Chapter Forty-Six
Chasm
I walked into church; Morgan was still asleep in my bed. Where she belonged. Where she would always be.
I looked around the room at the pictures on the wall. Images of a past I wasn’t sure I wanted to remember. When I joined the Silver Shadows, I hadn’t planned on making a life with them. Hadn’t expected to find men I would trust the way I trusted my brother.
I walked over to the back wall, my eyes on a framed picture I’d expected to be taken down.
Two stupid kids who thought the world was theirs for the taking. I stared at the picture of me and King on our bikes.
It was the first year we went to Sturgis. I’d just been patched in when King started prospecting. Dutch, of all people, had been his sponsor. We’d been in the club for years before we were allowed to go. Someone had to stay back and protect the clubhouse.
We’d spent the entire week drinking through every bar in town and fucking every pussy we could get our hands on. We left that place with a bond stronger than Justin and I had. A bond that was broken in less than a decade.
“He fought for you,” the grizzled voice behind me said.
I didn’t turn around. I still wasn’t ready to accept my part in the shit we found ourselves in.
The sound of his boots as he walked up and stood beside me, looking at the black-and-white image, had my shoulders locking up. I kept my eyes on my younger self, unwilling to entertain the fact that I’d been so fucking wrong.
“He knew as soon as he came back.” He paused. “As soon as we had church and Steele gave us his bullshit about how you went cowboy and entered that warehouse by yourself instead of waiting for King, he knew what happened.”
“He didn’t do shit with it,” I said, my voice filled with emotion.
“He didn’t have proof. You, better than anyone, know you don’t accuse a brother of shit without the proof.”
He was right. It was why I hadn’t accused Steele and Stone of killing their parents.
“All this shit is my fault.”
“Fuck off, Chasm,” Dutch snapped. “You couldn’t have prevented this shit. If anyone’s to blame its Valentinetti. He dropped the fucking ball and let St. James get away.”
“They were her nephews. I should have known she was the one who turned them,” I said, turning away from the past and moving to the table.
“Kimberly St. James walked away from that shit because she wanted a better life. It just so happened she fell in love with a biker. You can run from your family, but not your destiny.”
I looked at Dutch. “Destiny, huh?” I smiled when his ears turned pink. He shrugged.
“It’s either destiny or a shitty life. I prefer to believe in destiny.”
Before he could explain, the others started piling in. We all took our seats, and I struck the gavel on the table.
“What do we have?” I asked Omen.
“I’ve been through the phone. Zephyr’s using a burner; it pings all over the fucking world, so I can’t pinpoint where he’s holing up. But I’ve been reading through the texts Nathan sent, and I think I can mimic him. Make Zephyr believe he’s talking to his son.”
“What would be the point?” Dutch asked.
I looked at the old man and sighed. It wasn’t his fault, but the longer I was back, the more disheartened I became with how quickly he could slip from philosopher to idiot.
“The point,” Omen stressed, “is to get him to meet his son somewhere, and we’ll be there to ambush him.”
“We have to be sure though, otherwise we’ll be the ones who are ambushed,” B pointed out.
“I already texted him,” Omen said, his eyes on me, waiting for me to get angry.
My hands clenched on the table. When this shit was done, there would be a reckoning. I couldn’t lead men who did their own fucking thing.
“What did you say?” Krypto asked, his eyes darting between me and Omen.
“I told him the truth. That his men tried to attack and were dead, but that I had gotten Sully out of the clubhouse during the distraction.”
“Did he believe it?” Monty asked.
I sat there listening, watching my men to see how they responded to the blatant disregard for my authority.
Omen smiled. “He did. He wants to meet at the diner where they met before. I told him I’d be there at four.”
“Do we know where the diner is?” I asked, keeping my anger tamped down. I’d deal with him when this shit was over.
“Well, not exactly. But his phone has GPS, so I know where he’s been. There are two diners that he’s been to numerous times.”
“How do we know which one Zephyr is at?” Scorpion asked.
“We don’t,” Smokey said, his eyes on me. “We have to split up.” He looked at Omen. “You’re a fucking asshole, you know that?”
Omen’s eyes widened, and his mouth dropped open. “What the fuck? I got us two possible answers we didn’t have before.”
“Two answers that cuts our numbers in half. If Zephyr knows we’re on to him, then he’ll have men in both places ready to fuck us in the ass while he attacks the clubhouse and takes our fucking women,” Smokey bellowed, and Omen winced.
“And if we don’t show up to either, he knows his son is probably dead,” I added, sitting forward. “I told you all the first day I was here, shit was going to be different. We make these fucking decisions together so we can talk out the possible outcomes before we shoot ourselves in the ass.”
“So what do we do?” Ambush asked.
“I can make a call, Prez,” Crater said.
“To whom?” I asked.
“I have an uncle with the Highway Sinners in Clarksdale, Mississippi. If they get on the road right now, they can cover the clubhouse while we go after Zephyr.”
I leaned back in my seat and looked at Crater. I didn’t know a lot about the Highway Sinners. But I knew Steele wouldn’t work with them, and that was a point in their favor.
“Call him.”
Crater pulled out his phone and dialed the number. Without being told, he set the phone on the table and pressed the button to put it on speaker.
“Hey, Jackass. You ready to leave that pussy club and join mine yet?”
“Fuck you, Bandit. I ain’t ever joining your weak-ass club.” Bandit, the president of the Highway Sinners, barked out a laugh, and Crater looked at me with a smile, shaking his head.
“What do you need, kid?”
“Need you and the boys to come to Little Rock.”
“When?”
“Now,” Crater said.
“Your new president as bad as the other one?”
“No, Chasm’s a good man,” Crater said, his eyes on me so I saw the truth in his statement.
“Then why the fuck are you calling me instead of him?”
“Because my fucking men know how to get shit done.”
“Chasm, I presume,” Bandit said with a sneer.
“You willing to help or not?” I asked.
The line was silent for a moment. “The kid is the only reason I’m willing to do this.” The call cut off, and Crater shook his head.
“Asshole,” he muttered.
“Is he coming?” Spider asked.
“He’s coming,” Crater assured us.
“Then we need to work out a plan while we wait.”
I stood outside the clubhouse, watching as bike after bike carrying the Highway Sinners pulled in. Brian was flagging them down, showing them where to park, and I stood next to B and Crater, waiting for Bandit, the president, to walk over.
He was a grizzled old biker with wide shoulders and a grey beard that hung down almost to his waist.
“You bring the whole club?” I asked, looking behind Bandit as more brothers continued to pull in.
Bandit glanced over his shoulder and then grinned. “My nephew asks for help and the whole fuckin’ club rides.”
Bandit stepped forward and pulled Crater into a hug. Then he placed a hand on either side of his face and asked, “What fuckin’ shit are you tangled up in?”
“I’m sure by now you’ve heard about the war a few months back,” I said.
Bandit sighed and dropped his arms. “I’d hoped because it was in Nebraska you weren’t involved.”
“I wasn’t,” Crater confirmed. “But my club was. And it followed us here.”
“Let’s move inside and we can fill you in,” I suggested.
I watched as men walked up to Crater, some hugging him, some only nodding. But it was clear they all had a fondness for him. I’d be a fool not to tap into that fondness and secure an ally. Especially one right in our backyard.
The moment we moved inside, the men started eye-fucking my woman. I clamped my mouth shut and held out my hand to her as she hurried into my arms.
“Bandit, I’d like you to meet my old lady, Morgan Delany.”
“I don’t see a cut,” was the first thing he said.
Before I could say a word, she raised her eyebrow and said, “And your point is?”
“Point is, sweetheart, no cut, no property.”
“Would telling you my father is Braesal O’Malley make you get your men under control?
” Bandit’s eyes widened. “Or how about my brother being Kingston O’Rourke?
Is that sufficient enough?” she asked. “You see, where I come from, the Sons of Hell don’t make their women wear cuts; introducing them as an old lady is enough to make men back off and treat them with the respect they deserve. ”
Bandit narrowed his eyes at Morgan. “You remind me of my old lady.”
Crater snorted behind Bandit, and I glared at him.
“That’s a compliment, Prez. My aunt Ginny doesn’t take shit from anyone, especially him.” He hooked his thumb in Bandit’s direction, and the other Highway Sinners laughed.
“Shut the fuck up, kid, or I’ll send her over here to beat your ass.”
Crater rolled his lips between his teeth, cutting off the smile he’d had a second ago.
“Morgan, I need you, Benny, and Sully to go upstairs. Church isn’t big enough for all of us.” I looked in the corner where Jenna and the whores were watching the men. “All of you, out!”
“Fine,” she said and kissed me before sending a glare in Bandit’s direction.
Bandit smiled at Morgan’s back. “Yup, just like my old lady,” he said, shaking his head. “Now, what the fuck do you need us for?”
“I need you to protect the clubhouse and my women.”
Bandit eyed me while his VP, Scotch, asked, “How many women you got? And how’d you get your old lady to be okay with it?”
“There are four women here besides the club whores. My old lady, her mother, my little sister, and another woman under the club’s protection.”
“Where are you going?” Bandit asked.
I looked at Crater, wondering how much information the Highway Sinners could be trusted with. Crater nodded, and I sighed.
I told Bandit everything that had happened in the last thirty-six hours.
I didn’t have to tell him who Zephyr was, and I didn’t tell him why he was after Sully and Morgan, but word about the war had made the rounds in the last few months.
Allies all over the country had been made aware of who was behind the coup to take over the Biker Federation.
Then I explained about Sylvia St. James and her mission to collect the children of bikers in every club in the country, what we knew about her, and why this was urgent.
“Can I trust you to protect our women and our clubhouse?”
Bandit looked at his VP as he rubbed his chin. Scotch nodded, and Bandit answered, “Yeah, go get that son of a bitch.”