Chapter Thirty-Six
The smoky aromaof charred peppers and flank steak tantalized Muerto when he walked into the clubhouse. He glanced to the left and saw sizzling fajitas on a portable grill. Several of the brothers scooped up the mixture, and he ambled over and grabbed a plate.
“Hey,” Goldie said as he grabbed a few corn tortillas. “You’ve been a stranger for the past two weeks.”
“I only see you at the pool hall, dude. What gives?” Crow asked as he speared several strips of steak with his fork.
“Been busy.” Muerto took a generous portion of fajitas, smothered them in pico de gallo, and headed for a table, jerking his head to the hard beats of Motörhead’s “Ace of Spades” playing in the background.
“Has your main squeeze taught you any tricks on hustling? I thought we’d set up a tournament and have her play for our side. Of course, I’d play too. I can kick ass real good…just not hers.” Army plopped next to Muerto.
“We don’t talk pool. And the—”
“I bet you don’t.” Snickering, Brutus kicked out a chair and sat in it.
Swatting at the air, Muerto frowned. “I was trying to say that Raven’s not my main squeeze, she’s my old lady.”
The only sound in the room was the shredding guitars from the speakers. Sangre turned the music off, then looked at Muerto. “What the fuck?”
Taking a long gulp of beer, he pushed back from the table and stretched out his legs. “I said Raven’s wearing my patch.” He scanned the shocked faces around the room. “Fuckin’ deal with it.”
“I can’t wrap my head around you having an ol’ lady,” Goldie said. “I mean, you can’t focus on a chick longer than a couple of days.”
“Raven’s different.” Muerto gestured Patches for another beer.
“You moving out?” Chains asked.
“Yeah. We found a place we’re moving into next weekend. I need some help. Any volunteers?” He brought the beer bottle to his lips.
Most of the brothers voiced their support, and a warm feeling spread through him. He knew they were shocked as hell that he’d asked a woman to wear his patch. Hell, when the thought first came to him, he was just as surprised. He never thought he’d ever have an old lady, but then, he’d never met a woman like Raven. She came barreling into his life and since he first met her, he hadn’t had a chance to catch his breath. Life without her just wasn’t an option. He knew some of the brothers didn’t like her or trust her, but he also knew they’d respect her and defend her with their lives if they had to now that she was his old lady. That’s what he loved about the Night Rebels—they were together to the end no matter what.
As the shock of his revelation wore off, the members came up to him and congratulated him by punching his arm or grasping his shoulder. By the time the sun set over the snow-capped peaks of the San Juan Mountains, Muerto was drunker than hell. Most of his brothers didn’t fare much better. When his phone pinged, it felt like a bullet through his head. He blinked several times as he tried to focus on his phone.
Raven:U gonna b home 4 dinner?
Muerto:Ate already.
Raven:What did Lena make?
Muerto:Not sure.
Looking up, he asked, “What the hell did we eat today?” Goldie, Army, and Brutus met his look with glassy gazes as they shrugged.
Muerto:We had something.
Raven:R u drunk? :)
Muerto:Fuckin’ trashed. Celebrating u being my old lady.
Raven:Sounds like fun until u get the hangover. U probably should stay the night.
Muerto:Can u come here? Don’t wanna spend the night without u.
Raven:Sweet. B there in an hr.♥u.
Muerto:Me 2.
“Is your ol’ lady comin’?” Goldie asked.
