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“That’s not all,” Cutter continued. “Due to some serious health issues, I may not be with you brothers for much longer. As it turns out, I don’t have a whole lot of road ahead of me.”

“Bullshit, Cutter! Can’t nothin’ kill you!” a Road Captain named Wolf shouted, with cheers from the crowd.

“I appreciate that, boys, I do, but I’m afraid it’s true. I don’t have long and I’m too sick to ride. We all know the code. If you can’t ride, you can’t hold office, so it’s time for the staff to go to someone else. Normally, that person would be the club’s VP, but we all know that Big Frank here is a lazy bastard and would do a horrible job,” Cutter said, to laughs all around. “Plus, apparently he’s worn out his knees doing… God knows what.”

The crowd laughed again as Big Frank raised his hands in mock resignation. I laughed too, but my head was throbbing. Partly from Cricket’s right cross, but mostly from the mental strain of trying to figure out what the fuck was going on here.

The crowd of assembled Saints murmured among themselves as they too processed the news. This was a big deal in our world. Cutter wasn’t only our president, but the club’s founder, and a change in leadership at this level clearly meant huge changes for the club itself. Knowing all of this made our earlier conversation even more puzzling. Cutter and I had never agreed completely about the future of the Burning Saints. I felt the club’s rules and policies werearchaic and going to get us all killed, and Cutter made it clear that my input on such matters was not wanted. I countered, he exiled me to Savannah.

Cutter fixed his gaze directly on me, causing me to sweat through my borrowed t-shirt, before saying, “I’ll announce who Red Dog’s staff will be going to very soon. I’ll be meeting with the presidents of the Savannah and Florida chapters soon, but I wanted to tell you all face-to-face, beforehand. Please rest assured that I have this club’s best interest in mind, and that I will continue to serve and protect this club until my dying day. I love every one of you brothers and it’s been an honor to ride with you.”

Warthog raised his beer and shouted, “To our commander and chief! Long live President Cutter!” and the place went ape shit.

The next several hours contained some of the most violent debauchery I’d ever seen at any club gathering. Ladies showed up, as did a few cases of the good stuff. The Saints were in a state of mourning, and sex, booze, drugs, and rock and roll were gonna help ease the pain, even if it killed them. I spent most of the evening catching up with old friends and matching them shot for shot…for shot. I don’t normally drink in order to get obliterated, but I was bound, and fucking determined to do everything in my power to erase this nightmare of a day.

Minus

The DEMONSwho’dcooked up last night’s events had taken up residency inside my skull. They jabbed me awake with their pitchforks and set up some sort of sadistic slide show of last night’s events. Strange scenes played out in my mind like fragmented flickers, and I could barely make sense of what was real, and what was imagined. The last thing I clearly remembered was a tray of shot glasses, the karaoke machine firing up, and dancing with two very handsy women. Shit, for all I knew, I was currently in bed with one…orboth of them. I was afraid to open my eyes and look.

“Good morning, lil’ cowpoke!” Clutch burst through the door.

“What the fuck Nicky? What time is it, man?” Every rayof sunshine in the room felt like a paper cut to my corneas as I forced my eyes open.

“It’s nine-thirty,” he said, setting a cup of coffee, and an iPad on the nightstand next to the bed.

I pulled the covers back and checked the bed for anyone else. Thankfully, I was its only occupant. Not only was I alone, but I was still fully clothed. “Thank God for small fuckin’ favors,” I groaned out before sitting up, and grabbing the coffee.

“What are you looking for?” Clutch asked.

“Not what. Whom,” I replied.

“Nah, man. You passed out here all alone. Not for lack of trying from a couple sexy mammas, I might add,” he said with a sly smile.

“Yeah, I remember… sort of.”

“Shit, man, they wanted to bring you back here together, but you were havin’ none of that. They left all hot and bothered. What’s up? You find Jesus down there in the Bible belt or something?” he asked.

“Where exactly ishere?” I asked.

“My place.”

“Your place? Why didn’t I crash at the Sanctuary?”

“Things were getting a little wild back there,” Clutch said with a chuckle. “And you were hitting the bottle pretty fuckin’ hard. Harder than I can ever remember seeing you hit it.”

“It was a rough night. What can I say?”

“Yeah, well that rough night left you in rough shape, so I brought you back here. Besides, I didn’t want to make you stay in a bunkhouse at the Sanctuary, so welcome to Casa de Clutch.”

“Thanks brother, I appreciate it. What’s this?” I asked, motioning towards the iPad.

“That is all the info I could find out about Viper and his crew. Once you brighten up a little, you and I are gonna ride out and pay him a little visit,” he said.

“How are we gonna ride? I don’t have a bike out here anymore,” I asked.

“Apparently, Cutter took care of that,” Clutch replied.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

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