Chapter 12
CHAPTER
TWELVE
Cam sat at his spot at one of the round tables and flipped a pen around his thumb.
Wolf had called this meeting via text, and most of the Knights were present.
Only two customers sat at the bar, drinking their lunch and staring at Ellie’s naked tits as she did her thing at the pole.
When the men finally looked away and spotted the gathering of bikers, they quickly decided they were done for the day. Ellie pouted at the lost tips.
“Cheapskates!” she declared as she scampered off the stage. Her breasts bounced as she stomped angrily to the small dressing room in the back.
He noticed Ratchet staring at her retreating ass with a speculative look. Ellie was a bit of a ditz, but she could take care of herself. If Ratchet wanted to make a move, it was up to her to say yes or no.
Cam’s mind was more on Sabrina and the events from last night than the meeting.
The nasty storm had turned into a long, soaking rain that lasted for several hours.
He didn’t remember the movie ending. It was some thriller with a zombie virus.
The film wasn’t memorable, but the time with Sabrina had stayed with him.
Surprisingly, the bed fit them both and was comfortable as hell.
He’d lain on his back against the thick pillows, and she had curled into his side.
The movie played out on the screen, but he didn’t hear it.
His attention was on the warm presence next to him.
Her breathing.
Her scent.
Her touch.
The noises she made as she fell asleep.
When the sun rose and bathed them in light from the small roof window, he woke to find himself in the same position.
They’d stayed fully clothed, and neither of them had tried anything more than the kiss she’d dared him to take, but he felt more satisfied and rested than if he’d had a sex marathon.
It had been years since he slept with a woman until morning.
He wondered when they could do it again.
His attention turned quickly as Wolf cracked a newly made gavel onto a round bench anvil. Quillon had turned it on one of the lathes last week, complaining about getting wood chips mixed up with the metal ones.
Wolf didn’t care. Anyone who saw his face at that moment could tell he was pissed. “Three hits to the neighborhood. First the coffee shop, then Clauson’s, and now Hob’s shoe place. This shit has to stop.”
Melter reached for his joint-making apparatus and thought better of it. “The coffee shop people are gay. Someone might have hit them because of that.”
The table erupted in grumbles. Yes, gay businesses were regular targets for some hate groups, but the Knights weren’t that kind of club.
“Nah,” Baghouse scoffed. “The other places had the same attacks. Broken shit and Molotov cocktails. Al and Edna never hurt anyone. The only reason Clauson’s didn’t burn to the ground was ’cause old Al had a good sprinkler system installed.
The shoe place was saved ’cause Specs saw Garfield gettin’ beat up and called the police.
The perps didn’t have time to bomb the place. ”
A smattering round of applause popped around the tables, and Specs grinned at the recognition.
“Damn lucky you were around.” Quillon reached out to slap Specs on the shoulder. The smaller man grimaced and grinned at the same time. “How’s Garfield doin’?”
Wolf dropped the gavel onto the table with a clatter.
“He’s in critical condition and alive for now, but it’s not looking good.
Serious concussion. Broken arm. Bruised and broken ribs, one punctured lung.
Docs say he may or may not make it. If he does, he’s gonna be out of work with a shit ton of hospital bills. ”
“Tracie visited his wife and kids yesterday. Money is tight. Garfield’s the only breadwinner. Mira doesn’t work and stays home with the kids. One of them is in school, but the daycare for the other kid would cost them more than what she would earn. Not worth it for her to get a job.”
Melter made a tsking noise. “Dude, that sucks.”
Specs cleared his throat. “If they need help, maybe we could….” His voice trailed off as he realized all the eyes in the room were on him.
“Spit it out,” Wolf gruffed.
Specs tried again. “I was just thinking that maybe we could… like….”
“Like what?”
“Like hold a charity rally or something like that.”
Baghouse barked out a short laugh. “What kinda stupid idea is that, ya damn jagoff?”
A streak of anger traveled down Cam’s spine. “You got any better ones?”
Wolf pursed his lips, seeming to consider it. “No one’s been to a rally in a long time. We’ve never held one before either.”
Cam let out a long breath. “It’s a lot of work to put one together,” he admitted.
“It wouldn’t have to be big like Sturgis,” Wolf put in. “Just local folks helping local folks. Might be a good way to let everyone know about the vandalism and to keep vigilant.”
“I think it’s a good idea,” Quillon added. “Tracie is good at organizing shit. She can help Specs get that together. The question is when?”
Cam put the pen in his hand down on the table. “A community rally sounds cool, but if we’re gonna do it, we need to do it quick. The weather’s getting colder, and it’s unpredictable.”
Wolf put his elbows on the table and dangled the gavel in his hands. “Since we’re talking just local people, let’s say two weeks on Saturday. Would that work? I’ll ask Jazz to pitch in for the graphics and advertising. She knows more about social media than I do.”
Melter rubbed an open palm over his face. “Shit, it’s fucking hot in here. Hey, Specs, go in the back and turn the heat off, yeah? Fucking weather can’t tell if it’s still summer or fall.”
The smaller man nodded and scampered to the rear of the building as Melter continued his tirade. “Yo, how does a fucking rally help with the fucking attacks?”
Cam noted the biker’s shaking hand but kept his mouth shut.
He’d seen withdrawal before. Everyone in the club knew about Melter’s pot habit.
The question was what else the biker might be using.
He put aside that speculation, as it was none of his business and there were other priorities at the moment.
“We should think again about patrols. We can’t cover everything, but riding at night in pairs might help.
If it stops just one hit, it’s worth the gas money. ”
Baghouse gave another irritated huff. “How the hell is a random ride gonna help?”
“Not random,” Quillon said with a serious air. “Every one of those businesses is a place we go to. I go to the coffee shop almost every morning. So does Tracie. We all use Clauson’s store, and several of us at the machine shop have Garfield repair our work boots. This is targeted.”
Baghouse wouldn’t let it go. “You’re out of your mind.”
“Am I? I hope so. All’s I’m saying is, if we put the places we’re associated with on some sort of route, we might catch these assholes faster.”
Wolf set the gavel on the table and leaned back. “At least it’s a plan. Worst-case, it doesn’t work.” He shifted uncomfortably. The padded chairs were reserved for Scrap and Baghouse. The rest were hard wood seats and weren’t made for long sitting times. “Quillon, make up a schedule, yeah?”
“You bet.”
“Anybody think the Slaggers MC might be back?” This came from Crossman. He seldom spoke in these meetings, but when he did, he usually had something worth hearing.
“I doubt it,” Cam replied. “Something would have buzzed down the grapevine by now if they were reforming.”
Wolf grunted. “Without Ramrod, they have no leader to pull them back together.”
Specs came back into the room and resumed his spot. “That’s not what I heard.”
All eyes rocketed to the newest member. The smaller man squirmed as the entire club waited to hear more. “Um… I just… like rumors about their colors being seen around again, ya know?” he spluttered. “I don’t know if it’s real or not. Just rumors.”
Wolf picked up the gavel again. “We’ll stick with our plan. Specs, since you had the rally idea, find us a place to hold it other than in front of the bar. We need a family vibe, not one that includes naked titties.”
Specs preened a little and did his quirky salute. “Aye-aye, captain!”
“Good.” Wolf raised the gavel and cracked it on the table. “Dismissed.”
“I think you’re supposed to say ‘adjourned.’”
Wolf rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Go do whatever the fuck you’re supposed to be doing at this hour.”
Cam picked up his cut but didn’t bother putting it on.
The machine shop sat next door on the other side of Attic and extended to the corner, with a parking lot adjacent to the strip of buildings where both patrons and customers parked either during the day or night.
There was a gravel spot just behind the machine shop that Sabrina’s rig would fit into nicely.
He hoped like hell she would take him up on his offer and move to this side of the neighborhood.
The spa was only about a ten-minute ride from here, but a lot of shit could happen in that time.
“Hold up a sec, Cam,” Wolf called out as he stood up and rubbed his ass. “Damn hard seats. I wanted to update you on Scrap. I went by his house this morning to check on him. His recovery isn’t goin’ well, even though he won’t say shit about it. Thought you’d want to know so you can tell your girl.”
Cam didn’t have to guess who Wolf referred to. “Yeah, I’ll let her know.” He paused. “Think that old goat will ever take the DNA test and give Sabrina the answer she needs?”
Wolf sighed. “Both of them need those answers, so I hope he does. I’ll talk to him about it when I deliver the news about the rally idea.
” He gave Cam a speculative look. “What happens next? If Scrap isn’t her father, is she gonna pull up stakes and go somewhere else?
If he is her father, will she put down roots? ”
Cam shook his head. “I have no idea. This living-in-limbo shit would drive me crazy.”
“Yeah, me too.”
“I gotta get over to the shop. There’s a bunch of one-off orders to fill, and we’re already behind.”
Wolf nodded. “I’ll see you tonight. Get some sleep if you can. It might be a long one.”