“Noooooo.” There is odd grunting on the line and some muffled voices.
“Chewy?” Rhodie growls and I know that this can go one of two ways. Chewy will continue to act dumb, or she’ll panic and get verbal diarrhea.
“Fuck, where’s Pops?” Marx asks, running a hand down his face.
“Chewy!”
“Alright, keep your hair on! We’re visiting the gators. Chomper wanted to see his people.” Chewy answers before hanging up.
“They’re in the gator house,” Omen groans.
“Well, that can’t be too bad,” Wire says.
“It’s where we’re keeping Hitchens.”
“Motherfucker.”
We all move as one, reaching the doorway at the same time, all of us trapped behind Judge and Tank who thought they’d both fit their giant asses through the door at the same time.
“Move your fat asses!” Rhodie roars, shoving Tank out the door.
We pile out of the clubhouse, everyone mounting their bikes for the short ride to our gator house. If it were just Loyal and Joe, I’d be OK with them being in there. I mean, Loyal is gentle and kind and from what I know of Joe, that woman is pure light. Now that I know where they are, I’m not worried about those two. No, the ones I worry about are the Girl Gang and what terrible things they’ll be exposing my woman to.
We ride en masse, the roar of our bikes echoing through the damp Louisiana air. By the time we arrive at the gator house we’re met with Mira, Kaia and Jasmine at the door.
“Oh hey! Fancy seeing you all here,” Mira beams, waving big.
“Baby, I love you, but you’re shit at stalling,” Tank says, dropping a kiss to her cheek.
“Hey! I haven’t even started stalling!”
“Ladies, move your sweet asses,” Marx growls.
He moves to walk through the door and Kaia moves in the same direction. When he dodges left Jasmine smiles wide at him, right in his way.
“Brothers, control your women!”
“Hey!” Jasmine argues as Nitro picks her up and moves her out the way.
By the time we make our way into the main gator room all the Girl Gang are standing around looking innocent. Even my woman who gives me a shy smile.
“Anyone care to explain what’s going on here?” Marx says, hands on hips as he eyeballs the Girl Gang.
“We were just visiting with Hitchens. You know, nothing too serious.” Nat smiles innocently.
I lean to the side to peer around Marx’s bulk. When we strapped Hitchens to the chair he was pretty untouched. Well, apart from where Damian had knocked him out. Now the man has a broken nose, his shirt has been cut off and I can see Lovely’s knife work across his chest over the top of some dark purple bruising which seem to be coloring his skin. He has a bruise at his temple, swollen lips and I can’t be too sure but I think he may be missing some teeth. He’s also jumping at every movement, his eyes darting around, breathing shallow like he’s crawling out of his skin.
Marx narrows his eyes at the women, staring at them, one by one. His gaze lands on Loyal, and instead of shrinking backunder the gaze of the DRMC President, Loyal pulls her shoulders back, chin up. The only tell that she’s nervous at his gaze is the fact that her hand is gripping Joe’s.
“Right. So what happened to him?” Marx asks, jerking his chin in Hitchens directions.
“We found him like that?” Remy says, her voice pitching up at the end as if she’s asking us rather than telling us.
Switch steps forward, a frown on his face as Hitchens starts screaming, eyes wide as saucers. His large fingers find Hitchens’ pulse and he spins to look at us in surprise. “He’s tachycardic.” His gaze finds Chewy’s. “What did you give him?”
“I didn’t give him anything. He was like that when we found him,” Chewy answers in her robot voice.
Loyal’s eyes dart to Joe’s, but Joe looks at Hitchens serenely, a small smile playing on her lips as she fingers the pendant at her throat.
