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Just a few hours of total silence.
After the last few days I’ve had, I deserved a fucking medal.
It started a few weeks ago when Jessica showed up out of the blue with a caravan of women and children from the Golden Skulls compound, telling me that her husband Savage and the rest of the California chapter were heading back to California to help Sandman. When I tried to reach out to Bullseye, all I got was his voicemail. Since then, my clubhouse looked more like a child’s playground than a motorcycle club. And with Scribe’s sisters still on the premises, it was total fucking chaos.
Groaning, I reached for my cellphone to see the security alert for the club flashing bright red. I sat up and sighed. “Cupcake, wake up.”
“Not in the fucking mood, asshole. Go jerk off,” my woman sleepily moaned before rolling over.
“Bailey, get up. The alarms are going off,” I groaned, slipping from my comfortable bed, reaching for a pair of jeans. Jumping into them, I slid my feet into my boots as my woman sat up. “What?”
“Alarms are going off,” I said, looking at my phone.
“So go check it out,” she huffed, laying back down and rolling back over. “If it’s bad, then take care of it. Isn’t that what you and your merry band of misfits are known for? Taking care of business. Well, go business away.”
Growling, I grabbed a shirt and left my room, only to bump into Scribe, who walked out of his room wearing only a pair of boxers with horses and muffins all over them, declaring he was the real stud muffin. Rolling my eyes, Scribe scratched his stomach as he asked, “What the hell is going on? I need my beauty sleep.”
“Alarms are going off near the obstacle course.”
Another door opened as Frank stormed out, dressed head to toe in tack gear, loaded down for war. Still grumpy as ever, it seemed. Poor bastard still couldn’t remember who the chick was that snuck out of his room at the ass crack of dawn, the night after Scribe married his girl. We all knew it was bothering him, considering the big teddy bear never forgot a damn thing.
“Where the fuck you are going dressed like that?” I asked.
“Saw movement out back.”
“You remember your little rabbit yet, Frank?” Scribe yawned.
Frank growled. “No.”
Just then, another alert hit my phone as Frank headed downstairs. Quickly reading it, I stiffened. “Satan’s Angels are attacking the Golden Skulls compound. Sandman is hunting.”
Bedroom doors started opening as brothers slowly walked out, grumbling.
“There a fucking meeting I wasn’t aware of?” Priest yawned.
“Cameron just passed out. Any of you fuckers wake him, I will kick your ass,” Pyro growled.
Gunner walked over, shoving a hostess cake in his mouth.
“Dude,” Scribe moaned. “It’s two o’clock in the fucking morning. No wonder you are packing on the pounds.”
“Hey, you try getting three babies to sleep at the same time. All they do is eat, shit and sleep. And it’s never at the same time. Besides, Sarah was hungry from breast feeding. So, I made her a midnight snack.”
Just then, the fire alarms started blaring in the clubhouse as we all heard my niece Jessica scream, “FIRE!”
Running down the stairs with the brothers behind me, we found Jessica ushering the Golden Skulls’ wives and scared children, who were crying, into the main room of the clubhouse. “The cabins are on fire!”
“Shit!” I shouted, just as we all heard gunshots.
“Frank,” Scribe whispered as he dashed back upstairs, only to rush back down a few seconds later, knives in hand as he rushed out of the clubhouse, still only wearing his boxers.
“Scribe!” I yelled. “Clothes!”
“I work better free balling!” the idiot shouted back as he rushed out the back door into the night.
“Jessica, take the women and kids upstairs. Put them in any room you can find. The rest of you, let’s go.”
Heading over to the steel door, I punched in the code and opened the club’s armory.
