Page 5 of Thunder

So, I made my fight.

“How’d I do?”

“You’re shitting me, right?”

“No, Cap, not shitting you. I remember leaving my apartment and saying bye to Lexi and Fern, but nada after that.”

“Oh, shit. Well, I can’t help you out with anything that happened before the fight, but in the cage, you were a beast. You were landing some good hits, but something distracted you at the end of two and she got that temple tap in. You fell to your knees, but I got you up, and you refused to quit. I was ready to call it and considering how your eyes look right now, maybe I should have.”

Andy interrupted. “Did she get another hit on me?”

“Nope.”

“Then pulling me wouldn’t have changed anything. So how did I avoid her in three then?”

“There was no three. You begged me for twenty seconds of three, but you only needed nine. You flew across the cage like a fucking video game fighter and landed that kick to her neck and she was done. I got you to the dressing room and then here. I told them you were attacked in the lot by your car. No need to expose anything we don’t need to.”

“Of course, I just don’t know if Ozzy will ever give me another fight.” Ozzy played rough and tough, but he had a soft spot for his patrons and fighters. As soon as he heard concussion, he wouldn’t book her for a really long time, if ever.

“Probably not, but a fighter’s life ain’t all it’s cracked up to be. Besides, you damage those hands and the world loses your art.”

Andy was taken aback. “How do you know what my day job is?” She’d never hidden the fact she worked at Horns & Halo; she just didn’t actively recruit at the gym. Mostly because she’d been taught not to shit where you eat, but also because she was booked months in advance.

“Anyone who gets a fight at Ozzy’s is vetted. Plus, this is Vegas, locals know locals and off-strip gold mines, but we keep that shit to ourselves. Let the tourists have the boulevard, we get the rest.”

Cap wasn’t wrong. Maybe fighting wasn’t for her. She made decent money at Horns, so most would say her need to fight was all her daddy or boyfriend issues, anyway.

3

THUNDER

PRESENT DAY

The room was more crowded than usual. Granite ran the club in his way. Most meetings were open to any fully patched member unless they were voting or discussing something for officers only. Just no cell phones, no computers, and no discussing what was said inside the room with those outside.

It was one of the many things Thunder liked about his brotherhood. They were discussing plans for Billie’s birthday. It was Bullseye’s first year with the club and Granite wanted them to feel as welcomed as possible.

Thunder dragged his attention away from the carved surface of the table.Three years with the club and the damn thing still fascinates the shit out of me.Thunder asked Granite about it once when he first took a seat as an officer.

“It was the darndest thing. Some big, bearded fucker I met at a rally down in Florida walked right up to me and slapped his card in my hand. He saw the president patch and said he carved shit. He wanted to carve a Phantoms table for fucking free, but I’d have to pay to transport it. He seemed like a decent guy, so I agreed.”

“Seriously? Some stranger just walked up to the president of the fucking Phantoms? What did Pound or Taps have to say about it?”

“Nothing. We’ve always known he likes to feel things out for himself,”Pound had said as he entered the room that day.

“Even Sully was there.” Granite had said. “He sized him up, nodded once and went for a beer. He’s the best judge of character I know. Anyway, I forgot all about it until months later, I get a text with the transport information.” Granite slammed the rest of his beer and leaned forward to run his fingers along one of the guns.

“Big fucking flatbed truck pulls up with ten dudes to deliver it. They were struggling too. Handed me the damn bill of laden and I about shit my pants. Table was free but the shipping fucking put a dent in my account. Stuck with the damn thing ever since because it ain’t going nowhere.”

Thunder pulled his head out of his ass when the voices discussing Phantoms’ business trailed off and all eyes were on Taps.

“Dude, seriously stop that shit. Can’t you just eat a donut like a normal human being?” Prez lobbed the question to his SGT at Arms and looked away, shaking his head.

“Normal is boring.” That was all he stated before returning to his breakfast, but threw in some moaning and groaning because, well, he’s Taps. “Besides, you banned me from bringing my little rubber chickens to meetings, so what else can I do, but eat.”

Those fucking chickens were on Thunder’s last nerve. No matter where they were or what was going on, there was a seventy five percent chance they’d get beaned with one if Taps was around.

“Stop tongue fucking that damn thing and let us know if you ordered the cake for Bullseye’s ol’ lady’s party?”

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