And here I was. Close. Too close to something I knew nothing about. The pace of my heart elevated, a dull rhythmical thud at the bottom of my chest, vibrating through my diaphragm.
The ones smiling aren’t the ones you need to watch, my dad’s voice echoed.It’s the quiet ones by the door.
I glanced at the door. Nobody there. The lights over the sign didn’t reach the entrance, instead it was hidden in darkness. Unwelcoming. Foreboding. I scanned the edges without meaning to. Staring into the shadows. The stillness. The way nothing here felt accidental. Black silhouettes moved inside, spectres of shapes, and yet, for the number of vehicles parked up in the car park and lining the crumbling road, there wasn’t a single person around. And still, I felt like there were eyes on me. Like I was being watched.
Cameras. My eyes scanned over dark brick walls. One, two, three, more. Tiny red dots piercing the dark. The only sign of anyone watching.
If you ever feel watched around them, he’d said, almost gently,you probably are.
A chill slipped down my spine. I exhaled slowly, forcing my grip to loosen, telling myself I was being ridiculous.
A sharp tap.
My car lurched forwards, my fingers gripped the steering wheel, and for a second, I couldn’t remember where I was. ThenI pushed my foot down on the brake, before the Mercedes rolled any further down the bank.
Chapter Eight
A prospect paced the floor, glancing at his watch. His eyes searched the growing darkness beyond the window. Another picked at a beer mat at a table. Conversations were held in hushed voices. Whispers and murmurs filled the pub like the thick whirr of a hangover. Only no one had drunk anywhere near enough yet to induce one.
“Time to send the women home,” Indie patted my shoulder, and I looked over at the booth closest to the bar. Emmie, Heidi, Ciara, Suzy. Drinking and laughing. Relaxed. Unaware of what was really happening in the background. They’d had glimpses. Hints. But my guess was no one hadprepared them for what was to come. Apart from Suzy. She knew how this went.
She looked my way, catching my eye, her smile fading. A sadness filling her face. I didn’t miss the tiny movement of her palm across her stomach as someone at the table said something to her and stole her attention away.
Behind them, Tori sat with another woman. I didn’t know her name. The partner of one of the new prospects. I stopped myself shaking my head. If I’d been Pres, I would have chased her out years ago. Long before Ste claimed her as his. She’d been trouble since she rocked up here. A patch hunter. Worse than a fucking gold digger.
“I’ve left you some tea,” the voice to my left distracted me. “Have you eaten today, son?”
“Been busy,” I mumbled to Mamma Dot, as if she were my own mother.
“You need to look after yourself.” Her smile brightened the space, warming the charged atmosphere in the clubhouse. “Make sure they all eat too. You can’t plan for war on empty stomachs.”
Her eyes held mine for a second. She was short and stout. Much too short for the giants of children she’d popped out. Only three of them left, the others killed in the last war. Mamma Dot knew how dangerous this life could be. But the club was as much her family as her own blood. More in some ways.
“We need to get you all out of here now,” I mumbled, my voice low, as much out of respect as out of discomfort for evicting the women.
The pub was soon to fill with representatives of north east bike clubs. Those that were left in the coalition, anyway. Relationships between clubs had been fragile for weeks, but now that we’d taken out most of the Teesside Road Rats and the Notorious had chosen their side, the cracks between the clubs were really showing.
Indie and Fury huddled together at the end of the bar, Fury running his fingers up and down through the condensation that clung to the pint glass as our president said something to him. I didn’t need to go over and join the conversation to feel how tense some of our officers were. I’d watched it pull them deeper and deeper over the last few weeks. Each time we gained some ground, it was yanked straight from underneath us. Demon. Sicknote. Big Red. Jazz, even though she was not strictly club. The Hand had been taking people out of the equation for months. We’d seen it all too late.
A pang of guilt pierced my chest. I’d acted out that day when I let her and the Rats enforcer go. I’d let my heart lead where my brain should have stepped up, and if I’d got that wrong, I’d just sold our club down the river. What I didn’t need now was Fury to get distracted trying to find his sister and take his finger off the pulse. Or for them to find Jazz and the club to find out I’d let them go.
Fuck, I needed a pint. I glanced at the clock hanging above the bar. Too late. Behind me, coalition club members trickled in. Tyne Thunder MCC. Durham Heathens. Angels and Demons MC. Others too. Smaller clubs. Faces strained. On edge. Whilst they were here with us, they were targets too. But if they didn’t show, they’d receive a King’s visit. Damned if they did, damned if they didn’t.
The Vandals were the last to arrive. Tomahawk and the Reverend. Both of them tall and dark and as fucking angry looking as ever. The Vandals’ president glanced at the doors he’d just walked through and then at the prospects loitering either side. Our security. When he turned to me, he rolled his eyes.
“And what’s that lot gonna do if shit kicks off?” he grumbled as he got closer.
“They’ll fucking earn their patches, that’s what.”
“Where’s Indie been finding this lot? They look like a bunch of toy soldiers,” the Reverend, the Vandals’ Sergeant-at-Arms, shook his head, the scar over his eye catching in the dull lights above our heads.
“We can get started, now you two are here.”
I stepped sideways, letting them pass me and waiting for the door at the back to close behind them. The prospects left in the bar glanced at me. They were nervous, all of them. One stood cracking his knuckles. Over and over. Anyone else would be forgiven if they thought he was preparing himself for something coming. But I watched as his eyes darted. To me. Round the pub. Back to the door. Across to the other prospect seated on the far side. Others stood quietly, trying to hide their tension.
“No one comes in during this meeting,” my voice rumbled low, almost echoing in the emptiness. “Understand?” Everyone nodded. “Good. Ring me if there’re any issues.”
Every seat at the table was taken by the time I joined the meeting, and others lined the walls. I shuffled to the back of the room to stand beside the twins and Magnet. Indie had already started talking, his eyes not shifting from the faces around the table.
