Chapter Twenty-Two
Church Meeting
“Drink up, bitches, the booze is freeeeee!”
Dutifully I had my red cup in hand as I watched Mabel get her party on. She and a couple other ladies who’d come in with their men had taken over the bar that had clearly once been the teller counter when the place had been a bank. I didn’t know them personally, but their jackets told me they were Gravedigger women, one who was local, and one whose patch stated that she and her man were from a Gravedigger chapter in Milwaukee. I’d learned their names were Steph and Tina respectively, and they clearly knew their way around a professionally stocked bar.
“I don’t give a damn if war is coming.” Steph, the local Gravedigger woman whose jacket said she was the property of someone named Red Flag, raised her voice so that it echoed impressively throughout the marbled halls of the clubhouse’s front room, now filled with at least a dozen round tables, chairs, a jukebox, and a pool table. “Tonight, while our men strategize and plan and do all that shit men do, we’re going to do our part by getting this party started, so come on over and get your happy juice, girlies. It’s time to party!”
A feminine cheer went up and someone got the jukebox going. Twisted Sister’s “We’re Not Gonna Take It” suddenly boomed out, and even though I felt more like a spectator than an actual partygoer, even I could feel the rebellious defiance pulsing through the crowd, and this was our battle song.
I glanced toward the closed door behind the bar. When this building had been a bank, I suspected that door had led to the administrative offices and maybe the safety deposit boxes or vaults. Now, all our men had disappeared behind that door to do whatever it was they needed to do in order to prepare for Hades and his crew. In my mind, I imagined everything beyond that door to be dark, smoke-filled, perhaps looking like an armory, or maybe some sort of nerve center with screens and computers all over the place. The one thing I couldn’t imagine was all this noise out here in the front room helping them strategize and keep everyone alive.
“The guys just started church,” I yelled to Misty, who looked amazing in skintight black jeans, black fringed and blinged-out ankle boots, and a Harley-Davidson orange and black bandeau top under the Gravedigger jacket Lasso had given her. “Maybe we should turn everything down and hold off getting the party started until they’re done?”
“The inner sanctum is soundproof, Romeo made sure of that long ago. Nobody can hear what goes on in there, and they can’t hear what’s happening out here unless they choose to turn on the CCTV they’ve got situated throughout the compound.” She nodded at a camera positioned high up in a corner of the room before she took my red cup of untouched beer from me and set it aside. “We can thank Tyr’s paranoia for all the security we’ve got going on around here. He’s always on the lookout for his uncle’s spies that he suspects are hiding behind every nook and cranny.”
I knew for a fact that there were spies, thanks to Romeo, but all I did was shake my head. “That must be a terrible way to live.”
“Welcome to being the president of the legendary breakaway Gravediggers.” She lifted a shoulder, clearly undaunted. “I mean, Tyr did set up shop literally in the same town as the mother club, which is a huge middle finger to Hades. Of course he’s looking for spies.”
“Then I suppose it’s a good thing Tyr is so on guard, and that he has Romeo running security for him. You know what they say, no matter how paranoid you are, you’re not paranoid enough.” I nodded at the door while Misty led me closer to the bustling bar. “I’m almost afraid to ask what’s going on behind that closed door. What goes on during church?”
“Club business, which basically means we don’t get to know what’s going on. Considering what those bad boys get up to every now and again, I don’t even want to know. Trust me, life is safer that way.”
That was no doubt true, except for the fact that I was more personally involved in this war with Hades than any other woman in the room. “Are we ever given a heads-up if they know an attack is imminent? Romeo did give me his knife, but I’m thinking I need to brush up on my self-defense moves.” After my kidnapping, I’d gone to every self-defense course that was within my budget, trying to give myself the sense of security that Marvel and his horrible father had ripped away from me.
“Stick with me, I’ve got a can of bear spray in my pocket ready to go. I’ll watch your back if you’ll watch mine, girlfriend.”
“Absolutely.” Impulsively I threw my arms around her neck and gave her a hug, when even a couple weeks ago I never would have imagined I would turn into a hugger. The positive impact Romeo had on my life, including luring me out of the shell I’d been slowly dying in, was incalculable. “Thank you so much, Misty.”
“Silly, you don’t have to thank me for being a friend.” With a delighted laugh, Misty returned the hug with gusto before grinning at me. “Now, I ditched your beer because I wanted to treat you to one of Tina’s unbelievably yummy concoctions. They taste like Kool-Aid but kick like vodka. They’re the ultimate girl-drink.”
The last thing I wanted was to get plastered while there was so much danger in the air, not to mention I wanted to be clear-headed if Romeo managed to bring my brother Josh in for a meet-up. Of course, Romeo had said he’d try to do that before war had officially broken out between the two clubs—a war that was essentially over Josh’s very existence. I no longer had any real hope that I’d see Josh anytime soon, because Romeo was too smart and too cautious when it came to security issues. But I still wanted to be ready for anything.
Misty hadn’t lied about Tina’s mixology prowess. What she called a “Milwaukee Mule” certainly kicked like one, though it tasted sort of like a hybrid between a mojito and a creamy pina colada. Well aware that I was a lightweight, I took tiny, almost nonexistent sips of the delicious Milwaukee Mule while Misty dragged me around the large room introducing me to just about everyone we came in contact with. There was no way I’d be able to remember everyone’s name, but weirdly enough just about all the women we spoke to knew who I was. Apparently I was a living legend, the woman who made Romeo fall, and everyone wanted to hear how I’d done it.
As I fielded questions about Romeo and me to familiar tunes like “Cotton-Eyed Joe” and Beyonce’s “Check On It,” I realized a couple of things. One, no one really thought that a playboy like Romeo was ever going to take the plunge and give his patch to anyone. And two, the respect and deference this jacket Romeo had given me was on full display. A few women I met—hot, sexy, kickass women who wore no jackets—had to be the club’s mamas and so-called “easy lays,” and at first I wasn’t quite sure how to handle them. But all too soon it hit me that they were just like any other unattached people at a party, and I didn’t have to feel threatened by their presence. I had my man. And he had me, because he’d put his name on my back for all to see. That meant as much to me as if he’d put a ring on my finger.
That didn’t mean I’d say no to a ring. Far from it.
But the jacket was enough.
Or so I told myself.
The problem was that I was a product of my own world, and in that world a ring on the finger meant forever. It meant two people agreeing to become one powerful whole, and taking on the world to share both the burdens and the triumphs that came along. It meant family, and belonging, and maybe even children.
Except with Hades gunning for me and my brother, I didn’t know if my “forever” would end before the night was through. What I needed to do was live in the moment and be grateful for what I had.
“Omigod, that ass is looking fooine in that mini.” Ginger came up behind me, smacked my booty and gave me a big hug. She looked glorious with her long red hair out to there, wearing a red bandana-style top that barely covered her dangerous curves, and a skirt that had slits on one side all the way to the waist. While she didn’t have a Gravedigger jacket, I couldn’t help but notice the women parted for her as she sailed through to us, their eyes watching her with that same kind of respect the official Gravedigger women had. “Please tell me your man went cray-cray when he saw you in your battle armor.”
“If by cray-cray, you mean he almost missed church, then yes, he did.” I laughed and returned her hug, again quietly amazed at how completely I’d changed. But what I’d said was true; even after our sexy times and Romeo and I had to get ready, he hadn’t wanted to let me out of our room. The possessive caveman that lurked inside him had taken one look at me in my miniskirt, borrowed heels and flimsy halter top, and spent several minutes trying to figure out how we could both just skip the night’s festivities and lock ourselves away from the rest of the world.
Ginger let out a whoop and slung an arm around my shoulders. “That’s freaking awesome, sister! I’d like to set you up with a whole wardrobe that keeps your man in a perpetual state of pitching a damn tent. Hop on over to the Vixen’s Den tomorrow and I’ll get you kitted out. I’ll even let you take a turn on the stripper pole if you want.”
My jaw actually dropped. “You don’t actually have a stripper pole in your shop, do you?”
“Hell, yeah, I do. My mom was a stripper, and my dumb ass tried it out my senior year in high school for extra cash, but then Tyr came along and put the kibosh on that double-quick. In retrospect, he probably saved my life, but at the time he was a total dick about it. Then again, Tyr’s always a total dick, so no surprise there.”
I froze, looking behind her. “Umm…”
She was about to polish off her drink before she realized where I was looking. “He’s behind me, isn’t he?”
“Yep.”
“Ugh.” To my surprise, Ginger turned with an admirably epic toss of flame-red hair to face Tyr, who had several other Gravedigger officers behind him, including Romeo. “Geez, dude, can’t a girl get her party on without you breathing down her neck? Go grab a drink or maybe some ass and relax, already.”
Well. Clearly Ginger had been born without a sense of fear. Or self-preservation.
Tyr’s expression resembled pure granite as he reached out with great deliberation and took the nearly empty cup from her hand. “No more for you. I’m cutting you off.”
“Are you kidding me?” Ginger threw out a sassy hip and planted a manicured hand on it, which seemed to be a signal for everyone to back away from her. I stayed where I was, because she was my new friend and I wanted to support her, and because I wanted a front row seat to the drama. “Tyr, that’s literally my first drink of the evening. I’m crashing with Misty tonight over in the Barracks, so you don’t have to worry about me driving. Lighten up, okay? This is supposed to be a party.”
At that moment the Beastie Boys started yelling about how they needed to fight for their right to party, and I nearly laughed at the timing. Then Tyr stepped so close to Ginger I thought he was going to kiss her, but the scowl that carved into his expression quickly abused me of that dewy-eyed notion.
“You’re a fucking idiot if you think you can just waltz in here like you own the place without wearing a patch.”
Ginger went very still, and I got the sudden impression of a volcano about to blow. “What. Did. You. Just. Call. Me?”
Yikes. She sounded scarier than Tyr.
“Shots fired,” Zee muttered from his place beside Ajax.
“You don’t step foot inside this clubhouse without the protection of a patch, and you goddamn know it. You’re outta here.”
“What—”
“I have fucking spoken, Ginger.” With that, Tyr caught her by the elbow and dragged her back toward the door leading to the inner sanctum behind the bar.
“Should we worry?” I said to no one in particular, my eyes still glued to the door through which Ginger and Tyr had disappeared.
“Nah, no worries. Knocking heads is who Ginger and Tyr are. They’ve been doing it ever since they were babies, and they’re not going to stop anytime soon.” Romeo came to drape an arm around me and pulled me in for a quick kiss. “Having fun, Shy girl?”
“I am now that you’re here.” I stretched up to kiss him once more, letting my lips linger on his before giving him my cup. “Do me a favor and finish this off. I’m not much of a drinker, and I don’t want to offend anyone by not drinking.”
“Ah, Tina’s Milwaukee Mules. Tomahawk calls them a pussy drink, but who gives a fuck what he thinks? I love this shit.” He downed it in a couple swallows, then looked over to his Gravedigger brothers. “What do you say, boys? Ready to light this party up?”
“Fuck, yeah.” Ajax grabbed the closet mama, a diminutive young woman who had massive amounts of blonde hair and bodacious cleavage on display. “Let’s burn it, baby.”
I let Romeo steer me toward the clubhouse’s main entrance where I’d left my heavy outer coat. Then, hand in hand, we went out with the majority of party-goers to the parking lot where the bonfire waited with several people already gathered around it. Four portable grills shaped like eggs had appeared in the parking lot as well, and near Ride or Die Choppers someone was happily setting off Roman candles like it was New Year’s Eve. Across the street, half a dozen cop cars sat parked, clearly waiting for heaven knew what.
I nodded toward the cops. “Are they waiting for us to get too rowdy or something?”
Romeo barely spared them a glance. “Don’t worry about them, baby. LEO always parks their ass on our doorstep when we have a little get-together.”
“LEO?”
“Law enforcement officers.”
Ah. “How did they even know to be here?”
“To build a bonfire, even on your own property, you still have to apply for an open-burn permit, which we’ve posted on all our gates and online.” He shrugged, unconcerned. “We may be badasses, but we also know the value of being good neighbors to the people around here, so we make sure they know we’re not going to burn the neighborhood down. Hell, about a third of our brothers here tonight are firefighters, EMTs or some other type of emergency responders.”
Somehow that didn’t surprise me. Adrenaline junkies needed their kicks, after all. “And the noise from the fireworks?”
“Again, we got permits. And believe me, the noise is just getting started.”
Of course. The Gravediggers were doing their best to give the middle finger to Hades by living their lives to the fullest, so it only made sense the party was going to get even wilder from here on in.
“Do you think he’s here now?” I heard the words slip out of my mouth as someone with a flaming Molotov cocktail approached the bonfire. Because of course. An ordinary match or lighter wouldn’t do for a badass biker bonfire.
Romeo leaned toward me. “Who?”
“Hades. Or more accurately, his people. Do you really think they’re watching us now?”
“They’re always watching. We’ve got a spy in our midst, an actual fucking snake somewhere in the grass. Which I didn’t just tell you. That’s club business.”
I nodded. He’d mentioned a spy once before, so this wasn’t a surprise. A disappointment and a serious worry, but not a surprise. “I didn’t hear anything.”
“Excellent.” He bent and touched his lips to mine. “I couldn’t have made you any more perfect if I’d tried, you know that? You’re something else, Shiloh McKeen.”
A happy thrill shot through me. “I’m glad you think so.”
The Molotov cocktail smashed into the bonfire. Soon the rich scent of woodsmoke thickened the air, and if I closed my eyes I could almost believe the world was on fire. Then the scent of cooking meat caught my attention, and I glanced over at the portable grills to find Mabel pushing a shopping cart filled with large aluminum trays that I knew were filled with the hamburger patties we’d shaped, bratwurst links, and racks of marinating ribs. Each grill had been manned by men in Gravedigger jackets and cuts, and as they were handed their designated tray of food to grill, it struck me that they looked like they could have been in any suburban backyard doing their manly duty of cooking meat over an open flame.
As culturally different as the biker world was, there were still some deeply comforting similarities to the civilian world, my old world, that made me smile.
With the tantalizing scent of grilled food perfuming the air, my mouth began to water as I turned back to the bonfire. It had caught quickly, and bellows of triumph went up as the flames began to roar. I gasped, shocked at its overwhelming heat—suddenly the idea of a bonfire and an outdoor party on a cold winter’s night made perfect sense—and thrilled in a primal human way that fire had been created. It was all so extraordinary I started laughing without fully understanding why.
“Let me guess,” Romeo said huskily against my ear, coming to stand behind me so he could wrap his arms around my middle, holding my back to his front. “This is your first bonfire?”
“Yeah.” I couldn’t seem to tear my gaze away from the fire licking over the logs. “It’s mesmerizing, isn’t it?”
“The only thing I find mesmerizing around here is you.”
“Really?” That got my attention like nothing else, and I turned in his hold to loop my arms around his neck. “In that case, I have to ask you something.”
“Yes?”
“Are there any Chief of Security jobs that you have to do right at this moment?”
He lowered his face until his nose nuzzled against mine. “What did you have in mind?”
“I was thinking we could sneak back to our room and see if we could start a fire of our own.”
Desire flared to life in his eyes, as hot as the bonfire behind me. “Aren’t you interested in meeting up with your brother?”
I blinked. “I assumed that would be called off, after what happened with Arthur.”
“I probably should’ve called it off, but I’m a man of my word. Besides, he was already here.”
I shot a careful glance toward the former motor court. “In the Barracks?”
“He’s not there right now.”
“Where is he?”
“Standing right beside you.”