“She’s willing to offer something of value to McQuestion and to the Boozefighters and the Black Sabbath. So. You all know this, but Shining is here to broker a temporary peace, and assistance in the war on a mutual enemy. If the men and women gathered here are not interested in going to war against the MSA, the road out is that way.” She pointed at the drive. The men glanced over, then returned their collective gazes to me.
Everything had a purpose, I reminded myself. And a cost.
“Gentlemen,” I said.
“Little Girl,” McQuestion said. “Why aren’t you wearing your kutte?”
Amos took my kutte and draped it over the back of my chair. I breathed in the tequila fumes to settle my stomach, sipping instead of shooting the fine liquor, making them wait. It was probably bad form to puke on the VIPs. I almost grinned but the issue of not wearing a kutte was important. Men and their fashion choices . . .
“Doesn’t fit,” I said. “And I don’t sew. When Pops died, I was thirteen. I grew into an adult, and when the kutte no longer fit, I took it off.” I stared hard at McQuestion. “But I never gave up the vows.” My tone said,Once an Outlaw, always an Outlaw, but don’t push it.
He tilted his head, his expression saying that nothing was over, and that there would be a return to my position in the OMW. I didn’t smile. I wasn’t athingto be traded.Iwas Little Girl. That didn’t stop my stomach from roiling with tension, but I didn’t have to let my nerves show.
“McQuestion. Whip. Marconi. Gentlemen.” I gave a small nod to the men I’d never met.
“Bengal,” the Boozefighter said. “Prez.”
“Mama-Killer,” the Black Sabbath said. When my eyebrows went up, he added, “I helped nuke a Mama-Bot in Mobile.”
“Inside?” I asked.
“Heeelll no.” His tone said he wasn’t that dumb. “I set a small nuke on the treads. The kid who went inside never came back out.”
Bloody hell. “Pleasure,” I said.
Marconi said, “We have all been appropriately informed about the woman with the MSA, Clarisse Warhammer, the woman who poisoned my son.”
I nodded. I swallowed back stomach acid. Watched the made-men watch each other and me. They ignored Cupcake and Amos. Big mistake, that.
“We also wish to provide information,” Marconi said, hands spread in a magnanimous gesture, “free of charge, and outside the purview of this meeting. The president of the MSA is said to have been deposed and is on the move.”
That was a polite phrase for “running for cover.” Marconi sipped his very good tequila, his black eyes watching the others.
“This Warhammer has not yet been voted in as president, and word from an informant suggests she has divided the club. But she is living in Garcia Perez’s main fortress. She has taken over his people. For all intents and purposes, Warhammer is now number one in the MS Angels, and with her poison and her ability to force compliance, she does not need a vote. It is simply hers for the taking.”
I sipped some more.Really good tequila.“I’m aware she took over the bunker at the intersection of old I-77 and I-81, near Fort Chiswell,” I said. That indicated I already knew all about the bunker and that I had been offered nothing by Marconi.
Spy leaped to the table and deposited a huge dead rat in the center before she jumped down. I couldn’t help it. I burst out laughing. No one joined me. Amos leaned over, picked up the oversized rat by the tail, and tossed it under a car. It had to weigh more than Spy.
McQuestion’s eyes had followed the cat, finally noticing all the cats everywhere. His gaze tracked to me.
“She was offering a tithe,” I said, “while proving she’s a hunter, a killer, and strong.”
“Warhammer,” Marconi said, bringing us back to the negotiation table. “The poison she uses to take over people’s minds lasts seventy-two hours outside of her body, yes?”
“Yes,” I said. Cupcake rested her hand on my shoulder as she leaned past me to pour more tequila for everyone. I didn’t acknowledge her kindness, because important people in a biker club treated all such actions as their due. I sipped the tequila, and my stomach began to settle. Or maybe it was simply Cupcake’s touch.I could do this. Cupcake stepped back.
“You can cure the people she infects?” McQuestion asked me.
“To date, with the med-bay protocols I’ve devised, I’m at seventy-five percent survival rate. All the success stories were the recent ones.” I shrugged when Marconi glared at me. He hadn’t asked about survival rates when I healed his son. I hadn’t volunteered.
“We all know where she is,” McQuestion said. “Why should we need your help taking her out? Why should any of us risk working together on your word and your intel, when you walked away from your own people?” His face hardened when he said, softly and slowly, “No loyalty.”
Not having loyalty was often a death sentence.
No one shot me. That made this a real question, not an accusation.
I sipped, thinking. I still needed him, his intel, and his firepower. Which meant I had to give him something as important as the fortress I gave to Marconi. The Boozefighter and the Black Sabbath would want something too. Information was often as important as land and trade goods. I shrugged slightly and let a small smile onto my face. “Weknow where in the bunker she sleeps. Where her people sleep. We know where her armaments are located. We know where the power source is. Where her food is. We have schematics and floorplans of the entire bunker.”
