“She’s got a point,” I decided, like an idiot, to put my head on the chopping block.
I have no authority here. Not unless I take over an officer’s role. It isn’t my place to make comments like this, but out of loyalty’s sake, I find myself standing in front of the president, asking him to give Connor something we both know he is not entitled to. I don’t know if I’m about to get shut down, my ass kicked or even fined for speaking out of turn.
Despite the bylaws, King has always been fair, and he is more than happy to meet with members and discuss anything troubling them. Hedoesn’t need to put everything to a vote, he’s the fucking president. I’m banking on that as I stare at him, waiting for him to decide.
Waverley has some knowledge of how things run, so I’m certain she knows how big a deal this is, yet she still asked for it, supporting Connor. She still has those balls of steel.
“Hustle, find Connor and bring him to the meeting. You stay out of trouble and for bringing this shit up, you can earn your keep around here and work in the kitchen full time. Now go round up the old ladies to make us some food,” he pointed at her. “We need to honor Itchy tonight.”
She’s weighing up whether to be irritated at the order to work for us, and tell King to go to hell, or accept it because Connor is getting what she feels he deserves. “Fine, if you don’t mind food poisoning,” she sneered.
“You’re a college grad, aren’t you?”
“In business, not cookery,” she fired back.
“Still got a big brain inside that noggin,” King’s lip curled in a smile. “Use it.”
A part of me was proud of her for standing up to him. It wasn’t as if everyone had cut Connor out. Ballistic wanted to get Connor to take out his revenge on that fucker the other night. I wasn’t sure if War offered for him to come down or just told him what he was doing because, as VP, he still had to follow orders. He couldn’t let his personal feelings take over in those circumstances, especially given their relationship was a secret that would never become exposed.
War had to be extra careful with what he said or did where Connor was concerned.
I wondered how much we could have helped Connor deal with his changed status in the club. Sure, War fought for him to keep his patch. He couldn’t ride so he wasn’t going on runs. Helping with the businesses wouldn’t be easy for him because he didn’t have the capacity to maintain attention for too long, but that didn’t mean he was useless.
If anything, we’d been trying to convince him he wasn’t. The doctors told us depression and suicidal thoughts were always going to be a concern for Connor. Was losing so much a part of why his mood went so black so often? War had done as much as he could underthe MC's laws. It should have been enough, but it wasn’t. I could not imagine being cast out, let alone cast out, but kept around.
I wasted no more time and headed outside the office to call Connor. He answered almost immediately. King strode past me, giving me a look, but I pretended I didn’t understand what he was trying to say. His expression was somewhere between pissed off and amused. But it hardened as he headed for the basement, knowing what we were about to discuss.
“Everything okay?” Connor asked in my ear.
“We need you in church.”
“What?” he asked after a brief pause.
“You heard me. King wants you in church. Hurry your ass up.”
“Okay, yeah… Okay, I’m coming.”
I hung up and looked at Waverley as she left King’s office. “He’s on his way.”
“Good.” She lifted her chin, but she would not get any argument from me.
“Hurry along and make us dinner,” I told her.
“Fuck off, Hudson,” she grumbled, but there was no malice to it, so I laughed as I headed towards the basement. I was certain I heard her muttering about spitting in my food.
Chapter 12
The basement was a large rectangular space with breeze block walls painted white on three sides and black on the other. The floors had been laid with hardwood instead of concrete. King had someone come in and paint our club patch on the wall a while ago, rather than the old flag that used to hang there.
There was a board on another wall loaded with photographs of members past and present, good times, parties, families, all happy reminders of times past. There was also a section for photos of fallen brothers, which held many pictures, for those who had been killed for the club, accidents, and natural causes. They were all honored, no matter how they died.
Behind the seats was a long table usually stocked with food and drinks, but it hadn’t been prepared for as many people as was here right now. No one felt like eating or drinking, anyway.
There were no windows down here but long strip lights that gave the room an unnaturally bright glow. With the seats set up like an auditorium, people were milling around, getting into rows according to their place within the club. Given my status as the Enforcers assistant, I was allocated a seat in the front row. I kept Connor close.
Technically, he should be at the back where prospects would sit at the monthly club meetings and I could see a few people eyeing him, although no one would say anything about it, at least not where they could be overheard. It wasn’t for them to question anything.
It looked as if everyone was here. Those who were out working would have been called with the news and everything would have been closed up so they could all be here.
