“What d’ya fuckin’ want?” I shout out.
“Er, Short. Prez wants to see you over in the clubhouse.” Heathen sounds hesitant as well he should. Right now, I’d behappy to kill the messenger. After I delay any response, his voice comes again. “Short, did you hear me?”
“I fuckin’ heard you, Prospect. Loud and clear.” For a second, I think about instructing him to get me my toothbrush, other necessities, and fresh clothes. But luckily, I rethink it as I don’t want him barging in on Bronwyn and the kid. “I’ll be fuckin’ there.”
Prez will have to take me as he finds me. And if I stink through bad breath and lack of deodorant, then he’ll have to put up with it.
I drag myself off the mattress, grimacing when my hand finds something sticky, then stand to my full height, rolling my neck in an attempt to get the kinks out of it. Pushing my hand – not the one with the suspicious substance on it – down my pants, I scratch my balls while simultaneously farting. I’m a real man after all. After putting on my cut, I proceed to the heads, where I fight my morning wood, making every effort to direct my piss down into the bowl rather than onto the floor. Spoiler, it doesn’t one hundred percent work. Then, vowing never to spend another night in the barn again, I make my way to the main house, realising my night has done nothing to relieve the ache in my head.If I see Freak, I’ll fucking kill him. Might not be up to using my fists, but I’ve got a gun and a bullet with his name on it.
Entering through the same door I exited last night, I enter the kitchen first, then go through to the clubroom. Seeing Trixie behind the bar, I make my way straight to her.
“Coffee. Stat,” I demand.
“Prez said send you straight through to him.”
“I need coffee, woman.” My snarl at least gets her moving. It’s only seconds later, she’s handing me a full cup, doctored just the way I like it. Black, but with enough sugar to give a man diabetes.
After raising my chin to thank her, I make my way to Bullseye’s office. I’m unsurprised when I see Saint already sitting there, looking fresh as a daisy, legs kicked out and totally relaxed.I’ve another bullet in my gun named for him.
“Well, it keeps getting worse with you, doesn’t it?” Bullseye doesn’t even offer a greeting before he starts.
I don’t pretend not to know what this is about. “Fuck, Prez. She came to me with the kid. What was I supposed to do?” I drop Saint in it. “The VP was here. He agreed to take them in.”
“Bronwyn’s one thing. She’s an adult and can make her own choices. The boy? He’s eight years old. She, and subsequently we, could be accused of kidnapping and child endangerment as this place is not right for a kid.”
“Going to have one running around here shortly,” Saint snaps, obviously unhappy with his prez’s words. “Pippa’s pregnant, remember?”
Ah, so perhaps Saint didn’t have the peaceful night I believed he did. “Pippa okay?” I enquire.
Saint turns tired eyes on me. “Peachy, if you discount her throwing up her guts every morning.”
Prez waves his hand dismissively. “Of course, we’ll be accommodating to rug rats of our own. But Bronwyn’s brother is not our family. And his real folks, Doc and his wife, will be going crazy wondering where he’s gone.” I shrug, my brain not firing on all cylinders as yet. Prez narrows his eyes on me. “Still don’t know why Doc hurt Bronwyn in the first place. Could it be he knew you and her were… friendly?”
I slam my cup down on his desk, not regretting for a moment that some of it spills over, staining the wood. “We’re not fuckin’ ‘friendly’ as you put it. I just offered her a safe space, one she took up when she had to.”
Both my VP and prez zero their gazes on me, but it’s Bullseye who states, “Can’t take the risk that Doc might blame the Kingsfor his kids’ disappearance. I want to make sure if he comes looking, there’s no trace of them here.”
“Already got that sorted.” The force of my exclamation sends a bolt of pain through my head. Out of necessity rather than to gain sympathy, I take the bottle out of my pocket, tap out two tablets, pick up my coffee, and wash them down. Only then do I continue in a more even tone, the optimism that the painkillers will take care of my pain, making me more reasonable. “We’ll get Bron and Trip settled into my house. There’s no way Doc can find out I own it. It’s a recent purchase, so the land registry won’t have the correct details yet. They can bunker down there, and no one will be any the wiser. Doc can come here, search all he wants, but he won’t find them.”
Prez leans back, linking his hands behind his head. “Saint told me that was a solution, and I can get on board with that. Problem is, for how long? And what exactly are we hiding them from? Bronwyn, yes, I can see why she wants to get away from her dad. But the kid? He’s a minor with issues we saw firsthand. Maybe Doc’s best placed to know what’s best for him.”
Saint sits forward, linking his hands between his spread knees. “That’s what you’ve got to find out for us. We’ll get the prospects to provide the minimal furnishings you need for your house, and get Bronwyn and Trip installed there to provide them some breathing space. But Short, you’ve got to stay there with them and get to the bottom of the matter. And keep your fuckin’ hands off. Doc’s too important a resource for us to lose him.”
“And that’s the crux of the matter,” Prez states, wearily swiping his hand over his head. “We need to keep Doc on side. Maybe we need another conversation with him about keeping his hands to himself. But I’m not happy with keeping his children from him. Maybe all he, and they, need is some space, and a few words sensitively spoken.”
My eyes widen in horror. “You’d send them back to him?”
Prez shrugs. “Do I need to remind you of what Doc does for this club? We’ve paid a retainer for years, and got our money’s worth.” His face hardens. “So, what is it, Short? Brothers or a woman who’s not club property?”
“Even if Bronwyn was claimed,” Saint regards me with piercing eyes. “Could her worth be measured against Doc’s value to the club?”
And there we have it. Loyalty to the patch.
There’s no denying that Doc’s services are vital to us.
I breathe in deeply. “Leave it to me. Just let me have a couple of days to earn her trust and find out exactly what’s going on in that family. Prez, VP?” I turn pleading eyes on them. “If it’s something the club can turn a blind eye to, we’ll give them up.”
Prez shakes his head sadly. “You know I don’t condone violence to women or kids, but I have to measure that against what’s most important to the club. And…” his voice softens as he throws me a bone. “Doc can’t know how vital he is to us. Getting our message across, making sure he knows we’ll turn away from him if he doesn’t mend his ways, may work wonders.”
