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Sig had been on a path to destruction. Trip had been desperate to help his brother and had been failing. Who would’ve thought Sig’s savior would come running naked and pregnant down a mountain?
Nobody in their right fucking mind.
Fate.
That what it was. No other way to put it.
They found each other at the right damn moment.
If Syn was Sig’s sister, did fate drop her in Dodge’s path? Or was it merely coincidence?
As soon as this meeting was over, he was pulling Sig and Trip aside. After he drank more tequila and before Sig disappeared like he tended to do. He was never away from Red for too long.
Though, tonight he might not head up to his apartment right away since once the patch party started the ol’ ladies, the prospects and the sweet butts could join in.
“Anyhow, the point of this discussion was to tell you the officers are open to any and all ideas.” Trip shot a quick glance at Sig. “Except blowin’ up a mountain.” He scanned the group again. “We need reasonable ideas. This was also a reminder to keep your eyes and ears open. You’ll probably get sick of us tellin’ you that, but it is what the fuck it is. I’d rather you get sick of us than end up dead or back in a concrete fuckin’ box. You all get that?”
Muttered “yeahs” circled Dodge.
“You report back anythin’ to me, Judge or Sig. Even if you’re not sure if it’s important. Right now, I’m leanin’ toward lettin’ them strike first on our territory like we tried before. Before those damn feds stepped in. We thought that would be the end of it, we shoulda known better.”
“Stupid is as stupid does,” Judge said.
“Yeah, they got a dozen brain cells they share amongst them and even less teeth. We gotta assume they’ll never learn that fuckin’ with us will end up fuckin’ them harder in the end.”
“It’s a lesson we need to teach them,” Cage said. “They touch me and mine again…” Dutch’s youngest son shook his head.
“Then they’re gonna deal with Dad, me and Jet, too. They ain’t touchin’ Jemma or Dyna again,” Rook promised. “If I gotta go back inside, then I’m goin’ back inside.”
Dutch, who was standing behind his oldest son, whacked Rook in the head. “We wear these colors for a fuckin’ reason. We all gotta stick together, asshole. You start doin’ vigilante shit and the same shit that happened to the Originals will happen to this club.”
“Agreed,” Trip said. “We all gotta be on the same fuckin’ page and can’t be goin’ off on a tangent on our own. That could break down the very foundation of this club just as quickly as backstabbin’ and the rest of the bullshit the Originals ended up doin’.” He took a deep breath and finished up with, “All right, enough of this heavy shit, it’s time to fuckin’ party. Brothers, message your women. Whip, let anyone in the bunkhouse know they can join us. Somebody get the music crankin’, the beer and booze flowin’ and I need a fuckin’ hit of some quality-assed Kush.” He stepped off his box and glanced around. “Who’s got some?”
The prez disappeared behind a couple of Dodge’s brothers, but Dodge needed to corral him at the same time as Sig.
Dodge ducked behind the bar again, grabbed the tequila bottle and didn’t even bother with a glass this time. Fuck that. He tipped the bottle to his lips and let that shit slide down his throat and warm his gut, hoping it bolstered him enough for a conversation he wasn’t looking forward to.
Drinking tequila straight in that amount was a bit rough, but he had a feeling the conversation he was about to have would be even rougher.
He saw Sig standing next to Trip, passing a bong back and forth.
Good, maybe that would mellow the Temper Twins out a touch.
He took another long swallow of the Jose Cuervo, whacked his fist against his chest while it pooled in his gut, then slammed the bottle on the bar.
Let’s fuckin’ do this.
He moved around the end of the bar and stepped up to the half-brothers. Trip offered him the bong and Dodge accepted it without hesitation.
A bit of Kush on top of the booze wouldn’t hurt, either.
Once he let the smoke roll from his mouth, he said, “Gotta run somethin’ past you, brother.”
“Who?” Trip asked with a frown.
“Sig. But need you to stick around, too.”
Sig’s frown suddenly matched Trip’s. “Somethin’ to do with the Shirleys?”
Dodge shook his head. “No.”
The VP’s frown turned into a scowl. “Red?”
Dodge shook his head again. Maybe doing this right now wasn’t the best time since he had those fucking scratches marking up his neck. Sig might put two and two together.
It also might trigger his temper. It was more than ugly when Sig lost his shit on Vernon Shirley, the now very dead former clan leader. It was the work of a man who had been pushed past sanity.
