War looked over at me. His eyes widened when he saw Connor walking beside me, but he schooled his expression to the one that showed his place in the club. He nodded as we took our seats.
The officers were at the table at the head of the room, which seated ten. King sat at the head with his gavel resting in front of him, conferring with Ballistic. Behind his seat there was a large flat screen TV and a sophisticated IT set up we sometimes utilized during meetings.
War and Dirt, our Sergeant-at-Arms, were standing a little away from the table, talking quietly, Dirt with his back to the room. It is up to Dirt to ensure the safety of the club, and everyone could tell he was furious.
He was taller than War by about five inches, well over six and a half feet, and built like a line-backer. He would be best placed as an enforcer but given one of his major roles within the club was protecting King as a bodyguard, he fit better into that role. He was in his mid-forties but was fit and took care of himself. I’d seen him roll tractor tires before now.
I wouldn’t want to come across him on a bad day. He’s known for his temper and if people get out of line in the club, he doesn’t hesitate to kick ass. I’ve seen him do that too. It wasn’t pretty for the guy he beat to shit.
King glanced our way and Connor tensed at my side, but he swung his gaze over us, same as he did with everyone else in the room, waiting for everyone to get to their places. Connor breathed out heavily, as if he were expecting to be challenged about being here.
He didn’t ask why he was allowed at the meeting, probably because he thought if he did, they’d realise he shouldn’t be here and kick him out.
Too often, when he’s at the compound, he’s been relegated to hanging with the old ladies. Now, his expression is hard, like most of the men here. We don’t take kindly to having our compound attacked, but oneof us killed? That shit will not fly. Itchy was popular, and it still hadn’t hit home he’s no longer here.
A knock at the door had War breaking away from Dirt. He opened it and a wide-eyed Kansas came in carrying a laptop, War ushered him to the table where he placed it in front of King, they shared a few words as Kansas went behind him to set everything up, connecting the laptop to the screen behind the desk.
He messed around for a while, getting everything turned on, and an image of the compound gate came up on the big screen. The gate was still intact from the security recordings before the explosion. King thanked and dismissed him.
I wasn’t sure how close Kansas was with Itchy. I have spent little time around the prospects, but his face was grim as he headed to the back of the room. The patching in tomorrow was for both of them. There was going to be a big party.
As of right now, no one knew if it would go ahead, but I doubted Kansas would be upset if it didn’t. He must have been counting himself lucky he hadn’t been on gate duty.
As King waited for his officers to take their seats, I felt a prickle of unease. No one wanted to say anything to me outside of this room, but the truth is, I was used as the diversion the Kingsmen needed to breach our gate. If I hadn’t been out there, I wouldn’t have had to call in reinforcements when I had them on my tail.
They came without a second thought because of what the Kingsmen had done when they attacked Connor. In all reality, I could be in serious trouble. Depending on how King wanted to play it. I’d take it if I had to, whatever they wanted to do to me if they felt I deserved punishment. I rubbed the bridge of my nose and looked at the floor as the realization hit me.
Is Itchy dead because of me?
King indicated to War to start the recording on the screen. The image was cut into two, one on the inside of the gate and one on the outside. They were both in color and bright with the sunshine of the early afternoon.
The outside view was wider. It showed more of the road with the gate on the far right-hand side. The other, the gate, filled the image. Itchy was smoking a cigarette as he sat on an upturned crate, his legs crossed,with one ankle resting on his knee. He was bobbing his head as if he were listening to music, but he had no earphones in.
My gut clenched, knowing what we were about to see. Kansas had queued it up pretty far back because we heard engines and he turned towards the clubhouse. Itchy jumped to his feet and started rolling the gate back. I watched as the brothers who had come to my rescue rolled out. Connor wiped a hand over his upper lip, his eyes glued to the screen.
I didn’t know where he had been when this all went down. Whether he was with War when I called, or if he was with Waverley, like when we got back.
Itchy rolled the gate back into place once everyone was out and paced. He tossed his cigarette and stumped it out with the toe of his boot, then took out his phone, checked it, and then put it away. For the next few minutes, he just stood there, occasionally looking through the gaps to see if anything was happening beyond the gate.
He turned as if someone had shouted at him and he waved, then flicked the finger at whoever it was. Damn, he looked so young. We heard more engines and his head whipped around.
He was laughing as he opened the gate to let the others back inside. One of them pressed a fist to his as they went past, and I saw Dirt pause to speak to him. Glancing at Dirt now, I saw his jaw was tight as he watched himself on the screen. The bikes then drove away, heading inside to park up. Another few minutes passed, no one sped it up. We all watched the last moments of Itchy’s life in silence.
When the sound of more engines sounded, he hurried to the gate, eager like he always had been, and looked as if he was getting ready to open it for the rest of us but he paused, his head dipping as he checked the bikes that were approaching.
It showed how good he was because he instinctively knew they weren’t friendly bikes approaching. He bolted backwards, stumbling a little, and started shouting behind him, waving his arms, and pulling a gun from the back of his jeans. Just like Handlebar said, he sounded the alarm.
He ran towards the gate, ready to defend it with his life, and a deep sadness welled inside of me. We all knew what we were getting ourselves into when we joined the club. Danger could be around any cornerand it was ingrained in us to look after the club before all else, even our own lives.
I looked at the second screen and saw three bikes approaching the gate. They slowed down. One of them jumped off his bike, pressed something to the gate, then ran back to his bike. A few seconds later, the screen went white from the explosion. I could just about make out the bike’s hauling ass out of there.
On the inside screen, Itchy was blown backwards. He hit the floor hard, his face scraping along the concrete, which accounted for why it was mostly missing when we got to him. His clothes were on fire. Other brothers appeared in the shot, running towards the gate.
Two of them broke off to Itchy while the rest of them ran for the gate, guns out, firing. One brother dragged off his cut and whacked Itchy with it to put out the flames. Once he was no longer burning, they both dropped to their knees next to him. You could see the panic on all of their faces.
One of the guys, it looked like Omen was waving his hand as Medic came running into the shot.
I noticed Dirt racing to the gate, leaping over some debris like it was nothing and had no regard for his own safety as he appeared on the other camera, like the devil himself, running into the road looking both ways to see where the attackers had gone. I could see him warring with the decision to stay or try to catch up to them, but he remained, pulling his phone out.
