“The other two members?”
Sypher nodded. “When Reaper asked me to set up the Lincoln clubhouse, I thought he meant to get it ready forbrothers because he wanted to open another chapter of the Golden Skulls, but in doing what he asked, I came across information—information that I didn’t even know.”
“Get to the fucking point, Danny, you’re rambling.”
“I now know why Pops, Moonshine and Reaper kept you hidden, and off everyone’s radar all these years. It wasn’t because of who your biological father was; it’s because you are a direct descendant of the Wolf Family line, one of the five founding members of the Golden Skulls.”
I scoffed. “Bullshit. The Baudelaires are from France.”
Nav nodded. “That’s true, but in the mid-1800s Kalden Baudelaire emigrated to the United States, where he met and married a woman named Amelia Sky, the biological sister of White Wolf Smith, one of the five founding members of the Golden Skulls.”
Sypher sighed. “I know Southerners get a bad rap for family genetics, but fuck me, this shit is like wading through a minefield of who’s who. Everyone’s connected, related either by blood or marriage. The Golden Skulls, the Soulless Sinners, the Brotherhood, even the Silver Shadows and the Gods of Mayhem are at the heart of this fucking war and that’s not mentioning the Death Dogs or Satan’s Angels who think they have a claim to the fucking chair.
“The Biker Federation was started back in the late sixties when criminal organizations were on the rise. With the Italian Mafia and Russian Bratva rising to the forefront. Add in the rise of the Mexican Cartels and the TRIAD in the late seventies, the underworld was in chaos. Everyone was fighting with everyone. So, the heads of each organization decided there needed to be some semblance of order. Only, the bikers refused to fall in line. Thus, the creation of the Biker Federation. Club presidents, representatives, if you will, from each region would get together once a year to discuss everything from territorydisputes to distribution lines. Of those five presidents, one was voted to sit at the table with the criminal underworld with the understanding that he represented the entire Biker Federation.”
“That was Montana’s job,” I stated.
“Yeah.” Sypher groaned, rubbing his hands down his face before he continued, “It was, but now the Biker Federation doesn’t have a representative at the table, which has caused alliances to sever, and every club in the biker world is fighting for that seat.”
“So what does this all have to do with me?”
“Only a direct descendant can sit at the table,” Phantom stated.
I stiffened. “Don’t even fucking think about asking me.”
Sypher chuckled. “Wasn’t going to. Besides, you can’t because you are no longer a president. According to this fucked-up genealogy, there are six people who are connected to the original five on both maternal and paternal sides, and that is Reaper, Valhalla, Dante, Zeus, Mimic, and Kytten. But the person who sits at the table has to be a president. So that leaves Reaper, who has clearly said he is not interested, and Zeus, who is as hot-tempered as Reaper, and lastly, Valhalla.”
“Won’t be Valhalla.” Nav snickered as we all turned to look at the man.
“What the hell is so fucking funny?” Sypher snapped. “Why won’t it be Valhalla?”
Nav stiffened, then cursed, “Shit. I wasn’t supposed to say that.”
“Say what?” I asked.
Nav looked at all of us then groaned. “Val’s dead. Mimic’s old lady killed the bitch.”
“Excuse me?” Sypher shouted. “What the hell do you mean, she’s dead?”
Shaking his head, Nav stood, reaching for his phone. “I need to make a phone call first—which reminds me, I have to tell you something else. Something from the files that you’re going to need Harbor Security for.”
“No, you need to tell me what the fuck happened,” Sypher sneered.
Nav ignored him and walked out onto the front porch.
“FUCK!” Sypher shouted. “How in the hell am I going to tell my husband his mother is dead?”
“Maybe Mimic should start another chapter,” I muttered, grinning from ear to ear, knowing damn well that kid would hate it as much as Reaper did, when a thought occurred to me. “How do the Death Dogs and Satan’s Angels factor into this shit? Why do they think they have a claim?”
“They don’t have a claim. They want to control the Biker Federation. They think if they can kill off the descendants before the Federation votes, they will have the power to take over.” Sypher groaned as Nav walked back into the house smiling.
“Okay, I have a plan, but I need to tell you a story first.”
I groaned, throwing my head back as I slouched in my chair. I really fucking hated talking to the Geek Squad. Sitting there, I vaguely paid attention as Nav droned on and on about how Val and her partner in crime had wreaked havoc with Bane, Diana, Mimic, and Kytten’s lives, and the volatile aftermath of that association which had nothing to do with me. But when Nav got to the part concerning Kytten, Cash’s old lady, I sat up and groaned. “Hold up,” I said, holding up my hand. “Are you seriously considering putting an old lady in the president’s seat?”
“She already sits in at church. More often than King would like. And her sisters all support her. Plus, Val raised Kytten. It makes sense that she would take over as president. Right now,no one, including the Nyght Nymphs know that Val is dead. Only Kytten knows.”
“This plan only works if Kytten wants the job,” Phantom stated.
