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I am definitely an angel, but careful,
my wings have fire.
-S.L.
We’re woken up and ushered into church well before my body’s ready to leave its peaceful slumber. Glancing around the table, I’m not the only one feeling that way, either. Every brother that was in the bar with me last night is looking a bit rough around the edges. I’m guessing this must be important if we’re all here and no one’s bitching about it.
“Long night?” Prez smirks, his regard beating down on the few of us that are a little worse for wear.
I keep quiet, reserving my energy. I may snap and bleed someone dry if I don’t get a nap at some point today. I distinctly remember plenty of nights he drank like a fish and looked like hell the following day.
“Let’s try this shit again,” he grumbles. The dig’s directed at me particularly. “I received a call the other day enlightening me that shit’s not so kosher with the Chicago charter we got set up.”
Can’t say I’m surprised; we knew it would be tough to try and break in a new charter in a highly trafficked turf. The only reason we got an invite to set up shop in the first place was because the Chicago mob boss needed our help in taking out his uncle who was in power at the time. Blowback of some sort was almost guaranteed, but the money the charter would have a chance to bring in was too great not to give it a shot. Me, Sinner, Smokey, and a few others rode up to get it going.
The brothers up there are nuts in my opinion. It’s too fuckin’ cold. And who’d want to be that close to the damn mob anyhow? That’s just askin’ for trouble.
“A brother up there’s having a tough time. Looks like he enjoys breaking skulls as much as we do,” he continues. “The only problem with it is he broke a few of Joker’s guys wide open. Joker wasn’t pleased, to say the least. He was furious enough to pop off in Italian. I didn’t understand the words but caught his meaning.”
Oh, for fuck's sake.
“He’s the one who called or the charter Prez?” Odin questions and my eyelids flick open, interested as well. Joker rules Chicago on an iron throne, ready to cut down anyone in his way. His middle name may as well be ‘blood and business’ when it comes to that territory.
Can’t say I blame him either. Those Italians up that way tend to be a bit fucking crazy. I may slice you up, but they’ll cut out your tongue if you snitch and stuff you in a goddamn meat freezer. Hell, they’ll probably serve you up on a pile of pasta while they’re at it. Around here, if you go running your mouth, we just tie a rope around your neck and let you go for a swing.
“Both.” Viking glares, not fond of being interrupted, even by his younger blood brother. Odin’s close to being voted as Vice President, so he’s been speaking up more lately. “Chi town Prez says do whatever we can to help keep the peace. He doesn’t want war with the mob, and neither do we.”
Viking shakes his head with a sigh and continues. “Joker demands that Mercenary either disappears from the entire state or he’ll make an example out of him.”
Torch lets out a low whistle, mirroring most of our thoughts. The Italians don’t fuck around, so whatever lesson they have up their sleeve, it won’t be pretty. The brother wouldn’t make it out alive, that’s for damn sure.
Smokey lights up a cigarette and sits back. The brother’s so quiet all the time you forget he’s even here. When he does talk, he’s one of those, “what if” types of people. Gets on my fucking nerves.
“Is there a plan then?” Spider questions with his pen and paper in front of him to take notes on what he needs to prepare. He’s always the technical one, making sure we’re ready for whatever’s thrown our way. We would’ve been in some deep shit if it wasn’t for him being organized all the time.
“We vote on it,” he voices although we all know that’s given, “If y’all approve Mercenary transferring here, then I’d hope the NOMADS would be up for a run to pick a brother up. If not, I’ll hit Ares up to see what their club thinks. Their members are getting low anyhow.”
He glances from Spider to Exterminator to Chaos and on to a few others. “I don’t want to chance him trying to make it here on his own. I wouldn’t be surprised if there was an unexpected accident. He’ll need someone watching his back for any heat. You guys get him south, and Texas will have him covered from there.”
I nod, with my finger raised, eager to get a word in.
“Saint?” The Prez’s stare lands on me once more.
“I want to ride with the NOMADS on this.” I need to do something around here other than just drinking liquor and arguing with everyone.
“No,” he disagrees. “We need you and a few others at the border for the exchange.”
My frustrated glare lands on Sinner to back me up. He knows I need a bit of crazy in my life to keep me from going batshit wild. And, if nothing else, I crave the wind in my hair, bringing me a sense of peace. A fourteen-hour ride sounds blissful after the yelling and arguing.
Sinner glances to Viking and then shakes his head, backing the Prez on his decision. “Iron Fists could be waiting to start some trouble. Motherfuckers may claim peace, but I need you beside me at the border if they decide to put up an ambush. We still haven’t figured out where their compound is; they’re being careful.”
Of course, I’ll give into his request. He’s the one I need to protect the most out of anyone. I’ll always defend my other brothers, but I’d never forgive myself if something happened to Sin and I wasn’t there to help. Every piece of me wants to argue that he could come with me and the NOMADS but instead bite my tongue to keep the thoughts to myself.
Hell, we could just say fuck it and vote to go NOMAD again altogether. We’d be free of these small-time orders and get to travel all over again. That’s the whole point of being a biker—to do whatever the fuck you want to. But now he’s brought Jude in our lives, so I doubt he’d go for it.
Odin sits a bit taller, drawing attention from his brother, waiting for permission to speak. Viking gestures him to continue, and O speaks up again. “We need a vote; all in favor of approving Mercenary’s transfer say aye.”
We should be voting for the young man becoming VP already. The kid has paid his dues. Maybe I’ll bring it up at the next church session, see if we can get him a new patch. He’s no doubt earned it, always taking care of the grunt work even though his brother’s the boss around here.
