Page 26 of Sangre
Chapter Eight
The sun setover the mountaintops as the blue sky merged with streaks of pink, orange, and gold. The MC members entered the main room, glancing around for their drinks and their club women. Both were waiting for them: glasses and bottles on the counter and scantily clad women smiling at them. Sangre went over to the counter, grabbed his shot, and threw it back. Church had been a bitch. Some of the members didn’t think the club should get involved with buying real estate. They thought they may be spreading the club’s money too thin, and the other half was all for it, thinking it was a great investment. In addition to the bickering about the club’s financial goals, Diablo had given them the disconcerting information that the Deadly Demons MC had formed an alliance with the Satan’s Pistons MC.
“You look bummed out,” Kelly said as she brushed against him. Of all the club girls, Sangre felt the closest to her. When her younger brother had been beaten to death, Sangre asked the club to pay for his funeral. He’d also driven her to Minnesota for his services, and when she’d broken down at the gravesite, he’d held her tight. After that, a bond formed between them, and he’d tell her shit he’d never tell a dude. In a way, he was trying to replace the friendship he’d lost when Isla had left. It hadn’t occurred to him before, but now that she was back in his life, he could see it clearly.
He shrugged. “Not much going on. I’ve just been pulling some long nights with this new job I have.”
She pressed her tits against him. “I heard that your new gig involves a singer from a rock band.”
Smiling, he nodded.
“And”—she ran her fingernail up his bare arm—“she’s your long lost friend. True?” She pressed her lips on his cheek.
“Don’t need the fuckin’ tabloids around here with the way news travels. Yeah, Isla is my friend from years ago. I didn’t know it when I took the job, but now that I do, it’s cool to be back together again.”
“So, she’s just your friend?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“Because I wanted to have a bit of time with you before you do something stupid and get involved with another girl you’re gonna break up with. You’re good for a few months before you do that.”
“You sound like Army, and that’s not a fuckin’ compliment.”
She laughed. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to.” She took a sip of her drink. “Do you wanna go to your room and relax a bit? I can give you one of my massages that you love.”
He ran his eyes over her full breasts, rounded hips, and toned legs, that made his dick twitch. Since breaking up with Skylar, he hadn’t screwed anyone, but he had too much on his mind at the moment and knew all that shit would get in the way. “Another time. I’ve got too much going on.”
“Okay. Just remember, I’m here when you need me, even if you just wanna talk.” She walked away, and his gaze zeroed in on her swaying hips and firm ass as a thread of regret wound around his dick.
He spun around when a hand clapped him on the back. “Hey,” he said to Paco. “It didn’t go so well in there. I thought the membership would be down for a strip mall. Some of these bros don’t know shit about business and making money.”
Paco clutched his beer bottle. “It took me and Steel off guard too. Your job is showing the numbers and how they add up.”
“I’m doing that. The reason I brought it up was just to get a feeling of where we stood as a club. I’ll make sure to show them just how wrong we’d benotto invest.”
“You guys talking about the fuckin’ news Diablo shared with us about those damn Satan’s Pistons?” Shotgun asked, joining in on the conversation.
“I was just getting ready to bring that up,” Sangre said.
“We gotta be ready for some trouble at Sturgis if the Pistons go, which I’m sure they will.”
“I say we need to crush those bastards once and for all,” Muerto said, standing next to Sangre. “I talked with Jerry, and he said the Insurgents don’t like it any more than we do. They don’t think the fuckin’ Demons will risk breaking the truce with the Insurgents, but he said they’re concerned that some shit may go down at Sturgis between the damn Pistons and us. The word is they’re vowing justice for what we did to their clubhouse. Fuck them. We’ll be ready.”
“Damn straight,” Diablo said, his jaw jutted out.
“Hawk and Banger are worried that with the Demons watching their damn backs, they’re gonna try to set up shop selling drugs in our neck of the woods.” Muerto took a swig of beer.
“They better not try anything. After the shit we went through with the West Avenue assholes in Silverado, there’s no fucking wayanyoneis getting near our county or the surrounding counties with any kind of dope. If we have to have an all-out war, we’ll do it. I know the Insurgents are on board to help, and they’d bring in a lot of their chapters as backup,” Paco said.
“Fuckin’ right about that.” Goldie raised his fist in the air. “Night Rebels forever, forever Night Rebels,” he said, his voice loud and clear. Soon the whole room was on their feet, chanting, fists held in the air.
As Sangre looked around, a small lump formed in his throat. He was so damn proud to be part of the brotherhood. No matter what went down, business or personal, each member knew they could count on the club to come through. They were united through love, respect, and loyalty.
After several minutes, the din of voices died down, and Paco picked up the shot one of the prospects had put in from him and downed it. “I heard you’re friends with the singer in Iris Blue,” he said to Sangre.
“Everyone’s heard that. Why’re you asking?” He took out a joint and lit it, hoping it would calm the urge to go over to Army and punch him in the face. Many of the brothers gossiped way more than the club women, but Army was a million light years ahead of the pack. He was the club’s version ofEntertainment Tonight.
“Chelsea’s really the one asking. I guess she’s been following the band on social media for the past six months and loves their music.”
