Savage Love (Back Down Devil MC #7)(2)

“Call a meeting,” Miller said. “I want the table full.” He then looked down at Griffin’s seat. “Well, almost full.”

Gaige left the conference room.

In a matter of seconds, all the guys started to pile into the room. They all went to their seats, standing. Nobody sat until Miller said so. They were all standing out of respect for Griffin.

Miller grabbed his chair and pushed it away. He then nodded. “You all sit. Right now.”

To his left was VP Gaige. To his right was Blaine. A loyal and sick in the head man. Blaine’s face looked drawn and hurt. He stared at the empty seat, his hands made into fists.

Then there was the rest of the table members. Nate, Shay, Erik, Landon, Jace. All of them had been through hell and back for Back Down Devil. All of them were ready to go right back into the flames again.

“I know we have revenge in our hearts,” Miller said. “We have our fingers on the trigger. I know we’re all telling ourselves the life sentence behind bars is worth it to just get the motherf*cker. For that, I praise you all. We’d die for each other. We’d die for our fallen brother. Just like he did for us. Sometimes we face questions that have no answers. Maybe that’s the hardest part of living this life. The way we can run alongside death, giving her the finger, and yet she strikes when we least expect it.”

Miller let the words filter through the room. He glanced at the empty seat. Tradition would have the MC go through a mourning period. They’d get angry, pick fights, drink a lot, f*ck women, and work through the pain. Circumstances were very different now. The seat needed to get filled sooner than later. To gear up for what was about to go down.

There were words Miller wanted to say but couldn’t. Because there were too many goddamn ears.

“So now we have to go face one of our brother’s last rides. Griffin gets his rest. His memory will live on throughout this clubhouse forever. While we can’t ever forget him and what he gave to all of us, we can’t hold on. I have to speak harsh words as this club’s President and hear this f*cking clear as day. We can’t hold on. We need to let go and look forward.”

Miller motioned and everyone stood up. He pointed to Griffin’s seat. Everyone at the table started to nod, clap, cheer. Everyone started to bump fists, hug, anything to tighten up the loose ends of brotherhood. They all knew the next bullet could be for any of them. Christ, Miller knew it in his heart that he was just a foot away from Griffin when the bullet flew. It could have been Miller. Maybe it should have been.

The table stayed active with everyone cheering, talking, listening to Miller’s words. Miller knew if he didn’t keep the guys under control all hell would break loose. Right now it was about control, then revenge.

As the guys started to pass around a drink, Miller turned and motioned for both Gaige and Blaine.

They huddled close.

“I would never doubt you,” Miller said to Gaige. “But we’re sure about this?”

“One hundred f*cking percent. I watched it happen.”

“We’ll need a cut to make this right,” Miller said.

“Let’s get through it first,” Blaine said.

“You’re good?” Miller asked Blaine.

“Just emptied my dick out in some woman out there. Wild thing out there. Right in the hallway. Probably still standing there, dripping.”

“Good to know,” Gaige said.

“Back on topic,” Miller said. “You know what you have to do?”

“I’m all over it.”

“You have to take care of your breathing,” Miller said. “Take it easy and not panic.”

“Hey, there’s only one thing that could ever make me panic,” Blaine said. He put a hand to Miller’s shoulder and grinned. “You know what that is?”

“What, Blaine?” Miller asked.

“Why’d you ask?” Gaige groaned.

“The only thing that could ever make me panic is if my cock couldn’t get hard. Anything else? Bring it the f*ck on.”

Miller nodded.

Bring it the f*ck on.

That was the plan. And one thing Miller knew for sure.

Bullets were about to fly.





two.



Miller stood and stared down at the black coffin. Sleek and shiny, the final resting place for Griffin. It was something to look at a coffin. A reminder that everyone would end up there. Some sooner than others. Some of the guys would get a full life in the MC and then hand in their cuts for something else. Good for them. They could live on with high blood pressure, heart attacks, memory loss, or any of the scary shit that waited for those who lived normal.

Some of the guys would ride with their cuts on right in the fire and die proud.

In the back of Miller’s mind he thought about Ella. Chief Jerry’s wife. There was a time when he called her Anne, her middle name, because it was fun to tease her. There was a time when Miller took her into the mountains on his motorcycle, camped out all night, and let the heat between them burn hotter than the fire they roasted marshmallows over.

Making fists, Miller felt a tightness in his chest.

All he ever wanted was a good, easy life for Ella. She was worthy of that.

Miller checked his cell and then the time.

This was protocol right now. The President gets a few minutes with the coffin and the body before the rest of the guys come through to do the same. They were in a small cathedral in the middle of the cemetery. The rest of the guys should have been closer but Miller ordered them away. He ordered them up to the top of the ridge, to wait near Griffin’s grave, along with other members who had died wearing the cut.