Shaking my head, I turn back to the rest of the table. “I know the Venom killed Johnny. I know it in my bones, and I want… vengeance. Revenge. I want to fucking murder every goddamn member of that club. Blow up their entire clubhouse and every one of their businesses. They’re nothing but a cancer on this town.”
“Not sure you’ll get too many arguments on that plan,” Penn says.
“But that’s not a leader. The club needs someone clearheaded. Someone who can take charge. Not someone who only sees and wants revenge.”
“He groomed you to take his spot,” Pacino says. “You sure you wanna turn that down?”
Swallowing, I stare at the table as I nod. “He groomed me to take over when he stepped down. Vacated the seat but not the club. Not when his murder was staged to look like an accident.”
“Zep—”
“That’s not my spot. Not when all I have brewing is anger and hatred.”
“That’s why you’ll make a hell of a president one day,” Penn says. “Brotherhood means more than control.”
Most people think Penn’s a kiss ass, but he’s just a sentimental guy. The cheery pretty boy of us. As long as you don’t talk about catching his brother fucking Penn’s fiancée the night before the wedding or learning she was pregnant with his brother’s baby instead of his. He tends to lose that cheeriness pretty fast.
“So, who do we put in that head spot?” Pacino asks. “Not it.”
“Same,” Capone says.
“Most clubs have people fighting for that spot,” Rooster says with a laugh. “We have three guys immediately opting out.”
Pacino’s eyebrow lifts. “You think I’d be any good sitting in that fucking seat?”
“You’d have to talk to more people. So… no.”
“Exactly.”
“We’re not what you’d call people persons,” Capone says. “We’ll make more enemies than allies.”
“Throw Kannon in there with you guys, and you’re the angriest group of motherfuckers,” Penn says. “Which maybe isn’t the worst idea…”
My eyes lock on Kannon Reed who just sits silently in his seat. In the same room as Pacino, Kannon makes Pacino look like a cheerful extrovert. He came to us after his wife and daughter were killed in an accident, and he lives like he wants to die. But that man has the best luck of anyone I’ve ever met.
Or maybe the worst, since he’s still standing. At least, according to him.
“I vote Jethro,” I say.
“Second,” Pacino says.
Everyone turns to Jethro who scans the room in confusion but also appreciation. “I accept.”
“All in favor?” I ask. Everyone raises a hand. “Done. But now we need a new road captain.”
“I vote Rooster,” Jethro says. “You up for the job?”
“Fuck yeah!”
We take another vote, and everyone agrees. The dark blond man laughs maniacally.
“What the fuck?” I ask as Jethro takes Johnny’s seat.
“Joke’s on you, assholes. No more trips through goddamned turkey farms,” Rooster says and beams.
Shit. Rooster earned his road name because he’s terrified of birds. All birds, but especially large ones. Half the entertainment on long runs is riding through areas with turkey farms. Hell, we went out of our way to take him by a peacock farm once.
The best memory that never fails to make me smile is watching him try to climb up a fence after being cornered by a roguerooster. This asshole screams for help when he can’t get his boot to stick enough to scale the fence. Nothing is funnier than watching a grown ass man stuck against a fence by a damn rooster.
