That will either get him answering out of curiosity, or if something really happened with Abbie, it might kick his ass into defensive mode. Not that much gets a rise out of him these days, even when I’ve asked him to be my VP at least a dozen times.
My agitation carries me across the compound, and it only gets worse the moment I step into the room we use for church. Booker preferred tradition over style, with a slab of a table scarred by cigar burns and stained with Red Man and bourbon. No matter how much Febreze Precious, our club secretary, pumped into the room, the walls still reeked, and my blood never really came out of the carpet. The furniture was the first thing I tossed on the bonfire, replacing it with a sleek mahogany table surrounded by premium leather armchairs. Unfortunately, two of them are occupied by Jackpot and Mimi, their heads close together as they plot whatever shit will haunt me for the next few weeks.
Rage thrums through my blood, and I have to force myself to focus on my allies around the table. Pitt is sitting opposite Jackpot, and by the glower on his face I can assume he knowsabout the other alpha’s run-in with Abbie. There’s enough bad blood between them anyway, since I made Pitt the club’s Sergeant-at-Arms the moment he shoved my father’s enforcer in the morgue incinerator, freeing up the job. Jackpot was the Vipers’ Sergeant-at-Arms and while he accepted the position of Road Captain under my dad, everyone knew he assumed the enforcer job would eventually come his way. Watching his perpetual sneer melt into a look of shock as he saw the patch on Pitt’s cut was one of the highlights of my takeover.
Next to Pitt is Precious, the oldest member in the club at eighty-three. Her sister was a Viper, and her loyalty can be a little slippery sometimes, but she’s held the role since my grandfather was president. When she finally retires, I plan to give her seat to Tori, a female alpha who was a master-sergeant and can still make the hairs quiver on the back of your neck with a single glance. Until then, I put up with Precious and take comfort in the fact that Mimi hates her with a passion. As Treasurer, Mimi has ceded most of the financial control to me, since I would rather swallow glass than give her control of club funds, but she still insists on yapping on about all the hairbrained schemes she and my father used to cook up.
Immediately to my right is Threads, who’s standing in for Bluff as VP. His predecessor also had a fiery end, and Jackpot is always citing the club charter about how long a leadership position can remain unfilled. Thankfully, Threads is a three-hundred-pound alpha with an inch-long fuse, so most of Jackpot’s venom is limited to whining that I choose to ignore.
Threads, on the other hand, moves restlessly in his seat, clearly eager to get back to his pack. He has a new omega called Callie, who was rescued on our last raid, and while she looks like she should be sipping tea on Fifth Avenue, she seems completely smitten with the old grouch.
I open the meeting and we move through the agenda quickly, since it’s obvious I don’t want to linger over pointless arguments today. I provide a quick update on the new contract we have with a major construction company that’s ruffling feathers down by the docks, then get down to the business I’m really here for. “I want to raise a couple of membership points. Firstly, Clifford is coming to the end of his probation, and he’s on track for a full membership vote.” I look at Threads for confirmation. “You’re happy with him so far?”
“No complaints. He’s loyal, good at his job, and looking for a long-term home. In my opinion, we could vote now and give him the good news.”
I nod, pleased by Threads’ assessment, and look around the table. “Any objections to moving his vote up?” No one speaks up and it passes unanimously. “Good. As far as road names go, I think he’d be happy with Signal.”
“And yet, Cliffy has such a ring to it,” Mimi sighs, fluttering her lashes at me. “You soldier boys can’t seem to shake off the uniform, can you?”
Pitt looks at her with barely restrained loathing. “Is that an official complaint you’d like to lodge?”
She rolls her eyes, almost dislodging one of the spiderleg lashes she always wears to church. “Just an observation, sweet cheeks. Don’t get your panties in a twist.”
I watch Pitt’s poker face melt right off and quickly move on. “Fine. Now onto the other membership item. Given that Bluff hasn’t come to the table as I hoped, and that Threads has other duties to take care of, I’d like to nominate Wings for the vacant seat of VP.”
Pitt’s gaze instantly warms, and I catch a couple of other smiles before Jackpot starts to cackle. It’s an obnoxious sound, even for him, and he slaps the table as he lurches forward in his seat. “You can’t be serious! It’s one thing to keep the seat openfor your old unit buddy, but anomega?” Mimi doesn’t seem to care that he spits her designation onto the table like it’s a bit of gristle, but the air is thickening with musky displeasure. “You know the rules, Pres. No omega gets to wear the colors unless they’re an old lady.” He slides a spite-filled glance Pitt’s way. “You gonna man up and make an honest woman of the little bitch, Sarge?”
“Keep a civil tongue in your head, Jackpot, or you’ll be ejected,” Threads growls before I can lean over and strangle the motherfucker. He waits for the other alpha to lift his hands in surrender before he turns my way. “You’re serious about this, Ark?”
I nod, my fists balled under the table where no one can see them. “He’s a legacy and an asset to the club. No one has ever complained about him, and you’d be hard pressed to find someone who’s more loyal to the Flyers.”
Despite everything my father did to destroy the club, Wings always stood solid, swallowing the bullshit and working in the shadows with me to make things better. Pitt is probably the only one at the table who knows how much he’s sacrificed for the Flyers, and I can see a dangerous gleam in his eyes as he studies Jackpot. Killing him would derail the work we’re doing to free trafficked omegas, but I don’t think Pitt cares about that right now. Wings is wearing his bite, and even if it isn’t a formal claim, everyone knows he’s under our enforcer’s protection.
“Taking it one step further,” Mimi breaks the tense silence by drumming her long nails on the table, “we should probably strip him of his cut. He can’t be a full member if he’s an unclaimed omega.” She arches her neck so we can see the faded claiming bite she got from Slade, the old Vipers’ president. “Some of us lose our mate, but under the club charter, we’re still an old lady to death.”
I feel frustration lick across my skin, making my fists ache. “You’re a special case, Mimi. But so is Wings.”
She leans across the table, triumph flashing in her eyes. “Show me where that’s written in the club charter, and I’ll happily vote your way.”
Trust my father’s fucking bullshit to bite me on the ass again.
“You know it’s under review!” Pitt spits. “If you didn’t keep blocking every amendment…”
“The charter is the reason the Vipers joined.” Jackpot gives me a sly grin as he shrugs off Pitt’s wrath. “Why fix something that isn’t broke?”
I stare him down, knowing that my scent is thickening dangerously, approaching something close to an acid burn. If I could shoot the shit out of my eyes, the fucker would be writhing on the floor. “You joined because your former club was in shreds after you botched an illegal arms deal with the Red Reapers. It got your President and VP killed and had both the feds and the Mexican cartel on your heels.”
“Maybe,” Jackpot grins, unperturbed, “but I’m a member of this council, which means my vote holds as much weight as any of yours.”
“Ourvotes,” Mimi pipes up, leaning over to squeeze his hand. “And I’m gonna need a lot of convincing to give up a seat that could go to Nitro or Crab.”
Pitt makes a choking sound at the mention of the other Vipers, but I surge to my feet. I’ve had enough of this bullshit, and I won’t let them sully Wings’ reputation for a second longer. “Fine,” I grind out, “but we’re not stripping anyone of anything. And our next session is one hundred percent devoted to charter review, or I’ll be withholding all of your monthly bonuses.”
Threads looks like he’s about to snap Jackpot’s neck, but the other alpha just leans back in his chair to study me. “That soundsa lot like blackmail, Pres. I thought this was the golden age of a squeaky-clean club.”
I curl my lip at him, the tension so thick I almost don’t hear my phone buzz. I flip it over and read the message from Bluff:Don’t have a gym membership.
“Take it any fucking way you want to.”
