Page 4 of Pope’s Purgatory

That beautiful laughter rings out again as she struts that sweet ass over to where her sister’s sitting.

The anticipation of having those cheeks painted with my handprints as I fuck her pussy slithers up my spine, and I lick my lips while adjusting my hard dick.

For now, I have other business to attend to.

Once all electronics are locked up and the council is seated around the table, I lean back in my chair and start the club meeting. “The piggy didn’t squeal tonight, boys.”

“So, we’re no closer to finding out what the fuck Clink’s deal is?” Joker, our Road Captain, growls.

“He’s a bastard. We know he doesn’t need a fucking reason. This feels personal. We’re being targeted specifically,” I remind them.

“It goes further than us,” Cyanide says. “Anyone know where Gavel is? I’m guessing he’ll have a better insight.”

“Got a call that he was at Tapping It in the ring again.”

I scrub my hands over my face with a groan at D-Bag’s words. “Fuck. He’s still spiraling. Losing Mad Dog fucked our world up, but his the most. Fucking terrified what’s going to happen if he doesn’t get a handle on that anger.”

“Sent Vortex and Blackjack to keep an eye on him,” D-Bag admits, referring to two of our prospects.

Sighing, I lean forward and rest my elbows on the table. “Right. Nothing we can do about him right now. At least he’s keeping it contained to the boxing gym. The last thing we needis for him to cause us more trouble than we’re already facing. Butcher, get Cypher on the phone. Need to know if he’s found Clink’s hiding spot yet.”

Cypher and Bugsy went Nomad when we lost Mad Dog. Fucking hated losing them out of the clubhouse, but they promised to be here anytime I call. Cypher is the club’s only computer whiz, so it was a hit when he took off over the road, but he’s been there along the way, helping our chapter with the Steel Slayers when he can.

Clink went underground with most of his club when he started this war with us. Right now, he’s got his brothers doing the dirty work, but he’ll come at us head-on soon. He pops up to start shit, then ducks back into whatever hole he’s landed in. Cypher’s been on his ass since the last time he stuck his head out. Clink is cautious and smart as fuck, though, and makes sure there’s no trail leading back to him. Each time we believe he’s back at his club in Stormy Ridge, he manages to evade our lookouts and escape again.

Butcher lumbers to his feet and out to the lockbox I tossed him the keys to so he can retrieve his phone. It’s kept outside the chapel doors and guarded by one of the prospects during Church. The only one with a key is the acting President, which would be me.

The last thing we need is some motherfucker grabbing our phones and having access to shit they don’t need access to.

“While we’re waiting on him, Pretty Boy, how’s business?” I ask.

He glances up from his computer screen. “Right as a whistle. The Body Shop and Claspers Logistics are running solid. New clients coming in every day and bringing that cha-ching, baby. Tapping It has a few fights on the books that’ll bring in the green. Gavel’s headlining one of them,” he admits sheepishly.

I nod. “Let him. It’ll do him good. How’s the washers looking at Pound of Fresh?”

Anyone listening in would assume we were talking about the washers at the laundromat. We are, just not the ones they’re thinking of. I’m talking about our “washers” who make our dirty money clean again.

“Running in tip-top shape. One of them had a little mishap, but I went in and fixed it,” he replies with a wide grin.

“Butcher, how’s Saint's Garage? You bring in any new mechanics?”

“Got a couple of interviews this week. ‘Til then, I’m doing most of the work Tito left behind,” he replies.

“Keep me updated. If you need any help, just let me know and I’ll come in.”

“All good for now, Prez.”

“I’m still waiting for The Serpent to call me back about our shipment of weapons. He’s waiting for the all-clear from the port contact on his end. Malice, was there anything else you wanted added to our shipment before they move them out?”

“Naw. The armory is full of everything else. They got us the AK-47s, the crates of grenades, and the C-4?”

I nod, confirming.

He shrugs. “Then we’re all set.”

“All right. What else is in the books, Pretty Boy?”

“Got a few brothers who haven’t paid their dues. Sent them a friendly reminder.”

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