CHAPTER 7
JAZMIN
I didn’t know how wound up I was until Nadine called me to the bar. It didn’t take long to secure Frost’s friends in her room, so I’ve been pacing the clubhouse ever since. The patches have slowed down their drinking, so I don’t have many drinks to run, but I wish I did.
Nobody would guess what’s goin’ on in my head. I appear chill as hell, but I’m not. When you grow up where I did, you’re always on alert. If you ain’t, it can get you killed.
The clubhouse has been tight all night, and despite Dimples’ smile, I know she’s not okay. If I could just wrap my arms around her and hold on, I would, but it’d get me kicked outta here. Jesus. It’s getting harder to be around her when I keep having these thoughts.
Hopefully, Nadine can distract me from what’s happening behind the meeting room doors. I ain’t stupid. The meeting has everyone on edge. All week, I’ve heard whispers Frost is up to something. I just want it over, regardless of what happens. I hate waiting around like this.
“What do you think’s going on in there?” Nadine says as soon as I slip behind the bar.
Nope, she’s not gonna pull me into gossip. “We ain’t supposed to be talkin’ about that.”
She scrunches her face at me. “Come on, it’s just me. We’re in this together. I wouldn’t talk to a full patch like this.”
I glance around the crowded bar and shake my head. “Just takes one to overhear us. Ain’t worth it.”
Nadine steps back. “Nobody’s gonna hear.”
As I search for a way to shut her down without making it worse, the officers stroll in. The room goes silent as they enter.
“Five minutes until church,” Storm calls. “Better get your drinks and pee because we aren’t letting you out until we’re done.”
I eye Storm, looking for cracks, but it’s Dimples I wanna study.
I’ve watched her enough that I know her tells.
She rubs her hands together when she’s uncomfortable, and when she’s uptight, her leg jiggles.
Since she’s standing, I can’t look for that tell, so I focus on her eyes. They’re clear. No edge there.
She notices me staring and gives me a smile. Ugh. It goes right to my heart. Damn it. Those dimples. I should look away and pretend I wasn’t staring. Instead, I smile back and do the unthinkable. I wave.
Fuck me. A prospect shouldn’t be smiling and waving at an officer.
Dimples must notice the panic on my face because she calls, “Prospect, did you get that? I need my drink refreshed.”
“Got it,” I call back, hoping Nadine doesn’t pick up on it.
When I turn, my heart drops to my stomach. The smirk on her face tells me Nadine saw.
I stand in the back with Nadine. That’s where prospects are expected to be during church since we haven’t earned our seats. Someday I hope to have a voice and a vote. Until then, I’ll wait and prove my worth.
The room is packed. When Jinx calls roll, all eighty-seven patch sisters are there.
A few ain’t around much during the winter.
As a prospect, I’m required to be at the clubhouse even when it’s dead.
A prospect’s job is simple: keep the clubhouse clean and orderly and make sure the patch sisters have what they need.
I’m not complaining. It’s a win for me since Dimples lives upstairs.
The officers sit at the table with the Iron Thorns’ logo behind them. It’s the same logo that’s on the back of the full-patch sisters’ cuts.
Storm spends the first part of the meeting going over the club bylaws and code of ethics, but with her upbeat mood, it doesn’t come off harsh, just informative. A loud cheer goes up when Halo gives the treasury report and says Black Briar is increasing its money-making activities.
“Our next agenda item,” Storm says, “is our first formal ride of the season. One week from today.” She leans forward and glances down the table. “I’m gonna turn the meeting over to our road captain.”
Dimples smiles and my heart melts, but I have to focus, so I stand up straighter and keep a serious expression on my face.
“Kickstands up at nine,” Dimples says. “I’m still waiting for Wiz or her road captain to send me the route.”
One woman near the front groans. “I bet that bitch has had the route for months.”
Several other women murmur their agreement. I’m sure they’re right. The Iron Thorns aren’t exactly popular with the Steel Graces.
“You know they don’t want us there,” one of the older members says.
“More reason for us to show up,” Storm says with a smirk. “I’ve never known a Thorn to let anyone chase them away. Besides, it’s for charity. Raising money for the women’s shelter. Does anyone think we shouldn’t go?”
The room goes silent. Storm’s right. The Iron Thorns are generous with the community.
Technically, the Thorns aren’t an outlaw MC.
We can’t be. Some of our operations skirt the law, but the Thorns do tons of good for the community, especially Cinder Ridge.
Besides, most of our profits come from the rich tourists visiting Lake Placid.
Nobody’s hurt, and they have a good time, so where’s the harm?
Money flows in and back out into the community where it belongs.
It’s one of the many reasons the law leaves the Thorns alone.
“And nobody need worry.” Dimples grins. “I’ve got sources. I’ll get the intel.”
The women laugh, which is what I suspect Dimples was going for.
“I’ll send out emails and post the route around the clubhouse. Any questions?” Dimples asks.
“Yeah,” someone calls. “Are they gonna treat us like we’re scum, same as they do whenever they see us?”
“Most likely,” Dimples says.
A dark cloud crosses Storm’s face. “But it isn’t about them. It’s about the shelter for women and children.” Storm fixes the sister who asked the question with her intense glare. “And it’s not about us, either.”
“Amen,” Nails says.
The vocal club member looks down at the floor and says, “I’ll be there.”
“All right, that’s settled. Kickstands up at nine on May 2nd.” Storm glances at her watch. “Appears you wanna get back to the bar. We still got fifteen minutes. Does anyone have anything else?”
Frost, who’s sitting to Storm’s right, stands. Dimples’ eyes widen. Standing while the president is still sitting is a breach of protocol. Movement catches my eye. Nails, the sergeant-at-arms, stands and moves between Storm and Frost.
I brace myself, considering what I’ll do should something blow up. As a prospect, I’m expected to stay neutral, but Dimples will be right beside Storm.
Frost laughs and holds up her hand. “Whoa. Whoa.” She points behind her. “I’m just getting something from my bag.”
Storm nods, giving her permission, and Nails returns to her seat.
My gaze scans the crowd, looking for Frost’s allies. They’re whispering among themselves. I don’t believe for a second that Frost’s action was innocent. By the fire burning in Dimples’ eyes, neither does she. The tension, which was all but gone, returns.
Frost pulls a package from her bag. “I took the liberty of having this crafted for us.”
I relax, feeling guilty for thinking Frost was up to something. But when I see suspicion in Dimples’ eyes, my senses heighten.
“I think it’s about time we declare our territory.” Frost pulls something from the package. “It’d honor Aces.”
From where I’m standing, I can’t tell what it is, but from Dimples and Halo’s expressions, it’s not good. Storm and Nails’ faces remain impassive, giving nothing away.
Frost holds up a patch. It looks like a bottom rocker, which would make sense since she mentioned territory.
“Sit down,” Storm says with authority.
“Uh, yeah, sure.” Frost drops to her seat, but she still holds the patch over her head. “This one is my favorite.”
I read: Adirondacks, New York.
“Or how about Cinder Ridge, New York?” Frost says, waving another patch with her other hand.
“Who asked you to commission those?” Storm’s tone gives away her barely contained anger.
“Uh, nobody. I just thought it’d be a nice visual to open the discussion.”
“What makes you think we need this discussion?” Storm says to Frost as if speaking to an unruly child.
“Because some of us are sick of hiding behind our Nomad patch. It’s about time we do our colors proud.”
“You are, huh?” Even from where I’m standing, I see the vein in Storm’s neck throbbing. “So ya decided to break protocol and take matters into your own hands?”
Frost puts her hand against her chest, and her mouth drops open. I’ve never seen a faker gesture.
“My apologies.” Frost waves the patches before she shoves them into her bag, leaving the wrappers on the table. “My intention was to give everyone something fun to see.”
While I understand Nomad means the Thorns have no declared territory, I’m not sure why Frost’s suggestion is being met with so much tension. I sense this goes deeper than Frost breaking protocol. I swear, everyone in the seats in front of me is holding their breath, waiting for Storm to respond.
Storm reaches for the gavel she uses to open and close meetings. Shit. She looks like she wants to pummel Frost with it.
“Frost, you know this is a serious breach of protocol.” Storm slams the gavel head against the table. “Meeting adjourned.”
Nobody moves as they wait for Storm to stand, but the whispers have started. Storm takes her time, gathering the papers in front of her before she rises from her seat. As soon as she is on her feet, chairs scuff against the floor as everyone plans their escape.
Instead of living up to her name and storming from church, Storm surprises me. She walks around the table and starts talking to the patches in the front row. She’s smiling, but I can’t make out what she’s saying.
Prospects are expected to put the room back together, so I have an excuse to linger. As I’m folding up chairs, I overhear a few of the girls talking about how cool the territory patches are. Shit.
I move closer to the front of the room, where Storm’s talking to the old-timers in the front row. Pretending to have trouble folding up one of the chairs, I listen. They’re talking about their bikes. Smooth. What better way to show Frost’s end run didn’t have any impact?
While the chatter in the back of the room scares me, my respect for our president grows.