Chapter 4
Mad Dog
“Church!” Marx’s loud as hell foghorn voice wakes me with a jolt.
“No need to shout. Holy shit, Son,” I grumble at his back as he stomps away from me. Noisy little shit. He gets it from his mother.
“Dunno how you think you can woo Willa if all you do is snore in your recliner all day,” he sasses and I kinda miss when he was younger and scared of me.
“Yeah, yeah,” I grouse. “I was thinking. Planning.”
He spins to look at me. “I thought she just wanted to be friends?”
My brows pull low. “How do you know that?”
Marx takes a breath, hooking his hands on his hips.
“Jazz told Fox and Nitro who told Gus who told Jules but then Jules didn’t give him any feedback so then he told Tank and Judge who already knew because their women told them and then Rider was feeling left out so they told Rider who told Rhodie who told me.
Or maybe I told Rhodie.” He frowns. “It got a little muddled in the middle there. Shit, this MC loves to gossip,” he says, gazing out the window.
“Well, it’s not gossip if it’s true. And before you ask, yes, we are friends and I respect both her and her decision.” He narrows his gaze at me a little, and I shrug. “She’s a good woman and there ain't nothing wrong with being friends. Especially if she’s hanging around the women.”
“My exact thoughts, Dad. Lovely and the women really like her, and after seeing her brandish those sawn off shotguns to protect our crew I ain’t got no problem with her.”
I snort in response, because the image of her with her Winchesters is burned into my brain.
Damn, it was hot. Shaking off that thought and telling my cock to settle down, I follow my boy into Church.
We aren’t as strict as other MCs. Church is held in the old dining room of the farmhouse.
The table is big enough to fit all the brothers and their Ol Ladies if they wish to attend.
Usually Chewy and Remy do, but I know Rhodie is trying to discourage his woman now she’s nearing the end of her pregnancy.
I take my seat at the opposite end to Marx, getting comfortable and ignoring the grin on Pops’ face. For just once I wish he’d damn well act right.
“We waitin’ for anyone?” Marx asks, looking around the table. Chewy and Remy are perched on their Ol Men’s knees looking keen as mustard as usual.
Marx dips his chin and pounds his fist on the wall behind him.
“Right, as you know Sage and The Keep managed to get rid of McDonald -” Cheers go around the table and boots thump on the wood floors.
Tav looks fucking proud as punch. “So, that leaves us with one bad motherfucker and his time is about to come.”
“Matthew Thompson,” Fox murmurs.
It’s been months we’ve been trying to put this smuggling ring down. We’re slowly dismantling it but damn this one asshole has proved harder than we would like. For one, there’s levels to his business, including some shady characters at the local Sheriff’s Department.
“We still got dirty cops in town?” I ask, tempering the growl in my voice. I hate people who take advantage of their power and position.
“I’ll leave that up to Moss,” Marx says, indicating the big bastard standing behind me.
Damn, my head is definitely not in the game if I didn’t notice Moss entering the room. I’m gonna blame it on a sexy brunette. That I’m friends with. Moss’s heavy ass hand lands on my shoulder before he takes the seat beside me.
“Thanks, Marx.” He raises his chin. It’s a pity he hasn’t thought about joining the MC. He’d make a great brother. “Thanks to you we’ve managed to weed out some of the bad eggs, but there’s still shady assholes about.”
“And we’ve still got his mistress working the front desk,” Nitro growls.
“Thompson isn’t dumb enough to leave her unprotected.” Tank states.
Fox grunts his agreement. “We know. There’s two deputies that need looking into, but hell, we have no idea how deep this shit goes.”
“That’s why you’re still working for me.” Moss grins.
“Anything else we need to know?” Marx asks, laser focused on Moss.
The man in question purses his lips, looking out the window. “Things have been quiet. Too quiet if you get my drift. Word on the street has it that there's a new MC in Roxburgh kicking up shit, wanting to get into the transportation business.”
“Skin?” Judge asks, leaning forward.
“Unsure. At this point it’s all rumours, but I got new drugs flooding into town. Found a kid the other day with a pocket full of poorly cut meth and a handgun with the serial numbers filed off.”
“Thompson?”
Moss clicks his tongue. "That's my working theory but shit, that’s all it is ‘til I get proof.”
“How the hell does he recruit so many degenerates? The man must shit gold or something.” Tank mutters.
I agree. In my time as Prez not once did we have a thorn in our side that we couldn’t neutralize.
This guy? It’s like playing Whack A Mole.
Everytime he rears his ugly head instead of our hammer knocking him down we take out small fry scum bags.
With Richard McDonald AKA Nathaniel Mercy taken care of, we have at least made a huge dent in his skin operation.
Wood creaks as Marx leans back in his chair, brows furrowed. “Got any intel on this MC over in Roxburgh?”
Moss shakes his head. “Nothing substantial. I’ve spoken to the sheriff there but they know as much as we do.”
Marx runs a hand down his beard, his eyes darting to Chewy who looks fit to burst. So does Remy who has been tapping away at her laptop this whole time, Wire’s chin resting on her shoulder.
Marx’s brows raise before he lets out a sigh. “Chewy, do you have anything to add?”
Chewy’s grin widens and her eyes light up like a kid on Christmas Day. “When don’t I?” She turns to Remy, dipping her chin.
Remy taps a key with a flourish and Matthew Thompson’s face fills the plain white wall behind Marx. The smarmy son of a bitch is dressed in a tux, grinning at the camera, not a care in the world.
“Did you know Matthew Thompson founded a charity?” Remy says, looking around the table.
“The Better Lives Foundation, everybody.” Chewy says, tapping another few keys.
Faces of smiling young girls fill the screen with bullshit sounding references on how The Better Lives Foundation saved them.
“Wait, why didn’t we find this before?” Rider frowns.
“Because,” Chewy says, concentrating on unwrapping her candy bar, “his involvement is buried under all sorts of shell companies and so on and so forth.” She waves her hand in the air flippantly. “Remy managed to find it through a grainy picture of him on the interwebs at an event.”
Remy nods excitedly. “Matthew Thompson has been at this event every year since its inception which coincidentally was the same year he was booted from the military. He’s managed to stay away from most photos and publicity stills, but with our sweet Computas skills, we have confirmed his presence.”
“And when-”
“Wednesday after next,” Chewy answers around a mouthful of chocolate.
“In Houston. We got tickets.” She stiffens all of a sudden, and we wait for the bad news.
Instead, Chewy lets out a burp. “I’m extra gassy.
Because the baby takes up too much space.
Did you know my stomach is now halfway up my back? ”
Marx blinks slowly before turning back to the table and our smirking faces.
“We have twelve days before the charity ball and I want to use those days to smoke out this new MC. If they’re bringing their shit into our town I want to know about it.
” He turns to Jules, “Think your homeless network know anything?”
Jules tilts his head slightly, clicking his tongue. “I can find out.”
“I’ll get the boys to pull any new arrests that look likely to tie in,” Moss adds, looking fairly relaxed for a man who could have an MC war on his hands.
“Good. Nothing else to cover?”
We all sit in silence and Marx takes that as a sign to beat his fist against the wall, before telling us to piss off.
I take a moment to sit a little longer. Looking around at what is now our church.
“Something on your mind, old man?” Marx asks, planting his ass in a chair nearer to where I’m sitting. Not surprised when Rhodie pulls up another.
“Nah. Just thinking about how far we’ve come.” Lean back, taking in my boys.
“Shit, you talk as if we’ve had a rags to riches story,” Rhodie snorts.
“I dunno, son. Was pretty rough in parts.”
Marx leans back, resting his forearm on the table. “Yeah, it was. But the one true constant was you.”
I stare at him. I’m proud as hell of my boys.
Both of them lost their mothers too young and it damaged them in different ways.
Ways that I couldn’t help them with. Shit, I couldn’t even help myself for a long time there.
I always thought the type of love I had with Rhodie’s mom Molly was a once in a lifetime thing.
The fact that Willa causes my gut to dip and soar like Molly did, well, it fucks me up.
“We’re here because of you, old man. We’ve got our Ol Ladies and our babies, the club. It’s time for you to put yourself first for a while, and if that means being friends with a woman who put her life on the line for us, well, we ain’t gonna stand in your way.”
Rhodie nods in agreement with his older brother, and I smile. Willa and what she could represent scares the shit outta me so the thought of being friends? Well, that unpuckers my asshole a little and I feel just that bit lighter.
“See? Shit always gets sorted out in Church.” Rhodie grins.
“Let's go get you some warm milk and put you to bed, old man.”
“Marx, I swear to god I’ll put my foot up your ass.”
Willa
I have no idea what the actual hell I was thinking friend zoning Mad Dog. If I could kick Past Willa’s ass I would. Ugh. For a man his age he is in freakishly fantastic condition.
“A lick of paint and you’ll never even know I shoved my size 10 boot through your door,” Mad Dog says. His eyes crinkle as he throws me a panty melting crooked smile. Past Willa owes me big time. “You good?” Mad Dog asks, that damned eyebrow raised in question.
“Yeah, no, all good.” I scuttle away as if my ass is on fire.
If I stay for a moment longer I’m sure I’ll have a terrible accident. Like fall onto Mad Dog’s dick or something.
“What are you doing?”
I let out a yelp at the voice, spinning in place with my fist ready to strike. Thankfully I don’t because I’m met with stares from Kit and her Big Little friends.
“Miss Willa?” Kit asks, starting to look concerned.
“Oh, nothing, sorry kids, you gave me a fright.”
OK, today can get in the trash. Between Mad Dog causing my vagina to want to sow her wild oats, to almost sucker punching a child, I’ve about had it.
“It’s because you’re a little older.” Cove says matter of factly. Gee, thanks, kid.
“If you’ve come lookin’ for cookies I think Mad Dog ate them all,” I say extra loud over my shoulder.
Seriously, how the hell does the man eat like that and stay in such good shape?
“No. We just wanted to tell you there’s a strange man outside staring at your house,” Jovie says in a sing song voice before Cove clicks her fingers and they all rush out the back toward Joy’s house.
I watch them leave, making sure they disappear inside before heading for my front room. Standing off to the side I peek out the cute blue and white curtains I chose when I first bought the house. It was the first time I had no one tell me my choices were shitty.
The figure moves and I don’t have to see any more to know who it is. He’s found me. The way he strolls up my path like he owns the place causes rage to build inside me and before I can even think I’ve moved to my door, flung it open into Mad Dog, and stormed down my porch steps.
“Well, ain’t you a sight for sore eyes,” Diesel drawls, his eyes lingering too long on my tits. He sucks his teeth, lip curled in an almost-snarl. “What the fuck are you wearing?”
“Whatever the fuck I want,” I spit, planting my cowboy boots and crossing my arms over my chest.
I stare at him. The piece of shit who made my life hell. I won’t let him know that. Instead, I hide my fears under a cloak of sheer anger. What the hell is he even doing here? He’s meant to be in prison where I put his ass.
“What? No welcome home?” He smirks. “Not even a little kiss?” Before I can open my mouth he steps closer, eyes hard, “What? I went away and you moved on without me?”
“Yeah, you did go away and I moved on, so why the hell are you here darkening my doorstep?” I glare. “Let me guess, one of your boys got you out on a technicality or some bullshit and now you’re back working as Spit’s bum boy. Am I close?”
He purses his lips, before stepping back slightly.
“Cute.” His eyes narrow slightly, as if trying to read the Willa who now sports a spine and a knife in her boot.
“I came to see where my less than loyal Ol Lady ran to.” His gaze moves over my shoulder to my house.
My house. The one I chose and bought and furnished.
“Check out the fun little life you’ve made for yourself in Bum Fuck Nowhere. ”
OK, I’m bored of this now. Diesel needs to get gone so I can start making phone calls to whoever the hell let this man out and dropped the ball on letting his victims know.
“Yeah well Bum Fuck Nowhere happens to be Devil’s Rose patch, so you better get gone.
Word has it they don’t think twice about killing nomad MC members. ”
“You fucking b-”
“Willa, you good?”
I lock my knees, willing my body to not betray me as Mad Dog’s body heat warms me from behind. He’s not touching me. In fact, he’s standing a respectable distance away, but I still feel him.
“Well, looks like you went from one biker cock to another huh? Fucking knew it-”
“What the fuck did you just say to her?” Mad Dog steps from behind me, and instead of stepping in front like I expect, he moves to my side.
Diesel whistles low. “Old biker cock at that.” His smirk drops as he puffs himself up.
Even then he’s still at least a couple of inches shorter than Mad Dog and nowhere near as wide.
How did I not notice how huge Mad Dog actually is?
“Tell your little -” his gaze runs over Mad Dog’s patch and his lip curls, “-Club that I’m in town, yeah? ”
“And just what are you doing in town?” Mad Dog replies, looking bored.
“I’m here for my Old Lady.”
I ignore Mad Dog’s gaze as I step into Diesel’s space. “I stopped being your Ol Lady the day you went to prison.”
Diesel looks at his nails. “That may be, but you’re still my fucking wife, aintcha?”