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“Uh, thanks?”
“I have faith in you.” He nods at the rest of the table. “Your brothers do, too, or one of them would’ve spoken up.”
“Is this what you and Teller were discussing earlier? He was real quick to second that motion.”
The question seems to land on him like a thousand-pound boulder. “That’s not what we were discussing.”
“Listen.” He taps the table in front of me. “I need you to do something for the club.”
“Anything, you know that.”
“Spoken like a Vice President.”
I glance down at the table and shake my head. “What do you need?”
“Whisper’s asked for a social call. You know him and don’t have the hostile relationship he and Wrath have, so I want you to take the meeting.”
“Aren’t you worried the Wolf Knights will see it as a sign of disrespect if you don’t show up? Shouldn’t it be president to president?”
“Not necessarily. You’d handle these meetups as VP. I trust you. Take whoever you want as your back-up, although I suspect you’ll ask Teller. Keep it casual and friendly. You can bring Heidi. Pick someplace neutral.”
“What about the area we were talking about setting up our support club?”
“That works. See if you can mention the support club to Whisper without pissing him off. Out of respect, we should give them a head’s up, but be clear—we are not asking their permission.”
Sounds like a cakewalk. Cranky old fuck like Whisper will be delighted to hear we’re planning to set up a support club right outside his club’s territory.
“There’s a bar out near The Castle. Griff and Remy hang out there at a lot. Maybe I’ll suggest meeting there.”
“Sounds good.” His mouth twitches. “As VP, you’ll have a hand in mentoring the support club. So at least if things get dicey, you’ll see how much support they’ll actually provide.”
That’s comforting.
Four
Heidi
After the cemetery, I’m probably not in the best frame of mind for schoolwork. Unfortunately, I have a class project I need to finish. Dawn and I had partnered up with an utter douchebag of a guy in our class and that partnership was about to bite us in the ass.
Bryce Turner was slick and came from money. I guess if you were into the skinny, douchetastic frat-boy look, he could be considered attractive. Not to me, but to Dawn, a single mom who hadn’t had a date since high school, he’s appealing.
Or was.
He’d made one too many “single teen mom” jokes about working with us. I would’ve junk-punched him by now, but for whatever reason, she was into him.
That he hadn’t lifted a finger to help us with the project was apparently where she drew the line.
“I went to Professor Emory for advice,” she says after the kids are situated at our feet playing.
“You did what?” I hate Bryce but ratting people out isn’t in my nature. It’s just not done in my world. But Bryce isn’t part of a club or a brotherhood. He’s just a lazy, entitled douchecanoe. He’s left us hanging and doesn’t deserve my sympathy.
“I had to,” Dawn insists. “He hasn’t done any of his part of the project. Whenever I ask, he says to have you do it because you’re the smartest.”
Sure. “Weird, since he’s always implying I’m too dumb to know how birth control works.”
“I’m so sorry I let him join us. He swore up and down he knew what he was doing. This is all my fault. He seemed really into it at first.”
I assume she means he seemed to be into her. Until she slept with him and he lost interest. Since she already seems to feel bad, I don’t bother reminding her of that little fact.
She glances down at the notes spread in front of us. “We’re going to need an extension if he doesn’t come through.”
An extension isn’t an option. I have a wedding to finish planning and a fiancé I don’t want to disappoint.
Disappoint might not be the right word. Murphy will probably hunt Bryce down and beat him senseless if he finds out the kid messed with my grade. Or if he finds out any of the shitty comments Bryce has made to me over the course of the semester.
Murphy already scared one of Bryce’s buddies earlier this year. Dumbass Dwayne couldn’t take a hint and kept asking me out. When he finally got the memo I wasn’t interested, he went nuclear, blowing up my phone with nasty messages. The kind of messages that make a girl thankful she has nothing to do with the guy. Messages so obscene, Murphy lost his mind when he finally got his eyeballs on them.
In hindsight, I probably should’ve told him sooner. But some college boy was of such little interest or concern to me, I didn’t see the point. I could handle a weasel like that. The world seems to be full of them.
Now Dwayne practically pees his pants whenever he sees me, which serves him right. You’d think he would’ve warned his pal Bryce. No, on second thought, I’m sure he didn’t tell another living soul what happened. It didn’t make him look too good.
“Extension my ass. I need to be done by the end of the semester.” My schedule was already so screwed up from my time living in Alaska and having to lower my course load last semester. The associate’s degree that should’ve taken me two years to finish was taking closer to three and a half. My professors were sympathetic enough, but it was embarrassing as hell whenever I ran into anyone from high school.
I saw the cruelty glimmering in my former classmates’ eyes. Knew they couldn’t wait to gossip about me. Teen mom. Widowed before twenty. Engaged for the second time before twenty-one. Can’t even graduate from community college.
Not quite where I expected to be either, so I didn’t blame them.
Honestly, it was nice to have the reminder that people outside the club were cruel and shallow. Made me appreciate my family even more.
Dawn was in a similar situation, minus the dead husband or club family. She’s too nice sometimes, though. Bryce being a perfect example of her trusting nature.
“Let’s divide his portion and try to get it done.” I hand her the list of the remaining parts of the assignment. “I can’t afford not to finish on time.”
We work until the kids start to complain and crawl into our laps seeking attention. Honestly, we accomplished more than I ever expected, so I don’t feel too guilty packing up and heading home.
Murphy
Teller’s waiting outside of the chapel when Rock and I finish our chat. Not for me, though; he wants another sit down with Rock.
“More plotting?” I slap his shoulder. A little more seriously, I add, “A head’s up would’ve been nice.”
“I didn’t know what Z had planned.”
Usually I can spot a lie the second it leaves Marcel’s mouth. Today, I’m not sure.
“As much as I enjoy giving you shit,” he grins at me, “that’s for my personal entertainment purposes.” He drops the smirk and slaps my arm. “You’ll make a good VP.”
“It makes more sense for you to take the job.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
Rock opens the war room door wider. “One of you need me?”
Teller lifts his hand. “Just for a second.”
I slap Teller’s shoulder. “Come find me when you’re done.” Normally anything Teller has to say to Rock he can say in front of me, but I’m feeling some serious get lost vibes.
The war room door clicks behind me as I stop at the hall closet to grab a pair of leather gloves.
Noise from the champagne room drifts down the hallway. Probably Swan leading Hope and Trinity in morning yoga. Ravage is still somewhere on the premises, so I hope they remembered to lock the door.
Z’s in the garage, hands on his hips, staring at his road bike. Like most of us, he has more than one ride. This particular one he usually takes on longer runs.
“You need one of us to flatbed it down for you?” I ask.
“Fuck.” Clearly frustrated, he runs his hands through his hair. “Not right now. I
gotta find something bigger than that fuckin’ McMansion. Got no room to work on anything and judgey, nosey neighbors when I do.”
“The house is huge.”
Z side-eyes me. “I don’t think Lilly will appreciate me parking my bikes in the living room.”
“There were a couple older farmhouses near the clubhouse. Why not find something like that?”
He waves at the house. “I don’t have Teller’s patience. Restoration’s not my thing.”
“Maybe buy the land and build something nicer on it?”
He blows out a breath. “Maybe. I got a Realtor looking for some property.”
“That so?” I place my hands on my hips and stare at him. “You’ve known this was coming for a while?”
He tips his head. “Seriously? I think Priest’s plans for me have been clear from the jump.”
“Still would’ve liked a head’s up you were going to nominate me to take your place.”
His mouth twists into a grin. “Where’s the fun in that?”
Z takes a quick step back, and it’s the only warning I get before a set of massive, python arms wrap around my middle, lifting me in the air.
“Jesus! What the fuck!” I break out of Wrath’s hold, coughing and gulping for air.
“What’cha talking about?” he asks, totally calm. As if he hadn’t just deadlifted my two-hundred- and thirty-pound ass in the air.
“What Z’s going to do with his collection.” I jerk my chin at the short line of Z’s bikes and tidy rows of boxes full of parts.
“Fuck, yeah. That house has shit for room to work on anything.”
“Thanks for the reminder,” Z growls. “Asshole.”
Our national president doesn’t seem to understand or care just how much he fucked up Z’s life. We have a sweet set up here with our compound in the woods. Tons of acreage for privacy. Huge garages to store and work on any project we want. Z was even about to start building his own house on the property.
All of it up in smoke thanks to Priest deciding Z was a better choice to run downstate than anyone else. The fact that Priest was right is irrelevant.
