Page 18 of Pound

Pound had one foot out of the door when Granite halted him. “Hold, vice. You can’t go out there half-cocked. If Leone sees you, it puts Meri in danger.”

Granite was right. Leone didn’t recognize his voice when they spoke. If he knew…. He shuddered at the thought.

“I can take the beater and her brother. We’ll blend.” Both Morningstar and Granite nodded at Hound’s suggestion. Hound wasn’t called that because he looked like a dog. He was called that because when he caught a trail, no one could shake him.

“I’ll follow on my bike. If they look like they’re getting squirrelly, I’ll blast past so they relax.” It was a brilliant tactic Pound assumed Whiskey had learned while undercover. Leone had to know they were looking for him, so if an obvious Phantom blew past him, they’d unclench their assholes and thinking they were in the clear.

“Chubs? You’re with Whiskey,” Morningstar ordered. Even better, Leone believed he was smarter than most so to have both the Phantoms and the Travelers miss him would make him cocky.

“Relax, brother.” Taps tried to give him comfort as the men assigned to recon filed out of the clubhouse. “They’ll find her. Can’t watch her reject you if they don’t.” It was Taps being Taps.

“What’s my odds in the pool?” Pound had to ask. He needed the distraction.

“Not great, that’s for sure. I let the Travelers in on it too, so I’m rooting for you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really. Not that I’m that convinced of your prowess, but because I’m the only one and I stand to clean up if you have any game at all.”

Pound rolled his eyes and motioned to the prospect behind the bar. He poured him a draft and set one down in front of Taps and Morningstar too.

“Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“Anytime,” Taps responded downright cheerily. “However, if you’re up for a few pointers—”

Granite popped Taps in the back of the head and stole his beer. Motioning for him to get lost.

“Whatever.” Taps sulked. “But I tell you, Carlos gets all the ladies. So, if you decide you need some help, I’ll be there for you.” Taps turned his gaze to his own crotch as he walked away after flinging a little rubber chicken across the bar to the bottles on the wall. “Right, Carlos.”

“Have you had that one age tested? I swear he can’t be older than twelve. He looks like an adult, but he damn sure doesn’t act like one.” Morningstar angled his mug toward Taps's retreating form before taking a swig.

“It’s on my to-do list,” Granite quipped.

Sitting in the Iron Travelers clubhouse bar between the presidents of both clubs was an intimidating seat. Pound knew the fatherly advice was about to come by the bucketsful. For once, he didn’t dread it.

“So, Granite says you claimed her without so much as a handy? And a brother’s sister at that.” He made a whistling sound through his teeth before tipping his jar—yes, draft beer in a jar—back.

“Impulsive, I guess. That’s me. Leap before looking,” Pound quipped, causing both presidents to laugh heartily.

They emptied their drinks before the prospect refilled them.

“Yeah, impulsive, that’s you.” The dry comment was typical Granite.

“But seriously, Pound, I’ve known you what now, a decade? You must feel something pretty strong for this b— woman to do that. I’d bet you’ve never done anything impulsive in your life, so you gotta ask yourself why now.”

Pound barked a laugh. He’d been ridiculously impulsive, but that was before. “I’ve done nothing but since.”

“Yeah, and what’s the answer,” Morningstar grilled him.

“I don’t know. It just felt right.” And it did. The words came from somewhere deep inside him.

Granite raised the jar and asked, “Then you’re asking yourself the wrong question. Quit asking yourself why you claimed her but why it felt right.”

He looked at his president like he’d sprouted a goddamn dildo like a unicorn horn.

“Because… she’s just Meri. She’s strong but not overbearing. She’s opinionated but always willing to listen to the other side. She doesn’t make snap judgments. Look at how she handled her baby brother joining the Phantoms. She’s hard enough to handle my bullshit, that’s for sure, but she’s soft enough to be a fucking phenomenal mom. She’d take on a whole-ass MC to protect those she loves if she had to. Her kids are fucking great. I think I promised Crissy a chicken, and fuck, I look forward to arguing with Meri about that.”

Pound was suffering diarrhea of the mouth. He’d held his emotions for so long once the dam was broken, everything just flowed. He polished off his jar of beer and waved off another. He wanted to be sharp when the moment came to get Meri.

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