Thirty-Four
C hurch started out as expected, with that damn empty chair sitting there, like a silent watcher we all couldn’t stop glancing over at.
“By now you all know exactly who’s been fucking with the club, and I know it’s a big shock to us all,” Reacher said first.
“He’s got a lot to answer for, Pres. This whole fucking time he’s been staring us in the face, while trying to fuck us in the ass?” That was Rocket, and nobody argued, because wasn’t that how it felt? It was betrayal. A figurative knife in the back, as well as a literal one for me.
“That’s exactly why we’re meeting today. Because a decision needs to be made about him. I know he eventually gave us Tommy’s whereabouts, and he’s here now, back from hospital, but even if we set that aside because he finally did the right thing, there’s a lot we can’t forgive-”
“Forgive? He fucking attacked Lissa in her own office! The only forgiveness I can offer is none. None at all. That fucker was in my files, in my systems, sneaking in and out, attacking old ladies, and fucking playing us all for fools!” Whoa, clearly Ice was pissed.
“We’re not talking about forgiving him,” Stitch declared, slamming a fist on the table, “but the issue that remains is what to fucking do with him. The question is if there’s more we need to know, or if we’re ready to put an end to this. To him.”
Fuck me. Don’t tell me to do it, please don’t fucking do that. I knew I’d do anything for this club, and I’d said it enough times, but did I think it’d ever come down to torturing or killing a man I was so close with? It’d be like being told to do that to Ry or Has. In fact, as I looked around the room, I saw nobody I’d be comfortable following an order to do that to.
Bikers are family. We’re chosen family, found family, whatever the fuck you want to call it. We choose this life and each other, because either we have nothing else, or we want something better than we had. Sure, some get into it purely for the love of the ride, or for a life of crime, but that’s not why I joined. I was looking for something I’d always dreamed of as a kid. Somewhere to belong. Somewhere filled with people who I could rely on, family, a brotherhood. I’d spent two years hanging with Micro, and now it was coming down to who has to fucking kill him.
“Torch,” Reacher said, and I cursed, rubbing a hand over the back of my head.
“Pres, Jesus … don’t ask me this.”
Has-Been cursed then, and stood up.
“I’ll fucking do it. After what he did to Elise, I have some fucking right to be the one.”
Reacher jabbed a finger at his seat.
“Sit. The. Fuck. Down. I’m not asking anyone to kill him right now. As Stitch said, we need to work out what else we need to know before we end this, but as to who does it, it doesn’t need to be anyone who isn’t comfortable doing it. You’ve all got varying levels of closeness with various people in this club. We’re not all as tight as we should be. This means we have options. It comes down to what else we need from him, and what we decide to do to him.”
“I wanna know how the fuck he could turn on all of us. We’re family,” Rocket hissed, and a few others started piping up in agreement.
“We deserve a right to fucking talk to him, because this affects all of us.”
Reacher groaned, and nodded. “I expected this. Stitch?” He was already getting up, nodded at Ryder, and they both left the room. Wait, what’s going on now?
“He’s coming in here?” Rocket asked, sitting up taller in his seat, as his fists clenched.
“Yes, and you’ll all get a turn, so just, for fuck’s sake, try not to all yell at once. I don’t want this taking all day.”
They brought the fucker in, tied to a fucking wheelchair, which means they always planned to bring him in, and clearly Doc had been in on it. Micro had this smug ass look on his face, like he wasn’t in a room full of guys who wanted a piece of him.
“Hey, brothers, sorry I’m late. I know how being late for Church is a sin or something.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Stitch muttered as he smacked the back of his head, positioning the wheelchair so he was in the corner nearest the head of the table. He shouldn’t be anywhere near the fucking head of the table, but I got why they did it. If it descended into anarchy, they’d have themselves between him and the rest of us, but still, it didn’t feel right.
“Hey, Pres, how’s the old lady?” Micro asked snarkily, and Ryder punched him, having stayed beside him as a fucking sentry. I saw how his words cut into Reacher, even though he kept facing away from him.
“Hit him with any questions you’ve got, one at a time, then we can put him down, like the fucking stray dog he is.”
“That’s ironic, coming from the fucking usurper in the room,” Micro spat, groaning a second later, when Ryder hit him again.
“Questions, brothers? You must have shit you want to ask me,” Micro said next, egging us on, like he wanted it to turn to shit. In the presence of him, most of the mouthy ones had suddenly zipped it, choosing to glare at him instead, or snub him completely.
“It should have been me in that fucking chair at the head of the table, did these fuckers tell you that?” A few heads turned or tilted, and Stag looked at the Pres.
“That true?”
Reacher groaned. “We joined the Godless Warriors almost eleven years ago, me and Stitch, when we were tired of nomad life, and wanted a home. What we found was a club so deeply entrenched in violent crime, and perversion, that it was on so many watch lists, and so frequently raided by the police, that it wasn’t tenable. A club like that doesn’t last, and members don’t survive. After witnessing the ‘president’ Leif, brutalising a club girl, for daring to pass out while giving him head, we realised it was time to shut it down.”
“Fuck you! My dad was a fucking God!”
“Yet the club was called God less Warriors, work that one out, dipshit!” Ice yelled at him, before Reacher waved a hand again.
“We had to take out Leif, and the other big players in the club, so we could turn things around. It wasn’t a decision we made lightly, because moving on and looking for another club would have been easier, but we couldn’t leave them doing what they were doing. Not once we’d witnessed the depravity they were willingly indulging in. It’s taken us ten years, lost us a lot of the old members, and nearly killed us both several times over, but the club, as it is now, is a fucking family we built-”
“Upon the corpses of the old club, you fucking asshole!” Micro yelled, before another thud of fist against face was heard.
“Ryder, I’m starting to think you’ve got a crush on me,” he muttered, and I snorted. When all eyes fell on me, I realised I shouldn’t be finding him funny anymore, but I’d always enjoyed his brand of humour.
“So Micro infiltrated this club, to try and bring it down to punish the two of us.”
“And everyone else paid the price,” Tommy hissed. Yeah, Tommy the prospect, who was about to be patched in, was in attendance, along with the two other prospects we had left, simply because this situation was too serious to hide it from them.
Ice’s phone started making a sound like a Klaxon, and he leapt up from his seat, digging it out of his pocket, his eyes widening as he stared at the screen.
“ FUCK! My systems just flagged an incoming threat! The police are on their way, in force, and they’re coming for him .” He pointed at Micro, and we all stood, shoving our seats back.
“What the fuck do you mean they’re coming for him?”
He was scrolling through something on his screen.
“I have alerts linked to the police systems, anything mentioning the club, or any member. They’ve had a report about Micro, linking him to Chrissy’s death, and they’re sending multiple fucking officers here right now. I’d say we have about five minutes before they’re all fucking over us.”
Reacher moved fast, jabbing fingers at people and barking orders, sending Ryder and Rocket to take Micro down to the tunnels, while others ran to various points to ‘look busy’, and hide any sign of what was going on right now.
“How the fuck do the cops know about this? About him?” I asked Stitch, when it was just the three of us left.
“Someone clearly tipped them off, man. Maybe someone who didn’t want to be in a position where he had to off this fucker.” Wait. Did he really just fucking imply it was me?
I fronted at him, my chest bumping his, right before my fist flew and he ducked.
“Will you two fucking quit it? Cops are coming any second now. You two fighting might get you both banged up right now, and I need you here. As soon as Ry and Rocket are back, get Rocket out to the spray bay, and Ry up with the old ladies. Stitch, brief Cammy now, so they’re ready to play nice.”
What the fuck was happening right now? Cops coming here for Micro? How the fuck did they know anything about him?