Page 47 of Wheelie's Challenge
A tsunami of relief washed over Wheelie as he listened to his president’s words. He’d thought for sure he was history, but… the meeting wasn’t over yet. Banger may be saving the best for last.
For the next hour, the focus was on the deception and Banger telling the members that if the money was replaced the club would turn a blind eye, but every Insurgent knew that was bullshit. There was no way the culprit would come out of it unscathed. Wheelie pitied the member who dared to betray the club, but then the realization that he’d been disloyal by taking up with another brother’s wife grabbed him by the balls.
“Moving on, the San Diego trip has been postponed for a few weeks because Panther and his crew are on hiatus. They’re helping family and community with these fires and shit in”—Banger looked down at a piece of paper in his hand—“Campo and Bonsall. Panther’s gonna let me know when the club needs us to head over there. The charity rally we’re doing for Bikers Against Child Abuse is going well, but we needallthe brothers to participate in it this fall, so no one’s leaving unless it’s a family emergency or your goddamn appendix bursts.” The members laughed and voiced their support in attending and helping with the rally. Banger looked at Hawk. “You got anything to add or are we done here?”
Hawk pushed away from the wall. “I’m good. It’s time to get a beer and a shot of Jack.”
Banger lifted and brought down the gavel. “Church is over.”
Chairs scraping against concrete, boots thumping, and voices and laughter filling the room meant that it was time to go into the main room and relax with the club women, play a few games of pool, or just drink and talk about Harleys.
Wheelie watched in disbelief as his brothers filed out of the room. Smokey came over to him and clasped his shoulder.
“You staying for a bit? I’ve got some information on that fucker who’s been tailing you.”
Pulled away from the shock of not having his ass thrown out of the club, Wheelie looked at Smokey. “Yeah. I’ll meet you in the main room.”
Wheelie hung back, waiting for everyone to leave. Banger walked out with Rock and Chas, their heads bent, their faces earnest as they spoke about something. Wheelie guessed it was probably about the stealing. He wondered which member would do something like that.
The only one left in the room was Hawk, and Wheelie cleared his throat and took a few steps toward the vice president. Hawk stared at him as Wheelie approached.
“Thanks, dude. I thought this was it,” Wheelie said, shoving his hands in his pockets.
“Last night was your warning. Stay the fuck away from her. Next time, your ass is outta here.” Hawk lifted his chin at Wheelie then left the room.
Wheelie felt like a drowning man who’d just been thrown a life preserver. The night before Hawk had really reamed him out, but his vice president didn’t say a word to Banger, and Wheelie knew that was huge. Hawk was a tough and loyal Insurgent, but Wheelie suspected that since Cara had entered his life, Hawk understood how a woman can consume and devour a man, making him want more and more because he can never get his fill of her. That’s how it was with Sofia, and seeing Hawk and Cara together, Wheelie was pretty sure that’s how he felt with his woman.
Wheelie had come in with heavy footfalls, and he left with a spring in his step. He was still an Insurgent. He went into the main room and saw Animal, Puck, Throttle, and Smokey standing by the bar talking. Wheelie walked up to them and bumped fists then picked up the shot of whiskey the prospect had put in front of him. In five seconds, it was warming the remains of the congealed tension that had been in his belly since Wheelie had come into the clubhouse earlier that morning. The prospect set another shot and a bottle of beer on the counter.
Looking at Smokey, Wheelie leaned inward. “So, you said you found the fucker?”
“Yeah. Me and Puck spotted his car behind the Manor Inn next to the dumpster under the elm tree.”
“That’s the place Stanley Nettles used to run, right?” Wheelie took a sip of his Jack.
“Yeah, with his wife, Judy.”
“He’s the one who croaked while Layla was giving him a VIP lap dance,” Throttle said.
“That’s right,” Wheelie replied. “He’s the dude who used to come into Dream House all the time. He was crazy for the strippers and private dances.”
“Don’t you fuck his old lady?” Animal asked, pulling out a joint. “Want one?” he asked the group, and Wheelie nodded, taking it from him.
“I fuck her now, but not when she was married. When her old man died, she totally transformed, and now she looks damn hot,” Smokey said, grabbing a joint out of his cut.
“Like a butterfly coming out of a cocoon,” Puck added.
“You’re damn poetic,” Smokey replied, and the men laughed. “Anyway, I bumped into her six months ago at Blue’s Belly. I stopped by because Eric wanted to do some remodeling at the bar. She was there with some of her friends, and when she came up to the bar to say hi, I felt my cock jump. After a few hours of drinking and dancing, I took her home and ended up spending several days between her legs.”
“You still fuck her?” Wheelie asked.
“Yeah.” Smokey lit up his joint.
“She’s not pushing you into a relationship? I can’t see you committing to just one woman,” Throttle said.
“Nah, Judy’s cool. After being married to Stanley, she tells me she’s had her fill of marriage and just wants to have fun. I do too, so it works out. From what she says, her old man was a real asshole.” Smokey chuckled. “Judy’s one hot woman, and fuck if she doesn’t know how to please a man. She’s about ten years older than me, and she’s got some experience. That’s all I’m gonna say.”
“She’s forty?” Puck scratched his shaved head, and Smokey nodded. “Damn, she looks real fine.”
