Chapter 24 #2
“What evidence do you have?” Fox places his gun on the table where Ryan can see it.
Norton’s eyes flick to Moss, then Fox before swallowing. “Does it fucking matter? He’s a criminal, so are all of you.”
“Yes it matters!” Moss yells, leaning over the table, palms spread on the dark wood.
“I can’t reveal my source. It’s none of your business anyway, this shit is higher than you,” Ryan adds smugly, nowhere near as nervous as Norton.
Someone snorts before a laugh bursts out. “Did you just hit your boss, the Sheriff, with ‘it’s none of you business’? Oh Officer Ryan, I’m almost a little embarrassed for you.”
“Mira, shut the fuck up,” Ryan sneers.
“You don’t tell my woman to shut the fuck up,” Tank growls, moving to stand from his position on the floor.
“Don’t fucking move, I will shoot.” Ryan says, waving his gun around.
Fox catches my eye and I know what he’s trying to tell me. That something isn’t right. These guys, Hitchens, Norton and Ryan, they’re dumb, but not dumb enough to walk into an MC clubhouse spouting shit and pointing guns at women and children. Meaning Hitchens or Matthew Thompson ordered them to.
“What’s he got on you?” Chewy asks, sitting at the head of the table, brows pinched.
“Why the hell are you sitting there? I told you to get on the floor!” Ryan screams.
“Yeah, I didn’t want to. I don’t like the feeling of the wood floor,” Chewy answers seriously.
“She’s telling the truth. I’ve never even seen her wear socks on this floor,” Mira adds.
“I saw her feet once, they weren’t what I was expecting,” Ana pipes up with.
“Are they gnarly or something? Oh oh, does she have an extra toe?!” Nat asks.
“Her feet are fucking perfect!” Rhodie growls as everyone starts talking about their feet.
“Will you all shut the fuck up?” Norton screams, his gun hand twitching.
“Why? You’re not saying shit, kid. You came here to supposedly arrest me and all you’ve done is wave your gun around and whine,” Pops says, looking bored.
“He’s not wrong,” Mira adds helpfully.
Norton starts to fidget and I know that my family are pushing him right to the edge, just to fuck with him.
“What’s your play?” I growl out.
This is a family dinner. The dinner that Fox and I had planned to officially claim our woman and now these pencil dicks have come in and ruined it.
“With Hitchens in the wind, you’re calling your own shots now, aren’t you?” Fox says, staring Ryan down.
“Just give me Tombs,” Ryan says before his eyes dart toward Joy and Kit. “I’ll take Joy and the kid too. Hitchens wants them back.”
“Hitchens ain’t getting shit back,” Switch booms.
Ryan’s eyes start darting around the room, and I can see when it dawns on his face that he isn’t going to win this one.
He thought he was the big man, but really he’s a little pissant that has become accustomed to bullying and intimidating people to get what he wants.
That shit doesn’t fly at the DRMC. He starts to wildly look around for an exit, waving his gun around.
“When you get the chance, take him out,” Moss murmurs through clenched teeth.
I dip my chin slightly so he knows I got the message, my hand inching closer to where Fox placed his gun on the tabletop near me. Usually I’d use my own but it’s sitting snugly against the base of my spine and any movement in that direction will have Norton or Ryan going off.
The tension in the room starts to ratchet up when Chewy and Pops start running a play by play breakdown on what they’ve failed to do since bursting in on our dinner and I spot the moment Ryan’s about to lose it.
Snatching Fox’s gun up off the table I aim and fire, clipping him in his gun hand, winging him.
My brothers on that side of the table restrain him while the women somehow manage to wrestle Norton to the ground before he can get a round off.
“Who the fuck threw that knife?” Rider asks, staring at the steak knife sticking out of Norton’s gun hand.
“Elio! What have I told you about throwing knives?” Blanche growls in her mama bear voice.
His expression doesn’t change as he shrugs and then sits next to Chewy, ready for dinner.
“I thought I told you to take him out, Gardiner?” Moss raises a brow at me from his position further down the table.
“Oh, he’ll be taken out, but I figure it should be a family thing.”
“A family thing?”
“Well, he did ruin dinner,” Fox says, smirking.
“Let’s take them both out!” Flora yells, looking excited at the prospect while the girl gang cheers her on.
Moss looks at Marx who has his arms crossed over his chest and a scowl on his face.
“Fuck it, you’re right. Mom really worked hard on dinner, she deserves justice,” Moss shrugs as his mother claps and skips over to him to kiss him on the cheek, murmuring something in Spanish.
“We need answers too, so-” Chewy clears her throat, “to the Rev Room!”
Fox kneels down to help Jazz up off the floor from where she was laying, gently helping her to her feet. She moves to follow the rest of the brothers and Ol Ladies out the door but I stop her.
“No baby, you can’t come. I need you to either stay here with Mama Debs, Sage, Joy and the kids, or better yet, head back to your parents place with them, Lily and the boys,” I say gently, searching her eyes.
She can’t be here for this one. It’s not going to be pretty.
It’s a fucking push having Moss in there.
“What? No, I want to come, I’ll be with the other Ol ladies, I’ll be fine.” She moves to push past me but Fox steps in.
He holds my gaze before dipping his chin slightly, in agreement.
“Nitro is right, baby. I think it’s best to head home with your family,” He looks around for Flora, her husband Stephen holding her back from heading out to the Rev Room too, “Flora! Can you look after Jazz for us? She’s not been feeling well,” At his words Flora’s Mom Mode kicks in and she bustles toward Jazz, placing a hand on her forehead.
She nods once, before yelling over her shoulder at Stephen to pack a doggy bag for Jazz and then leaving to round up Moss’s boys. “We’ll meet you in the car, mija,”
“What? Mom, no, I’m staying -”
“Baby, you’re too sick! Go home, we’ll come get you once we’re done,” Fox says forcefully.
Jazz flinches slightly, then her eyes start to shutter, her body stiff as she nods once and then moves past us, no smile, no kiss, no wave.
“Jazz, fuck, no-” my voice cuts out as she walks out the front door, down the steps not looking back.
She gets in the backseat of her mom’s dinky florist van with Moss’s twins, slamming the door behind her, not even looking at us as they pull out.
“We’re protecting her, we’re doing the right thing,” Fox says, to me or to himself, I’m not so sure. “We need to finish this shit with Norton and Ryan and then we’ll go get our girl. She’ll understand.”
I’m not so sure. I saw the way the light in her eyes shut down at the mention of her being sick.
At her not being included. I can rationalize all I want, that this is what is best for her, that she’s not feeling well and needs the rest. That we’re just taking care of our girl by making her go home to be pampered by her mom in her childhood home and get some much needed rest. It’s what is best for her health and we want what’s best for her.
So why does it feel like we’ve fucked up big time?