Silence.
Tank and the younger guys eyeballed me like they wanted to drag my ass out back and put a bullet through my head. Blaze drummed his fingers on the table, angrily digesting the bitter pill I'd just forced down his throat. He knew damned well how restless other club Prezes got when shit started to fall apart. One more bombshell that made the head honcho a target for the Feds was one straw too many, one last kick that would bring the whole rotten structure down.
He didn't need to know I'd killed the fuck myself and bribed the junkie to spill what I told her. He didn't need to know the twisted bastard was just a convenient kill I'd made for Jackie, warping the murder into a weapon against Fang.
I swore I'd bring his ass down. Any white lie, any kill, any fucked up stroke of luck was on the table.
Only trouble is, Blaze still didn't look convinced. Shit. I had to head him off before he could open his angry mouth and breathe selfish fear back into all his guys.
“Look, I get it. Calling in your support means a battle, even if there's hardly anyone left standing by Fang's side. But it's a battle that must be fought. This shit doesn't end any other way – not even if Fang ends up with his neck on some Mexican's machete. It's not over 'til my club's removed its cancer and starts to heal. Don't you see it? If the Grizzlies fall apart, guess who's next in line for the cartel?”
I gave him a chance to answer. He didn't.
“Those boys from south of the border don't fight like MCs. There's no code, no club charter holding 'em back, no mercy. It's all about green to them. Green money and red blood.” I rubbed my fingers together. “My club has a lot of fucking problems, I'm not blind to that. But we didn't fall apart over night either. We were kicking your asses, barely raising a finger, back before the cartel started bombing, shooting, and raping everything in sight. They're taking the Grizzlies down, piece by piece, and we're a helluva lot bigger than your club. What the fuck do you think they're gonna do when we're dead and buried? When there's nobody left to fight them tooth and nail between Mexico and Montana?”
Blaze opened his mouth to give me more hell, but nothing came out. He closed it, his lips twitching angrily, drumming his fingers on the table.
“This is the kinda shit that needs to go up for a vote,” he said quietly. “You're not a voting member, Brass. Kindly get the fuck out. I need all the brothers here so we can make our decision.”
“You mean I'm free to walk?”
“Wherever you won't trip on our club.” He looked past me. “Let's recess, bros. I'll tell Sting and Moose to bring this fucker's girls back around. They can hang out in the bar with him while we make our decision.”
Blaze looked at me, and I nodded, exiting the room before his gavel clapped the wood. I headed for the bar to see my sis, wondering if it was really possible we'd just come to some kinda fucked up understanding.
Missy ran to me when they got in. Jackie followed cautiously behind her, taking a seat at the bar.
I dropped the strong man act in my rival's lair just long enough to grab my girl's ass and press her to me. Fuck, her lips tasted good.
There'd been too much drama and too much Jackie around to fuck her like I wanted. Christ, after this vote, I needed to get in her again. Every second my cock wasn't buried in her * was a shitty one.
“Did they treat you right?” I asked, shifting my eyes on the two man escort strolling toward the meeting room.
“They were great!” Jackie chimed in before her big sis could answer.
“Yeah.” Missy smiled. “Jackie got a kick out of Moose talking like a pirate. He's the one with the –“
“Eye patch,” I finished for her. “I know.”
I hadn't heard how their Treasurer even lost his fucking eye, but it must've been recent. Still, hearing the good news put me a little bit at ease. The Prairie Pussies were assholes, but I wasn't worried they'd steal my women and cut their throats. It was nice to relax, if only a little bit.
“Who's this?” Saffron said, heading for the table with a pitcher of beer like I asked.
Missy looked at my sister, and I had a weird flashback to me and Blaze sizing each other up. My girl spoke first, studying Shelly's old lady jacket. It had a big PROPERTY OF BLAZE on the back, standard for claimed women in most clubs.
“I'm Missy Thomas, and this is my sister, Jackie. I'm Brass' old lady, and proud of it.” She stuck out a hand.
“Brass? Holy shit!” Shelly looked at me for a long time before I finally took the pitcher outta her hands and she took my girl's palm, giving it a shake.
Jackie laughed.
Fuck.
Wasn't sure what was worse: waiting to see if the Devils behind the wall voted to save our asses, or trying to explain to my little sis that I finally had something in my life worth living for.
IX: Heart on the Line (Missy)