“Makes sense,” Winchester reluctantly observes.
“Six feet under would have been better,” Stalker starts. “But I can see what you’re saying.”
“Should have just shot her,” is Rattler’s, probably predictable contribution.
Saint suddenly stands, kicking his chair back so hard it starts rocking. He slams both his fists down on the table. “The point of this is, Brothers, Freak has gone against a direct order from the prez. Do we let that stand? He’s got his reasons. Do we accept them? Or has he committed a crime he can’t come back from? Think long and hard, Brothers. He’s not just a member, he’s our enforcer. Do you still trust him?” His words ring out around the table, as he reclaims his chair and sits back down.
Tempest locks eyes with me, I can’t read his expression. When Rattler clears his throat, he leans forward and looks down the table toward him, “Shut the fuck up, Rat. This is too serious for you to be stirring shit.” He then returns his attention to me, glances at Prez, then Saint, then sends his glance around the rest of the members. “Freak was fuckin’ Delta Force. And he came to the club, what was it, fourteen years ago?” Thereabouts, but that detail doesn’t matter, so I raise my chin in confirmation. “In all those years we’ve had the benefit of his experience, expertise and his fuckin’ bravery. He’s stood by this club, shed blood for it. I happen to respect him, and his decision.” Again his eyes roam the table. “I’m interested in a show of hands. Who, with a gun in their hand, would kill an unarmed woman, whose intentions were good, though misguided in their delivery?”
Rat’s hand starts moving upward, then seeing that his is the only one moving, swiftly puts it back down.
Tempest nods. “Yeah, I thought so. What we asked Freak to do was putting him in an impossible position. It wouldn’t have been a revenge killing. It would have been murder, pure and simple. I, for one, want to stand with a man who thinks before shooting.”
“She wasn’t innocent,” Woody remarks. “And I’d like to know how Freak could forgive her for kidnapping his son?”
That’s a difficult, but also easy one to answer. “I don’t fuckin’ forgive her,” I snarl. “And never will as long as I live. I don’t forgive her for causing him the nightmares that are sure to come. I don’t fuckin’ absolve her from him probably needing therapy. But I couldn’t fuckin’ kill her. Would that have made it better for Ace? One day, would he have looked at me and asked where his aunt was? How could I tell him she was six feet under and that I fuckin’ put her there?” I pause and for a second listen to the blessed silence that’s taken all their tongues. “She went about it the wrong way but all she wanted was the best for Ace. And that was because before I met her, Candyman had fed her lies about me, about the club. Her crime was believing the wrong biker. Did she deserve death?”
There’s a pause during which you could have heard a pin drop. Then Stalker’s the first to raise his hand. “What I want to know, Freak, is why do you think you can now trust her? After all her lies. Fuck, man, she got under your skin, and you never suspected she was lying.”
Taking a deep breath, I let it out slowly. “Stalk, man, you’re right. Maybe I’m not a great judge of character. She played me, yeah. But it was all for Ace. And that’s the one card I still hold. So while I wouldn’t trust her in any other matter, in this I do. There’s no way she can get Ace to even speak to her, unless she gives us this time and space. And, once Ace is eighteen, any claim on him won’t matter.”
Bullseye’s been quiet up to now. “There’s almost nowhere she can go without coming under the jurisdiction of another chapter. I agree with Freak, contact with Ace is the only thing that matters to her. She’s got to give up her location and details to have a chance of that in the future. Freak will know where she ends up, and we’ll get our chapter in that state to keep an eye on her.” He shrugs. “We’ve talked it out. Now is time for the vote. It’s in two parts.” His glance toward me is sympathetic.“Has Freak lost your confidence in him being our enforcer?” His chuckle isn’t joyful, it’s menacing. “Seeing as he couldn’t carry out his duties.” Holding up his hand, he preempts any premature reaction. “And secondly, does he still wear the Kings of Anarchy patch?” Glaring down the table, he adds, “Think carefully, Brothers.”
“I have faith in our enforcer,” Saint states firmly.
“You would,” Rattler interjects. “You brought a Fed into our midst.”
“A Fed who’s fuckin’ useful to have on our side,” Genie’s fast to point out. “And I agree with the VP. I vote Freak stays the enforcer.”
Bullseye bangs the gavel. “Vote in fuckin’ order. Tempest? Yay or nay in Freak’s favour?”
“Yay,” comes from the sergeant-at-arms.
Stalker’s a yay, so is Paint. When it gets around to Rat, he shrugs, “Oh, fuck, yay. There’s no one else fits the role better.” Slim praise, but I’ll take it.
I gradually let out the breath I’ve been holding, as one by one they all give me their support.
Next time, Prez bangs the gavel, it’s to announce I’ll keep my position, my patch, and my standing. With one proviso. I won’t escape all punishment. I’ve got a meeting with Tempest in the ring to look forward to.
The sergeant-at-arms curls his hands at the announcement. I beckon with my fingers.Bring it on, Brother.
There’s a shuffling as the brothers get up ready to leave, when Prez brings that gavel down again. “Freak’s got something else to bring to the table.”
There are a few huffs of impatience as they sit back down.
Rat asks, “What fucking now?”
I blow out a breath. “Yeah, well,” I look down at my hands, then straighten. There’s no way to think of fancy words to prettythis up. “I want the club to renounce its claim on Trixie as club property. I intend to make her my old lady.”
Jaws drop, mouths open. They all sit stunned.
Rattler’s the first to break the silence by giving a belly laugh. “Now I know you’ve lost your damn mind.” He focuses on me. “You are joking, yeah?”
The glare I return conveys I most definitely am not.
Short slaps his hands on the table. “I’ve no skin in this game. Club girls are off the menu as far as I’m concerned.”
“Only because Bronwyn’s got your balls in a vice.” That observation, of course, also comes from Rat.
