Under his breath Whip said, “Fuck.” Louder he said, “Red’s Old Lady. Do you agree to abide by Little Girl’s words? To guard the HA’s secrets, and to work for our benefit?”
I hadn’t said anything about working to his benefit and Cupcake was too wily to agree to different wording. “I will guard any secrets I still carry in my head for the Hell’s Angels. Even from the president and all members of any new MC I join. I’ll further state that I’ll join only an independent, neutral MC.”
“Like a certain roadhouse?”
“Yes.”
I said, “And since the HA is losing such a valuable asset, I’ll offer blood sacrifice to and for—Red’s Old Lady.” NotCupcake. I didn’t know any other name for her.
Whip looked at me, and I knew he’d planned on all this. Triumph glittered in the depths of his eyes.
“I’ll draw up the papers,” he said, sounding far too satisfied.
I had no doubt he’d already drawn up the papers and that nothing in them would benefit me or the roadhouse, but all the presidents would have to agree to the amendment, so I’d deal with that later. I let my eyes promise him,I’ll get you. Watch your back.
He laughed through his nose, amused.
“Tomika?” Whip called out to the prez of the Sisters. “Can you and your Sisters ink over all these hated colors in one day?”
“Hell, yeah, white boy,” the prez said.
I liked her already.
Whip turned his eyes to Cupcake. “There still has to be blood. I’ll have to remove at least part of the demon. I’ll do the branding myself before the Sisters ink you.” His eyes flicked to me. “No one will get their rocks off to your pain. I’ve got Jollies.”
Jollies were knockout gummies for minor surgery.
“We have it covered,” Cupcake said. “But thanks, Chuck.”
Chuck?
He lifted a hand and touched her exposed collar bone, where a small tat had been covered over by an MSA swirl. It was an oddly gentle gesture.
Bloody hell.Had Whip and Cupcake ever . . . ?
“Little girl,” McQuestion called out to me. “It’s time.”
Cupcake whirled and slammed into me, hugging me hard.
I stiffened in her arms, surprised. We weren’t into physical affection, but I felt something in her hand pressed to my back, so I hugged her too.
“What?”
“Drink the whole thing.”
“Okay. And when the Sister starts to ink you, I’ll add my blood. That will make the new tats take. I hope.”
Cupcake laughed, her body shaking beneath my hands and against my chest. “That would suck, to be burned and tattooed all over and then have to go through it again.”
I shook my head and broke the hug. Cupcake grabbed my hand, and I closed my fist on the small vial in hers. A test tube from the medical supplies. It was full to the top with a white substance, thick and gooey. Devil Milk. Deeply addictive on the first sip. But the effects would last hours and not leave us waking up mid-torture the way a Jollie would. And my nanos should—might?—keep us from being addicted.
I glanced at Jagger. While we’d been talking, his iron had started glowing, barely red in the brazier. I still had some time. “I need a drink,” I said to Whip. “Presidents and McQuestion only. Let’s drink.”
“Whatchu got, Little Girl?” McQuestion asked.
“Shine, three flavors; mead, four flavors; two bottles of tequila. And seven limes.”
“Limes?” Whip said, startled. “You gotlimes?”
