CHAPTER 5
STORM
Dimples had the good sense to leave me to my thoughts, but I’m still glad she came.
She’s my anchor. Keeps me from drifting when shit hits hard.
I smile, knowing what she’d say. The real fight’s always in my head.
She wouldn’t be wrong, but that’s where she comes in.
Maybe I lean on her more than I should, but I can’t imagine leading the Thorns without her or doing life without her, for that matter.
I snatch my cut from my bed and admire the back rocker, which has three patches.
The top patch reads Iron Thorns MC in white letters.
The center patch is the Thorns’ logo. It’s simple, yet powerful.
A red rose with a thorny stem sits atop a gear.
It’s a symbol I’d lay down my life for. The bottom rocker is where a club’s territory is normally displayed.
In the Thorns’ case, the patch just says Nomad.
I put my cut on and stand up taller. I can do this. Make Aces proud.
My well-worn boots sit on the floor at the foot of the bed.
I should get a new pair, but I’ve earned every scuff and scratch on them.
Dimples buys a new pair every six months.
Figures. She can’t stand scars—even on leather.
I take my time lacing my boots, and when I stand, I straighten my cut again.
Time to get this done.
When I reach the bottom of the stairs, I hear raucous sounds coming from the bar.
The girls will be living it up tonight. Why shouldn’t they since the winter is finally giving way to riding season?
Hearing their laughter gives me renewed resolve.
I won’t let Frost turn tonight into a shit show. The girls deserve better.
I stride into the room with my normal, confident swagger. Something I can pull off even when I don’t feel it. The noise level drops a few decibels, and several of the girls shout out to me. Most just call me President, but some still call me Storm.
The clubhouse is filling up. Making my way across the room, I stop and chat with several groups. When you’re in charge, you have to make the members feel seen—noticed. By the time I get to the bar, I’m craving a cold brew.
Prospect Two is behind the bar. She stops mid-pour, sets the drink aside, and comes directly to me. It’s the way of the club. The hierarchy dictates everything. It keeps the order.
“The usual? Jack and Coke?” she asks.
I shake my head. “Nah, I’m in the mood for a cold one tonight.”
“Coming right up.”
The beer is in front of me before I can blink. I’ll hand it to her; she’s responsive, but I’m still watching this one. She’s almost too eager. After thirteen years in the club, I must be getting jaded if I’m suspicious of someone who’s eager.
From the corner of my eye, I see Dimples walking in with a large box.
Prospect One is following her, carrying an even bigger box.
I groan to myself and glance around the room.
Thankfully, Frost hasn’t arrived yet, or it’d give her one more thing to complain about.
No way would Frost help a prospect carry in the supplies.
I point at the prospect behind the bar. “Grab that box from Dimples.”
The prospect practically leaps over the bar and hustles to Dimples. Yep, she’s definitely eager. After being relieved of her load, Dimples approaches with a sheepish grin.
“Jesus, you trying to make things harder than they have to be?” I keep my voice low, so the others don’t hear. Not that you can hear much with the loud music and girls partying.
“Sorry, I was outside when she came in, so I thought I’d help.” Before I can speak, Dimples holds up her hand. “I know. It’d just give Frost more ammo. I wasn’t thinking.”
That’s not like Dimples. She’s hypervigilant, always alert, which makes her an excellent road captain.
“Let the prospects do their jobs.”
She salutes me and flashes me a smile. “Yes, boss.”
“Cut the shit.” But I don’t mean it. No one is immune to Dimples’ smile, not even me.
The roar of several bikes cuts off Dimples’ words, which is impressive considering how loud the clubhouse is.
“She bringing reinforcements?” Dimples asks.
I lift an eyebrow, so the rest of the girls won’t see my reaction. “I was wondering the same.”
I consider telling Dimples I need to show her something in the back room, but it might look like I’m cowering. Instead, I pretend to straighten Dimples’ cut, so I can turn my back to the door. It’ll rob Frost of my witnessing her grand entrance.
Dimples must get what I’m doing because she grabs the armhole of her vest and pulls on it. “Jesus, you’d think I’ve never worn a cut. I’ve had to straighten it all day. Thanks, Storm.”
Before I can respond, the front door bangs open. It’s loud, and the walls shake.
Dimples’ eyes widen.
I casually look over my shoulder and ignore the women surrounding Frost. Instead, I call, “You break it, you pay for it.”
Most of the girls laugh, except for the ones with Frost. Four are club members, one being Jinx, an officer of the Thorns—our secretary.
I’ve never seen the other two since they ain’t Thorns. The pair are a contrast. In my mind, I think Tank since she stands at least six feet, but she’s not lean like Dimples, so she looks much bigger. Her counterpart, Shortstack, makes me look tall.
Frost struts toward me with a cocky grin on her face, and a hush falls over the clubhouse. She must have recently dyed her hair because the white blond streak appears more pronounced against her jet-black hair. In her late fifties, it’s too dark to be natural.
“Hey, I hope you don’t mind.” She motions behind her. “I brought a few pals from my old stomping ground.”
I assume she means Philly, but I don’t ask. She knows the clubhouse is closed to outsiders until church is over, so she’s testing me. I let her hang there, saying nothing.
She must have expected me to explode because she stumbles over her next words. “I mean, uh, they’re in from Philly, so they don’t know their way around here. It’ll be dark soon, and I didn’t want them getting lost. Ya know what I mean?”
Damn, she’s backing me into a corner. I can either be a jerk and send them away in the dark and cold, or I let them stay and appear weak. My mind races. Another one of my superpowers, at least according to Aces, is I think fast on my feet.
I nod to the strangers flanking Frost and address them instead of her.
“On behalf of the Iron Thorns, I want to welcome you to our clubhouse. I’m not certain if you’re aware of club protocol, but on church night, we don’t open the doors to non-members until after our meeting.
” I don’t smile, wanting to keep the intensity burning in my eyes.
“But I wouldn’t want you ladies getting lost in the Adirondacks.
It’ll get cold out there tonight, so you’re welcome to hang out upstairs in Frost’s room. ”
I motion for Prospect One, suspecting nobody will try pushing her around, and if they do, I’m pretty sure they’ll regret it.
The prospect hurries over. “Yes, President.”
“Take these ladies over to the bar. Get them a drink and some snacks. Then escort them upstairs to Frost’s room.”
There’s a twinkle in her eye when she responds. “Yes, President.” She turns to the women. “Please come with me.”
The glances at Frost, who gives her a subtle nod.
I clap my hands together. “I’d like to have a brief meeting with the officers before church.” I start toward the back, but I turn before I enter the hallway and wave my arm around the room. “And don’t you all forget. Church in less than half an hour, so drink accordingly.”
Several girls let out a groan.
I glower and say, “You’ll survive.”
Without glancing back, I march down the hall, expecting the officers to follow.