Leave a Trail (Signal Bend #7)(126)
There was a time when a whole-club run to Los Angeles would have been the highlight of Badger’s year—hell, maybe even his life. That time had passed. Now, he had a pregnant wife at home, and even though this trip and what it meant was f*cking awesome, a wide cord of worry bound his head up. No reason he should be worried. Adrienne was in her second trimester, and everything was going the way it should. But he was worried. What if something happened, and he was two thousand miles away?
But this run was more important than his irrational fears. For the first time in its existence, the Night Horde MC was welcoming a new charter—Night Horde Southern California. That warranted a full-club run, and he was the VP, a thought that still floored him. Even the Prospects, including Nolan, had joined them, riding in the van behind their bikes, carrying, among other things, their gear, new kuttes for the SoCal charter, and a large metal Flaming Mane for their new clubhouse.
Even with the mother charter’s—that was them!—support, it had taken the SoCal contingent some serious time to get their shit straight and pull together the resources they needed to open a clubhouse and start a new bike business. Untangling from the Scorpions had been complicated, despite the vacuum created by the implosion of that mother charter. The Horde had withheld the patch until they were fully ready to go.
But they were solid now, finding and rehabbing a property that easily housed both the business and the clubhouse. About forty miles east of the city rather than in Los Angeles itself. Apparently, that was a good thing, with a little more room to maneuver both physically and in terms of their business opportunities.
Badger figured they knew what they were talking about, but to him it seemed crowded as hell from about a hundred miles outside the city. Holy f*ck, there were a lot of people in California. And not a damn one of them paid any attention to what they were doing on the road. It would be bitterly ironic if the Horde ended up a giant grease stain on a California freeway, on their way to what would be, in the end, a f*cking party.
They made it to the clubhouse whole and undented. The Horde SoCal had a city block on the edge of a town in the LA suburbs. Their new custom bike business, Virtuoso Cycles, had opened that week, with a client list carried over from the previous business.
As they rode up, Hoosier and Bart came through the clubhouse doors onto the sidewalk. Once they’d parked and dismounted, all the men embraced. As Show, Badger, and Dom clasped Bart, they all grinned maniacally. Even Show. Bart was coming back into the Horde fold. Years before, he’d given up his patch to save them. To have him back, even with Isaac and Len away, felt like the cycle of death they’d been stuck in was finally ending. Bart was back. Isaac and Len would come home eventually. And then the Horde would be strong and right.
Hoosier led them all into the clubhouse, sending their own Prospects out to help Kellen, Nolan, and Thumper unpack the van. Taking in the brand new clubhouse, Badger stopped and laughed. Old or new, he guessed it didn’t matter. An MC clubhouse always looked like a rec room in somebody’s ratty basement. It didn’t smell right yet, but it would soon. The paint here was fresh, the walls blood red and the floor a kind of silvery grey, the woodwork black. There were no gouges in the walls or floor yet. But the furniture was thrift store and yard sale stuff, the shit nobody would have heartburn about if it got torn up, or puked on, flattened during a brawl, burned with a dropped cigar, or who knew what else. The décor was beer and motorcycle signs, neon or metal, and pinup posters—the pinups in this front room, at least, were sort of dressed. Pool table, video games, and, here in LA, a foosball table, and a stripper pole in one corner.
Where some MCs had a stripper pole like this, the Night Horde Missouri had a fancy chess set. Or they used to. Show had packed it up when Isaac and Len had gone away. It was the first thing he’d done when he’d returned from leaving them with the Feds.
The SoCal crew had already voted to take the patch, so this trip really was for a party. They got a tour of the business and the clubhouse, and then they went into the SoCal Keep. The table in the middle of this room was just a table—solid oak, substantial, but just a table. The men for whom this new clubhouse was home sat around it; the Missouri Horde stood behind. Hoosier stood next to Show. In a way, this was Show’s meeting.
“I’m not one to make a speech. But I’ll say we’ve been on a hard road together. We fought hard, and we all lost a lot.” He nodded, and Tommy came over with an armload of kuttes. “What this means to me— creating this charter, free and clear of all our old bullshit, is a new start. And I’m glad we’re starting together.” He picked up the kutte on top of the stack, already with the President’s patch sewn onto the right breast. He turned it around, showing the Flaming Mane, buttressed by the words Night Horde on the top rocker and Southern California on the bottom. Then he held it up by the shoulders, and Hoosier slid his arms into it.
oOo
When they came out of the Keep, all the old ladies and their families were there. Riley was there with Lexi, her and Bart’s little girl. Badger thought for a minute—she was about two. A pretty little thing, with soft blond curls and light eyes. Riley clearly was pregnant again.
He thought to go over and say ‘hi,’ but then Bart dropped his arm over his shoulders. “Hey, brother.”
Bart nodded at Badge’s VP patch and then at his own. “Who’d a thunk, huh?”