Page 2 of Revenant's Fire

“Don’t I,” she mutters, leading the way into the clubhouse.

The sun outside is forgotten as we step into the dark, moody common room. As with all MC clubhouses there is a bar running across the back, pool tables to my left and couches and shit to my right. Let’s not forget the stripper poles that sit pride of place on a small raised platform just past the pool tables. The cut sluts are already working the room even though it’s only early afternoon, sniffing for cock like it’s their next meal.

I watch as Mercy stomps off upstairs, my gaze only leaving when someone’s heavy-ass hand lands on my shoulder.

“It’s June 21st,” Gallows murmurs, watching his sister's back as she disappears.

“Shit.” I groan. “I thought she seemed a little lighter when she got back from your trip to the DRMC,” I mutter.

“Change of scenery will do that. But the shit you left behind is still waiting for ya to get home.”

“Ah fuck, I should -”

“Leave it brother. She’ll be fine. Just needs the day to drink herself into a coma.” He slaps me harder than need be, before his booming voice calls Church.

It’s the last fucking thing I need, listening to brothers bitch and moan about the state of our businesses. But shit, I’m not Mercy who has this date off every year to sink into her darkness before coming out the other side, her trauma buried deep. No, unlike Mercy I have to face my shit all day every day and it’s not like I can tap out because I had a rough session. No matter how much I want to be holed up in my room, choking my cock to thoughts of Sunny Richards.

I hang back, trying to get my shit together before following my brothers into Church. The room itself is nothing special. I guess being vets we’re not used to anything nice. Fuck, Gallows could have set a tent up in the backyard and told us it was Church and none of us would have questioned a fucking thing. Instead, he gave us some creature comforts. A plain, dark room. No windows and no decorations except for our patch painted on the wall by Gallows’ mom. A scarred, worn wooden table sits in the middle of the room, big enough to seat us all on the mismatched shitty chairs that have all seen better days.

“Settle the fuck down,” Gallows growls, eyeballing everyone for a moment. “The Callahans called, they have cargo ready to go.” Prez puts his hand in the air, “I don’t wanna hear shit about it. I know we prefer moving other cargo, but we got families to feed. It’s on us to move the shit through our mountains. I don’t give a fuck if rednecks in Chattanooga shoot each other. As long as Winlaw is safe, I don’t fucking care.”

We all nod. None of us like some of the shit we move, but that’s the business we’re in. Winlaw is tucked deep in the Georgia foothills of the Appalachians and well, you need something to disappear for a while then come out the otherside safe and sound, you call us. Sometimes it’s guns. Sometimes it’s stolen car parts. Antiques. Cash. Shit sometimes it’s a woman trying to get away from an abusive husband. Whatever the cargo, we’ll get it through the mountains. For a fee.

“The Mullins also have cargo ready to move.”

“How much?” Hush asks, loudly, his eyes scanning the room. Brother has hearing loss from being too close to an IED going off. It’s been years now and he’s learnt to read lips well enough, but still needs to be facing whoever is talking.

Ledger brings his shaky hand to his mouth, licking a finger, then slowly moving to turn a page in his ever present treasurer's notebook. “Enough to keep us in payroll for a month.”

Coyote whistles low, shaking his head. “The Mullins outdid themselves.”

“Plenty more where that came from too,” Gallows agrees. “We need a truck to run the car parts, Hollow you’re driving. I’ll have Fog and Sleet on you.” ‘Yes Prez’ sounds out around the room. “Coyote, I’ve got you driving the guns. Rev, Cedar, Jubilee and Brake are on your security. Leave early so Rev can be back in time.”

I nod, appreciating Prez’s thoughts. He knows where I disappear to every day. Much like Sunny knows when I’ll be arriving at her family’s cozy church. Sunny. Too perfect. Too pure. Too clean. Too young and not mine.

“Good. Vera is on dinner tonight; bunnies have been asked to fuck off and come back at 9pm.”

“Good call. Can’t have Momma beatin’ any more of their asses. Two of them never came back after the last beat down.” Coyote smirks. Vera hates the cut sluts with a vengeance, and the feeling is mutual.

Gallows nods, knowing what his momma is like. “Any other business?”

Ledger looks down at his notes, finger moving along the page. “Funeral home is booked out ‘til early next week.”

Gallows leans back in his chair. “The heat causing problems?”

“Hollis doesn’t seem to mind it,” Ledger snorts.

“Send over one of the prospects as an extra pair of hands.” Ledger nods at Gallows words, making note. “Anything else?”

“Yeah,” Sleet says, sitting forward. “Bumped into Sheriff Barnes. Said a couple of his boys asking questions about the warehouse.”

This has everyone sitting up. Barnes isn’t a threat. He knows what we’re about. We know what he’s about. As long as we keep the shit off the streets he doesn’t make our jobs any harder.

“I’ll have a beer with him come Thursday.” Gallows grunts.

“What’s Thursday?” Hollow asks.

“The day his Mrs. heads to Atlanta to visit the grandkids and the Sheriff takes his side piece to dinner.” We all snort at Prez’s words. In a town like Winlaw it’s hard to keep secrets. “Brake, HVAC?”