“Eddie might know where he is,” I suggested.
“Eddie’s probably locked him in a trunk right now. Dante is a shithead!” Phoe cursed and stomped off.
My sisters and I exchanged looks. “Yeah, leave the little fucker where he is. Dante’s safer there.”
“Holy crap!” a woman gasped and began laughing at Phoe. “What the hell happened?” she demanded as we entered the Rage MC clubhouse.
“Fuckin’ Dante!” Phoe swore. She laughed, drawing the attention of others who gaped in horror.
“Don’t those kids learn not to play with fuckin’ dye?” A man growled and rubbed his hair.
“Oh, he will. Dante has to clear the snow in the gardens with a hairdryer, and isn’t allowed video games, his clubs, or anything fun.” Phoe smirked. “Not until it’s all gone,” Phoe added.
I laughed; that was an original punishment.
“I heard it’s snowing tonight, hon,” the woman called Lindsey said.
Phoe grinned at her. “Yeah. He’s just cleared the small side garden, and it’s going to dump a load of snow there.”
“Oh, you’re evil,” Lindsey replied.
“These are from the Royal Harlots MC from the Portsmouth chapter. They’re staying with Drake and me for a week or so,” Phoe introduced. The group of old ladies turned and gazed at us, most of them offering nods or a greeting, but they were all wary.
As they should be. We were outsiders in their clubhouse and strangers.
A woman walked slowly over, and I sensed pain coming from her. Her cut said Sylvie, and she was Apache’s old lady. I was surprised not to see a property patch.
“Yeah, Phoe, being a sister in Hellfire MC refused to wear a property patch; we wrangled old lady patches instead. It’s one of the few progressive things they’ve done, the bunch of Neanderthals,” Silvie explained.
“Typical male bikers then,” I replied, and Silvie nodded. I reached out as her pain worsened and took it from her.
Silvie gaped at me. “What did you do?” she whispered, and I realised I’d done it without thinking.
Phoe stepped instantly to Silvie’s side. “What?” she demanded as the women crowded her.
My sisters reacted and backed me up.
“The pain’s gone. It’s been a bitch all day, and she touched my arm, and poof. What did you do?”
“Do you want it back?” I asked.
Silvie backed away speedily. “Nope, you can keep it. This is the first time I’ve been pain-free without painkillers for years.”
“What’s wrong with you?” I inquired.
“I had SPD.”
“What’s that?” Nun asked, sucking on a sucker.
“Symphysis pubis dysfunction. I’ve used a wheelchair for years. They did an operation so I could walk, but I still get flare-ups.”
“Could you heal her?” Phoe queried, turning to me with hope. “If I pay you?”
“What do you mean?” Silvie demanded.
“I’m a healer. And sure. I’ve dealt with SPD before,” I replied.
“A woowoo healer? She’s like Aurora-Victoria?” Lindsey spoke up, eyeing me suspiciously.
