Chapter 26
W ith her arms stretched around my waist, tightly holding as told, I pull out onto the street. I have no idea what is so important that has Busta in a rush, but it doesn’t matter. We’ve been through enough together that if one asks for the other to be there, we do it. Also, Busta and Cap both deserve to know as much as I do. Hylo may have been my mother, but this is something that affects all of the clubs. The brotherhood we’ve gained would be broken without the trust we’ve given to one another, and telling him about the connection between Claudine and Hylo is just a start.
Riding out, it’s not that long before we’re into the Bows’ territory. The book and my passenger are both making me uncomfortable. She, because I wish nothing more than to sink my face into her soft folds, licking, sucking, and fucking her so hard that even considering a ride on a motorcycle will cause her pain. And the book; well, I personally know how its truths can cause pain. It had torn apart the Alta Noche cartel as if they were made of crepe paper, and I swear we won’t be dealt the same fate.
Passing the little Catholic church where their previous President and his twin died in a blood-filled family feud, I slow down as I approach the gates to their yard. Standing at the front are no less than four men. Two Bows and two of Cap’s Restless men. Their demeanor is worrisome, fearful, and they seem on high alert.
Noticing me and opening the gates, I pull past, finding the yard jam-packed. There are no less than four government issued SUVs and a full lot of rides. Parking beside Cap’s ride, his bright green custom FL stands out. The flash of orange and purple, the telltale custom ride of Joker’s is parked neatly beside it. I’m now feeling uneasy about the book being here, but I bring it with me.
Shutting down, pulling the key, and tossing it to a prospect. I turn to Toni to lay out the groundwork for the visit, as we start across the blacktop of their yard. “This is not my club, not my house, and if Busta says you don’t go in church, then you stand to the side outside of that fucking door, and you will not move. Understood?”
She takes my hand as we stride to the entrance. “I get it. I’ll be a church mouse,” Toni comments with a soft smile.
“I highly doubt that. Just keep your eyes trained on the ground and your hands to yourself. Don’t piss him or me off.” I can almost feel her rolling her eyes at that comment, but she doesn’t say another word as we approach.
Handing her the bag that contains the wicked tome, “You are to guard this. Unless I say so, it stays in the bag and in your arms. Got it?”
With a swift nod, she grasps my hand.
Opening the door, the dimly lit common room is rolling full of men, wives, old ladies, and hang arounds. I miss this. The feeling of family all in one place. Until our club is rebuilt, we’re going to continue to feel displaced and disconnected. I tell myself it’s only a few more weeks, even though I know it’ll still be a month or more.
Approaching Joker at the pool table, where he’s standing with his back to me, racking up the pool balls for another round, I tap him on the back. “Hey, motherfucker. Good to see you out and about.” Turning to see me, his sideways glance is quick until he notices Toni. Eyeballing her from top to bottom my jealousy rears its head. His interest in her has me feeling uneasy. This is a club that has no connection to her, and there’s no history on who she is to me.
“Joker. Antonia.” Pausing, I add, “My Old Lady.”
Standing with a hand out and a quick smile, Toni accepts Joker’s greeting, returning the outstretched hand. “Nice to meet you, Antonia.” Giving me a smile out of the side of his face, one I know I’ll be ribbed about as soon as I hit church, I grasp Toni tight to my side.
“Trig and Curse should be here soon. Are we all required for this meet?” I ask it, but it’s more of a statement.
Handing the cue to the nearest guy, he motions a head nod toward the Bows’ church. “Not much of a choice.” Looking him over, now that he’s in a better light, I see his thin frame seems even thinner. Over the last year, Joker dealt with a nasty addiction to prescription pills. He’s fighting it, and with the help of the SoCal support, he’s on the mend.
He gives a shout over his shoulder, “Miss. It’s time for church.”
Looking to the shadowy corner, where a man is having his dick sucked, the hulking bastard I haven’t seen in a few weeks steps from the shadows, zipping his jeans, and tucking his shirt, “Yeah, yeah. I’m comin’.” Leaving the woman in the corner seemingly disappointed in the lack of attention, Single Miss, or Miss as we all call him, wanders up beside Toni and me.
Standing beside me, he’s one man who makes me feel small. With his nearly seven-foot frame, his eyes, as dark as a moonless night, thick stocky shoulders, and his simple way of taking up all the air in the room, he’s a hulking form to contend with. He almost makes Busta and Cap look like prepubescent teenagers. Almost. What they lose in height against Busta’s VP, they make up for in sheer will, determination, and their innate ability to win in no-win situations. If it weren’t for the Broken Bows and the SoCal Soulless, there would be no more Army. We would’ve been destroyed by the cartel. I owe them more than I can state aloud.
As we walk down the hall, I ask, “Miss. What’s going on? Who owns the blacked-out rides outside?”
“You’re about to find out. Trust me, you’re not going to like it any more than we did watching them rolling into the yard,” Miss crows, as he slaps me on the shoulder and grimaces. Raising his chin in a “they’re in there” move, Miss stands at the door. “She’s welcome inside. Piper’s in there too.”
Giving a quick knock, we enter.