Chapter 17—Bass
C hurch is quiet. It was officially called ten minutes after Milly told us everything. We only waited that long to make sure we had the place locked down when we got Church together. With the number of enemies we have—the prospect wasn’t joking about that—we made sure the families were safe before we all came in and sat down. And that’s all we’ve been doing since, just sitting.
All except Flint, who’s been nonstop on his tablet. Even has Gator looking at shit on his laptop as they sit next to each other at the table. When she was done, Fairy gave the boss a thumbs-up, literally, before Flint started asking questions and Casper fired off text messages for Church. Not that a text was needed. Everyone was in the damn clubhouse listening as she spilled her guts to us.
And I hate it. I fucking hate everything about it. Hate that she accepted that her family would leave her out to dry because she was willing to go to bat for her friend. Hate that Ollie had to witness something that he’ll no doubt never ever recover from, not even with therapy. Hate that some asshole thought he had a claim over a kid who he only sired, that the kid owed him or some shit.
Ivan wasn’t a new asshole. Been dealing with shitheads like him for years. Different names, different backgrounds, but all with the same bullshit expectation that they’re God. The whole “younger generation entitlement” has nothing on guys like Ivan. They’re in a class above that, as they’re all narcissistic assholes who think they’re both God’s gift to women and the ruler of men.
Some might think all bikers are similar, but not Hounds. Hounds of the Reaper have similar traits, but we also stand out more than stand with. We have a code, a morality—a small one, but it’s there. And if a brother ever loses that part of himself, then the club is there for them.
“We trust her?” Bulldog breaks the silence. He wasn’t close when Milly spoke, choosing to sit with his woman by the bar, but he heard it. We all did.
“Fairy does,” Mad Max chimes in from the back of the room, sitting behind Law in his typical role of presidential protector.
We all nod at his words. Milly was right—women don’t get an in with the club, not usually. But Law has no problem using Fairy, our walking lie detector, when needed. He’s all for using the club’s strengths, no matter if they have tits or a dick. If Fairy says she spoke the truth, then I’ve got no reason not to trust her.
“What next?” I voice the question that’s been on my mind for days. But this time, it isn’t because I want someone else to babysit.
“That’s the question, isn’t it?” Casper says with a shake of his head. “Right now, the club’s only involvement is hiding a few bodies and giving Milly and Ollie a place to sleep. If we dive into this, if we put them under protection, we could be where her brothers were: looking at war with the Russian Mafia. Not saying we couldn’t take them, but if Vinny Leone ain’t willing to go against them, maybe we shouldn’t either.”
“We willing to put them out in the cold?” My voice is hard as steel. I don’t know what I’m expecting from this meeting, but thinking about making her leave ain’t the option I’m liking.
“Is it out in the cold if we set her up with a place to go and shit like the Crazy Eights did?” Jumper asks with a look around at everyone. “She’s proven she can handle herself and has been doing it for the last three years, it seems. It’s not like we’re kicking a puppy out into the snow. Girl can land on her feet and then some.”
“Can, but should she?” Chains glares at Jumper, who just shrugs it off. Club has a rule: Everyone is allowed to voice their opinion in Church until the boss makes the call. Then we go in the direction he tells us. But till he says where to jump and how high, it’s free rein to speak.
“No one’s saying she wasn’t dealt a shit hand. Her and the kid,” General speaks up. He rarely talks in these things, usually silent like Mad Max and Law. Not that he doesn’t have an opinion, but he has a different issue since he’s bound by some higher morals than the rest of us. His doctor side is always at war with the rest of him when we’re talking about taking lives. He’s able to shut it up a hell of a lot sooner when it’s a couple of dickheads, but innocents are a whole other subject.
Our club isn’t the white-knight type, charging in to help anyone and everyone. We save the innocent when they fall in our lap. Too many of us witnessed shit in our pasts when our hands were tied and saw more unanswered prayers from victims than the justice served.
But this ain’t your average “save the damsel” kind of thing. This has consequences that affect not only this club and its family but our sister clubs. Because there’s one thing I know about the Russian Mafia, and it’s that they don’ t do anything quietly. If they take you out, they take out the line. The entire family.
“She has a kid.” My hands are spread wide on the table as I look at every brother in the room. “A kid who she claimed because her best friend died at the hands of a monster who thought he had a right to do whatever the fuck he wanted. Guys like him walk around free because people are afraid to stand up to him, to do anything. And if we tell her to go, then we’re playing into that fear. We’re letting him win. And I refuse to let this club become pussy whipped by any asshole. Especially one we’ve never met but only heard about in the night like a fucking boogeyman.” I bang my fist on the table, causing a few brothers to jump. “We don’t run from the boogeyman. We fuck up the boogeyman. We’re the ones they fear, not the other way around. We don’t run, we don’t hide—we take, and we claim. Everything we’ve ever faced, we’ve come out on top. The club went from dealing in transportation for cargo to running one of the best mercenary groups in the world in less than eighteen months. We have skills. We ain’t some dumb jocks with sticks up our asses. We are this. We are the Hounds of the fucking Reaper. We bring him the souls that deserve to be buried in the deepest pits of hell. We don’t cower, and we sure as hell don’t give up without a fight.”
“You willing to go to war for a stranger?” Kooper asks.
“Or is she more than a stranger now?” Law asks with a level eye in my direction.
I hold his stare. I get what he’s asking, but I’m not ready for that, not yet.
“Not making a claim.”
The woman might intrigue me, but putting a claim on someone like that doesn’t seem right. Milly isn’t one to be tied down by old-lady status. She could handle herself if she had the title, that’s for sure. She’s proved that more than once, including how she dealt with Torie. Bitches talk, and some vamps always try to start shit. If I ever took an old lady, they would have to hold their own when I’m not around. Milly has that in spades. But I’m not claiming her. It’s a shitty situation all around. The proximity arrangement has me thinking of her more than others before ’cause she’s around so much. I’m not dumb enough to think I’ve fallen for the girl in a few weeks’ time. That would be crazy. And while I’ll admit I’m not completely sane—no Hound is—I wouldn’t think I’ve gone off the deep end just yet.
Law holds my stare a second longer, then knocks on the table with his knuckles. “Let’s hold for a few days, put some feelers out there. I want full details on this Ivan guy before we make a play. Right now, the kid’s in our protection, as he’s a friend of Teddy.” He nods toward Chains, who nods back. No secret that Teddy, like the rest in this place, has a shitty past, but he’s had a hard time connecting. Nothing wrong with not having a best friend at his age, but it’s nice to see him shine now that he does. If we can keep that for him, we will—to a point.
“I’ll also contact a few of our other chapters to get their read on the situation. Pretty sure the boys back east have dealt with the Leones, and I want their take on them. Like Bass said, right now, we’ve got nothing to go on but what Flint finds online. Want someone with eyes on to give me a real assessment of the situation. Hell, both Chains and Mad Max were granted early release for good behavior according to their paperwork, and we all know that’s a load of shit,” Law says with a side grin that makes the table erupt in laughter and light jabs at the two brothers, who take the good-natured ribbing.
They did what they needed to do to get out of prison, but good isn’t a word you use to describe either. Unless it’s how they treat their old ladies. And at that, it’s an inferior word for how they actually worship them.
Another two days go by before Law calls Church again. The club has been doing its normal thing, going on with life. But it’s different for me, and I see it in Milly too. There’s a tension at the house, both of us waiting for the other shoe to drop. I didn’t tell her what happened at Church, but she doesn’t need me to. As she said, her brothers chose peace over war. She probably expects the same, and she’s probably right. No matter how much it eats at me to release her into the wild, letting her and Ollie walk out the door and washing our hands of them, till we know more, is the safest play we have for those already embedded deep in the club.
Until someone puts a claim on her and Ollie, she’s just another civilian. A “casualty of war,” as the government would say. But a fucking casualty that would break a part of me.
The scythe-looking gavel hits the table before every brother sits, gaining the attention of all quickly. “Listen up. I got a call coming in, and usually I would take it with just me and a few officers, but like we talked about last time, this could affect more than the usual. You got a minute to get settled and then shut the fuck up. If you can’t do that, step out now. No shame in that, but this isn’t the time to let any of your personal feelings out in the open if something is said that you don’t like.”
A few brothers leave, probably for the best. A month ago, I would have gone with them. My need to joke about everything’s pulling me hard, but that was before. Lately, there hasn’t been a lot to laugh about. Me not leaving has more than one brother giving me the side-eye, to which I give them a chin lift back. “I’ll leave if I need to.”
“Good,” Law says, being one of the few who looked at me longer than most for not exiting. “Now shut it. Flint, get me a line out.”
“Already on it. Crispy is on line one,” he says with a nod toward the speakerphone they brought in just for this.
Phones are usually kept out of Church for a reason, to avoid any recordings. Flint always has the cameras running outside to keep eyes on everything while we’re locked away, and he puts the jammers in place to prevent listening devices from afar. No doubt the line is already secure, and both he and Gator are pinging it off cell towers to prevent a trace. Only way for us to talk freely with another club president about secure shit unless we meet in person.
“Crispy, you got Law, Bulldog, and Casper,” Flint says after pushing the button to take our side off mute.
I fold my arms, hoping to curb myself from reacting to anything by hitting something. It’s a common issue with most Hounds, hence why almost everyone is in the same position as me as we sit, pretending not to be here and acting like only Casper, Law, Flint, and Bulldog are on the line.
“Peachy” is rasped back to us, and I hold back a grunt. Crispy is one sarcastic son of a bitch who I get along well with. Haven’t seen him in about two years, since our last all-chapter meetup, but it seems that times have been good for him. Moved from VP to president of his chapter in the last six months, from what I’ve heard, when the other president stepped down to spend time with the grandkids. You wouldn’t know it, but Hounds make great granddads. We spoil the shit out of kids of all ages, but especially the ones linked to our own offspring. Don’t know a single Hound who doesn’t go apeshit for grandkids. Just means our legacy is growing and not dying out like so many other clubs.
“You’re the one who called for this. Tell me why,” Law says smoothly. As the mother chapter’s president, he outranks everyone, easily taking charge.
“Got a person of interest who wanted to make your acquaintance.” His rasp is soft, but his words are strong, causing the brothers to stiffen. I haven’t been in the room for many calls like this. As I said before, my humor usually has me sitting on the outside. But I can’t think of a time when we brought someone on the phone who wasn’t club related. That usually goes through another connection, the in-person kind with a blockade of brothers at the president’s back, all strapped and ready to go at a moment’s notice.
“Who?” Casper asks, squinting at the phone so hard, you would think he could see through it to the other side of the line.
“Vinny Leone.”
Law looks at me, and I bite the inside of my cheek before I give him a nod. He was giving me a second to walk if I needed, but I ain’t going anywhere. I’ve made my opinion about Vinny plenty clear in the past few days. I don’t have siblings, but I have brothers, club brothers. I can’t wrap my mind around leaving one out to dry like he did his own blood. It pisses me off to the point that I see red and usually end up hitting someone or something if the topic is brought up. Got a few new dents in the walls around here lately because of me.
“Go ahead,” Law says, and we hear Crispy pass the phone over.
“Where is she?” The smooth voice does nothing to hide the hard notes in those three little words.
“Where’s who?” Bulldog asks flippantly.
“You know goddamn well who I’m talking about. Where’s Milly?”
“What makes you think we have her?” Law asks.
The guy laughs, but it’s more menacing than mirthful. “Because I’m not a fucking idiot. You got your boys out asking questions in my territory about Ivan Volkov.”
“So?” Casper throws in.
To his credit, Vinny isn’t swayed by the change in who’s talking. Some get all pissy about only wanting to talk to the boss, but we don’t identify Law if we don’t have to. We protect our president at all costs. Even if this guy demands to only talk to the man in charge, Law still won’t speak up and identify himself. It took him a while to accept it, but Bulldog and Casper put it to a vote, and the club agreed. Law only shows his hand when needed. And over the phone ain’t needed.
“Volkov is a small fish here. You want a piece of his large pie, you go someplace else. If you want to make a play on me and mine, I know you’re smart enough to find another big fish to play nice with. But you aren’t making a play, because we have no issues. Well, we didn’t till now. Ivan is a fucking cunt, but he has a flaw, and that’s ego. An ego he tosses out, and little birds flock to it. One birdie being a close friend to my sister.”
“A birdie who’s dead,” Law says with a hard note to it.
A moment passes before Vinny speaks again. “Regrettable. She was a silly bird, but no one deserves to get their wings clipped.”
“Agreed But how does a dead bird make you think we have your sister?”
“Milly also has a flaw, and that’s loyalty.”
“A flaw that most in our business see as a gift in the right person.” Law continues to lead the charge.
“True, but not when you’re looking at the bigger picture. Loyalty gets you close, but it can also get you killed. While we in the business, as you call it, chose this life, she was burdened with it at birth.” He takes a moment, and I feel myself leaning toward the phone. “Just… just tell me she’s alive.” There’s a strained note in his voice that has me thinking the asshole might actually care about her after all.
Bulldog takes over. “She is, but not if Ivan has his way.”
Vinny growls on the other end of the phone. “He always was a vindictive son of a bitch.”
Casper chuckles. “Probably doesn’t help that she got two shots off at him the last time she saw him. One in the leg and the other in the stomach.”
The guy laughs, and I smirk as well. “Ha, that’s why he limps? Little Milly did that? Damn, the boys will be proud.”
I hear the pride in his voice and feel a little in my own, remembering the way she handled herself the first time I saw her shoot. She has potential and has obviously been trained. At the time, I had no idea it was by the Italian mafia.
“We could never openly go after Ivan without the Volkov family taking a few liberties.” The humor is out of his voice again. “Those liberties have been dealt with, and we can now protect what’s ours.”
“You don’t think you’re a little late?” I feel the glares around the table that I spoke up, but so what? I stare at the phone and wait a beat before he answers.
“Maybe. But I believe in fixing mistakes when I make them. Doesn’t happen much, and I aim to keep that count low.”
“We might be willing to help.” I look up as Law talks, his glare directed at me and me alone. “But it will cost you.”
The laughter is back, full of mirth this time. “As it usually does. But payment is no good till product is in hand.”
I work my jaw side to side to keep from saying shit. I already know I’m going to get my ass busted for speaking up. No need to make it worse. Boss knows what he’s doing, and I’ve got no delusion that he’ll put my ass on suspension if I question him now. Even if the way he and Vinny are talking makes me think about all the shit we dealt with when we worked on the human trafficking issues last year with Duke, the VP of the Devils Damned.
“Deal. Now tell me what you know about Ivan.”
With that, Law seals the club’s fate—and Milly’s.