I was happy he’d taken Cyn with him, but I’d been fucking furious when I found out he’d also taken the club’s money from Guardian Ink’s bank accounts. He’d left behind his cut, his estranged wife and kids, and a fuck-ton of enemies who used to consider him a brother. Whenever we found him, he was in for a world of hurt. That was assuming that his wife’s family didn’t find him first. Lola was Luca Rossi’s cousin, and the mafia don wasn’t exactly happy that a member of his family had been disrespected like that, especially since Pic had cleaned out his and Lola’s joint accounts, too.
“The fucker better hope he’s dead,” Ace snarled, and for once I agreed with my half-brother. I’d been surprised that Ace had cared much one way or another when Pic first left, but he’d been almost as angry as I had.
Ace hadn’t taken much of an interest in the MC since he’d been passed over for the president’s patch. He did a half-assed job managing Fallen Angels, leaving most of the day-to-day operations to Bodhi. I would have fired him if I didn’t think it would cause more trouble than it was worth. Besides, at least with him close, Cowboy and I could keep an eye on him. We had both suspected that Ace was involved in a few side hustles that weren’t club-sanctioned, including the drugs that occasionally made their way into the strip club. As soon as we could prove that shit, Ace would be out of a job, out of the MC, and out of the fucking family. He would not be missed.
“I have feelers out to every tattoo shop and strip club I can find in Colorado and the surrounding states. If he or Slutty Spice show their faces, we’ll know about it.” I snorted a laugh at the nickname Bull had given Cynnamon a few weeks back. “They won’t be able to live on the money he stole from us forever, so they’ll have to find work again.” I nodded at Bull, pleased that he was staying on top of things. Not only was he the club’s secretary, but he was the closest thing we had to a tech guru. He’d picked up some impressive hacking skills along the way, which had come in handy more than once. I had faith that Bull would be able to track Pic down sooner or later.
After a little more grumbling from various brothers about what a shithead Pic was, I wrapped up Church as I always did, with a bang of my fist on the table, and a reminder to the men sitting there to stay safe and to keep their asses out of trouble.
“Who’s staying for lunch today?” Cowboy asked as he grabbed his cell phone from the box and followed me into the common room. The men in our family had a tradition of having lunch together after Church, a practice we’d had since I took over from my dad. Since Sinner retired, he rarely joined us forChurch, unless we had something big going on. By meeting for lunch, he could still be kept in the loop about club business.
“I’m in,” Rome said, and I was glad. He’d avoided spending any more time than necessary here since the night he’d gotten drunk at one of the parties and cheated on Abby. I couldn’t blame him for trying to avoid the memories of that night, but I hated to see him distance himself from the brothers. He was coming around a little more now that he and Abby had gotten back together, although they hadn’t come to any of the parties yet. I wasn’t sure they ever would, but that was OK. Whatever they needed to do to make their marriage work was fine with me.
“Can we order Mexican?” Lucky asked over his shoulder as he headed for our usual table. I saw Ace stomping out the front door of the clubhouse and figured that meant he wasn’t joining us for lunch. He rarely did, and I was glad for it. I couldn’t stand the sonofabitch, even if Morgan blood did run in his veins.
“I could go for some enchiladas,” Jagger said, and Lincoln nodded in agreement. I glanced at the “Prospect” patch on his cut and made a mental note that we needed to vote on patching him in as a brother in a few weeks. I was sure it would be a unanimous vote. He was a good kid and had been a great Prospect. Rod, one of our newer prospects, took our order and went off to call it in to the place down the road. From past experience, I knew they’d have the food ready to be picked up by the time he got there.
We settled in around the table, and I looked up as Sinner joined us. He took the seat across from me and eyed me with an expression that I knew better than to trust.
“So, are you going to go apologize to Eleanor after we finish lunch?” Yep, there it was. I should have known he was going to bust my balls over that.
Rome and Jagger both snickered as Cowboy and Lucky looked at me in confusion.
“What the hell did you do to her?”
I glared at Cowboy, who ignored me with the ease of a long-time friend. Before I could answer him, Jagger piped up to regale the group with the tale of my epic fuck-up.
By the time they were all finished laughing at me, one of the other prospects, Tony, had walked over with a tray of bottled waters and sodas for us. Out of respect for Rome’s sobriety, we now kept our family lunches booze-free.
I reached for a water, twisting the cap off and downing half the bottle in one gulp as Cowboy ragged on my dumb ass.
“So, King, what are you planning to do to make up for that clusterfuck?” he asked with a shit-eating grin.
I shrugged. “I’m just going to apologize for saying what I did. What the hell else am I supposed to do?”
Cowboy and Sinner shared a knowing look and smirked.
“You poor dumb fuck,” Cowboy said with a sorrowful shake of his head, causing every man at the table to laugh. At our family lunches, I wasn’t the club president. I was just King, and I clearly didn’t command the respect I did as president.
Viking called out for Sinner to join him for a game of darts, and Sinner got to his feet and told us to save his seat.
“I’ll be back when the food gets here. I need to go kick that old man’s ass,” he grumbled as he ambled across the room to grab the darts from Viking’s hand. He and Viking had beenbest friends for more than fifty years and squabbled like an old married couple half the time. I figured that would be me and Cowboy in another twenty-five years or so.
I turned my attention back to my VP. “OK, oh wise one, what the hell am I supposed to do besides telling her I’m sorry? What do you do when you have an argument with Michelle?”
Cowboy just gave me that slow, lazy smile of his, looking too damned pleased with himself. “I haven’t pissed her off yet, so I haven’t had to do anything,” he drawled in his faint Texas accent. He’d lived in Indiana for almost three decades, but that drawl of his had never quite disappeared.
I glanced at Jagger, who was fiddling with his phone. By the grin on his face, I assumed he was texting his wife.
“What do you give Molly when you fuck up?” I asked him, and he glanced up in surprise. Before he could say a word, Lucky snorted and offered his own answer.
“His dick. I’ve heard them goin’ at it up in his room, remember? The walls in this place are too fuckin’ thin.”
Jagger glared at him and Lucky reared back in his chair to avoid the fist that Jag sent flying his way as the rest of us laughed.
I caught Rome’s eye, and he just shook his head. “I had to give my wife a marriage counselor and a divorce, so I’m the wrong fuckin’ man to ask.” I winced as Rome shrugged. Joker, one of our long-time club members, wandered over to offer his two cents.
“Couldn’t help but overhear your predicament, Prez, and I’ve got an important piece of advice for you.” I eyed him doubtfully. Joker had been through three different Ol’ Ladies inhis eighteen years with our MC, so I wasn’t sure how helpful his advice would actually be.
