Page 173 of Romeo

We killed our engines outside the clubhouse, but Chasm remained on his bike. He stared at the building for so long that I finally walked over.

“You having second thoughts?”

“And third and fourth.” He blew out a breath before swinging his leg over the seat.

The front door slammed open before we made it much farther, and men poured outside.

They descended on Chasm almost immediately. Their anger couldn’t hide the relief underneath it. These men had believed him dead. They’d carried on inside the same club run by the men who’d tried to kill him, with no body to bury and no chance to demand answers from the brother they’d lost.

Now he was standing in front of them.

Zombie reached him first and wrapped both arms around him.

“You stupid son of a bitch!”

“Where the fuck have you been, Chasm?” Warden demanded behind him.

“Hiding in plain fucking sight, brother.” Chasm smirked as he looked around at them. “Let’s go inside, and I’ll tell you what I can.”

I followed them into the clubhouse.

Little had changed since the last time I’d been there. Stale smoke and beer still clung to the air. The same scarred furniture filled the main room, and the walls held years of history no coat of paint would ever cover.

There had been a time when walking through those doors felt like coming home.

It didn’t anymore.

My brothers were in Nebraska. My business was there. Somewhere along the way, without any grand decision or announcement, Little Rock had become the place I used to belong instead of the place I belonged.

“This place is fucking depressing,” Chasm said.

“Yeah, we need to do some updating. Still working on getting all the accounts straight. Steele and Stone weren’t exactly forthcoming with everything.”

I glanced around again.

New furniture wouldn’t fix this place. Neither would new paint.

Chasm had inherited men who had spent years trusting leadership that lied to them. Before he worried about the walls, he had to figure out what Steele had done inside them.

“So what’s this bullshit about me being president?” Chasm asked.

Zombie grinned and slammed the patch against his chest. “Congratulations, brother.”

Chasm looked down at it. “You guys really want this?”

“No one else we’d rather have. Except maybe King, but I don’t think he’s willing to come back.”

Chasm snorted.

There was no pride on his face as he stared at the patch. If anything, he looked like a man holding something heavier than a few inches of embroidered cloth.

Good.

Men who wanted that chair too badly were usually the last bastards who belonged in it.

“What about everyone else?” he asked, looking around the room. “Who are my officers?”

“Everyone handed in their patch. Starting fresh, now that the trash is gone.”