“Thanks, Ruby,” I say. Kissing her cheek, I take the plate of bacon and eggs from her and plop down in the leather sofa next to Raze and the rest of our motley crew. I take a bite of the crispy bacon and realize every man in our circle is staring at me. Laying my fork onto the plate, I toss my full plate onto the side table.
“Like what you see, ladies?” I ask. “Did I grow a big pair of tits last night, because there’s no other fucking reason I should be attracting this much attention.”
Staring them all down, no one seems to want to speak. “Out with it! What the fuck is going on?” I yell, looking at each and every face that is locked on to me. Raze shifts uncomfortably next to me.
“Hero, we heard you screaming before you came down. I know you went through some pretty bad shit over in that desert hellhole, and I’ve never asked about the details, but fuck, man, are you okay?”
“You’re kidding me, right? Do I look like a nut job to you? Can’t a man have a bad night?” I retort in anger. How dare these bastards sit around in a goddamn prayer circle judging me? I’ve seen more bad shit in a single day than they have experienced in their entire civilian lives. Yes, I have fucking demons in my past, but they’re no one’s business but my own.
“I’m being serious, Hero,” says Ratchet. “I was halfway up the stairs thinking someone had snuck in and cut your dick off with the kind of noise that was coming out of your room.”
“I’m fine. Jagger’s death just dug shit up from my past and I’ve got to deal with it. “
“Do you need to talk to someone about it, man?” asks Tyson. “I’m sure the VA could set you up with a counselor or some shit.”
“Been there, done that. Got the shrapnel scars to prove it,” I retort. “Honestly, I’m fine. Just need to work shit out on my own. I promise to keep my bitchy screams to a minimum if they are bothering your delicate ears so goddamn much.”
These motherfuckers think that talking shit out will settle me. God himself couldn’t talk me into a state of calm when my past rolls in and takes hold. I just need time to work through it and let them leave on their own. Raze slaps his hand on my back in his own man-version of comfort. Thank God these fuckers aren’t the compassionate hugging type or I’d be revoking their man cards.
“All we need to know, Hero. The guys just needed to clear the air. We’ve lost one brother already and we don’t need to lose you either.” Grabbing my discarded plate, we settle in and catch up on sports news for the next hour while we eat. I’ll admit that it’s weird being in this room without Jagger. He was the guy who made sure our meetings never got out of hand. With him gone, the room feels like it’s toeing the edge of exploding, and we haven’t even started our meeting yet. Something’s up.
As if this day could get any worse, Raze throws down a stack of papers and sends them sliding down the table. “It seems like some of our upstate brothers are pissed that we didn’t burn Jagger’s cut,” he grumbles. The room erupts in mumbled discussions. I knew from the moment he gave Darcy that damn cut we’d have problems. The original chapter sets and enforces the entire club’s rules and our president just broke a cardinal rule because he felt like it. Shit doesn’t work like that in an MC.
“I knew it would, Raze,” pipes up Voodoo. “Why the hell would you do something like that, Prez? We’ve never broken that rule for anyone before Jagger. Hell, you ripped the cut out of Demon’s mother’s hands at his funeral when she refused to give it up. What the fuck is so special about Jagger’s cut that it’s worth stirring the pot with the other chapters?”
Raze crumbles the paper in his hand and slams his fists onto the wooden table. “Jagger was our brother and a founding member of this club. He poured more blood and sweat into forming Heaven’s Rejects than anyone else. He designed the cut logos himself and presented me with the one I have on my back now. Forgive me for wanting to honor a piece of our history, but I’m not backing down. Darcy and the boys deserve that cut more than the Earth needs its ashes. I’m not going to rip the one last piece of a widow’s husband out of her hands because a few chapters have a burr up their asses,” he bellows with intensity.
“You know this could hurt our reputation with the other chapters. Fuck, Raze, they could call for your President’s patch over this,” I remark. Some of the other clubs were already questioning our club’s decisions before Jagger, and this might just cut the thin tether we still had over them. If we’re going to hit Twisted Tribe, we need their numbers and support.
“Yes, I fucking well know that, Hero, but my decision is final. I’ll take the hit for it because it was my damn decision, but the only way they are ripping off my patch or my cut is prying it from my cold, dead body. I built this club, and I’ll take anyone down with me who tries to take it from me.”
When Raze is this fired up, Jagger was the guy to settle him down and see reason. Just another reason why I miss the fucker. It’s my job now, and to hell if I know how to handle him. He’s a hair-trigger away from setting the world on fire to get what he wants. How in the hell am I going to diffuse the situation? I’m not good at this shit. Bashing someone’s brain in with a baseball bat or taking care of business are my specialties, not being a goddamn therapist to a pissed off biker. I hate this job right now.
“Raze, what if we amended the club charter to say that cuts of founding members may be given to their surviving family members if their chapter votes in favor?” I suggest. Raze’s eyes narrow at my suggestion while the veins in his arms constrict. He’s either going to clean my clock with a right hook or he’ll see my reason. Either way, we’re still fucked because even if he takes this back door deal to amend the rules, some of the chapter presidents aren’t going to like the fact we didn’t include them in the vote. We’re damned if we do and damned if we don’t.
“Well, Raze?” I cautiously ask. “The clubs are going to be pissed at any way we play this, but at least this will cover our ass for the time being. I’ll forge the papers to pre-date his death and just lie out my ass that we didn’t get it sent out because of dealing with Jagger’s murder. It’s not a perfect plan, but it’s that or deal with the backlash. We need their support for taking out Twisted Tribe, and I’m not about to lose the manpower to grown men whining like bitches about a cut. Take it or leave it.”
He pounds his fists into the table before walking away from us. His turned back tells me he’s at least thinking about it because Raze is an answer-without-thinking-it-through kind of guy ninety-nine percent of the time. His hands go to his brow and begin to rub his temples.
“Do it, Hero. I assume we don’t need a formal vote to use this half-cocked plan to cover my ass, nor would you like to vote to make it kosher.”
“Nah, we’re behind you, Raze. Maybe next time you decide to break a founding charter rule, you’ll let us know before shit hits the fan,” says Ratchet. “We all miss the fucker, but we can’t collapse as a club because you want to honor his memory for his wife and kids. He knew what he signed up for when he took his pledge. “
“I know, Ratch, but his death wasn’t exactly accidental. Darcy was finally getting his health under control before those murderous sons-of-bitches killed him. I wanted to reassure her we were handling it. We all know she didn’t buy my cock and bull story about a riding accident. She’s too fucking smart for her own good.”
“I get that, Raze,” says Voodoo. “Just sayin’ maybe we should just send flowers next time instead of pissing off our back-up.”
“Noted, V,” he says with a smile. “Any other business we need to discuss?” The room stays silent as we look to each other. “Dismissed,” he bellows as we all stand and file out of the room. He took my suggestion; I’m not sure whether to be flattered or dumbfounded. He’s a hard-headed bastard, but he has a good heart when he wants to unleash his nice side, even if the thoughts that come out are a little convoluted. I head toward the bar to talk to Ruby about going out on a ride with me when Maj’s shrill voice cuts through the noise in the room.