Page 3 of Down & Dirty: Reaper

“Yes, but I told Zeke I’d do it after he told me the membership voted for you to be patched in.”

He saw his call name, now also considered his MC road name, on the front. When he turned it around to look at the back, he saw a full set of patches. Not one said “prospect.” Thank fuck.

“Why didn’t you just give this to me in Badass Central?” The first time he saw that sign hanging over the door to the electronics/communications room that held the desks and computers, he almost bust a gut.

Apparently, Vi’s mother hung that over the door many moons ago when Jewel helped Diesel run the Warehouse.

“Because I like giving you orders and watching you do them.”

One thing he appreciated about Vi, she was brutally honest. Luckily he was a big boy and could take whatever she had to say.

Plus, he’d probably heard it all, anyway.

“One thing you learn in the military is how to take orders,” he murmured, sliding his fingertips over the embroidered rockers.

“Whether you agree with them or not,” she responded.

He grunted. That was too damn true. “Isn’t there supposed to be some sort of ceremony?”

“Do you want one?”

“No.” He didn’t want to make a big deal out of becoming a fully patched member of the club, especially after not having to prospect. He heard the rumblings about how each and every fourth generation DAMC had been forced to prospect. Here he was an outsider, simply waltzing through the door and enjoying the perks of being an Angel without the year-long suffering.

While the membership vote had to be unanimous, that didn’t mean some of the other members wouldn’t be salty about it and he certainly didn’t want to rub it in their faces.

He was someone who didn’t like to attract attention until it was absolutely unavoidable.

“Then why bring it up?”

He jerked up a shoulder. “Just asking.”

Pushing herself off her desk, she held out her hands. “Let’s see it on you and make sure it fits.”

He let her have it and turned his back to her so she could slip it over his arms and onto his shoulders.

She smoothed her hands over the stiff leather. “Fits perfectly.”

“Needs broken in.”

“That’s one good thing about prospecting for a year. By the time you get your full set of patches, your cut’s more worn and you look like you belong when you join the club runs.”

“Never asked…do you have the women prospect for Angels of Fury?”

“If we had an outsider want to join, we would. But as long as she belongs to one of our allies, then no.”

“Meaning, you make an exception.”

“Our whole club is an exception.“ Amusement colored her tone.

“The guys don’t like that you started your own club.” He knew this for a fact. He’d heard T-Bone, Grim, and Ghost mention it. Not once. Not twice. But so many fucking times, Reaper lost track.

“Of course not.”

“You did it anyway.”

She smiled. “Of course we did. We needed to out-stubborn the stubborn.”

That was another thing he appreciated about Vi. She never ran from a challenge. He was pretty damn sure none of the DAMC women would.