“He’s as fierce as our Sergeant at Arms,” Dozer continued. “He’s proven to be a brother.” He rubbed his thumb over the Heller patch. “It’s not just a piece of cloth. The patch means something different to each of us. Brotherhood, family, loyalty. When you sew on Heller colors, you represent all of us. Are you ready for this?”
Cruz smiled. “Fuck, bruh, you know it. I never felt like I belonged until I walked through those doors. I’m going to ride with the Hellers, bleed for the Hellers, I’m all fucking in.”
Another round of cheers erupted.
“I remember when my dad handed me my patch,” Dozer said. “He’s here tonight to vote for my prospect.” Dozer one-arm hugged Cruz.
“We need a vote,” Blade said. “Prospect is ready to be a Heller.”
“He’s proven to have the balls to be a part of this club,” Rogue said. “He’s got my vote.”
“And mine,” Bullet, the huge biker sitting next to Rogue said.
“Ready to welcome another brother?” Blade asked the club.
“Aye!”
“It has to be unanimous,” Blade said. “Do we have any nays?”
The room was quiet for less than two seconds. Then pandemonium erupted. Cheers and whistles created a deafening roar. Dozer handed him the patch, and Blade stripped him out of his cut.
Bullet stood and wrapped an arm around Cruz, led him to a chair, and shoved him down to sit. “While the rest of us drink to celebrate, you’ll sew on your patch.”
“After Saturday night, he can afford it.” Kodiak hollered to the bar. “Rounds are on the former prospect.”
“Your fingers will be bleeding by the time you finish sewing on your patch.” Jazzy handed him sewing supplies.
McKelle covered her lips with her fingers, and tears filled her eyes. “Kiss, tell me I’m having a bad dream.”
“What am I missing?” she asked.
“Saturday night seven bikers pulled a train on Jinx for Good Girl Studios,” McKelle said. “A favor to Bullet with a big payout.”
“Fuck,” Blue said. “Thatwas Saturday night?”
“Did you know about it?” she asked.
Blue nodded. “Cruz was going to talk to you first.”
“He did. We fought, and he promised he wouldn’t fuck her, but we all know his promises don’t mean much.”
“Was he working for Bullet Saturday night?” McKelle asked Blue. “I promise—and I keep mine—he’ll never know I heard it from you.”
“Honestly, I don’t know.” His jaw ticked. “But Kodiak and Bullet were here late. Cruz was here, too. They were having drinks. But that doesn’t mean he was working for Bullet, that he was part of the seven.”
Her lips trembled, and her voice cracked. “We both know it does.” Tears filled her eyes. “I don’t understand him. Why promise when he knows he’s going to fuck us up? He doesn’t care.”
A woman in a tiny pair of shorts and tank top carried a tray of shot glasses. “First round is president’s choice. Whiskey shooters.”
“Have a shot,” McKelle said. “Take two. I want tonight to cost him everything in his bank account. Maybe one day he’ll realize he lost more than money on the night he earned his patch.” She glanced at me then quickly looked away. “I have to go.”
Kiss grabbed her arm. “Don’t leave.”
“I’m done, Kiss. I can’t do this with him anymore. I can’t stay and pretend I’m okay. Not this time.” She gave Kiss a quick hug. “When he figures out that I left, tell him I said congratulations. He fucked Jinx and earned his patch. He can celebrate with her.”
She jogged down the steps, sidled around the perimeter of the room, and disappeared around the corner.
“I’m going to go talk to Romeo,” I said. But first, I wanted to get to McKelle. I wormed my way through the crowd, offering an “excuse me,” as I bumped against bikers.
