Page 46 of Forgiveness
“Fucking amen.” Smokey lifted up the beer bottle.
“I’d love to keep chatting like we’re in some fuckin’ sewing circle, but I gotta talk to Hawk. Is he around?” Flux put down his empty glass and pushed away from the bar.
“In his office,” Throttle replied. “We’re gonna have church once Banger gets here.”
“I’ll see you in a few,” Flux said as he walked out of the main room.
He knocked roughly on the vice president’s door until Hawk called out and told him to come in. Flux opened the door and closed it behind him.
“You got here early.” Hawk blew out a thick cloud of smoke and tossed a joint at Flux. “Banger’s stuck and can’t get here until late, so he wants us to proceed without him. I’ll go round up the brothers—it’s church time.”
Flux tucked the joint in the pocket of his cut and followed Hawk out of the room. Soon, all the members sat around a large table in the conference room. Flux tipped the folding chair against the wall and closed his eyes. Surrounded by his brothers in their sacred space, Flux could almost forget the horrors of his past—due to the simple fact that he was where he’d always felt the most comfortable—with the Insurgents. But there were shadows beating on the doors of his subconscious, everywhere he looked in the clubhouse. A small smile whispered across his lips as he remembered Alicia and him fucking on this very table. If Banger had known, his ass would’ve gotten a beatdown, but Alicia had loved the excitement of doing something that was so taboo in the biker world.You could be so fuckin’ crazy, babe.The memory made him grimace, and he put his head in his hands.
“Church is now starting.” Hawk knocked the gavel against the wood block on the table. “You all know we got a damn problem with the fuckin’ Pistons. Flux spotted them in Kremmling and he’s here to tell us what the fuck he found out.” Hawk jerked his head at him. “The floor’s yours, brother.”
Flux shook away the cobwebs from his mind and rose to his feet. It didn’t take him long to establish the situation. Satan’s Pistons were selling on the Insurgents’ home turf without an agreement, which was a major breech of respect. The rival club was selling to locals as well as out-of-towners, which could bring danger to the Insurgents MC if someone accidentally overdosed and word got back to the damn badges. The Insurgents had a tenuous relationship with the badges to keep hard drugs out of their territory and the badges would look the other way on some of the shit the MC pulled. The Night Rebels, the Insurgents’ affiliate MC in southern Colorado, had the same type of relationship with the badges in their county. The fact that the Pistons had set up shop in the same county where the Insurgents national headquarters was, opened up a ton of headaches and potential problems for the MC. The fact that they were beingdisrespectedby the fucking Satan’s Pistons took their rage to a whole new level.
“This isn’t something we’re gonna stand for. I don’t even think we need a vote, am I right?” Hawk asked.
There were various grunts and yells and curses of outrage around the table.
“The dirty rotten bastards are gonna pay for their disrespect!” Wheelie said while pounding his fist on the table.
“Damn straight,” Axe added.
“Steel wants a part of this too,” Jax said. The president of the Night Rebels MC had an ongoing feud with the Pistons.
“We’re gonna show them what happens to fuckers who disrespect us and try to set up shop in our county.” Smokey crossed his arms over his broad chest.
“When are we gonna show them who’s boss?” Animal gritted.
“We’re gonna handle this situation quickly, quietly, and with as little mess as possible while still sending a blunt fucking message,” Hawk replied.
Flux cracked his knuckles and leaned back in his seat, hands behind his head. “Are some of the Night Rebels gonna help us out?”
“Diablo, Steel, Army, Goldie, Muerto, and Sangre are on the way as we speak. They’ll stand by us. Our Colorado Springs chapter is ready to jump in too, but I think we can handle the pussies on our own.” Hawk steepled his fingers. “How many fuckers are in Kremmling?”
“I only saw three but there were six bikes out in the parking lot,” Flux replied.
“Sounds like we got enough back up,” Rock said.
“Yeah … Banger wants me, Rock, Throttle, Smokey, Animal, Wheelie, Jerry, Hubcap, and Tank to go. With the Night Rebels and Flux, we should be good. We should head out first thing in the morning and handle this shit before it gets even more out of hand. Of course, we’re gonna kick their asses in the dark of night—we don’t need witnesses or fuckin’ badges interfering. We’ll get a lay of the land and what the situation is all about. We’ll take our cages and get dressed like fuckin’ rodeo dudes.” Hawk’s last words got a rise out of the members and they guffawed and joked about looking like cowboys.
Flux cleared his throat. “No offense, but there’s no fuckin’ way any of you are gonna pass for rodeo spectators. I suggest a couple of you hang out in the stands, but if you all come it’ll totally tip the fuckin’ Pistons off.”
“I didn’t mean for all of us to show up in a group,” Hawk said, shaking his head. “We got this under control, dude. If there isn’t anything else, then church is over. Don’t get fuckin’ wasted tonight. We gotta bring all we got tomorrow.”
The strike of the gavel signaled church had ended. Chairs scraped against the concrete floor and the members shuffled out of the room and headed to the main part of the clubhouse.
Flux stood up and stretched as he looked at the departing members. A tremor of something like grief, but deeper, squeezed tight in his chest. He massaged his hand over his heart.
“You good?” Hawk bent down and took a beer out of the mini-refrigerator then handed it to him.
Flux downed it in three long pulls.
“More?”
“No, that’s good,” Flux replied.
