Page 127 of Paladin's Hell

Pyro grunts. “So that’s where the missing shit was going to. Reckon the club probably owns most of that Dyna Glide.”

I reckon he could well be right.

Hell bangs the gavel, his face set. “No more fuckin’ around. Let’s move this on.”

“I vote aye,” Lizard says immediately. “Haven’t changed my mind.”

“I haven’t announced what we’re voting on, yet, Liz. Give me a fuckin’ chance,” Hell inputs drily. A ripple of chuckles goes around the table; he waits for it to die down. “Brothers, despite all the evidence against him, this is a serious situation facing us now. Haven’t had a vote like this for thirty-six years, never needed to. Never been a traitor to the club since Black Plate, Blackie. Whatever your immediate reaction has been, think on your answer. We’re discussing killing a patched member.” Again he pauses, and looks around, looking as presidential as I’ve ever seen him. All eyes watch, a pin dropping would sound loud. “One motion on the table. Do we dispatch Taser to meet Satan?”

Demon starts off with an ‘aye’, others quickly follow. I say it fast when it gets to my turn. Shooter gives a nod, but he knows his vote won’t be counted, he’s not part of this chapter. Aye’s ring out. Thunder’s is the next-to-last voice, then Hellfire doesn’t hesitate. He bangs the gavel and turns to Buzzard.

“So voted. Taser meets Satan. Record that, Buzz.”

The treasurer holds the record book up to show it’s already done.

When Hellfire raises the gavel, Bomber clears his throat. “Prez, I’d like to make a suggestion.” A head dip in his direction gives him permission. Bomber leans forward, looking down the table at me. “Pal, here. Well, I don’t feel we gave him enough of a welcome. Didn’t know how to treat him. A member, young, yet to prove himself to us. Nothing like taking on a new prospect, in Pal’s case we were expected to accept him immediately. Taser fed into our mistrust of him, his first days weren’t made easy.”

Embarrassed I feel my cheeks burning, I shrug to suggest it wasn’t a thing that concerned me, and exchange a quick look with Shooter. His commiserating glance in return shows he understands how I’ve had it hard.

Bomber resumes. “We’re all hurt by Taser’s actions. Ingot was a fuckin’ good brother. I’m angry Taser was responsible, and while his admission does bring closure, I came to terms with losing my brother after the funeral.”

There are shakes of heads, perplexing looks as brothers wonder where he’s going with this.

“Paladin here, he had the most injury. His ol’ lady, already recovering from a traumatic past, was kidnapped and left to die. It was fuckin’ luck we found her in time. It could so easily have been today we were mournin’ her death. I propose Paladin is the one to dispatch Taser.”

It’s hard to tell how many others agree. Me? Yeah, I’d like to have that responsibility, but I’m just a lowly member, a newcomer at that.

“Seconded,” Demon calls out.

“Agreed,” calls Pyro.

“Pal’s proven himself. I’m proud to call him Brother.” That from Cad.

As other comments go around the table, that glow inside me returns. There’s no dissenting voices before Hellfire raises the gavel. “Paladin deals the fatal blow,” he announces. “Now meetin’ fuckin’ over.”

As the brothers leave the room, Shooter holds me back. “You okay with this?”

I can’t even believe he’s asking. “It was my fuckin’ girl,” I hiss. “What the fuck do you think?”

Bomber taps me on the shoulder, pointing me in the direction of the back of the club. We walk through the old and decaying buildings of the steel works until we reach the desert behind. There are targets set up here, for shooting practice.

I wait, alongside my brothers, until at last Taser appears. How he’s managing to come forward on his own two feet is a miracle considering his blood loss and the way he’s been worked over.

Demon and Mace drag him to a target and tie him against the post. Hellfire nods at me. I take my gun from my cut and approach.

Taser raises his head and spits on the ground. “Fuckin’ pussy. You’ll never amount to anything. You haven’t got the guts to shoot an unarmed man.”

He’s wrong. I have. “This is for Jayden, and for the club.” I say forcefully, stepping forward. “On behalf of my brothers, I’m sending you to Satan.” I pull the trigger and the bullet goes straight into his brain.

We leave it until the next day before mopping up the rest of the mess, brothers needing the night to come to terms with the betrayal. His work done here, able to leave knowing my new brothers were now at my back, Shooter could have returned to Tucson. But when Prez came up with a suggestion Shooter had grinned, and quickly accepted.

The whole club wanted to go. So, early in the morning, fourteen bikes rumbled out through the gates, and off on their fifty-mile journey. When we approached the housing development, Shooter zoomed past and took lead spot, and it was only he who parked on the driveway.

This time, proudly wearing his Satan’s Devils cut, he approaches the front door.

It’s opened fast. Fourteen bikes and a truck have probably woken up half the neighbourhood.

“You!” Drayton, Taser’s cousin and accomplice, steps out. “You were the one who was here the other day, asking about my bike.” His eyes flick nervously to where the rest of us are parked in a semi-circle around his house.

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