leaner character stays a few feet to Chaser’s left. Not wearing Devil Demons colors, but inked from head to fingers. This must be the half brother.
Chaser nods to his entourage to take a seat at the bar where Wrath’s stationed and approaches our corner slowly. His brother stops halfway and waits.
As MC protocol demands, since he called the meeting, Rock stands and greets Chaser first. Chaser shakes Z’s hand, then Rooster’s, and finally mine.
“Grinder.” Chaser pulls me in, slapping my back. I return the friendly greeting. “Good to see you on this side, brother.”
Time’s been kinder to Chaser than it has to me. Still, up close like this, it’s a shock to see he’s aged at all. I kept picturing him as the cocky MC president’s son in my head. Now, he’s a stone-faced MC president, running his own club.
“How’ve you been?” I thump him on the back one last time. “How’s Mallory?”
“Great. I know she’s hoping to see you soon, too.” He glances at Rock. “Once we get our business squared away.”
Rock nods to the table we chose. Like any MC prez worth his patch, Chaser’s not thrilled about taking the seat that leaves his back exposed. He lazily turns it to the side, pushing it against the wall before sitting and resting one arm on the table.
Rock, Z, and I sit across from him.
Rooster positions himself at the end of the table, so he’s facing Chaser. Chaser’s SAA moves in like a storm cloud to stand next to his prez.
Wrath’s keen eyes shift between us and the other two Chaser brought with him.
“As much as I always enjoy a road trip, the weather’s shit,” Chaser says. “So, what am I doing here?”
Without saying a word, Rock slaps the drawing on the table and pushes it toward Chaser. “That look familiar to you?”
Chaser studies the picture then flicks his gaze toward Rock. “And this is…?”
“The guy who attacked my old lady had that tat on his hand,” I explain.
“Looks an awful lot like the one on your brother’s neck,” Rooster adds, casting a glance in the brother’s direction.
“Half brother,” Chaser corrects. He lifts his gaze to me. “Who’s your old lady?”
“No one you know.”
He cocks his head and studies me closely, while I do the same.
He’s a hell of a lot more even-tempered and thoughtful than I remember his pop being as we sit here and casually accuse his brother’s crew of attacking my ol’ lady. But just because I respect him, doesn’t mean I’m going to tolerate any bullshit.
“Same guy paid me a visit at my apartment,” I continue. “Do your half brother’s minions take on side gigs for prison gangs?”
“Fuck no.” Chaser lifts his hand and motions his brother to the table.
The brother glares daggers at Chaser. Maybe he doesn’t like being hand-signaled to like a dog. Don’t know, don’t care.
Chaser flicks his fingers in the guy’s direction. “Rock, Z, Rooster, you remember my half brother Quill. Grinder, this is Quill.” Chaser’s gaze narrows and he pins his brother with a hard stare. “Grinder’s a long-time friend of my club.”
Quill nods at me. “I must’ve missed you at Chaser’s anniversary party, long-time friend.”
This cocksucker.
I stand, placing my hands on the table and meet Quill’s cold gaze. “I just got released from Pine Correctional. I think you have a few friends there you do business with?”
“Got no business inside.” He pushes his hands out in front of him like he’s rolling out a magic carpet of bullshit. “We leave that to the incarcerated.”
I grunt and take my seat again.
Quill glances at Chaser before sitting across from me. “Why do you think my crew’s involved?”
Rock hands him the drawing. Quill studies it but no emotions register on his face. “So?”
“Have you not looked in a mirror lately?” Rooster asks, rubbing his fingers over his throat.
Quill slides a lethal stare Rooster’s way. Rooster meets it with a smirk and head tilt.
Rock taps the paper. “Everyone who works for your family has this ink.”
“Not everyone who works for the family,” Quill says. “They need to be at a certain level.” He nods to Rock’s inked hands. “I’m sure your MC has similar rules, yes?”
“The particular guy also had a red X at the corner of his eye.” I tap my cheek.