Chapter 14
Hound Dog
I had Melody at rest for now, and a plan for my promises to come true. But when I left her the next morning, I hoped that she would hear my answers and would stay. I would tell when I would pick her up for her first lesson.
Church was sacred to us. It meant business, it meant that sometimes we were at war and needed a battle strategy.
This time, everyone was going to tell me what the hell was going on and why we were lacking in protection.
I had trust in certain men, but some still had my weariness. I know that not every club would be truthful, though it was expected.
Coming to the clubhouse after my night with Melody had me wishing I was back with her, answering her questions.
“Lost in your mind there, Prez,” B.B joked as he waited for me by the banister outside. I turned off my bike, cracking my neck from the stiffness it held.
“Wishing it was lost somewhere else,” I muttered.
“Or on someone.” He wiggled his eyebrows.
“Yeah, right,” I scoffed, brushing off the fact that he was right. No one needed to know about Melody. I kept her safe, away from prying eyes. Soon, I’d bring her into this world of mine and perhaps make her my queen.
Well, that escalated quickly.
The sudden thought rushed to my dick. And those thoughts turned into tempting ones of seeing her on her knees begging for it. I shook my head.
She was my little secret, one I wasn’t ready to share with the whole club. Even if it meant that she wouldn’t be fully protected, she would still have me.
One step at a time, or at least that’s what I kept telling myself.
“Can’t play dumb with me, I know she’s kept in your house, you dog you.” he leaned about the post, crossing his arms.
I stopped dead in my tracks. Before I could say something, he continued, “Don’t worry that pretty little head of yours, I’m a lover not a fighter, your secret is safe with me.” He tapped his nose before walking back beside me.
“Is everyone here? I’m ready to get this started, so we can end the witch hunt internally and out there,” I growled.
“Pretty much, except waiting for your little hacker genius. The man hasn’t spoken a word since you told him to look into everything. I think you cracked his brain,” B.B said as we both strode into the main meeting hall.
A welcoming sight of brotherhood, seeing all the members that helped create everything we built: a chrome, music filled empire.
Since my presidency, that had been the focus as well, the legit businesses. But now someone was making threats to our empire, and the club wasn’t going to sit back anymore.
“Get the boy here now, I want a fucking name and I want it now!” I shouted. B.B was used to my tone, never back down nor questioned it. Well, not completely.
If I wanted certain things in my life, I needed to do it for myself. Pops said it best after I left the industry. “Sometimes the best things in life are the ones that you take for yourself.”
He was right.
I approached the podium, the one that begged for attention. The roar of laughter that was once filling the meeting room died down as soon as I stood behind it. It wasn’t much, but there was symbolism behind it, I earned my shot and my reign, and I wasn’t going to let some rogue druggie take what I helped build, what the club owned away from us.
Dozens of eyes rested on me, waiting for me to speak. I had a lot on my mind, including wanting blood on my hands.
“Yesterday, Greene informed us that another body had turned up. Only a couple weeks from the last one. And nearby one of the businesses. I don’t think I need to tell you all of this is completely bullshit. But I will ask, who was supposed to be at the Growler the past couple of nights?”
Brothers worked for an earning, a chance for work history to be built, not only part of the community, but for the money. I knew the answer to my own question but waited for the opportunity of truth to be revealed.
Stray and Chameleon stood up as soon as the question left my mouth.
Stray was a young buck like me, but was in the club earlier on. The man was the odd ball out of the club, whereas most of us come from some sort of entertainment business or creative mindset, he came from the boxer world. A reigning champ in his younger years but now helped run the gym and underground matches at Swing Low.
Chameleon was another good man. An older member but one from Pop’s old club. When that club disbanded and others were lost, the original chapter president took precautions but needed the numbers. I’d known him pretty much since I was born. He was family and one of the few that I trusted when I got the presidency.
I looked around the room for one more, one brave soul that I knew, knew better. Waylan. My cousin on my mother’s side. A wayward soul that needed a place to call home. He nervously stood up waiting for my reaction. I didn’t show him mercy but I knew that he wouldn’t let me down.
Shooter stood up in his seat, turning toward them. “And you didn’t see anything?”
Shooter was straight to the point, and that was the way he wanted his answers. He didn’t expect them to have time to think of another answer.
“It was a normal night, Shooter. Waylan and I were out front the entire night until close. Chameleon was in the back. We had our regular people inside the entire night. Nothing was happening,” Stray stood his ground.
“Obviously, something happened. May not have been near the Growler but it was in close proximity,” I continued the questioning.
“No outside bikes, no strange vehicles passing down the main drag,” Chameleon chimed in. I looked at Waylan waiting for him to answer. But no prospect was going to step on anyone’s toes. Well, no one was like me. I spoke my mind.
So if no bikes or other vehicles were around, did someone just dump and run without being seen? I needed more, because obviously my brothers weren’t going to say anything that wasn’t the truth.
One person better have something for me or else my temper might flare more than my bite. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Otis brushing Blaze into the hall. Blaze looked like he was ready to crash any minute. The poor boy was lacking sleep, and I was guilty as charged.
I signaled Otis to bring him closer. Otis nudged him, giving him the okay to move closer. The kid was brilliant beyond his own good. He didn’t get the name Blaze out of sheer luck. The fucker almost burned down a building or two doing experiments with pyrotechnics and lighting design. His way around the dark web came in handy.
I gave him a moment to tell me something before I addressed the rest of the group.
I let Shooter continue with any questions about other locations. I bent down to Blaze’s face, waiting for him to tell me something good. I needed something good, or else I was about to hit the streets my way and maybe leave an actual trail.
Then who would protect our little birdie?
“Make it good, kid,” I warned him.
He simply nodded his head. “I think I did, depends on if you think a name is important.” At first, he had a cocky grin on his face, but noticed mine and quickly dropped it.
“Make it quick,” I told him.
He handed me a piece of paper with a name, and quickly turned his tablet to show me CCTV footage of exactly what I was hoping.
Weston Farraday.
Yeah, I knew that name, and so should Fender. Weston was one of the dealers we worked with in the past, having been in the game for a long while. The footage only revealed that he had been in that area for the night.
It shouldn't surprise me, but we didn’t deliver any product to him, as we had slowed down as per advice. So, what the hell was he doing in selling territory with nothing to have on his person? It smelled like a damn mole, or backstabber. Trusting him wasn’t in the cards.
“Good work, Blaze,” I commended him. He followed through and produced something helpful. The slight beam in his eyes told me that it wasn’t a regret to have him prospect.
As I broke my attention away from Blaze, there started to be more grumbles from the crowd as Shooter was starting to piss people off with the accusations. He was on the verge of pressing his luck, looking for blood in the wrong places.
I cleared my throat as the crowd finally hushed. “Listen, I’m only going to say this once. We have a job and we take it seriously. Be on higher alert, because someone is out there making us look like murderers… this time.”
I got a few nods from them. Something in my gut told me that whoever is behind this wasn’t one of us.
“We’re not shying away from our schedules, you hear me,” I warn them.
My hope was that some normalcy would return and this situation would fade into the background.
As I dismissed them, thankful no other blood was shed, I signaled Fender and Shooter to come close to me and B.B. I let B.B in on what was found, and the twisted bastard curled his lips into a mischievous smile. More like a bloodthirsty look to me.
Shooter and Fender’s look both combined with annoyance and exhaustion, but they would push past it. “Time to go on a field trip.”
“Who we visiting?” Fender asked.
Shooter cracked his knuckles, “Do I need to bring any special tools?”
Oh to be in Shooter’s mind, a dark and rough place. But his art spoke for himself sometimes. Sometimes I wasn’t talking about the ones on his canvas.
“Weston,” I said as I headed toward the door, back out to my bike.
As I passed through the main lounge area, the trail of sweet butts and ol ladies sent a sting in my chest. My mind traveled to Melody and if she would fit in. She was feisty, but sometimes quiet, she was a survivor. But something told me if she wanted to, she’d be possessive over me, staking her claim. The mere thought of her being possessive sent an ache to my dick.
I shook my head, bringing my attention back to the task at hand.
Being the leader that I needed to be. I needed to be the rough and ready, protective man that the club needed. Not the love-sick puppy I was being.