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Prologue
GUNNER
?
Then
As a third generation Church, I know that the patch of the President of Lucifer’s Saint's MC mother chapter will be on my chest one day. Not because I hadn't earned it or was born to wear it, but because I will bleed for it. And I’ll wear it and lead my brothers with pride.
Brotherhood is nothing without loyalty, and loyalty is nothing without trust. We ride together, fight together, live together, and Love together. LSMC Brotherhood for Life.
That is the motto we live by, I live by. It’s a motto I will die by because my club, brothers, and family are my life.
Receiving my patch was the best day of my life. Fucking corny as hell thinking of shit that way, but it's true. My brothers would bust my balls if they heard me say that shit out loud. That day was a culmination of the hard work I put into earning my colors. Knowing that the sleepless nights and the shit jobs the brothers and my Pops gave me led me to patch into one of the fiercest clubs in the country. Putting on my cut for the first time. At that moment, my knees weakened, and pride swelled in my chest. Celebrating with my brothers was one of the proudest moments and one hell of a weekend. I ended up banging a hang around Betty, Brinda, Beverly, or some shit. Fuck if I remember the chick's name. Only remembered how she felt. I smile, thinking about that weekend. Fuck if that woman wasn’t up for anything.
That was a few months back, and since then, my Pops, my Prez, has been preparing me for the day he steps down. I chuckle to myself, thinking about the last time we discussed it. He says it isn’t happening anytime soon, and I don’t doubt that. Prez is full of piss and vinegar. The only way anyone will get the gavel or patch from him is the day he takes his last breath. My Pops lives and breathes for the club–it’s his life. And as much as Ma hates it, not even she could or would convince him to leave before he’s ready.
Every brother, ol’ lady, and kid is a part of the club’s family. My Pops drilled that knowledge into my head. Raising me to believe and put the club first. Putting the club first in my Pop’s mind means our family will always be safe. Does that sometimes cause issues within the club? Yes. There are things we do that some don’t like or agree with. What we do is for them–the family. Knowing they are living the lives they deserve is justification enough for my Pops to make the decisions he does. We are one-percenters, and everyone who enters this life knows that means we aren’t singing kumbaya and following the letter of the law. We do what needs to be done to protect and provide for our family.
Pulling up at the compound, I take in what my family has built. Even though I grew up here, my chest always swells with pride when I pull through the gates. I send a wave to the prospect as I rev my engine. Thinking little of it, when he waves me over to tell me that Prez wants to see me. Often, prospects are given messages to pass on to members, which is why I ignore the look of concern in his eyes, one that I’m too tired to decipher, and head towards the clubhouse.
Last night was a long one. My best friend Turbo finally got his vote and patched in. And we partied a little harder than usual. We’re both feeling that shit today and damn, if I don’t want to go straight to my room shit, shower, shave and call it a damn day. But when my Pops calls, I have to answer.
Turbo gives me a chin lift, signaling to a vehicle that seems out of place, even for us. We may be bikers, but we still enjoy the finer things in life. Something about that vehicle sends a sense of dread coursing through me, which I quickly shake off. My Pops would have given me a heads-up if something was going down. I stare at the vehicle, racking my brain, trying to remember if Prez or his VP mentioned a meeting scheduled today. And I come up blank. Shit.
Being the broody fucker he is, Turbo remains silent as we pull up to the clubhouse. Always on alert, his narrowed eyes take in the shiny black BMW. With the windows being tinted over, we can’t see inside the vehicle, but again, something about it being here doesn’t sit right with me. When my eyes connect with Turbos, I see he feels the same. The look in his eyes says he is going to have questions later. Hell, I have questions now.
After parking, I wave Turbo off as we dismount our bikes and head into the clubhouse. As we enter, I allow my eyes to adjust to the dim lights of the main room. The music is low, and a few brothers are milling around. Most of the brothers live on the compound in either a room or a house they’ve built. So it’s nothing to see a few here during the day. Taking purposeful strides, I’m not surprised that a few of the club whores try to catch my eye–I ignore them. Mostly, I stay away from them. I’m not clueless about what they want, and I make sure they know I’m not the brother to give it to them. I chuckle, knowing they still try even when I tell them I want nothing from them.
Something catches my attention, and I shake my head. I watch in fascination as one of the grabbier whores nearly falls over herself to get to my brother. She has Turbo–dar, no matter when my brother enters the clubhouse. She’s right fucking there, ready and willing. I snort when he catches the movement and veers toward the bar. She is undeterred she follows right along with him. I shake my head, watching as he does his damnedest to ignore her and all her squealing, signaling a prospect to get him his morning coffee. I’ve said it more than once. That chick is going to be a fucking problem. The way she follows T around and constantly causing shit with the other club girls only means one thing. She is looking for an ol’ lady patch. One she will never get. As they say, not my circus, not my monkeys. At least not for now.
I run my hand through my hair. It’s a little longer than usual, and I’m sure I look like a skunk with its hackles raised. I should have time to take care of it before my girl gets here tonight. For now, it is what it is. I shake off the looks I receive from some of my brothers. Whatever my Pops needs, it shouldn’t take too long, or at least I hope like fuck it doesn’t. I’m tired as shit. And with my girl returning tonight, I want to be well-rested for her. And I’ll be damned if I miss time with her or look like a bum.
Flashes of her beautiful face have me smiling to myself. My girl is a beauty all her own. Meeting Savvy was by chance. One night, the brothers and I checked out a new bar near the college. And there she was, a beauty like I’d never seen before, and damn if I wasn’t the only one to take notice. That night, as much as I tried to deny it, I knew. I knew the sexy as fuck brown-skinned girl was going to be my forever.
One thing that has been a bone of contention between my Pops and me is that I know little about my girl's family. She keeps that part of her close to her chest. It irks my Pops that I don’t ask more questions, but I’m enjoying what the two of us have going on right now. If things move in another direction and become more serious, I’ll do what needs to be done to ensure the club is protected from any potential threat. Although I doubt Savvy or her family are threats to the club or me. From what I know about my girl, she has a few brothers, and they were all adopted by her Pop’s best friend after her parent's accident. After she graduated high school, she wanted to attend college here in Maine to get a degree.
It's clear that she and I come from different worlds, but we fit. My brothers give me shit whenever she comes around. Having shit to say about how she dresses and acts. She doesn’t act like she’s better than us. It’s the way she is, all ladylike and proper. That doesn’t mean she doesn’t party when the mood hits. I think that’s what drew me to her. She is smart, kind, and sexy and doesn’t have her nose in the air, like some outsiders who want to ride on the wild side. I chuckle because my girl, at first glance, may seem like one of those high-class bitches. But the brothers and I quickly learned that she isn’t, and she doesn’t take any shit, either. She has a way of putting you in your place without them knowing it until it’s too late. The club whores avoid her like the plague, and the brothers are learning not to test her. Knowing that, I know there will be a time when our two worlds will collide if we keep going the way we are. Truth be told, I know she is my one, and I’m hers. My only concern is if her family approves of her being with the likes of me. She says I have nothing to worry about and that I’m exactly the type her family expects her to be with. I don’t think too hard about it, but I sometimes have a hard time believing her. One thing is for sure is that Savvy Petrov is mine, and I have no plans of ever letting her go.
When I reach Prez’s office, I’m unsettled. I stare at the door and stretch my neck before raising my hand and knocking. Prez yells out for me to enter. My eyes slam shut of their own accord as I take a steadying breath before pushing forward. My gut churns as I push the door open, entering my father's office. A sense of foreboding slams into me, the same feeling from when I saw the BMW in the lot. Unease prickles in my mind, and my body goes on alert. I won’t back down from whatever this is. Meeting shit head-on is a part of my DNA. Whatever this is, I will deal with it.
Once I got a full view of the room, I understood immediately that what I was called in for had nothing to do with the run Turbo, and I just got back from. The air changes in the room when I step in further. I can’t decipher the look on my Pop's face. But I notice the two men seated directly across from him, both turn to look at me. My eyes return to my Pops, my Prez’s. His body is tightly coiled. This tells me one thing, whoever these fuckers are, they aren’t welcome.
Neither man shifts, reacts, or responds when I approach their backs. Their postures seem relaxed, but I know better than to take that at face value. Scanning them to figure out who the fuck they are, and without seeing their faces, I come up empty.
Movement catches my eye. I watch as the one on the left adjusts the sleeves on his monkey suit, looking like a bargain bin mobster. Wise guys, as my ma would say. Wise guys, I chuckle to myself, stepping closer to their backs. The guy on the left stiffened. It was nearly imperceptible, but I noticed it. When I look up, Prez gives me a nod, and his lips twitch. Pausing at their backs for a moment longer, when no one speaks, I quickly take in the room. Nothing seems out of place except for the two fucks sitting in front of me. Shelves of club memorabilia are proudly displayed on the walls around the office. My eyes latch onto my grandpops photo, displayed between the windows behind my Pops desk. The side of my lip lifts as I stare at the old man who started it all. He’d be proud of my Pops and all he has done for the club. I hope to continue his legacy and make him as proud as my father has. My eyes shift from the photo to where my father’s best friend and club's VP Tempest is currently stationed behind my Pops, looking as menacing as ever. I give him a slight chin lift.
Tempest leans back further against the wall without acknowledging me. That has my hackles rising and his eyes narrowing in response. We stare at one another a moment longer. There’s a slight shift in his eyes, and once I decipher it, I recognize it as one I’ve seen often. Tempest is a man who watches and learns; right now, he is sizing me up. For what? Fuck knows. His stance tells me that whatever this is about isn’t good. If you didn’t know Tempest well, you’d think he was uninterested, bored, and being a dick. As I continue to take him in, his shoulders are tight, his jaw clenched, and the vein in the center of his forehead pulsates. To the naked eye, you wouldn’t notice these things, but I learned how to read a man a long time ago. And Tempest is fucking pissed. Not at me, but at whatever happened in this room before my arrival.
Taking a breath, I walk over to the opposite side of the couch, unwilling to sit until I find out what this is about. Tempests and Mad Dog’s reactions to my entering the office have me more interested than ever in learning who these men are and why they’re here.
My eyes connect with Prez’s. He signals me to sit. I don’t, and we stare into each other's eyes. So much passing between the two of us. I can see anger, frustration, and a warning behind his eyes. All of it confuses me, whatever this is. My Pops isn’t in control of this situation for the first time–ever. That much is obvious.
The two men have yet to speak, but I can feel their eyes on me as my father and I stare at one another.
My father's eyes narrow when I still don’t sit. When he speaks, my world implodes, and my knees weaken. Barely staying upright, the more he talks and tells me the reason these men are here. I lock my knees and show no outward reaction to his words. Everything around me becomes hazy. My eyes shift from Prez’s to Tempest to the two men I now know are members of the Italian mob. What they want from me, what I have to do, and what I’m being forced to do will change my life, and it won’t be for the better. The life I saw for myself. The life with the woman I love will never be.
Fuck.
