Page 75 of Unveiled Wounds

“Damn, Buster.” Someone whistled.

“What are we looking at, Grease?” Sabre asked, standing in front of his chair, leaning forward with his hands planted on the table.

“Count’s vision for the new garage. Buster made it work. She added a new door on the side. There’s already one in the back, so we can bring in the whales, away from everyone else. This second one allows us to drive in the maintenance vehicles, and there’s enough room to walk the bikes in. I don’t know how she did it, but everything’s separate. We’ll have four stations for each, and that should be good enough to cut the backlog with a little extra help. I’m going to ask for a few changes, but this is better than what we currently have.”

There was an indistinct murmur hanging around the room as the brothers talked amongst each other over the papers before we took our seats.

“I need to say something.” Slate wasn’t a quiet brother, but when he’d reached wise man status, he’d taken a back seat to the younger brothers in church.

The murmur died.

“I saw Bear yesterday, and before you fuckers even start, I took Snake with me. The Old Ladies in town are on their own until the cartel disappears, and I wanted to make sure she was alright.” He sat back down in his chair, running a hand over his face. “Bear heard you were thinking about leaving, VP, and she reminded me of what happened to Stands.” Slate stared across the table at Scrub. “You should have told your old man and Bookie to fuck off. It wasn’t about the money. Bookie didn’t wantStands educated, and he threatened anyone who went against him.”

“She only needed a couple thousand dollars to make up the difference, but I told her not to ask Titan for the money. She didn’t understand why the club wasn’t helping her when she’d been born into it. You all know the rest, and I didn’t defend her. It’s my fuck-up to bear, and she’ll never forgive me for it.” Scrub’s lips twisted as he tapped his fingers against the grain of the table.

“Bear wouldn’t let me leave until I agreed to say something. She’s been harping on me that while most of you were in diapers, we actively recruited hardcore bitches. They didn’t give a fuck, but they supported the club when the time came. Fuck, Bookie loved to rub it in that Bear was his.”

I said nothing, not sure if this was going to be a fight or not.

“The club’s already lost Stands.” Slate looked at me. “If we turn our noses up at Buster, we’ll lose you. I’m old and stubborn, but I’m not ornery enough to risk it.” There was a light chuckle in the room.

I rubbed a hand over my face. “If you vote Meredith in, it’s because she earned it. Don’t give her a damn pity vote. She’ll smell it, and then twist herself up trying to fix it. I won’t let that happen.” I stared at Dead across the table.

“Don’t know what you’re fucking talking about,” he said.

“Let’s just do this and get it over with.” Pretty held up his hand, voting yes. He started calling the brothers one-by-one. Each one raising their hand with no hesitation, until he reached Scrub.

“Slate’s right. I should have defended Stands, but I didn’t. This is a special hell, and no one should experience it voluntarily.” He looked down the table at me. “I vote yes, but I have one request. I’d like to run Pumpkin’s DNA against JR’s and mine discreetly.”

“You think Jigsaw was her father?” I asked him.

“It wouldn’t be the first time he fathered a child and ran.” Scrub’s mother had been a club girl when she’d gotten pregnant. Scrub had grown up in the clubhouse, but she hadn’t left her position as club girl until she walked out the gates one day.

There was a picture on the wall in the main room of the founding club members. Scrub was now the same age Jig had been in the picture. The resemblance was uncanny.

“I’m okay with it, but we’ll have to run it by Mer.”

“Same with Grace,” Sabre said.

Pretty kept going around the table until he reached Dead.

“You know I got no issues with girlie pop,” he said.

“She’s got issues with you claiming her friend.” I smirked.

“I’m as single as they come.” He linked his fingers together, putting them behind his head.

Sabre and I shared a knowing look. We weren’t stupid, and Dead was fooling himself.

“Brother, dearest?” Pretty called, reaching the end of the roll call.

“I won’t take Meredith away from Grace, and if that means I have to work on not strangling her, I’ll do it.” He held his hand up.

I held my hand up.

The Iron Shield had just voted my wife in as an official Old Lady. The room went silent after the vote, and while no one directly looked at me, there were plenty of side-eyes. I kept my cool, and if they thought I would bow down, thanking them repeatedly, they were sadly mistaken. I was over their superiority complexes, but I needed to forgive if I had any chance of not harboring resentment. However, with the vote, I expected a complete end to the comparisons and malicious gossip. They’d accepted her, and if that shit didn’t end, I was prepared to beat a brother’s ass. She was an Old Lady now, and I could protect her better without repercussions.

Pretty called for the other business, and it wasn’t much longer before Sabre took over, quickly detailing the events of the weekend.

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