“It was supposed to go good. It was supposed to be money. Bitches. Brothers. Outlaws,” Digger said.
“Maybe coulda been that, if we’d known what the fuck we were takin’ on and why. Lannigan has a beef against Chaos. He fucked you to get in that Club. Then he renounced that Club. Then he fucked you again to get back at that Club,” Beck reminded him. “That motherfucker doesn’t know what brotherhood is. He probably doesn’t even know how to spell it. He’s proved repeatedly he doesn’t know how to live it. And you laid us out for him.”
“I don’t have you, I don’t got dick,” Digger whispered.
“Think Pacino is lookin’ for a playmate,” Hardcore suggested.
Digger looked at Core with an expression on his face like he was about to get sick.
Then he hung his head and slowly walked to and out the door.
“Take the table, my brothers,” Web murmured.
They all moved to the table.
“Resurrection,” Web said after they all settled in.
Men cast glances at Beck.
Beck stared at Web.
“Righteousness,” Beck stated. “Clan. Honor. Respect. Allegiance.”
“Iustitia, Tribus, Honoris, Observantia, Fidelitas,” Griller muttered. “Though there’s a bunch of ets in the middle of those.”
“You havin’ a seizure?” Muzzle asked.
“Took Latin in in high school,” Griller returned. “Shit stuck.”
“We got our mission, brothers, we got our club,” Web announced, and his attention went back to Beck. “That tat you got on your arm, Beck, the one with the eyes staring through a helmet and mouth grill of flame. You think your artist would be down with designing our patch?”
She got paid enough, she’d be down for anything.
“Sure,” he answered.
“Get on that, brother,” Web ordered but added, “And check those translations. Not that I doubt Grill. But we’ve fucked up enough. Let’s at least get our motto right.”
Instead of sighing, Beck lifted his chin.
He had no idea how Lucas was going to take this.
He’d weakened a murderer.
But it seemed he’d accidentally strengthened his club.
It would go down how it went down. He couldn’t change it.
And he’d never been assured of not doing more time.
If he didn’t give the cops the club, and something they could use on Valenzuela, he’d just probably have to do more of it.
He’d always been down with that option.
He’d earned it.
But now there was Janna.
So now, for the first time, he hoped he didn’t get fucked.
Not for him.
Because if he did, she would too.
On his way home . . .
No.
On his way back to Janna’s, he pulled into the parking lot of a grocery store to a spot at the far end of the lot and stopped.
Not to call Lucas.
Because Hardcore had been following him since he left the old Kiwanis or Rotary club or whoever they’d bought that piece-of-shit, cinder-block nightmare from to make it their clubhouse.
Hardcore pulled in at the open spot in front of Beck and kept rolling until he’d stopped at Beck’s side.
He shut down his bike.
So Beck shut down his bike.
“Not a big fan of the tail, man,” he growled.
“Shit we landed on Rosalie was fucked up, brother,” Hardcore returned.
Beck stared at him.
“Lost Kiki ’cause a’ that,” Hardcore shared.
Beck knew Kiki was gone. But Hardcore went through pussy like water.
That said, Rosalie had told him she thought Hardcore would keep Kiki. She’d said he was “gone for her” or some shit.
She’d been right a lot.
It was obvious she was right about that too.
“She lost her fuckin’ mind,” Hardcore went on.
“You’re tellin’ me this . . . why?” Beck asked.
“Honesty, Thro . . . Beck.”
“And you want me to do what with it?”
“I know that cut you, man,” Hardcore said low.
“Yeah, landin’ your own blows then watchin’ your brothers beat the fuck outta the woman you were gonna make babies with cuts. That a surprise?”
“Pacino is a piece of shit,” Hardcore muttered.
“He called for it. But we all voted on it. And you said aye, Core. So did I. We gotta live with that. But we don’t gotta do that processin’ it.”
Core gave him a close look. “You should bring Janna to the clubhouse, we party, Beck.”
Starting how he started, then going to that, was he insane?
“I’m not bringin’ another woman near that club until I know the club is tight and the woman is tight,” he returned.
“I get you,” he mumbled.
Beck didn’t care he got him.
“We done?”
They weren’t, and Hardcore wasn’t close to finished laying it out.
“Janna okay?” he asked.
“She’s my business, not yours.”
“Just sayin’, you need anything, brother.” It was an offer.
This was him reaching out.
Beck wished Core had reached out before.
Beck wished he’d reached out to Core before.
Maybe he wasn’t the only one learning lessons.
Even so . . .
“Last time you were with a woman of mine, that didn’t go too good, so no offense, Core, but I wouldn’t wait for me to call.”
“Yeah,” Core looked off into the distance. “I get you.”
Jesus.
He felt the mantle of shame for what was done to Rose suffocating him, he didn’t need his brother to lay his guilt on him.
Core looked back at him. “Web ain’t young and he held the gavel when all that shit went down. It happened on his watch and—”
“One,” Beck cut him off, “seems you’re a big fan of layin’ blame elsewhere that rests on all our shoulders, brother. Two, you got problems with leadership, you bring them to the table, not tail me to a parking lot to scheme some fucked-up mutiny.”
“I’d tell Web this to his face,” Core ground out.
“Then why you tellin’ it to me?”
“Because I think you should be president, and I’m not alone. Muzzle, Eight and Grill agree. This shit has worn Web out. He feels it. You can see that every time he sits the table. He was our leader when that went down, and if you’d let me finish what I was sayin’, I feel it for him. We all went along for the ride, but you sit in his chair, it’s gonna lay heavier on you. Think he’s good to hand over the gavel once we got our new charter sorted. And I want you to think about taking it when he does.”
Beck stared at him.
“Once the club is solid, we can make him Chaplain. He’d dig that,” Hardcore continued.
Beck said nothing.
“Just think on it, brother. We fucked up, and we were fallin’ apart. But you’re a big part of what kept us together, even after you took the hit of losin’ Rosalie the way we made it so that happened. That loyalty has not been missed. So just think. Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Beck grunted.
“Seriously beautiful, you goin’ the extra mile to answer questions none of us thought to ask and ousting Digger and Pacino. They were both patched in before our time, and I do not get how that happened. Pacino was just a nuisance, but he was a big one. Digger,” he gave an impressive, fake, full-torso shiver, “that guy’s never been right. He did that porn girl, I would not be surprised. Kiki fuckin’ hated him. Took a lot not to go out and buy champagne, we saw the back of him.”
Hardcore grinned a grin that Rosalie used to call his Hollywood smile and Beck never got that, but now he was seeing the guy was pretty good looking.
“And I fuckin’ hate champagne,” he finished.
Core lifted a fist and Beck automatically lifted his.
They bumped them, then hooked thumbs, wrapped fingers around and held tight before they let go.
It wasn’t a secret handshake.
But all of Bounty did that.
He hadn’t done it in a long fucking time.
You asked him five minutes ago if he’d missed it, he would have said no.
Now, honestly, he’d have to take a second to think.
“Bring Janna around,” Core said quietly. “We’d like to meet her and not why you’d think. Just be good to have some decent babes around for a change.”
With that, he jerked up his chin, fired up his bike and took off.
Beck looked forward and sat there, staring at the empty spot in front of him for a minute before he did the same.
Spooked by the tail, he didn’t pull off and call Lucas.
Seeing as she was out, he’d call the man when he got to Janna’s.
And when she got home, he’d try to pull info about her dream out of her.
She was still holding it over him as emotional extortion.
He was hitting her pad not only because her pad was a whole lot nicer than his, but also because he was giving her the weekend in order to try to help her sleep easy.
But if she didn’t give him what was troubling her sometime that weekend, even if he had to tie her to the bed and play with her, not letting her come for days until he got it out of her, that was what he was going to do.
Misfits
Beck
That evening, ten after eight . . .
Beck sat on his ass with his back to the headboard, feet in the bed, legs spread, eyes glued on Janna, trying hard not to come.
Jesus, what was happening?