Page 36 of Blue

He didn’t want Angela to be sent to Nástrond. He could never bring himself to vote that way. Running his fingers over his enforcer patch, his chest tightened. If Odin’s Fury agreed to it, he’d demand to be the one to send her. If for no other reason than to show her mercy.

He didn’t love Angela like that. All his romantic love was for Blue. Angela just held a different place in his life. His children needed her.

Hanging his head and closing his eyes, he let out a heavy breath. He should’ve handled this sooner. If he had, maybe Angela wouldn’t have been as desirable a target for Holt.

Who was he kidding? That woman would be bitter until the day she died about the end of their marriage. The wild card of Holt would still be a problem today had he divorced her sooner. Some things were inevitable.

Being unavoidable didn’t make it any less stressful. Angela’s life could still be voted on. He would have to make a case for how much of a threat she wasn’t anymore. He would use Holt’s own words to support his case. Placing the focus on the cop and not Angela was his only hope.

When the gavel came down, it startled Mooky. He’d been so lost in his own thoughts he hadn’t noticed Dash or Clark come into the room. Every seat at the table had an ass in it. Hell, two of the men from the mother chapter stood. It was a damn full house.

What a fucking embarrassment to be the one who caused this meeting.

Out of instinct, his gaze shifted to Cajun. The brother from Louisiana was the closest thing to a best friend he had. Seeing him there, with a smile on his face, should have put him at ease. Cajun would have Mooky’s back.

Flicking his focus down the line, he landed on the newest patched member, Chuckie. He was loyal and good stock. Mooky had depended on him a few times when things got messy on runs. He could count on him again if he needed.

Taking half a swig of beer, Mooky turned to the head of the table. Time to get it over with.

The men focused on their president.

“I hate interrupting a good night with bad business.” Clark glanced toward Mooky briefly before placing the gavel down.

Mooky had never felt more like a disappointment.

“But we have a situation. Some of you have helped me monitor it. Well, it’s looking like it might boil over.”

Rolling his shoulders, Mooky tried to force the shame off his back. He was an enforcer. He needed to face this head on.

“Officer Dylan Holt, fresh out of the academy, had been hanging around Mooky’s ol’ lady.”

“Wife,” Mooky quickly interrupted Clark with the correction. “My wife, not my ol’ lady. I don’t have an ol’ lady. Angela is my wife, soon-to-be ex-wife.”

The club president lifted a single brow. Clearly, he did not appreciate the point of clarification. “Seems he is connected to old Roughneck Rider business. We need to squash it.”

“We can’t send a cop to Nástrond,” Cajun piped in.

Grumbles around the table agreed.

“Sam can’t help?” Whiskey, a biker from the mother chapter lingering in Ohio, asked.

Dash shook his head. “He’s not high enough in command. Also, it seems this is sort of a vendetta thing.”

“Can Flores assist?” Cajun suggested.

The president and vice president exchanged looks.

“We’d like to keep this in house. I’d prefer our relationship with Flores to be minimal at best. Calling in a favor just puts us deeper in debt.”

Dash nodded. “We are out of his business. We don’t want to open the door to that again.”

More grumbles sounded around the table.

“Then we gotta jam him up,” Whiskey suggested with a shrug. “Play his game.”

“And how do we do that?” Cajun rolled his eyes.

“One cop we pay could be an advantage.” Mittens, the other brother from Montana, chimed in and didn’t look up from the table. His thick Russian-sounding accent made his words harder on the ear.

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