Never Love An Outlaw (Deadly Pistols MC #1)(115)
“Fuck yeah,” he said, reaching for his own bread. “Told you it was good.”
Jackie looked at us both, covering her mouth. I rolled my eyes when I finally came out of my sugary high. Whatever, she had every reason to giggle, and it was good to hear her laugh versus all the alternatives weighing on us the last few weeks.
Soon, we'd be heading out for the day while my Christa showed up for lessons. I'd be stuck cleaning up more of the mess from the night before, hoping to god that freak with the barbed wire on his face kept his distance.
One more week. I told myself I could do it. With a few more mornings like this, maybe I could. And maybe – just maybe – being his old lady wasn't half bad.
VI: Escape Plan (Brass)
Fuck. I did it. I really made up my mind, ready to leave behind everything I'd given my life to since I turned eighteen. Ready to turn on the brotherhood that was never anything but a f*cking illusion.
Sitting at the table for church the next day was surreal.
Fang came in and took his seat at the head, red as molten steel. When Crack snuck in behind him, moving like an animal with its tail between its legs, I knew he'd broken the news about the cartel hit in SoCal.
The room was stuffy, tense with brothers waiting to hear the Prez go off like f*cking dynamite. Instead, he picked up the petrified bear claw, raking its nails just right on the table. Sounded like some * teacher scratching chalkboard.
Guys covered their ears and groaned, including me. We only stopped when he slammed the thing so hard on the wood I thought the whole table was gonna go up in splinters.
“All right, you bastards, listen up! Hope you all enjoyed Lipstick Night, 'cause it's gonna be the last time you f*ckers got enough free time to get your cocks sucked for a good long while. Half this room was holding out on me about San Diego. You motherf*ckers must think I'm stupid or incompetent. Which is it?”
His hard eyes shot to Crack, then Blackjack next to him, slowly moving down the ranks of brothers. When they landed on me, Fang blinked, peeling his lips back in an angry snarl. It was the same ferocious smile I'd seen before I crashed out on the floor, and I remembered those two scared whores with him.
“Well? Clearly, I've lost your f*cking faith, or I'd be getting my intel without *s sealing their lips.”
“Fang...” Crack folded his hands and leaned toward him, but froze the instant the Prez shot him the evilest eye I'd ever seen.
“Shut the f*ck up. Both you *s.” Fang's head snapped back to Blackjack. “I'm gonna give you one chance to call a no confidence vote for President. Everybody in this room's gonna have their say. If I walk outta here still holding the claw, then I expect to have everything flowing to me the instant it happens. And I mean abso-f*cking-lutely everything – even if it makes me want to tear this place upside down. This club is dysfunctional – f*cked – when the head doesn't know the f*cking tail's on fire.”
Nobody moved. Fang had been the national Prez since...f*ck, I didn't even know. Decades.
I wasn't sure what to think. The pale, flat expression on Rabid's face next to me said my brother was just as confused as me. This shit was unprecedented, and now we were gonna see if anybody had the balls to threaten removal the safe and easy way, or if this was some kinda f*cking trick.
“Prez, in the interests of full disclosure, I think everybody ought to know about Tacoma –“ Blackjack started to speak, but Fang cut him off with another table rocking slam of the bear claw.
“They don't need to know shit 'til they decide if I'm gonna lead, or if some other cocksucker wants to sit on this mountain of shit. Come on, *. Be a man.” His eyes were dark, intense, drilling into our old Enforcer's.
Finally, Blackjack stood up, his gray hair flopping on his shoulders. “Fine. All right, everybody, we're gonna take a vote on No Confidence for the sitting Prez of the Sacramento charter and acting Prez of Redding. If Fang's deemed to have lost our faith, then we'll have to elect a new man to head the club. Not just our charter, but for the entire Grizzlies MC in the whole twelve state area.”
Fang rolled his eyes. “Fucking get on with it. Here, Sarge.”
The Prez sneered as he passed the bear claw to Blackjack. As Enforcer, it was his job to carry out a vote like this.
My brain was on f*cking fire. I couldn't decide if this was a blessing or one helluva curse. If Fang was removed – and that was one big fat if – the club would be in so much chaos it'd be a cakewalk moving Missy and her sis north. Shit, even I could slip away in the craziness if I wanted to, assuming the cartel didn't crash the power struggle and burn us all alive.
Blackjack gripped the bear claw. He looked us up and down, letting his eyes linger on Rabid and I.
“Let's do it, brothers. Starting at the head of the table. Every man here gets a vote except the Prez, an aye or a nay. I'll keep count. Crack?”
The VP was the first man up. Thirty pairs of eyes turned toward him. Fuck, the first few votes were bound to set the precedent.
The only way Fang was gonna be removed was if anybody had the balls to effectively spit in his face. And I wasn't sure anybody here had the balls. Dammit. If only the charter allowed these kinda f*cking votes to go by secret ballot instead.
My heart stopped. I forgot to breathe. For a second, I thought he was really gonna do it, thought Crack was gonna vote aye for his own selfish ass reasons.