Viking’s mouth drops open, a look I’m not used to seeing from him. Ever. “Fuck, good point, Night.”
Spider speaks up. “No, no, nothing like that. Ruger has been watching the grounds himself and has reported back that there are no animals.”
“Pretty sure I can’t run from another lion again,” Nightmare mutters, and I draw in a quick breath between my teeth. Fucking shit, a lion? No wonder Chicago sent me down here. They obviously think I’m just as wild as these fuckers.
Viking shoots his gaze around the room, landing on each of us. “Anyone else have anything to say?”
Everyone remains quiet.
“Good, then let’s vote and work out the fine details.”
Odin cracks his knuckles and begins. “Everyone in favor of Spider’s plan vote aye. Any nays, offer up an explanation after voting is complete so we can look at other options.”
Each of us agrees, ending with Odin commenting “aye” as well. There’s not much to discuss when a member of the NOMADS talks about blowing up an entire clubhouse with military grade weapons.
“It’s settled then. We’ll go with Spider’s plan unless something comes up and then we’ll improvise. Do not show mercy to any of them. They will all be armed and ready to kill. I suggest you do the same.”
“When will we ride out?” Odin questions and then drinks from his tumbler of whiskey.
“Spider? How much time do you need?” The Prez holds his gavel as he asks.
“An hour, maybe two.”
“I’ll call Ares and we’ll get organized,” he informs us. “Prepare to ride in three days if nothing spooks the Iron Fists.” At that, he slams the gavel down, officially dismissing us.
I think most of us are in shock as we leave the room quietly and head straight for the bar. I’d left Chevelle in my room, asleep. It’s been over a month already since the MC tried blowing up The Pit. She’s remained here with me each night.
We’ve fallen into our own routine of sorts. I usually help her during the day with things at The Pit, and as the evening approaches, we make our way back here. Every night I come in here like a man possessed and tell her she’s mine. I think she’s finally beginning to realize that I mean it, and in return, I’m falling for her a little more each day.
When this is all over with the Iron Fists, I can’t help but hope she’ll stay. I want her safe, but I want her with me even more. I’m selfish, no doubt. And most of all, I’m not ready to give her up. I meant it when I said I want to keep her.
“How was church?” I greet the distracted biker as he enters our room. It was only his before all this began, but I’ve been staying here long enough to claim at least a quarter, if not half of it, as mine.
“Surprisingly productive.” His mouth hikes up into a sexy grin.
“Nice. Anything about The Pit yet?”
His eyebrow skyrockets. He’s already warned me about how he can’t share any biker business with me. “No. But, if all goes right, you’ll have less to worry about.”
I’m surprised he’s admitted as much so easily. I was expecting him to tell me to mind my own business. “So, you’ll finally have me out of your hair, then.”
His grin falls, his forehead wrinkling as his brows furrow. “Uh, no.”
“No?”
He steps closer, pulling me to stand on the bed, so we’re nearly the same height. The man is a freaking tower. I rest my palms on his wide, sturdy shoulders and his hands come to grip my waist. “You think once this is all over with, I’ll up and pop smoke?”
I shrug, my throat growing tight. When did I catch a case of the feelings for this brute?
“Not happenin’, sweetie. I’ll still be there every Saturday night, racing your Camaro and taking home my winnings. Perhaps one day you’ll even get the nerve to race me.”
The snort escapes before I can smother it down. “You won’t win.”
“How do you figure?” His icy irises sparkle at my confidence.
“I don’t lose.” I shrug again, this time feeling a bit cocky.
“Babe...” His voice leaves him in a rasp as he leans in, his whiskey flavored breath warming my lips. “I’ve already won.”