“Motherfucker,” I cursedas I spotted Jigsaw’s bike in my mirror. Riding next to him was Diablo. His freaky ass was hard to miss with that red and black makeup he always wore. I thought Rael was bad with his skeleton face paint. Diablo was almost worse. If there was such a thing.
After my ride in the desert, I decided on a trip out to Hawthorne. Needed to pick up some more of those Cuban cigars I enjoyed, and there was only one distributor who would special order them for me without jacking up the goddamn price. I pulled into the lot of the smoke shop and killed the engine, hopping off to face Diablo and Jigsaw with a snarl.
Diablo was already laughing as he parked his bike. Fucker knew I wasn’t in the mood. Asshole.
Jigsaw shook his head as he spotted me, parking next to Diablo’s ride. He shot a glare in my direction as he stood and headed my way. “Why you haul ass today, huh? There’s too much shit going down for you to have your period and stomp off alone.”
Diablo tilted his head back and roared with laughter. “Fuck, brother, that was priceless.”
Narrowing my eyes, I lunged forward, ramming my shoulder into Jigsaw as he lurched to the side and lifted his fist, landing a decent right hook in response. Not to be outdone, I swung with my left and connected with his jaw. He took the hit without flinching and then tackled my waist, both of us tumbling down to the hard concrete as we began to throw punches, beating the shit out of one another.
Diablo lit up a smoke and puffed a long drag, staring at the two of us with amusement. “Pussies. Neither one of you can handle your shit.”
Jigsaw huffed a breath and then backed off, straightening his cut as I flashed a triumphant grin. Pretty sure I won that round. Testing my jaw with my hand, I winced with the pain, but it was worth it.
“Damn. What you got in that fist? Steal?”
Jigsaw’s lips twitched with humor. “Maybe, dumbass. You never win against me. When are you gonna give up?”
“Never. Someday you’ll admit I just kicked your ass.”
Diablo snorted. “You’re both too equally matched. Just end up battered and bruised every time.”
We both lifted a finger and flipped him off.
“Sensitive bitches,” Diablo complained, taking another long hit from his cigarette. “You need more cigars already, Wraith?” he asked, ticking his head toward the tobacco store. “You smoke too damn much.”
“Hypocrite,” Jigsaw mumbled, pulling out his phone. “Pres sent me to find you,” he added, giving me a severe look, “and when I didn’t come back, he sent Diablo after us. Hurry the fuck up. We got Church.”
The three of us sobered as I lifted my chin, acknowledging his words. “Give me five minutes.”
After I picked up my box of Cuban cigars, we rode back to Tonopah, speeding through town, and arriving back at the Crossroads in record time. Grim was already waiting in the chapel as the three of us trudged in. Diablo took his seat as Grim leveled Jigsaw and me with a glare.
“You fuckers make me wait like this again because you want to roll around on the ground together and make out; I’m gonna give you both prospect duties for a month, including the goddamn shitters.”
“Shit. Sorry, pres,” Jigsaw mumbled, ducking his head as his ass landed in the nearest empty seat.
Sighing, I ran a hand through my hair in frustration. “I hear you, pres.” Not waiting for an answer, I took my spot across from Exorcist.
Grim lifted his skull-shaped gavel and banged it down hard on the wooden surface of the table. Inside this room, all the decisions were made, and when our pres called a meeting, it was mandatory. Not that anyone would have skipped. The safety of the club, its members, and any related business trumped everything else.
The chapel was a sacred place. We shared our secrets, our concerns and made plans for our enemies. It was the one place where we discussed club business, and only members ever walked through that door. Unless you were the president’s ol’ lady. Then you had carte blanche as Trish did.
She was sitting on a chair to his right, rubbing her belly. Her face was pale, and I knew she wasn’t feeling well. Grim reached for her chair and dragged it closer, reaching for her hand and squeezing it. “I’m okay,” she whispered. “I can go back to our room.”
He shook his head. “Nope. You’re staying with me. This won’t take long.” His throat cleared as he lifted his head, eyeing each of us with a hard stare that dared anyone to fuck around. “We got some shit to sort, and I don’t have long. My ol’ lady needs me.”
Several of my brothers nodded. Trish had a rough pregnancy, and she was sick almost from the beginning. We all knew the stress Grim was under. He worried about his unborn son and Trish every minute of the day.
“I want to start with the good first. Patriot, you and Naomi gained a son today. This club has your back. Your boy is family. Congratulations, brother.”
Fists pounded the table, and a few within reach slapped Patriot on the back. He cleared his throat and nodded, his big ass looking far too emotional. Every brother in this room understood how much that meant to him.
“Seen a lot of crazy shit as a Marine,” he confessed, “but that ain’t nothin’ compared to those fucking Russians. Naomi is safe for now, but we got Rattler and the Scorpions, not to mention the fucking Denali brothers to deal with. I just gained a son and an ol’ lady. Not about to lose either of them.”
“We got you, brother,” I promised, fist-bumping him across the table.
“We all do,” Mammoth agreed. V.P. was a massive fucker, and at 6’5”, he was a monster. “No one is gonna get close to our family.”