“We want something up and fast,” Winchester insists, and then sighs. “I need to have my own space. Can’t spend another night bunking with him.” He jerks his head toward Rattler, who gives him his finger.
Lunatic snorts. “Rome wasn’t built in a day, and neither will your new bunkhouse. Perfection takes time, Brother.”
“We’ll pay you double if you’re quick,” Winchester responds sneakily.
“What the fuck?” Prez snarls. “You in charge of our bank, now, Win? ‘Cause I don’t remember agreeing to that.” Then, in his own sly way, he adds, “Anyway, they’re doing this out of the goodness of their hearts and because we’re all Kings.”
Hardcore swings around, a smirk on his face, “Yeah? You know you’re really in the shit with Big Daddy. Bringing the cartel down on us? Wrong fuckin’ move. This job’s gonna fuckin’ cost ya.”
“Changed my mind,” Prez informs them, a twist to his mouth. “We don’t need your assistance.”
Hardcore barks a laugh. “Just fuckin’ with you. But Big Daddy sure was recharging his electric chair when I left him.”
“Darn thing doesn’t work,” Prez snarls.
“Wishful thinking,” Lunatic puts in, nudging Hardcore in the arm, and they both double over laughing. He’s suddenly distracted. “Hey, darlin’. You make sure you’re around later, and I’ll give you a good time.”
Pippa carefully places the tray of coffees she’s carrying onto the table, then, in a move so fast it’s hard to follow, has Lunatic’s arm behind his back and his head pressed firmly down on the table. It didn’t land gently either.
“Ouch! What the fuck?” he growls, trying to get free and failing.
“I see you’ve met my ol’ lady, Pippa,” Saint drawls, one side of his mouth curved up. “Let him up, darlin’.” His voice sounds like he’s choking back mirth.
“Your ol’ lady? Fuck, man, I’d heard you’d tied yourself down, but I didn’t know it was with a fuckin’ ninja.” As Pippa lets him go, he sits up carefully, ruefully rubbing his head. “Nice to meet you, Pippa.” He starts to hold out his hand, thinks better of it and lowers it back down.
Hardcore’s snorting with laughter. He slaps Saint’s shoulder. “Looks like you’ve done good.” Then he sobers. “Hey, are you the FBI plant we’ve all heard about?”
“Ex-Secret Service,” Pippa confirms, adding casually, “And I was never a plant. Anyway.” She shrugs. “I’ve come over to the dark side. I use my skills for the Kings now.” She narrows her eyes. “You got a problem with that?”
Learning his lesson from how she’d treated Lunatic, he holds out his hands and declares with a deliberate shake of his head, “Not at all. I’m fine.”
“You better not have, else it will be me you answer to,” Saint barks as he approaches his woman and spreads the fingers of one hand over her stomach. “She’s carrying precious cargo, so I’ll do any fighting required.”
“We’re good, Bro.” Lunatic picks up a cup of coffee. “But you’ll forgive us if we mind what we say while she’s around.”
I glance at Pippa warily, but she shrugs off his comment like water off a duck’s back. She knows she’s proved herself to us. And, in time, I reckon the other chapters will come to see she’s good people.
She proves it now. “Getting back to your offer, Lunatic. While I’m not on offer, I’m sure Trixie, Heaven, Star, and Sweetie will be around to cater to all your needs. They’ll probably enjoy some fresh meat.”
Pointing a finger at her, Lunatic grins. “I’m starting to like you a bit better.”
Smiling to myself, I consider that the girls would probably prefer being taken back to one of their motel rooms, that we’re reserved for our out-of-town brothers, rather than sleeping on the cots in church.
Coffees drunk, the California brothers accompany us outside. As we’ve exited via the front of the clubhouse, their eyes fall on their two lonely bikes sitting outside.
“You put your rides away? Should we move ours as well?”
After we explain what happened to our bikes, Hardcore’s eyes fill with compassion, and he barely has the words to express what he's feeling. “Fuck.” That’s all he can manage.
“How are you even a club?” Lunatic can’t help himself from taunting us. “Big Daddy’s going to revoke your charter?—”
He stops when Hardcore plants his fist in his stomach. “Read the fuckin’ room, asshole.”
And yeah, you better bet Lunatic steps back when Bullseye focusesthatglare on him, the one that men normally only see just before they’re about to die.
Big Daddy might be the national prez, but Bullseye’s got a power all of his own. Especially on his own turf, and one where bodies tend to disappear into ash.
Back to business, we start to remove the remains of the bunkhouse. The fire, which had continued to smoulder for quite some time, is all burned out now. The remains are cold enough to be walked on. Freak takes point, leading the closest people we’ve got to experts around the site, explaining how it was laid out, and how we wanted the rebuild to be similar.
