6. Chapter Six
Chapter Six
Entering this room without seeing my father seated at the head of the table should break me, but I’m built stronger than that. He raised me to be tough and never back down from a fight. I stare at his empty chair, knowing I can’t hesitate to claim it. My hands rest on the back of Pop’s chair, the old leather worn with years of love and battle scars from club fights. I allow myself a moment to remember him, the man who taught me everything I know about being in a brotherhood, about leading, about survival, and loyalty. I can’t focus on the betrayal of him fucking Shelby behind my back, but I can let it fuel me. Inhaling a deep breath, I release it as I take my seat at the head of the table, sitting where he did countless times, prepared to lead.
I’ve got no other choice than to continue what he started.
To be the man he raised me to be.
I claim his gavel, and a shiver passes over me.
I’m not ready for this.
But these men expect nothing less.
I can step into my father’s boots and ride or die.
I can’t afford to show any signs of weakness.
“Everyone,” I begin, my voice steady over the quiet murmurings in the room, “we’ve got a situation. A big one. I know you’re all angry and want answers. I want that more than you know. Sadly, this was no tragic accident. It was an attack on the club.”
A collective roar of anger sounds around the room as I relay what Goose and I discovered at Marty’s office, as well as our suspicions about Shelby and how this plot seems to be much bigger than we initially thought. Their faces are etched with disbelief and rage. Nods and rumblings of agreement ripple around the table when I suggest we need to take action tonight.
The conversation is an eruption of chaos.
Goose is at my side, calming the storm they all want to unleash, his unwavering support grounding me during this moment of validation that this club needs me to lead them. He adds his own piece about his father, Eightball. Anyone who ever knew him was aware of his struggles with addiction.
Shelby knew enough, but someone put this whole thing in motion.
“I say we kill this bitch,” Slasher says.
“I don’t disagree, but we need to know who is pulling the strings. This situation with her is complicated. She’s claiming she’s pregnant. Says the baby belongs to my father.”
“Convenient,” Shack mutters.
He’s not wrong.
“Here’s what we’re going to do,” I begin, once the room has quieted enough for me to be heard. “We divide and conquer. We’ll split into groups. I’ll nab Shelby. Poe and Goose will grab Marty. Rook and Combat will go on the hunt for Randy’s sons. We need to find out exactly what they know. Someone has declared war on us.”
A chorus of grunts fills the room as they agree. Every man in this room is ready to ride or die. We all know the consequences if we fail. Our club, our family, and our lives are on the line.
“We need answers,” I continue. “And we need them fast. But remember, this club is about brotherhood, about family. No matter what happens, we look out for each other. We have each other’s backs. Nobody fucks with us and walks away breathing.”
The solemn nodding around the room reassures me that they hold the same values close to their hearts. We are a brotherhood. Protective and fierce. It’s us against the world. No one is going to take what’s ours or destroy what my father built. We’ll stop them or die trying.
“Get geared up,” I command, standing from my seat at the head of the table. I bang the gavel on the table, signaling the end of church. We’ve gotta do this tonight. The wake is the perfect cover. The best alibi we’ve got should anything go south.
We need everything to go smoothly.
Once everyone has their orders, the men disperse to prepare. Goose hangs back, waiting until it’s just the two of us.
“We’re really doing this, huh?” he asks, his voice heavy.
“Looks like it,” I respond, my gaze on the urn containing my father’s ashes.
“You sure you can handle this Shelby situation?
“There’s no other way.”
Goose claps a hand on my shoulder, solid and reassuring. “We’ll get through this.” Out at the bar, the tables have been cleared for Eightball’s casket and my Pop’s urn. He said he knew he was going straight to Hell and might as well arrive already charred. He had a dark sense of humor. Said to stick his ashes on a shelf behind the bar where he could still be part of the party. That’s exactly what I plan to do.
The wake isn’t open to the public, but I know folks like Buford Adams will want to pay their respects and I want them to come. To see Goose and I mourning the loss of our fathers. To see we’re here getting shit faced with the rest of the club and the other brothers who traveled to be here.
The wake begins as the sky darkens outside. The clubhouse fills with men who revered War and Eightball. Their faces are hard and yet sorrowful as they pay their respects to the fallen leaders of our club. There’s an unmistakable sense of loss hanging heavy in the air. The old ladies all have tight faces, knowing that any time this could be the fate of their men. Even the hangarounds and whores’ faces are ashen.
My father was a tough son of a bitch, but he was loved by many.
Feared by more, which is why this coward’s way of taking him out makes me angrier with every passing second. He deserved to go out honorably. Not at the hands of a greedy whore.
I walk with Goose to his father’s casket. “Party is over, old man,” he mutters and shakes his head. “How could he be so goddamn stupid?” he looks at me and I wish I had an answer that made fucking sense.
“Wish I knew, man. Wish I fucking knew what either of them were thinking.”
I leave him to stew on his anger. I’m mad as hell, too. If I were a better leader, I’d gut Shelby with a wire hanger, drop her out in the gulf to be fish food, and that’d be the end of it. Her and that fucking sleaze, Marty. No one would miss them.
Well, Ashley, Shelby’s little sister, might, but she’d be the only one.
I accept offers of condolence from Pop’s oldest friends. Ol’ Ladies offer up all their baked goods and pre-made dinners. Enough to feed an army for two weeks. I’m sure Momma Tee will appreciate their efforts. Who the fuck knows where her head is at. I glance around the room, wondering where she’s at. I haven’t laid eyes on her since she was trying to get me to talk to Shelby.
I figured she’d be the first here, but everyone grieves in their own way.
Even Goose’s mom is here and that’s saying something considering how she felt about Eightball. I watch as she stands at his casket, shaking her head. I can only imagine the words she has for him, even in death, with how volatile their relationship was.
Buford Adams arrives later in the evening, his gaze wandering around the room before landing on me. He hurriedly shuffles straight up to me, extending his hand, ready for a handshake. I take it reluctantly, wondering if he was in on this fucked up attack. I don’t trust anyone who isn’t a brother in this club.
“Sorry for your loss. Damn shame. Always liked your old man. I know a lot of folks liked him while others woulda loved to run him out of town. Want you to know that whatever is going down tonight, I’m on your side.”
“The fuck do you know?”
“Walk outside with me and I’ll tell you what I can.”
I light up a cigarette and make it appear I’m escorting him out.
“Picked up Randy’s boy copula’ hours ago. Clay confessed he was paid to take his father out. Someone offered him a substantial amount of money. Got him all fucked up on meth and played on his fears and paranoia that Randy was going to close up shop and skip town before the FEDS shut down the whole operation. We know that shits not true. I’ve always turned an eye. Your club puts a lot of money back into this town. I’m not looking to fuck that up.”
“He give a name?”
“Yeah. If I tell you, I need you to promise me I won’t be getting a call about a body.”
“You know I can’t promise that.”
“I don’t ask for much, son. But this isn’t negotiable.”
“Fucking Shelby.” I flick the butt of my cigarette to the ground.
“I’ve watched you kids grow up. I don’t know who made her do it, but I know she’s a good girl.”
“Right. A good girl who got three men killed.”
“I’ve got a car on her house and an officer following her. Don’t do anything stupid. I’ll question her and get to the bottom of this.”
“Don’t worry. Won’t be a hair out of place on her head.” I may not be able to kill the bitch, but I damn sure can make her suffer.
I fire off a text, telling her we need to talk.
Just the two of us.