“Are you all gossiping like a bunch of schoolgirls, or did I call for church and forget?” I don't miss that everyone here, except for Marks and the prospects, are old members. They are the men who used to run with my father. They haven’t adjusted to the fact that times have changed, and I don’t only mean with me being in charge. This is a whole different world than the one they still try to live in. They’re trying to hold on to the past and I’m trying to bring the club in a different direction.
They all ran tight with my father back in the day. I’ve been hoping they’d fade out. They don’t much care for how I do things, and I don’t much care for their way of thinking. Truth be told, I’m not sure I want to do any of this shit anymore. Being in the military changed how I see the world and what loyalty really means. And once Olivia stepped into my life, it made me want so many things I hadn’t thought were in the cards for me.
“Having a few beers,” Wingman says before taking a pull from the bottle in his hand. His eyes won’t meet mine, which tells me all I need to know. I’m a bit surprised to see him. He hasn’t been around much.
I don’t need Marks to cut me a look that says Wingman is full of shit, but I respect it nonetheless. I know Wingman’s problem. His son is back in jail. The Hart brothers snapped him up the same night I tossed his ass out of here.
“If someone has something to say then say it. But know this. I’m not my father. I made that fucking clear when I took over.”
“No shit,” Wingman says. I don’t get the chance to make a grab for him because he’s on the other side of the pool table. It’s probably why he’s being so ballsy. I don’t need to, though. Marks grabs him by the back of the neck for me.
“Speak up when you talk to Pres.”
“It’s fine,” I tell Marks. He releases Wingman from his hold.
“This is bullshit. You threw my son out of here, and now he’s in jail. That would never have happened if your old man was around.”
“I gave him an order, and he disrespected me. Which means he’s out. I made it perfectly clear to each and every one of you how things were going to be run once I took over.” I already had Arch strip him of his cut. “I don’t give a fuck what happens to him. Maybe he’ll grow up spending some time behind bars.” If he makes it out. Copper runs his mouth a lot like his old man. Difference is Wingman used to have my father to back him.
“You threw him out for pussy, and we all know it. Fucking a cop’s daughter—” I’m over the pool table and on him before he even knows what happened. I don’t care that he’s almost twice my age. The crack of his nose feels good against my fist. His beer drops from his hand, shattering on the floor.
Wingman stumbles back, falling on his ass. “My girl is off limits. I thought I made that shit clear already.”
I made sure to put that out there when the whispering started. Everyone wanted to know who I was keeping locked up in my room. I wasn’t trying to hide her. Far from it, but I was enjoying my time with her. I haven't been ready to share her, but maybe I need to make it real clear for everyone where Olivia and I stand. That she will one day sit at my side and run this place with me if that’s what she chooses to do. That I won’t tolerate any disrespect toward her from anybody.
“You did, Pres. Crystal fucking clear,” Marks confirms.
Wingman holds his nose as blood gushes out. He smartens up real quick, keeping his ass on the floor and his mouth shut.
“If there’s anyone that doesn't like my orders, get the fuck out. My girl's father is a retired cop, and I’m sure you all put together that her family owns Hart Bonds. It is what it is. She’s my old lady, and that means her family is now my family. I’ll respect anyone that wants to go. I’ll get it. Like I said, I’m not my father. Leave your cuts and go.” No one moves. “All right. Get him out of here.” I have no doubt a few of them won’t be coming back. Which is fine by me.
I leave them all and go to my office. I pull out my phone and check it when I get there. There’s still no response from Olivia. She hasn’t read the text I sent her either. I pull out a bottle of scotch from my desk drawer and pour a shot before I call Arch to fill him in on what’s going on.