Page 8 of Marx

Leaving Bee’s room I head to the living area. I won’t violate Lovely’s privacy by looking in her room. I can tell enough about her from her living room. She’s neat and tidy and there are little tchotchkes strategically placed around the room. There’s a mugshaped like a pig with pens sticking out of the top. There is a small row of fat birds sitting on a windowsill, and a crystal hangs above it, in the daytime catching the light and sending prisms of color bouncing off the walls. My lips tip up as I picture Lovely sitting in the window seat, reading a book or perhaps finishing the crochet that I can see sticking out of a yarn basket. She’s a woman of simple pleasures, my woman.

I kick my boots off, and flop down on my back onto the large, soft couch, arm across my eyes. My mind is racing, full of thoughts and plans and yet none of them stay in the forefront of my mind long enough before they flit away, replaced with something more pressing, more dangerous or more urgent.

The door opens and I launch myself up, gun at the ready, the once dark room now bathed in light. Blinking away the confusion I’m met with Blanche’s pissy look. She has a baby strapped to her chest and the older little kids stare at me like I’ve lost my mind.

“Whoa, Unca Marx, what happened to you?” Jovie asks, staring at the top of my head.

I scrub a hand over my face, trying to get rid of the drowsiness that still clings to me. I must have passed out as soon as I lay down last night. “Fuck! Little Bee!”

“Bah, don’t worry ‘bout her,” Cove waves a hand at me while Elio stares, “She’s lazy and doesn’t get up for aaaaaages.” Elio nods in agreement.

Glancing at the clock on the wall I note it’s only 7.30am.

“They’re right. She’ll be up in another half hour or so.” Blanche bounces the baby in her front pack. “We’re here for babysitting and cleaning duty to get the place ready for Lovely to come home. Go grab breakfast and talk to your council. You need to come up with a plan because I’m only going to sit by with my finger up my ass for so long.”

I stare at her as she breezes past, knowing that arguing with her is a lost cause. “Got it. Church will be as soon as Switch brings Lovely home. I want everyone there.”

Blanche’s eyes widen, knowing that women aren’t usually allowed into Church. “Well, then, I’ll see you in half an hour.”

I nod before leaving the house, cataloguing what I’ll need to move in. If I fucking own anything after the clubhouse was wrecked.

I make my way to the main house, letting myself in and let out a whistle “Rhodie, Rider, Mad Dog, Tank, Wire and Judge, if you can ride, I want you with me.”

My brothers, who had been shooting the shit stand as one, ready to have my back should I need them. I don’t say any more, I just walk out to the line of bikes, noting that it’s damn lucky our bikes were unscathed. My girl is exactly where she should be. Front of the pack. I throw my leg over, turn the key and hold the starter button until she rumbles beneath me. It’s been days since I last rode, and I need the wind therapy before I call Church. My shoulders start to relax as I slowly make my way down the winding drive, waiting for my brothers. Judge pulls in beside me, idling at the top of the drive. He raises a brow and tips his head in the direction of the compound. At my chin lift he turns, leading the pack as Road Captain. We all fall into place behind him, Rhodie and I at his back, then Tank, Wire, Rider and Mad Dog all in formation behind us.

The wind rushes past, blowing out all the bullshit until I feel lighter. The weight of the world melts away and it’s just me, the open road and men that I trust with my life. Looking to my left my brother gives me a chin lift, his green eyes holding mine for a moment, as if sending me his strength as we come up on the compound. He’s seen the damage, and I’m sure whatever he’s told me is not enough to prepare me to see it with my own eyes.

Judge leads the way into the compound drive and we idle while Rider fishes the gate key out of his pocket. His left ass cheek looks padded to hell and I know that as soon as our engines are off he’s going to start bitching. I’ve never met a man with such a low pain tolerance.

He shoves the gates open and we roll in slowly, taking in the damage. It’s worse than I thought. I was so full of rage on that day that I don’t think I actually took a good look.

The furthest end of the clubhouse sustained the most damage. There’s a huge hole that’s been blown through the wall facing the road. The roof is caved in and I can only thank the Gods and whoever else is in charge that that part of the clubhouse was mainly storage and not the room we use as a nursery. Unfortunately because the roof at the back had caved, the weight of that has put pressure on the rest of the building, collapsing it enough to make it unsafe to even enter.

I pull into my usual spot, my men following and parking behind me, our engines all shutting off one after the other. I purposely force my gaze past the front door and the ground below it, stained with Lovely’s blood.

“Fuck, Pres. This is worse than I remember it being,” Judge says in his low rumble.

We sit in silence, taking in the damage. Well, most of us do.

“My ass is killing me,” Rider whines before dismounting gingerly.

“I told you we should have taken one of the SUV’s,” Rhodie chides him. They’ve been best friends since childhood, the bulk of that Rhodie has been Rider’s keeper. Without Rhodie, Rider would have been punched in the face a lot more often.

“I think we can agree the clubhouse is fucked. So, let’s comb the area for anything that may be of help. We all know Chewy is going to ask questions, so the more information we can give her, the easier it’ll be on all of us.” Mad Dog says with a smile.

Rhodie preens like his Ol Lady is the pick of the bunch. Rider punches him in the arm to bring him down a couple of pegs but with his ass he’s too slow to dodge the slap to his right cheek as Rhodie lashes out at him. Rider limps off as fast as he can as Rhodie chases after him.

“How the fuck do you deal with this?” Mad Dog asks, brows pinched.

“We ignore it,” Tank answers, slapping my dad on the shoulder and wading into the rubble.

Mad Dog and I decide to take the back left section of the clubhouse, walking in companionable silence. I don’t need any words or chatter. I have shit bouncing around in my head. Plans, contingencies, fears, all rolling into one. What if we hit too soon or not soon enough? What if we attack and it causes more casualties? Fuck.

“Wanna talk about it?” Mad Dog asks, eyes on something sticking out of the roof rubble.

“No, thanks. Just trying to come up with a Plan A, then a Plan B right the way through to Plan Z.”

“Can I offer a solution?” My dad looks over at me, his eyes almost as dark as mine. In fact, he just looks like an older version of Rhodie and myself. The only difference being Rhodie takes after his mother’s fairer coloring.

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