“Look, bottom line, yes, we came to form an alliance with you,” Brock said. “But if you won’t join us, you’re going to need to increase the size of your club to at least fifty members. You think King won’t come for you? Think again. He’s pissed at us. So he’s playing the diplomatic game first with everyone not associated with them.”
“And why the fuck should I believe that if I joined you in any sense of the word, you’d just walk away and let us remain in Phoenix when it’s all said and done?”
“Because I walked away from co-presidency of the original chapter a few years ago,” Cole said.
Satan unfolded his arms and leaned forward.
“Tell me more.”
“My father’s dying wish was for us to run the club together, but that led to too many issues. And when I met my now-wife, who was also in that world, both of us were looking for a way out. So after we defeated the rival club, she and I moved away to New Mexico.”
“And then you got right back in the game.”
Cole snorted. He looked pissed at that.
“I saw a group that needed help. I gave it to them. I’m not back in it because I couldn’t resist scratching the itch.”
But as honest as Cole had seemed to be, that was the one answer I had trouble believing was true. The world of MCs was like a drug; it could have bad long-term effects, but once you got hooked, there was no escape. Even going “sober” for a bit only made the drawback that much more appealing.
And unlike a drug, which only provided a short euphoric high before a hangover, MCs could actually give you long-lasting perks like brotherhood, pussy, and power.
“I admit that I underestimated you some,” Satan said. “I’ve had plenty of messenger boys from the King’s Men come through here, and they’re all the fucking same. I finally got tired of it and beat the living shit out of the last one and told him to go home. I don’t know if he ever did, but it makes no difference to me. There’s something more real about you boys.”
The Black Reapers were not taking kindly to being called boys. We could not have given less of a shit.
“Get out of here for now.”
“We’re not leaving town without a resolution of some kind,” Lane said.
“That’s why I said for now, ya dummy,” Satan said. “We’ll meet again next Monday. I need to think through everything that’s been said and see what the hell King does next.”
The three of them looked at each other. Cole was the one who suggested they leave first.
“Spawn, would you escort these boys to their bikes?”
I nodded, rose immediately, and opened the door for them. I ignored the glare I got from Brock as he passed by. I shut the door behind me, letting Sonny and Satan have a word as president and vice president—and perhaps also as father and son.
When we got outside, Lane and Cole headed for their bikes, but Brock paused and turned to me. My entire body tensed. This was a likely fight.
Brock came about a foot from me, looked me up and down, and tried to intimidate me. I still had him in size, but he’d developed a much harder edge than as a teenager. Nothing I couldn’t handle, but it would definitely be a harder fight than when we were kids.
“If you think I forgot who you were, Bandit, you’re gravely mistaken.”
“If you think I’m still a Bandit, then age has made you fucking blind, Brock. Look at the colors I wear now. Do you see anything on here that says Bandit?”
Brock sneered at me.
“You don’t need to wear the colors to have the mindset of one.”
“I’m a Devil’s Patriot through and through. And I will have you know that I know exactly why you hate me, Brock. I deliberately avoided that night. It makes no difference to me that you beat them. But even a patriot of the devil can have boundaries.”
Brock snorted. He stared at me for a long time, perhaps contemplating if it was worth slugging me in the face. He’d get one good hit off if he was fast. Everything after that would end very badly for him.
“I still hate your fucking guts. But I hate King more right now, so I won’t do anything. But I don’t hate you nearly as much as Mason will.”
“Who the fuck is Mason?”
Brock snorted and chuckled.
“The one who loves the woman you nearly destroyed.”
“I just told you I had nothing—”
But Brock was already walking off back to his bike. I took in a deep breath. Fine. If Brock wasn’t the one I had to worry about, then I wouldn’t give two shits about him.
Unfortunately, judging by what he’d said, our clubs were still a long way from establishing any sort of alliance if they were more concerned with punishment for something I had nothing to do with that happened over a decade ago.
If there was a woman I owed an apology to, well, she certainly wasn’t coming back around anytime soon.
