Chapter 4
S ilence filled the clubhouse. The shock Pumpkin expected at such a declaration, though, was absent. In a way, he supposed they all knew this was coming.
Steel had started the Via Daemonia . In a civilian world that made little sense after the indoctrination of military life, Steel was like a guiding hand, a voice of reason, and a sounding board of faith all wrapped up in one gruff personality.
There was an honor to Steel that was rare in these days.
He was even tempered and had a keen mind, one that was always looking for every possible solution before taking action.
The day Pumpkin had met Steel, he thought he was stern but fair.
A familiarity he’d needed after a decade in the Marines.
Pumpkin had still been questioning his decision about joining a motorcycle club, but he’d literally had nowhere else to go.
His mom was dead, he had no siblings—that he knew of—and he sure as fuck wasn’t going to be seeking out his dad in this lifetime or the next.
Rumors of a motorcycle club in Pennsylvania were circulating, and Pumpkin figured it couldn’t hurt to check them out, especially one run by a former Marine.
He might have been floundering, but he knew in his bones that he would never become a criminal for the sake of being a criminal.
When the club had first been looking for members, the prospecting time was six months. Pumpkin was the first prospect to serve a year prior to getting his rockers. Then Cage, Angel, and so on. Grumpy, Ranger, and Ghost were the three who had only served six months.
The club had come a long way in almost nine years. But the one constant, the one thing that Pumpkin had never doubted, was Jenna and Steel.
For six years, Jenna had been the only ol’ lady.
She’d put up with a lot from them, including walking into the clubhouse after nights of debauchery and waking them up with an airhorn.
None would be getting breakfast until the clubhouse was once again spotless, and they all had learned very quickly that Jenna’s food was not something one wanted to pass up.
Steel and Jenna had three grown children, Carter, Jordan, and Melanie, and an adopted teenage son, Ollie.
Carter and Jordan were in their mid-twenties while Melanie was nineteen and in her first year of college.
Ollie was sixteen now and a sophomore in high school.
He’d grown up in a terrible situation, physically and emotionally abused by a one-percenter motorcycle club his mom had been a working girl for.
Carter and his wife, Lucy, had also given Steel and Jenna their first grandbaby, a little boy named Drew.
Rumor had it that Steel and Jenna had been high school sweethearts, but Steel had been born on the wrong side of the tracks, as they say. They’d fought for their right to love, a battle raged in tears and heartache, but they’d prevailed.
Now they were fighting a very different battle.
Last year, Jenna had been diagnosed with late-onset multiple sclerosis, or LOMS. The couple had kept the truth from the club for months, finally telling them only weeks before the incident at the bridge.
As Jenna repeatedly told everyone, her diagnosis wasn’t a death sentence.
It was a fight-to-live sentence, and she had no intention of waving a white flag .
But the very idea of Steel without Jenna… It was unfathomable. Pumpkin didn’t have a partner, had never loved any woman so completely that he didn’t know where she started and he ended. But he understood the concept of a hopeless battle, and that sometimes, fate had other plans.
He could understand why Steel would want to spend as much time as possible with Jenna, not knowing what their future would hold. But to no longer be part of the club? To no longer be the head of this family?
Pumpkin knew the club’s bylaws. They all did.
Unlike in other motorcycle clubs, the more ruthless and lawless ones, the VDMC actually had rules that prohibited a club member taking over an officer position via violence.
There was no fight to the death or duel to determine who was President.
At any time, any member could call for a vote to nominate another member—not themselves—into an officer position.
The entire club would vote and the winning vote would decide who got to take or keep the officer position.
In the nearly nine years since the club was established, no such vote had ever taken place.
When Scar had walked out of the club and turned in his cut, the position for Enforcer had been open.
Bulldog, as SAA, had nominated Ghost. At the time, everyone had still been so shocked by Scar’s departure that no one had contested, and technically, no vote was held.
Over a year later, no one had voiced an issue with Ghost as the club’s Enforcer, even after Scar had returned.
Pumpkin looked to Lucky. He was the VP. Would he take Steel’s position?
“This is not a decision I have made lightly, but one that I have considered over the past ten months, time and time again,” Steel continued.
“Jenna’s diagnosis has changed some things, and I need to devote my time to her needs.
” Steel gestured to his right. “Lucky has taken on a lot more responsibilities in the past few months, even with a new baby and his family. It’s not fair to him, and therefore, I have decided that it’s time for me to step down. ”
“Will Lucky take the position?” Since Bear was the one who asked, Pumpkin had to assume that even the officers didn’t know Steel’s decision.
Likely, as second and third in the hierarchy, Lucky and Bulldog were the only ones who knew.
And possibly Keys, because it was impossible to keep secrets around the Tech who had this place wired tighter than the White House, especially after the bomb scare they’d had last January.
“No,” Lucky spoke up before Steel could. “And frankly, I don’t want it. I’m comfortable where I am. However, we’re going to do this right and no one is casting a vote today.”
“Nor is this going to turn into a campaign,” Bulldog warned, his eyes stern.
“We’re going to give everyone a few weeks to think about their decisions, but the President seat is a great responsibility.
And while it is not technically in our bylaws, we are going to ask that you consider the fact that taking an officer position is not as easy as being handed a crown.
There’s a lot that goes on behind the scenes that a member might not think about or realize.
Therefore, we feel it is best to cast a vote for a current officer to become President and then later we’ll cast another vote for a member to take over their position. ”
“But it doesn’t have to be an officer?” Pirate clarified.
“No,” Steel declared. “Since it’s not in our bylaws, Bulldog is correct and technically anyone can be nominated. We just want everyone to think about how much responsibility it will be and not simply of the power that could be wielded.”
“As of right now,” Lucky continued, “everything is going to go on like normal. And if we even hear of some campaign or a member encouraging another member to nominate him, so help me God, I will throw you into the cellar myself and throw away the key.”
“Lucky’s right,” Bulldog said sternly. “We’re a family. Now is the time to remember that more than ever. Steel and Jenna need our support, not added stress. I will not hesitate to dish out punishments regarding this matter.”
Ranger stood up. “Seconded. I’m not an officer, but I’ll gladly help in this regard.” To Steel, he added, “I have no intention of being an officer. I like where I am at the bar, but if you or Jenna need anything, you know how to reach me.”
“To reach all of us,” Grumpy declared .
Steel nodded once, his face a blank mask.
Things were wrapping up when Bulldog got a text alert on his phone. Pumpkin saw immediately the way he stiffened at the message.
“What is it?” Lucky asked him.
Bulldog, though, looked to Steel. “Dixie Gilbert is at the front gate.”
Pumpkin wasn’t the only one who didn’t recognize the name. He was, however, the one who asked, “Who’s Dixie Gilbert?”
Steel’s nostrils flared as he growled, “Ollie’s biological mother.”
“No.”
“You’re going.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yeah, you actually are.”
Dosia stepped down from the ladder she was using to help her dust the upper shelves.
Still holding the feather duster, she put her hands on her hips as she glared at her aunt.
“Calliope, I don’t care what your reasoning is, I am not getting set up on a blind date.
I haven’t even been here a week yet! Give me some time to get acclimated and then maybe ,” she emphasized, “I’ll go on a date or think about going on a date. But just not right now, okay?”
Calliope wasn’t deterred in the slightest though. “Bart is special, Dosia. I can feel it.” She put her hands up to signify something mystical or spooky was afoot.
“I. Don’t. Care,” Dosia said shortly. “I don’t even know this man. Why would you even think I’d want to go out with him?”
“I told you,” Calliope repeated, her smile not faltering in the slightest. “He’s special.”
“What, did he invent the wheel or something?”
Calliope snorted. “No, but he did approve my business loan.”
Dosia lifted an eyebrow. Calliope was setting her up with a banker ? Not that Dosia had anything against bankers, but it still seemed odd. “ If he’s so ‘special’,” she added air-quotes, “why don’t you go out with him?”
Calliope shrugged easily, like she was answering an elementary math question. “Because he’s not meant for me.”
Fuck. Dosia didn’t doubt that. She still had no idea who the biker at the bakery was, though it was nearly time for Calliope to head that way. What she doubted, or rather, what she hoped wasn’t true was that Bart the Banker was meant for her .