Page 18 of Johny B

“That won’t be necessary, Mammoth.” Smoke sits upright in his seat. “I’m not convinced. My contempt for you is no secretJB, and however much I’d take great pleasure in having your sorry ass obliterated off the face of this earth, you’re still a brother. A Young Outlaw, and I hold Cannon in great regard, and even if I thought that this charade would work, it would be too big of an ask.”

“Give me twenty-four hours,” I push at Smoke. “Twenty-four hours, that’s all I’m asking, and I’ll show you how serious I am about helping you and your chapter take down the Death Valley Irish.”

The whole room is silent while we all wait on Smoke.

“We’ll put it to a vote,” he barks. His eyes glide from one side of the table to the other, each of his members giving a ‘Yah or Nay’. Every one of them gives me the chance to prove myself. Mainly because not one of them has any alternative ideas other than to go in blasting, with a substantial risk of the club taking more casualties.

“You’ve got until 18:00 hours tomorrow, JB.” With that, the gavel comes down against the wood. “Church over, we meet again tomorrow, so get your thinking caps on, because when JB crashes and burns, we will need a realistic plan of action.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I mumble under my breath while filtering out with the rest of the brothers.

“JB,” Mammoth grabs me by the arm and marches me across the communal area and straight out the front door. He doesn’t stop until we’re off the porch and a few feet away from the clubhouse. He releases me with a shove. “What the fuck was that? Talk about blindsiding me.”

“You’re the one who told me I should do something to prove myself to Smoke.”

“Not something so fucking extreme.” He hisses between his teeth, doing his best not to attract anyone else’s attention. He flexes his hands, clenched fists to stretched fingers, a sure sign that he’s trying not to punch the fuck out of me. He lets out ahuge sigh. “You should have spoken to me first.” He lets out a huge sigh. “How the hell would I have explained that to Prez, if Smoke had taken you up on your offer?”

“Oh, Smoke will agree,” I say with a grin. “So, you better start practicing your negotiation skills.”

I turn away, leaving Mammoth gobsmacked, gaining enough distance between us before he gets the chance to say another word.

I hop on my ride, power her up and head off of the compound. I’ve got shit to do and only twenty-four hours to get it done.

Chapter

Fourteen

Johny B

My skin stings like a motherfucker and if it wasn’t for the heat of the day, I’d be heading for a head cold.

Duke, the owner of the tattoo joint, was reluctant to take me as a drop in. That was until he’d he paused from inking the pretty blonde chick’s chest, lifted his head up and saw the brick of cash that I had in my hand. I stepped a little closer to check out his work. The pair of pink lips that were right above the nipple of the chick’s left tit was crazy realistic, right down to the glossy sheen and pearly whites that were peeking between the plump mouth.

Duke still wasn’t convinced, so I waited the few minutes it took for him to finish what he was doing before I grabbed him by the forearm, and dragged him through a door at the back of the room. Which turned out to be the cleaning closet, but needs must.

When I explained to him who I was, a Young Outlaw, and that the work needed to be done that day, off the books and with the utmost discretion, he was more than amicable. I returnedlater, but instead of going through the front door, I hung around the back and waited for the shop to close. When Duke pushed open the back door to let me in, it took a double take for him to realize it was me. My hair, now shaved at the sides, was barely a quarter inch on the top, a dramatic change from the thick dark head of hair that I’d favored not more than a couple of hours before. Gone was my highly groomed quiff, that has been my pride and joy since I was a teenager. The bags I had clutched in my hands contained thick-rimmed glasses, V-necked t-shirts and skintight pants, that normally, I wouldn’t be seen dead in. In fact, I was a little concerned that my future chances of producing any decent baby making juice might be at risk, with how snug the crotch of the pants were when I’d tried them on in the clothes store.

The transformation is incredible, even if I say it myself. No longer do I resemble a trendy throwback from the 1950s with virgin skin. And after Duke had finished inking me up, I barely recognized myself when I checked out my reflection in the studio mirror. Inked angel wings wrap around my neck, but instead of the center being an angelic goddess’s body, in its place is an ornate cross. On my upper right arm is a pretty basic Celtic design. Although my skin is still flushed in places from the work, Duke has managed to make the ink seem faded, like an older tattoo that I’ve had on my skin for several years and not fresh, giving my overall appearance more authenticity. The work that he’s done within the time restraint is impeccable, and he was generously rewarded with a chunk of hundred-dollar bills.

My main concern now is whether the Young Outlaw’s compound is under the watchful eye of the DVI.

Without a doubt, it’s reasonably easy to don my lid, wear a high neck sweater, my cut and ride in on my bike, because from a distance I don’t look any different. I have no baggage. All the other items I grabbed while out, are waiting on me in a room I’verented in a cheap motel on the other side of town. But getting past whoever is on guard at the front gate, which is now repaired and keeping the unwanted out, might prove to be more of an issue.

Rex is manning the gate when I arrive, and thankfully a quick glance my way is enough for him to release the gate and wave me through. Rex had been around Velvet’s while I was holed up there and, being a brother, was privy to me being there. If it had been any of the other Nevada brothers, then I might have not been so lucky.

I cut the engine once I get in front of the clubhouse, kick out the stand and dismount. There’s Diesel and one of the other guys on their knees, hands covered in grease and oil from working on an old chopper. I can see Mammoth leaning against one of the porch uprights, chewing on a fat cigar while chatting shit with Stone, but not one of them pays me a second glance as they go about their business. Yet, as soon as I pull my lid off, Stone is flying down the steps, taking them two at a time. Shoulders tight, face like thunder as he marches towards me.

“Hey, who the fuck are you?” he hollers when he gets closer. “Some stupid fuck if you think it’s okay to walk in here and stay fucking breathing.”

I drop my head. Not because he scares me. Well, he does a bit because he’s a huge fucker, but I’m trying to hide the smirk on my face. When I lift my head again, I find Stone up close and personal, raging like a bull.

“Mammoth knows me real well,” I snigger in his face before I train my gaze on my Road Captain, who is close on Stone’s heels.

“The hell I do…” he wavers, then takes another huge stride forward. His brows knit together, his eyes mere slits as he focuses on my face. The minute his bearded mouth gapes open, I know that the penny’s dropped. “… fuck. JB. Your hair.”

“Mother… fuckering… shit!” Stone laughs out a gasp.

“That’s nothing.” I shrug my shoulders. “Let’s go inside and find Smoke.”

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