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I dart out from behind the counter and am rough when I grab Axe by the throat. “Do you like your fucking life right now? I’ll end you, brother. Cut the crap.”
Even as I choke the man, Axe answers with, “I hit a nerve, didn’t I?”
Cole drags me off and Silas pounds his hand on the counter to get everyone’s attention.
“The fuck? I’m in the middle of announcing something important to our members. Calm the fuck down. Both of you.”
“Fuck, all right.” I shake off Cole and straighten my cut, still angry as fuck as I return to my spot at the bar.
“Go ahead, Cole,” Silas says to his VP, making it clear that they had a one-to-one before Silas gathered everyone around. But that’s how they operate. Cole is just as much a sounding board and close friend to Silas as he is our VP.
Cole turns his bar stool to face Silas. “I’m on board for whichever direction we take. On another note, I was going to ask if you heard anything about that little contingent of Russians that showed up out of nowhere lately. They’re set up about ten minutes outside of Mesquite.”
Silas shrugs and knocks back the second drink I poured him. “No idea. They haven’t messed with us. We have to assume they’re friendlies until they do something that tells us otherwise. Bain mentioned he knows one of them. We can do some intel through him down the road, but it’s not a priority. For now, let’s prep for this sit down with the Los Diablos.”
“Fine with me,” Cole answers.
“As for Roman…” Silas turns to Axe and folds his arms. “And to be clear, Dean Roman is not to be confused with Brutus, and is not Tate’s relative in any way, shape or form.”
“Got it, Pres,” Axe says, coughing out a laugh.
“Roman will want to get in on truce talks once we get somewhere with Los Diablos. Depending on how shit pans out, when he comes around, we’ll be ready. Getting back to the topic of Los Diablos, Vasquez and I will be in touch soon. Now, most of you understand that these decisions are up to the executive. The reason I’m announcing this to everyone is this. Until that meeting goes down, no one from Satan’s Saints is to mess with any Los Diablos. And vice versa, of course. Vasquez will control his people…and it’s my job to make sure everybody on this side stays in check.”
Whispers grow to loud chatter around the vast space. Most everyone has an objection an understandably so. That’s because we all still have a taste for blood after they went below the belt and tried to blow up our fucking clubhouse then tried to take out Cindy. The only mouths not moving are Silas, Cole, and Axe. And Molly. She’s got enough on her mind.
“You know how I feel about the motherfucker,” I tell Silas through the clamor. “But if this is what you want, I’ll toe the line. I just won’t like it.”
“You’d better.” Silas drags over the whiskey bottle and takes a mouthful.
It dawns on me that I should come clean about the slash and dash I did to the Los Diablos motorcycles at that bar up the road earlier. But giving Silas the straight good in front of all the members is sure to stir up more trouble. It’ll send the wrong message to the majority of them. I don’t want to be the guy who undermines my own President, especially when he and Cole are sure to hand me my ass on a plate.
Because deferring my update on the error of my ways can make things worse. I wait for Silas to wrap up his announcement.
“So, uh, Pres,” I start when the time comes. “I think we need a quick chat.” I run a hand across my stubble jaw. “Nothing big, but you should probably know, considering the timing.”
Silas cocks an eyebrow and leans back with both hands on the bar. “What the fuck did you do?”
“Let’s go talk.”
My president’s face is stone cold as he nods over to Axe, Dean, and Cole. The five of us head over to the meeting room. Sure, I’ll admit what I did, but I’m not in the least bit sorry.
I remember Molly’s still in the crowd and look back to where she was sitting. I catch sight of her with Jenny, heading through the place toward the stairs with her duffel bag.
Yep. Molly’s safe here. Within these walls, she won’t need to worry or be constantly in fear. And she won’t need me for a damn thing.
