Good job.
Coming from her, that’s a full-throated endorsement. I have to fight to keep the smile off my face.
Cross calls the vote without delay. “Sons of Rage petition to hold Vulture’s former territory. All in favor raise your hands.”
Hands go up around the inner circle. I count without moving my head. Siege from Savage Legion. The Molten Horse president, which costs him something because his relationship with Ironbound is complicated and everyone knows it. Two independent presidents along the outer edges who weren’t supposed to vote, but Cross lets them. Apparently, he decides their stake is sufficient. I see a fourth and fifth hand go up.
Cross raises his own hand last. Six in favor. Ironbound abstains. Desert Iron abstains. Two votes against from clubs that wanted the ground themselves is not a bad showing.
“The motion carries,” Cross announces. “Sons of Rage will be given Vulture’s former territory effective immediately. Standard rules apply. You keep it for as long as you can hold it.”
Cross immediately moves to the next item on the agenda.
The regional map just changed, in our favor. And our responsibilities just doubled. This isn’t the big win most of the others see it as. I think of it more as a weighty responsibility that now belongs to us. We’re going to have to run a tighter game than ever to keep what we’ve just been given.
When Cross finally calls an end to the meeting, we have to swim through a throng of well-wishers. One person spits on Jasper’s boots and we have to stop long enough for them to have a scuffle.
Siege stops beside me on his way out. “You did good in there, Nova,” he says politely. “Your grandfather would’ve been proud of you.”
“Thank you,” she responds, sounding a little emotional.
I wrap one arm around her shoulders and pull her close to my chest. Her arms come up around my waist and we walk. She hides her face in my side, and I’ve never been happier in my life than I am right now. It’s got nothing to do with territory, or everyone seeing her in my cut, and everything to do with her clinging to me for comfort in her time of need.
My old man catches my eye and gives his chin a small jerk. It’s a gesture that means well done. I return it because that’s what we do in my family.
When I look down at Nova, she whispers, “One year, right?”
“At the very least,” I say before giving her a quick kiss.
She just shakes her head and makes a sound that’s half surprise and half laugh. I feel the corners of my mouth move up against my better judgment.
We get on my bike and hit the road, heading back towards the clubhouse. I impulsively branch off in a different direction.
Nova moves slightly behind me, noticing the change in direction.
The overlook I take her to is twelve miles out, a pull-off on the road onto a ridge that looks east across the valley. This is one of my favorite spots to come to because it’s obscured from the road and not on any of the tourist maps. When I stopthe motorcycle and cut the engine, she jumps off the back and begins unsnapping her helmet. I do the same and we hang our helmets off the handlebars and step out onto the ridgeline.
The valley spreads out below us, wide in the midmorning sun. I can see the Route 9 corridor from here, the road that runs through the center of Vulture’s territory. From this height, the delivery routes make sense in a way they don’t on paper. They connect the valley to the towns and run all the way out to the coast. It’s a network that Vulture made use of for his business.
Nova stands at the edge of the precipice and gazes down.
“This is beautiful,” she says after taking a deep, cleansing breath.
I take her by the hand, and we sit on the edge with our legs hanging over the side.
“Your grandfather was a very intelligent man, to have built all those routes over the years.”
“Thanks for saying that. It’s his club that’s the biggest loss though. The men who rode with him loved the club with their whole hearts. When the club fell apart, they didn’t just lose a patch. They lost who they were. Mac drives a truck because it’s the only thing left that connects him to what they built. Buck fights with me over route schedules because arguing gets the anger of losing everything out of his system. They’re all just trying to deal with not having the one thing in their lives that brought them true happiness. It’s hard to watch the struggle to fill the hole his club left in their lives.” Her voice finally breaks and tears begin to track down her face. “I can run the trucking company and the custom chopper business, but I can’t give them back the club they lost. No one can do that.”
Her words burn through my mind like wildfire. I remember Mac in the clubhouse on the morning after the wedding, showing up at my wedding not for me but because protecting Vulture’s daughter is the closest thing he has to a club mission now.
I can still remember what the Vulture’s Pride MC patch looked like. My club collapsing around me is my worst nightmare come true. It would be a miracle for Nova and these now patchless men to have it back again. An idea sparks in my mind. Maybe there is a way to carry the name forward instead of letting it disappear into the annals of regional club lore.
I don’t say anything about it to Nova because it’s just an idea, and I don’t want to get her hopes up. She’s already been through so much. I’m not going to set her up for a possible disappointment before I work out all the details.
I don’t realize that I’ve taken her under my arm until she wraps her arms around me again. Holding her when she’s upset is so easy, I’d be a fool not to. Offering the women we love comfort is just what men do. I’m so busy working on my plan that it takes me a minute to realize I just admitted to myself that I love her.
We stand there until the early afternoon because neither of us are in a rush to get back. We cuddle, talk, and I fetch her bottled water and energy bars from the back compartment on my bike.
