With his jaw clamped tightly shut, Dev whipped his sunglasses off his face, tucking them into the opening of his long-sleeve T-shirt, appreciating the warmer weather. Climate change had just become his new best friend.
“Church,” he bellowed in his deepest, darkest tone. He spoke with force, showing anyone watching who was now in charge of this bitch.
As he started inside, he reached for his cell phone, checking for any incoming messages, hoping Cash or Shanna had figured out some tentative plans for the funeral before he had to speak to this crowd.
“Devilman.” Dixie’s skinny, cold fingers reached out, grasping his forearm. Instant repulsion roiled in his stomach. His frown was so pronounced his face physically hurt under its severity as he shot her a gaze with the laser-beam intensity he intended. “I’m here for anything you need…” she started.
“Get your fuckin’ hand off me,” Dev bit out. “Follow the goddamn rules. Your owner died. You’re back on the market. Take your spot at the back of the line.” He twisted his arm out from under her touch. “And don’t ever fuckin’ touch me again.”
“Don’t talk to my mama that way,” Daphne spouted, jumping forward, pointing her finger in Dev’s face. “She lost her life partner…”
Oh hell no.
“Diesel, get your girl before I put them both out,” Dev said over his shoulder. His voice was hard, mean, and dismissive. As much as he didn’t want this life, especially this position, he was glad to finally be able to make his opinions on both women clear.
Daphne gave a screech then a scream that rivaled those in a horror flick. Nothing abnormal for this rowdy bunch of women. He braced for her attack but Diesel did his job well.
Dev ignored the aftermath of his edict as he pulled open the clubhouse door. He paused, almost stumbling as he stopped in the entry. This building was built by the brothers’ hands, years before his birth. A place that had been full of life for as long as he could remember. At some point, every brother had lived within these walls. Prospects and brothers alike spent an enormous amount of time there.
The Disciples of Havoc’s central hub, their heartbeat.
That made the silence that greeted him all the more profound. An old jukebox in the corner was quiet, no hard-core music looped and played overhead. Ace would never be behind the bar again. Only the smell of stale cigarettes, engine oil, and a hard day’s manual labor filled the air in greeting.
Dev reached for the light switch, flipping all three up with a single hand movement. It took a few seconds before both the fluorescent and mood lighting lit. The music on the jukebox powered up, dropping a record into place. Dev stepped fully inside.
He stopped in the middle of the room. The brief moment of reminiscing had come to a hard end. He glanced back to the door to see Con-man, holding it open as the brothers came through in a single file line.
“It smells like a shit hole in here, Con.” He waited until the prospect made eye contact to finish. “Get the prospects together to clean the entire fuckin’ place out. Leave my old man’s, Mack’s, and Ace’s rooms until tomorrow when I’m here. Don’t throw any of their shit away. I wanna go through it all. All the rooms need to be properly outfitted for the masses of clubs headin’ our way. Pull the cots out of storage. Get someone to mow out back. I’m sure they’ll be bringin’ tents. And for the devil’s sake, air this bitch out. This place smells like a bunch of filthy heathens live here.”
“Not too far from the truth,” Ray-Ray said.
The brothers had filed into the clubhouse around Dev but waited for him to enter church first. Thankfully not forcing his hand to prove his status. He shoved his key in the deadbolt then pushed open the door. He kept his forward motion into the meeting room, casting a direct stare toward the outlet on the back wall that held the camera Cash and his crew were currently watching from. He winked at his agent before the rest of the brothers filled the room.
He went to stand at the head of the table, kicking his old man’s chair out of the way, standing there as he pulled up then read Shanna’s text messages.
“Did you see the details,” Diesel asked, scooting past him, taking the second’s designated spot at the long conference room table. A place Diesel had sat for years now. Dev gave a single nod of confirmation as he had to start at the top of the message, reading everything Shanna and Cash had scheduled.
It was fucking scary how disconnected he was to this whole deal.
His body went numb.
He had to fucking focus.
Man, he didn’t want to have to do any of this. Fuck funerals. No one needed to sainthood his old man, and he knew all that bullshit was coming.
Memories of how he and Keyes used to hit the open road and ride and ride together surfaced. They’d skipped school, taking off for days at a time, just letting the road guide their way for as far as the money in their pockets allowed them to go.
Keyes should be with him right now.
Fuck the world that kept his best friend from him.
In all the planning they’d done as children, Keyes had always planned to stand as Dev’s second until his son grew into the ranks...
Actually, the person who should be handling this shit was his shitty old man. These men had worshipped his ass while he used each and every one of them for his perverse games. Fucking dick. They all could have died for his lies, manipulations, and sins.
Goddammit, ass. Pay attention.
Instead of trying to read the message another time, he glanced up at his brothers, scanning the group of them. The room was too small to hold them all properly. All the chairs were filled, the newer brothers stood around the walls.
