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“MY BOYS!”
Groaning, I rolled my eyes as our dad and the Rejects walked into the clubhouse as if this meeting was some fucking long lost family reunion. Stepping out of the way as dad hugged and greeted Arizona, then slapped Kansas on the back. I looked over at Snoopy, who looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here. In fact, all the Rejects did, including Happy, who was looking everywhere but at me.
“Happy?”
The club chaplain flinched. “Yeah?”
“Got something on your mind, you old coot?”
“Just making sure the mean one isn’t here.”
I narrowed my eyes at the old fucker and asked, “And why’s that?”
“Because he knows he has an ass beating coming,” The missing Stone brother said, walking through the club doors for the first time since he was eighteen years old. Dressed in Army camo pants and combat boots, with a skintight black cotton shirt, Dakota Stone was not the brother I remembered. Standing with his bulky arms crossed over his firm chest, my brother stared blankly at me as if I was nothing but a stranger.
There was no love lost between me and Dakota.
Like Kansas, Dakota wanted nothing to do with the club. The only reason I got him to agree to the protection detail was because of the brand on his back. Also, like Kansas, Dakota flat out refused to pay club dues. The last time I even mentioned it to him, he told me if I so much as dared to step foot near him, he would rip my heart out with his bare hands.
“You’re supposed to be on babysitting duty,” I sneered.
“Go fuck yourself.”
“Is she safe?”
Dakota glared, fire blazing in his eyes. “I said, fuck off.”
“Who’s watching her, asshole?”
Silence.
“So, we are all in agreement?” I asked, looking around the table at the men, who all silently nodded. “Good. Maxim and his crew will cover the docks. Romano will work with Salvatore on the south and west side of the city, and I will cover the east and north side. First sign of Graves or Petrovitch, shoot to kill. The Valentinetti’s will cover distribution in Chicago and help when needed here. Anything else that needs to be discussed?”
“What about the Gentlemen’s club?” Giovanni asked, “It’s neutral territory. Always has been.”
“I’ve been giving that some thought. What do you all say about going into business together? A joint venture. I say we give the club to someone we trust and split the profits amongst ourselves evenly. Keep the name and use it as our designated meeting place from now on.”
“Won’t work,” Maxim said. “There’s no way we can get our crews to go along.”
“As much as I hate agreeing with that fucker,” Salvatore muttered. “He’s right. A biker club, Bratva and Mafia all in one place. It would be bloodshed.”
“Not if someone we all trusted and respected oversaw everything and ruled with an iron fist. Someone who is a master at keeping the peace. Someone who every man at this table is a bit intimidated by but would kill to protect.”
Renaldo chuckled. “Sorry Montana, but there is no one I trust that much.”
“Yes, there is,” I stated, grinning at Maxim, who was glaring daggers at me.
“Forget about it,” Maxim growled, clenching his fist tightly.
Giovanni shook his head, grinning. “You’ve got to be kidding me. You seriously want to put them both in the same city? They will kill each other, cause a bloody war.”
“No!” Salvatore shouted, slamming his hand on the table.
“Gotta admit. It’s a brilliant idea. Montana’s right. Everyone here fears her, and we would all die to protect her. The question I think we all need to ask is, will she do it? Because the last I checked, she wants his dick framed and hanging on her wall.” Lorenzo chuckled, waving his hand towards Maxim, who scowled mulishly.
“It’s not my dick,” he muttered. “She wants my heart on her wall.”
Lorenzo laughed. “That’s right. She’s having a dart board made so she can stab it every time she thinks of you.”
