NINE
Splice
Around the Diablo Disciples’ council table, Splice had his hands laced together on the aged wood.
“Do we have anything else on the agenda, Bash?” Axel asked the secretary.
“Nah, Prez, we’ve covered everything. And it only took an hour.
” He half-smirked. There was no better man for keeping the club shit in order than Bash.
That man could tell you what meeting they had five years ago if you requested the info.
Aside from Axel, who carried all the burdens, and Chains, the VP, Bash understood the MC completely.
Splice preferred his SAA role and respected his council seat.
“Devil, how do we look this month for profits?” Axel questioned the treasurer.
The financier tallied coins, allocated portions to members, and kept the club solvent.
Devil might look like a man who could chew titanium and spit out bullets; he was built like the Hulk had fucked his mom, but the guy knew numbers.
Chains was married to an accountant, and Splice had once overheard Devil and Monroe discussing finances.
Splice couldn’t make heads or tails of their conversation.
Rolling the half-eaten red licorice stick from the side of his mouth to the other, he sucked the sweetness as Devil explained how much they’d be receiving this month.
He kept his spending low, limited to necessities and his mom’s needs, and siphoned his MC income into savings.
He figured when he retired, he’d want to kick back by a lake and fish, or do whatever old guys do, and he planned to do it in style.
Just then, Chains’ phone pinged, and the VP sprang to his feet like he’d been shot in the butt. It instantly put everyone on alert.
“It’s nothing.” He exhaled and sank back into his chair. “Monroe’s sister is letting me know they’re on the way home.”
“It’s your old lady that’s ready to drop your kid, VP. Why the fuck do you have us all on a knife-edge with you?” laughed Reno down the other end of the table.
For days now, since Monroe approached her due date, Chains watched his phone as if he thought he could jump through it the moment he got the message his old lady needed him.
“He made me drop my beer yesterday when he rushed out of my backyard. I thought SWAT was coming,” piped a smirking Denver, and Chains, while hunched over his phone, typing a message, fired off the middle finger to the club’s medic.
“I’m out if there’s nothing else,” Chains said, sliding his phone away. He stood and skimmed a hand over his clipped Mohawk.
“Hold up a second, Chains,” Axel said. “Today is Primo’s first meeting back. It’s been a long time since we were at full power. Welcome back to the council table, my brother.”
Every man there pounded the table and cheered for the returned brother.
“Thanks, Prez,” Primo spoke in his quiet, husky tone once everyone piped down. “It’s good to be back. And thanks to the First Lady for setting up my new office. It’s sweet as fuck.”
“For all your hacking needs, bro,” smirked Splice.
As Chains exited, Dillion was in the doorway. Once a probie with a foul attitude, the kid seemed to have turned his shit around.
Probies weren’t permitted in the council room, not until they earned their patch. He was wearing his Prospect vest and looked a little sweaty and harried.
“Prez, Scar is in the storeroom; she’s trying to organize the shelves again. Prez, she won’t let me do anything. I tried to stop her from lifting shit, but she told me to butt out.”
Ah, no wonder the kid was looking green around the gills. Once Axel’s old lady grew her pregnant belly, he’d put Dillion on babysitting duty. Basically, to stop her from doing anything dumb, but the First Lady had a stubborn streak.
The Prez let her get away with all kinds of antics.
“And you ran to Daddy Prez to tattle on his wife?” Reno chuckled in a friendly way.
“When it’s my head on the chopping block for letting her do stuff on her own, yeah, man!” agreed the probie. Then he looked toward Axel again, who was already climbing to his feet. “It’s not like I can yell at Prez’s old lady.”
Too true. Axel would shoot anyone in the face and not ask questions afterward.
“Where is she now?” Axel asked.
“Sitting on the storeroom floor, counting cans of beans. I grabbed the stepladder before I hoofed it down here.”
There was a rumble of chuckles as one brother after another pushed back his chair.
“That woman is gonna turn me gray. Sit the fuck down, I tell her. Does she even listen?” scowled Axel, and Splice shared a smirk with Tomb. Axel was all talk. Every biker there had witnessed how he spoiled his pint-sized runaway thief.
A short while ago, he had transformed a spare back room into Scarlett’s private cinema. Entry was forbidden unless Scarlett granted permission.
“Meeting fucking dismissed,” Axel said and strode out, closely followed by the probie who was busy running his mouth, tattling on Scarlett.
Splice thanked his lucky stars that he had never wanted to be in that position. Watching Axel and Chains these past months slowly lose their cool edge because they were worried for their pregnant old ladies looked exhausting as fuck.
Splice overtook the twins in the corridor. Though they had identical faces, Reno’s smile made them easy to distinguish.
“Yo, Ruin, you got a minute?”
The enforcer stopped in his tracks and arched a menacing brow.
The guy might mutter more words today than he once did, but he still carried a dark aura that warned people to stay the fuck away.
Luckily for Ruin, Splice was illiterate in aura reading, so he looped an arm around the enforcer’s shoulder, feeling him stiffen, but it was progress that Ruin didn’t snap his neck.
“It’s my mom’s birthday. Do you think you could let me swing by your place so she can meet Rory? She’s a massive fan.”
Miracles happened when Ruin married the biggest pop star in the country.
Rory Kidd was a sweetheart, and though Splice still didn’t understand how they worked, they did.
Ruin was obsessed with his old lady—not just because her agoraphobia kept her away from the clubhouse, but because she’d brought their enforcer back to life and eased Reno’s worries about his twin.
For that reason, the entire club was grateful to Rory.
Splice half-smiled as he saw the immediate “fuck no” in Ruin’s bottomless eyes.
Ruin rarely allowed visitors into his home, except for Reno and the old ladies’ gang. He protected Rory’s safe space, making sure no one made her feel uneasy.
Reno tapped Ruin on his other shoulder and spoke first. The twins exchanged a look, and Splice was amazed by how alike they acted.
“Tammie is good people, brother, and Rory enjoys meeting her fans.”
“Big fan, Ruin,” Splice interjected, hoping to seal the deal. He would be the son of the year if he could persuade the enforcer. His younger brother, Bart, lived in Canada and sent only gift cards and flowers, so meeting her favorite singer would push Splice into First Son position for sure.
Naturally, his gift was selfless.
“It’ll be a quick meeting.” He explained. “Just saying hi and getting a photo together.”
Ruin rumbled a noise but said nothing as his feet carried him into the main area.
“I’ll check with Aurora.” He finally said, and Reno shot a sly thumbs-up Splice’s way.
After a phone call, Ruin told Splice to come by their house at six that night.
“Yo, Splice. Your uncle just pulled up outside.” Called out the probie, Forger, mopping his motor-oil hands with a cloth as he strode through the opened double doors.
Changing his direction, Splice headed outside in time to see his uncle climbing down from his red F-150.
Vince Gold, his dad’s older brother, had been hanging around the MC for as long as Splice, but he wasn’t actually a member.
He wasn’t into the MC patch, but his uncle had worked with Axel a bunch over the years, and they both made out pretty well.
He was sort of an honorary guest, and everyone liked Vince.
Splice’s steps closed the distance between them, and the two men gave each other a half-hug.
The wiry man said, “Haven’t seen you in a while, my boy. Not in trouble, are you?”
Splice laughed. The same shit the old man said each time he saw him.
When Splice’s dad was untimely killed in an unsolved mugging, Vince stepped in to be a father figure to the Gold brothers, dealing with a lot of grief and anger.
There was nothing he wouldn’t do for his uncle.
“No trouble this week. How about you? How’s the dealership?”
“You know me, kid, I like to keep busy. I’m actually gonna be out of town for a few weeks, traveling to look at some new stock.”
Decades ago, the Gold brothers built their car dealership from scratch. Now it was the biggest dealership in the entire state of Utah.
“I was sorry I couldn’t make it to Dodger’s funeral. I hear it was lively.”
Splice reached into his pocket to unwrap a hard candy, throwing it into his mouth; he sucked the sweetness, then stored it in his cheek.
“If he were alive, he would have loved it, put it that way.”
Vince was almost as tall as Splice’s six-foot-three and looked a helluva lot like his dad, which was always jarring, even today.
“Are you here to see Axel or me?”
“Both. Are you hanging around, or have you got places to go?”
“I need to head out. I’m taking Mom to her favorite Italian place later, so I’ve gotta get a few things done first.”
Vince smiled and clapped Splice on the arm. “I just went by Tammie’s place to give her a gift.” Slipping a hand into his front pocket, Vince pulled out a wad of cash and found a few hundred-dollar bills; he pushed them into Splice’s jacket pocket. “Buy your mom a good bottle of champagne.”
“Vince, I’ve got it covered. I can get Mom what she wants.”
But Vince wouldn’t hear of taking the cash back. He was generous to a fault; even though Splice didn’t need anyone’s money, he didn’t argue further.
He parted from his uncle minutes later with a promise to visit once he was back from his travels, and Splice climbed onto his low-slung bike, his mind shifting through the things he needed to check on first.
His route was nowhere near Lisa’s, yet he rode by her house, checking if she was home. What the fuck was he gonna do if she was? Invite him in for a coffee?
While she’d been friendly the last time, she wasn’t exactly showing signs she wanted to spend time with her old flame.
He increased his pace and left the neighborhood, turning towards town, as he shook his head at his own foolishness.
He had to knock a few heads together before he could eat the fattest steak tonight.
His days were never dull.