“I’m aware. He works directly with me,” Cash answered, following Mitch’s lead.
Dev let his head fall back between his shoulder blades, staring up at the ceiling. “Omigod. Here we go again with all the major fuckin’ borin’ bullshit. Shoot me now,” he complained openly. Trace laughed. Mitch cast a quick look back at Dev, amused, but Cash wasn’t. He reached out, grabbing Dev’s bicep, drawing him toward the table.
Chapter 10
“Fuck, it’s cold out there,” Dev murmured, having a full body shiver as he burst through the front door of the Disciples clubhouse. The prospect stationed on guard had a blue tint, far worse for wear. Dev had to give it to the guy. He followed the rules and wore his cut proudly, like required at the door. Only a long-sleeve thermal underneath. His grin made his eyes bright, teeth chattering, clearly working the hazardous job to keep himself in the good graces of the brothers.
And that was as much attention as Dev afforded the guy. He shrugged his bomber jacket off and kept the hoodie underneath in place.
“You’re fuckin’ late,” his old man barked. Dev’s gaze slid to the clock above the bar. Lying old bastard. He was two minutes early.
“Don’t know how to tell time, old man?” Dev shot back defensively. The common area of the clubhouse, full of his brothers, went silent. The air in the room shifted as all eyes moved to Dev. Since they usually ignored the way he and his old man barked at one another, he had no idea what their collective stares meant. The energy felt different today.
He scanned the eyes watching him, reading an uncertainty.
Instead of letting the argument get out of control like he’d normally do, it was time for church. Dev threw a hand toward the doorway leading to the oversized meeting room, encouraging the guys inside. “Go on. Get started then.”
The tension eased. The low-level buzz of small conversations that had ceased began again. At the same time, they moved toward the sacred space.
For Dev, the disconnect was real. Outside of planning the attack on Cummings, there had never been a church meeting Dev had participated in without Keyes. As he walked on the outer fringe of the group, his heart ached. He gave a fist bump here or there, slapped a few hands as he went, but he recognized the wrongness of the moment. He’d never felt more alone than he did right then.
That lasted until he hit the doorway. The last time he was in that room, Cash had been there with him. The loneliness faded as a slideshow of the moments they’d shared that night flashed through his mind.
This was the place where he and Cash made up. Cash buried in his ass, his cock massaging Dev’s prostate, whispering confessions of undying love and devotion. They’d placed a camera in the electrical socket on the far side of the room. The loneliness lessened. Cash was there with him in a way, listening and watching from a delivery van less than a block away.
Not near enough manpower in that metal cage to protect him if things went south. Whatever. His guy and their team were small, but fierce. He had no question Cash would take them all on to protect Dev.
Now focus on what you’re doing.
The chairs at the end of the long table, the ones he and Keyes reserved as their own, were filled with other brothers now. The hierarchy continued. The guys taking his and Keyes’s seats had moved up the food chain.
Dev had to remember he’d done all this to protect his best friend. Keyes was better off on the outside. He looked to the head of the table. His father stood there, glaring at him with the stink eye. The seat next to him was vacant.
Dev’s new place.
Diesel sat to the left of the empty chair. His passive expression made it damn hard for Dev to know his thoughts.
Tank sat next to Diesel, apparently called in from the lumberyard for the meeting. He sat in his stoic way, arms crossed over his chest. Goodness was underneath all that tough exterior. Probably the best role model Dev had growing up. Tank nodded at Dev.
“Waitin’ on a goddamn’ invitation?” Fox barked. It wasn’t the question it seemed.
“Get off me, old man,” Dev shot back, just as menacing.
Again, every brother’s eyes shifted toward Dev. A hush came over the room.
Fuck. Suddenly the room was boiling hot. Perspiration broke out across his forehead as he shrugged out of his hoodie, his body heated under the sudden stress. At least now, he wore his cut for everyone to see.
When Dev started for his apparent new seat, the rousing chorus of approval came from his brothers beating their fists against the table until he took his chair.
“We’re back in action,” Diesel said gruffly, knocking Dev in the arm. It felt like disingenuous praise…or not. Who knew? Regardless, he sensed the approval from the entire group. The first time in over a year they had come together to make something happen. He recognized the importance. Each piece of Cummings’s end was done with teamwork and precision. They’d acted together with tactical grace.
“Yeah, yeah,” Dev said, downplaying the appreciation, accepting the fist bumps from those who he could reach. His dad sat back in his seat, letting the creak of the chair sound off as he rocked back and forth. He watched Dev the entire time. “We did good, but I suspect we’re here to talk about other shit.”
His old man nodded and still paused before he positioned himself better in the seat to start the meeting. With force, his father banged the gavel on the table, silencing the brothers. The ricochet of wood on wood worked like a charm.
“As you all have to know by now, Ray-Ray’s old snatch has come out swinging with a vengeance, publicly denying the claims against her. The fuckin’ pictures are pretty damn straightforward. Don’t know how the bitch thinks she can spin that shit.” Fox’s hands clapped down on the table in aggravation. “Don’t know how it’s fuckin’ possible, but all eyes are on us a-fuckin-gain.”
“They made me have to move into the goddamn clubhouse,” Ray-Ray burst out. “Cops passin’ by my house. The fuckin’ media’s on my ass. They got my cell phone number.” Ray-Ray spit his disgust at the trashcan nearby. Dev narrowed his eyes. Keyes used to hate that shit. He guessed it had rubbed off on him too. At least make the spittle land inside the can.
