AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Could Shovelhead really be that vindictive just to get a presidency?” Reaper shook his head. “It’s a patch that’s cost me more than I care to admit.”
Rubble thought back on the rumbles Macha had since he joined. They all seemed like normal club issues.
“What do you think, Nikita?”
Pursing her lips, Nikita narrowed her eyes. Rubble could almost see the cogs turning in her mind. If he weren’t hopelessly in love with Jupiter, he’d understand how Kevlar fell for this woman twice. She was stunning, kickass, and knew more about motorcycle clubs than anyone.
“It’s more than possible. MC presidents bring in the most money. They get any girl they want. They control hundreds of men. Theyarethe club.” She finished off her beer and licked the corner of her mouth. “I can see it.”
Reaper shifted on his feet, years not the only thing wearing on him. “For as long as I can remember, Shovelhead was loyal to Macha. He never mentioned wanting the presidency.” He shook his head. “Hell, if I’d known that patch was all he’d craved, I’d have never let him join. The bloodshed he caused isn’t worth it.”
“That’s a bigif, Prez,” Rubble reminded him and everyone else. They could conjecture all day and night, but he needed proof before anything else happened. “I’m not about to put our club at risk again if none of this is accurate.”
Brewer held up his hands. “Hey, I’m just going off what Dolly and I came up with.”
“What do you mean?”
“Our parents died defending Macha.” Brewer glanced at the framed photo above the front door. “Dolly and I always suspected someone inside the club got them killed. Nobody else knew where they were headed that day.”
Rubble wracked his mind thinking about when Brewer’s folks died on the way to Macha’s original bakery in town. Foul play was alleged, but only bullet holes were found, no bullets. The club hadn’t opened a new bakery until recently, the loss too great to face.
“You think it was Shovelhead?” Rubble asked.
Brewer nodded. “I do.”
Nikita reached over the bar and grabbed a bottle of vodka. Rubble couldn’t blame her. Club officers knew more than the members and sometimes it was enough to make a sober man drink. He downed the rest of his whiskey.
“We have two choices.” Reaper leaned on the bar. “Fight or leave it alone.” He met Brewer’s eyes. “What do you say?”
“Fight,” Brewer replied without missing a beat. “Dolly and I… we know Shovelhead shot our parents. I feel it in my gut, and I know Dolly does too.” He balled a fist over his stomach. “Let us uncover the truth. If he’s innocent, we’ll accept it, but if he had anything to do with our parents’ deaths….” His eyes turned dark. “May the goddess have mercy on his soul.”
Rubble exchanged a glance with Reaper. He could read in between the lines. Watching out for the men was Rubble’s wheelhouse. Reaper would handle the political side of things. Rubble nodded slightly.
“All right, Brewer. We’ll put it to a vote tonight.” Reaper clapped a hand on the redheaded man’s shoulder.
“Thank you.”
Rubble watched Brewer retreat. He’d been his saving grace in the gym for years and now his buddy needed Rubble to be the same for him. He’d gladly pick up the slack wherever needed for Brewer to discover the truth about his parents’ deaths. Whatever happened, Macha wasn’t done with Shovelhead.Not in the least.
CHAPTER38
JUPITER
Snowshoe’srecent festivities quickly blended into the normal hubbub of regular winter sports. Television cameras left except for the local channels. Jupiter was grateful. She and Yasmina could finally return to the bakery. Leaving was the last thing on her mind. The club installed new locks and monitors at the bakery to be on the safe side, and she didn’t bat an eye at their protectiveness.
A storm rolled in the week after the Xtreme Games concluded, blanketing the sleepy town in gorgeous sheets of white easily seen through the bakery’s large window. The scent of almond cookies filled the air. Despite the near whiteout conditions, customers battled the elements for pastries and sweets.
Jupiter started pulling the empty sheets out of the display case. They’d close in another ten minutes, and the two second-shift employees would come in a few hours later to prepare for the next morning. The schedule seemed to work better as each day passed.
Taking the trays to the back of the shop, she heard the bell above the door jingle. Yasmina looked up from icing the cinnamon rolls.
“I got it,” Jupiter said, setting down the empties near the dishwasher. She glanced at the monitor in the back room. Seeing a short man in a hat with a fuzzy pom-pom at the top, she grinned and headed to the front.
“Hello, I’m afraid we don’t have much left, but if you come in the morning, there will be fresh batches of everything.” Jupiter smiled at the man who wore small glasses.
“Oh, I’m not here to buy anything, though those pecan rolls look delicious.”
A tremor of worry settled in her gut. “Ah, well then, what can I help you with?” She held her breath and hoped he needed directions. It was the general question newcomers to Snowshoe popped in to ask.
