“Wheelie knew it’d piss Rags off. He’s pissed at Rags ‘cause he’s lost the last four pool games to him and he’s out five grand.”
“Still was a low blow to talk shit about a guy’s Harley.”
Rock realized the room was dead silent and he glanced up and locked gazes with Banger.
“Is it okay if I continue, or am I breakin’ into yours and Throttle’s private time?” The brothers in the room all sniggered. Rock and Throttle squirmed in their chairs. “Just let me know ‘cause I wouldn’t wanna be disturbing you motherfuckers.” Banger’s steely glare bored into Rock.
Clearing his throat, Rock said, “Just trying to figure out what happened so I can make sure it doesn’t spill into the great room when we’re done here. Just doing my job.”
Banger’s clenching jaw was visible. “Your job right now is to keep your damn mouth shut and show respect to your president. Is there something you don’t understand about that?”
Rock shook his head slowly, then leaned back in his chair. He motioned with his hand as if to tell Banger to continue with the meeting. He knew he was being a prick but, president or not, he didn’t likeanyonepatronizing him. For a few seconds he and Banger glared at one another, each of their chins held high in defiance, neither of them ready to acquiesce.
Finally Banger broke away and folded his arms against his chest. “Liam’s asked us to do him a favor.”
Liam was an Irish arms dealer and smuggler who the Insurgents MC had worked with on and off for years. Before marijuana was legalized, they depended on illegal deals to fund their club, and in the murky world of arms smuggling, finding trustworthy people was about as rare as a midsummer snowstorm. Liam had proven to be a fair, salt-of-the-earth type of guy who had the guts to work with the Insurgents and the brains to not fuck them over. Since weed had been legalized, the club had shifted directions and began making money the legal way. They rarely got involved in arms smuggling anymore; however, their respect and relationship with Liam continued.
“What’s the favor?” Jax asked.
“He wants us to do a bodyguard gig.”
Groans and cussing circled around the room, and Rock stared at the redness creeping up Banger’s neck. Before it hit his cheeks, Hawk stood up and motioned the crowd to shut up. He cleared his throat. “I know we don’t do this type of work—”
“Yeah, we’re not losers like the fuckin’ Deadly Demons,” Bones interrupted. Fellow members laughed and pounded their fists on the table in agreement.
Hawk threw him a dirty look. “As I was saying, we don’t do this type of work, but we owe Liam for the job Shack fucked up last year in Nebraska. Besides, Liam never asks favors from us.”
“Who’re we protecting?” Rock propped his elbows on the wood table.
“Frederick Blair. He’s a billionaire who’s having a dinner party at his estate in Aspen and he wants some muscle. The total worth in the room makes him and his guests targets.”
“What the hell does Liam have to do with him?” Jerry asked.
“He buys big, expensive, and illegal toys for the ultra-wealthy. Men like Frederick Blair have too much money and time on their hands. That’s what makes them dangerous as hell. But what they buy and what they do with it isn’t our business. We’re there to babysit a bunch of rich fucks. That’s pretty much it.”
“I know I’m gonna be on this fuckin’ babysitting duty,” Rock said aloud.
“Me too.” Jax shook his head. “The muscle of the club always does this type of work. Shit.”
“Yeah. Shit.”
“So, Rock, Bones, Wheelie, Throttle, Jax, Rags, Chas, Bear, and Axe will be the ones to cover this detail. The party is this Saturday night. You have to be there at six o’clock in the evening. The security at the estate will brief you on where things are and the lay of the land. The money earned from this job will go in the club fund after the brothers who work it get their pay. Rock is in charge. Any questions?”
“Is this gonna be something the club’s gonna start doing regularly?” Bruiser asked. “I remember doing this shit before some of the brothers were even born.” He chuckled. “We used to do the nightclubs and concert halls. You remember that, Banger?”
Banger smiled and nodded. “You’re taking us back pretty far, dude.” Bruiser grinned, and Rock noticed a warmth pass between the two older brothers. “Anyway, we’re just doing this to help Liam and make some money too. We’ll see how it goes, and if the rich fuck needs us again, we’ll do it. It’s easy money.” Banger looked around the room. “Any more questions?”
The members shook their heads and their president picked up the gavel, hit it on the table, and announced that church was adjourned.
By the time the guys shuffled to the great room, the sun had begun to set and a golden pink glow bathed the room. The scent of hickory chips tantalized Rock’s nostrils as wisps of smoke filtered in from the opened back door. Two large grills were smoking as they waited for Bruiser, Bear, and Hawk to cook up steak and chicken. A large pot of baked beans simmered on a hot plate, and mountains of potato and macaroni salad were placed on the long buffet table by Wendy and Rosie. The club girls had made up the sides, and the tinge of pink in their cheeks told the brothers they were excited to start the party.
Rock, beer in hand, walked out back. The smell of grilling always brought him back to his childhood. His mother would use the grill they’d had in the backyard to smoke ribs and andouille sausages. She’d also boil crawfish in big pots on their outdoor propane cooker. Since he’d moved to Colorado, he hadn’t had a crawfish boil, and he suddenly missed it.Damn. Why the fuck is my mind back in Lafayette? What the fuck’s going on?For the past seven years, Rock rarely thought about his life back in Louisiana; there was no need for it. But talking to Isa the previous night stirred something inside him. Something he had buried deep where it couldn’t hurt him.
“You hungry?” Hawk laughed as he lined up the steaks on the grill.
“Huh? Oh, yeah. I’m fuckin’ starving.” Rock watched as the juices from the steak sputtered and sparked in the flames. “You need some help?”
“Nope. I have a handle on it.”
