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In the next breath, Glacier and I have our guns out and pointed at Red. Dad remains still, a sardonic look on his face.
“Don’t be stupid, Red. Killing me only hurts your business. You’ve only gotten this far because of my connections. You know it, and I know it.”
Spittle flies from Red’s mouth as he replies, “Shut the fuck up, you bastard. You’re the one acting damn stupid right now, Boone, by saying shit like that when there’s a gun pointed at your head. All I have to do is squeeze.”
I speak up, my voice harsh. I don’t take kindly at all to my father or my president being threatened. “You’re a dumb fuck, Red, and always have been. You have two guns on you. It’s basic math.”
Red laughs his full, rich laugh, but it’s tinged with anger. “Boy, you all are in the wrong here, even if you don’t want to admit it. You all fucked up left and right, over and over, and now you’re trying to cover it up. It won’t fly, Fist. Boone, you know it won’t fly.”
Dad holds up a hand to silence everyone. He stands straight and proud as the wind tousles his hair and the rain begins to fall again. “Red, we can work this shit out. We can find the people Tyler was selling to and get that taken care of.”
Red huffs out an annoyed breath, clearly not amused or placated by Dad’s offer. “It doesn’t fucking matter because I won’t get my shit back now.”
“I don’t think that’s necessarily true. Think about it. If Tyler was selling to another supplier, we can raid their shit and come back with all of our product plus other dope, even more than before. And that could make up for the lost dope and revenue.”
Red thinks about it for a few seconds that are rife with tension. Finally, he lowers his gun. “Three weeks, Boone. You have three weeks to find my shit or replace what was lost. If I don’t have it in three weeks, you and your club are dead—all of you.”
He turns and slams back into his jeep, revving the engine and leaving us standing in a growing puddle of mud.
“Well,” Dad says wryly, “that was fun. Put your guns away, boys, and let’s get the fuck out of here. I want some dry clothes.”
Glacier speaks for the first time as we aim the truck for the clubhouse. “What are we gonna do, Prez?” His voice holds polite curiosity, but I know him well enough to hear the tightly controlled anger behind the civility.
Dad flicks him a glance in the rearview mirror. “We’ll do what we have to do, Glacier, and everyone better be ready for whatever comes next.”
18
Mindi
It’s my wedding day. I can’t believe it. Trixie and I, along with a few others, spent all day Friday decorating the lodge with acres of flowers and miles of tulle in my chosen colors: ivory and hibiscus pink.
Going to the lodge had been a revelation. It’s a huge wooden building with exposed beams and glossy floors. Stone fireplaces, granite countertops, ten bedrooms, twelve bathrooms, a kitchen fit for a five-star chef, and several rooms with pocket doors that can be pushed open to make one giant reception room. This is where my wedding will be.
I do a final walk-through before I start getting ready. There are hundreds of candles waiting to be lit for the ceremony, the flowers are perfect, and the chairs are lined up with military precision. All that’s left to do is get dressed and have the actual ceremony.
I didn’t sleep much last night—bridal nerves—so I was up early and drinking coffee. Boone has been given strict instructions not to let Fist out of his room until right before the ceremony. I don’t want to risk bad luck. So, Boone came downstairs to put breakfast on a tray for himself and Fist and took it back up to him.
I’m sitting in my robe, staring at a slice of peanut butter toast and sipping my second cup of coffee.
“Eat it,” a voice instructs me, and I look up to see Steel and his daughter come into the kitchen.
“It’s just the right thing to eat before a wedding,” he continues as he sits beside me. “It’ll fill you up enough so that your stomach doesn’t rumble during the ceremony, but you’ll still be able to eat like a queen at your reception dinner.” He offers me a sweet smile.
I smile back, somewhat amazed that this man, this president of the Iron Vex MC, is an ordained minister with such a sweet smile. “That makes perfect sense,” I agree and crunch into the toast.
“Here’s your coffee, Dad.” His daughter, Corazon, places a cup in front of him. “It looks like a simple breakfast this morning. Someone has scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, and biscuits in warmers. I’ll fix you a plate.”
“Thanks, sweetie.” He pats her hand, and she smiles the same sweet smile. The family resemblance is staggering, even with her exotic looks.
“Can I get you anything else, Mindi?” she asks.
I look at her, noting her shining dark hair and light brown eyes. Her dusky skin is flawless, and I suddenly feel frumpy. “No, thank you, Corazon.”
“Call me Cora. Everyone else does.” She slides two full plates onto the table and sits with her own coffee. “Are you excited?”
I chew the last bite of my toast and swallow before answering. “I am. I can’t believe this is my wedding day. I want to thank you both for coming, and especially thank you, Steel, for marrying us.”
He waves my gratitude away. “I’m happy to do this. Fist and the Reapers Rejects have been good to me, my family, and my club.”
