“Jerk.” She punched my arm playfully, wiping the last salty remnants outta her eyes.
I shrugged, starting to walk her toward my bike. Had to take the furthest loop possible to keep her away from the savage scene left near the woods.
“It's what I do. And I'm gonna keep jerking your sweet ass around, every way that's good for you, as long as you call me your old man.”
“I guess I'd better get used to it,” she mused. “This is what I got myself into. And there's no way I'd ever want out.”
I grinned. Next thing on the list after settling club business was getting her a proper brand. Fuck, she'd look hot as hell wearing my name on her back in leather, and somewhere on her skin to boot.
The whole ride into town, with her wrapped around me, I couldn't believe we'd built ourselves something so real outta playing pretend.
Several Days Later
We were packed in like sardines at the clubhouse. There were so many brothers from all the charters up and down the coast Blackjack had to get the Grizzlies MC table dragged out into the bar, using the main stretch for this mega-church session.
The tension was thick. But it was an anxious, uncertain fog in the air, not the same scared-for-our-lives shit buzzing around under Fang.
I sat at the head of the table next to Blackjack, Rabid, and a couple other guys. The old man lifted the infamous bear claw off the bandage on his thigh, where he'd kept it resting until he was ready.
Everything about this shit was weird. Everything, from the throngs of Grizzlies in front of us, to seeing him with an energy in his eyes like nothing else. Then there was the brand new VP patch on my cut, something I never thought I'd be wearing 'til after I hit thirty.
“Brothers!” Blackjack smashed the bear's foot on the wood.
The commotion started to die down, with the local Prezes helping quiet their men. All their eyes focused on us. Good thing I didn't have any issue being the center of attention.
Wasn't sure I could say the same about Rabid. He looked a little freaked out. But maybe he was just trying to figure out how the fuck he was going to explain going after his new redheaded fixation to his favorite redheaded whore. He kept showing up at Christa's doorstep, ostensibly to keep tabs on her and make sure she stayed quiet after the shit that went down, but it seemed like he was going outta his way to do more than that.
“This is a brand new day for the Grizzlies MC,” Blackjack said, as soon as it was quiet, except for restless boots scraping the floor. “There's no need to sit here on my perch and recount the turmoil we've been through the past few months. Suffering under a tyrant, fighting the cartel off our throats, working with an MC we've spilled blood with...”
Several brothers in the audience growled. I wasn't gonna start loving Prairie Pussies anytime soon, but I didn't feel the old aching need to slam daggers into the backs of the sorry bastards who'd bailed our asses out either.
“Hold onto those memories. Then take your best blade, dig them out of your skull, and set them on fire.” Blackjack paused, letting his words sink in. “They're all done. Nothing but ashes now. Once upon a time, the Grizzlies MC was great. We had the tightest brotherhood from Billings to San Diego. No other club fucked with us west of the Mississippi because they'd get swarmed before they even thought about drawing our blood.”
I looked through the crowd. The tired, worn out men with gray in their hair and beards knew those days. It was no surprise a lot of the old timers had deserted Fang first.
“With me heading national now, we're bringing those days back, brothers. There's plenty of shit ahead left to sort out – rogue charters, Mexican hit men, the cash flow situation – but we'll do it. We always do. The blood of every brother who's fallen for this club flows in your veins. Guard it the same way you guard your colors, and remember what it means. If you do that, boys, you're already halfway there.”
Men stood and applauded. I looked at Blackjack and gave him a stern nod. Had to assert my authority, after all. The man had a gift for gab, though, nobody in the room could deny it.
The meeting was way too big to be anything but a ceremony for crowning the new leadership. The real business would come later, filtering down the charters from border to border, dangerous and glorious as it always was, and always would be with a man in charge who deserved to be called Prez.
A couple minutes later, the bear claw came down with a resounding clack. “Church dismissed. Now, go rock the fucking roof off.”
What would the biggest gathering of the club in years be without a sendoff party? I hung around and had a couple beers, shooting the shit with Rabid and a couple other guys. The whores rolled in about an hour later.
I passed Twinkie in the crowd a couple times, and she gave me a longing look. I turned my back and showed her the bear patch without hesitation. No fucking way was my dick going in any * that wasn't attached to my old lady from now on.