“Pyro,” he gritted out between clenched molars.
“Pyro. Like I said, you’re new, so I’m gonna do you a solid. That girl you were talking to? Yeah, she’s not a club girl. That’s the prez’s daughter and my little sister. So she’s off-fucking-limits. Do we understand each other?”
Pyro brushed my hand away and straightened his cut, giving off the vibe that he couldn’t care less about being told he couldn’t mess with Ellis. Despite his best efforts at nonchalance, the frustrated entitlement burning in his eyes couldn’t be hidden. “Hands off the princess.” He smiled tightly. “Got it.” He better.
Immediate concern dealt with, I motioned to Ace, who was tending bar tonight, and two frosty bottles of beer slid into view. I handed one to Pyro and took a long drink from mine.
“You met with Duke yet?”
Pyro took a thirsty pull from the neck of his own beer before he replied. “Nah, man. I was told to get my ass here ASAP to check in with my new prez, but he’s been busy with something more important. Figured I’d entertain myself while I waited.” His eyes slid over the club girls in the room, and a few of them tossed their hair or licked their lips suggestively, excited at the prospect of fresh meat.
The clubhouse was full of brothers tonight—some drinking at the bar, others throwing darts or shooting pool. Ratched and Thor were spread out on the couch, a girl in each of their laps, as they continued to rehash the fight. A loud squeal tore through the room as Cricket threw Amanda, his flavor of the week, over his shoulder and sprinted up the stairs. I doubted we’d see either of them again tonight.
“Have another beer, man.” I signaled to Ace so he could get Pyro a refill. I wanted him to stay put for a few more minutes so I could talk to Duke before their meeting. “I’ll go check on the prez and see what’s holding him up.”
Moving with purpose, I strode through the crowded clubhouse and straight to Duke’s office. I knocked on the door and waited until I heard a gruff, “Whatdya want?” before entering.
“Transfer’s here. Caught him trying to flirt with Ellis at the bar.” I sank onto the small couch opposite Duke’s desk, which was littered with clutter. As the prez of Los Cuervos Motorcycle Club, he had to oversee operations under both our legitimate and illegitimate umbrellas, as well as coordinate plans for our philanthropic endeavors. That “endeavor” being an underground network of MCs dedicated to ending human trafficking and helping its victims. So I guess a little clutter on his desk was understandable.
“Didn’t take you to be the type to narc, Priest,” Duke muttered to me from where he was seated at his desk, icy blue eyes never straying from the payroll records that were scrolling over his PC screen.
“I’m not narcing, old man, I just thought you’d like to know our new transfer had his hands on her.”
Duke grunted a “hummpf” under his breath. “You set him straight?” he asked with a quirked brow.
It was my turn to scoff. “Of course.”My old man finished up what he was working on and put his computer to sleep, ready to head out and meet Pyro.“Before you go to meet him, I have to ask… why’d he really leave East Texas?”
Duke slowly blew out a breath and settled back into his seat. “This stays between us, VP. The official reason Pyro has transferred into our chapter is because he wants to train to take over for Sticks when he retires.” Sticks might have something to say about that. He’d taken a shine to Bard, one of our newer brothers. He’d been low-key involving Bard in our gun-running business with the Alvarez Cartel down in Mexico for several months.
“Okay, that’s the party line. Now, why’s he really here?”
“Apparently”—Duke shrugged—“Pyro has had some teething issues. Keeps picking fights with brothers, trying to move up in the pecking order prematurely and throw his weight around. Things got a little out of hand a while back.”
I scoffed, “So instead of disciplining Pyro and setting an example, Tinker is sending his problems our way?”
“It’s not as simple as that.” Duke sighed and ran a hand down his face. “Pyro is Tinker’s kid.” I raised my eyebrows in surprise. I’d never heard word of Tinker having a kid out there somewhere. “He didn’t know about him till Pyro tracked him down as an adult. Guess he was a by-blow, raised by his momma in Oklahoma. Anyway, the man has some issues with authority and Tinker specifically. Tinker has been trying to do right by him, but it seems like it might be too little, too late. Tinker thinks he’s letting his bitterness cloud his judgment. He thinks Pyro might challenge him as prez. He doesn’t want his own kid out bad, and I don’t blame him. So we figured he could send Pyro here for a bit. Maybe some time and space will help ease his resentment, help him see his daddy didn’t abandon him.”
“Or maybe he’s just a dick and now we have to deal with him.” I sympathized with the guy, I guess, but that didn’t mean I wanted to live with a brother causing unrest in the club because he was having a bitchfit. We had a pretty good vibe going most days, and I was thankful for my brothers.
“We’ll see how he does. Keep an eye on him. Hopefully, he can settle into himself as a Crow. Tinker said he was a good strategist, so I thought he could shadow Sticks and learn about the Alvarez operation. We’ll keep him too busy to start shit.” Duke stood, running a hand through his silver hair. “Plus, you know what it’s like to have your dad be prez of your club. Maybe you two have more in common than you think?’
I rose to follow him to his office door. “Nah, you’re a pain in my ass, but I don’t hate you, old man.”
Duke clapped me on the back, “Guess I’ll just have to stick around for a while, then. And fuck off with that ‘old’ shit.” My dad smacked me upside the back of my head, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
Dust rose in great plumes as my brothers and I tore off the highway and turned onto club property. Prospect and one of the old-timers, Blaze, operated the gate at the compound entrance. Prospect ran to slide the heavy steel gate open, and we rolled down the driveway toward the clubhouse. Once our engines were cut, we were met with a sickening sort of silence. Not the restful quiet of the dead of night, but the kind of silence that lies heavy and thick in your ears. I’d felt it before, when Ellis’s body had been identified and we knew for a fact that she was gone. For a time, it felt like we existed in a vacuum, where no sound could be heard.
I remember thinking that that must be what hell felt like… that soul-destroying numbness. Now, I recognized that numbness for what it was. It was a gift from the universe, a few hours of paralytic delay before the pain of grief started ripping your insides out and burning them before your eyes. It was like anesthesia for your soul. It eventually wore off, and when it did, the real agony of life without your loved one could begin. The only thing I didn’t know…was who we had lost this time. The last person we’d grieved had been Ellis, and her death had rocked us all to our very cores. Not a day went by that she wasn’t missed. Later, when the panic and adrenaline had worn off, I’d methodically search through each and every element of tonight’s betrayal and figure out how to protect our club and avenge our fallen.
I pushed through the clubhouse’s front door, Tank, Bard, Sticks, and Thor on my heels. All of the pool tables had been pushed back, furniture rearranged to make way for a table set up in the center of the room. Knuckles and Bear sat silently at the bar, nodding at us with solemn expressions as we passed. Cricket stood with an arm around my ma, who was crying quietly into his shoulder. A body lay on the table, draped in a sheet from one of the rooms upstairs. It could be a brother lying there, or an ole lady, or Lennon. Or Duke. I swallowed roughly.
My throat was tight, and my eyes desperate as I turned to Cricket. “Who?”
Chapter 2
Indigo
The passage of time could get a little wonky when you had a concussion. My double vision had passed, as evidenced by the solitary Bones sitting across from me. Our twatwaffle captors had zip-tied my hands behind my back before dumping us inside the Dairy Queen storage room. Or maybe it was a pantry? I wasn’t sure, but I had more important things to worry about. Like… how long had Bones and I been locked in the trunk of their car? How far away from Sagebrush was Satan’s DQ? Was the soft serve machine operational, and if so, could I have some? I pondered these questions every time I woke from a doze, mouth dry and head fuzzy. Plus, I was super bored. I’d said it once, and unfortunately I’d probably say it many more times if my past luck was any indicator: the worst part about captivity was the insufferableboredom.
