Page 37 of Roughstock
She turned and walked to me. “They aren’t going to tell you to leave. When Nitro passed away, they voted for you to be the next president over brothers with twice as much time under their patch. That means they respect you, they trust you, and they’ll ride with you. So, when you’re up there tonight, speak from your heart and trust that everything is going to be as it’s supposed to be.”
I stood and pulled her into a hug, smashing my lips against hers in a bruising kiss. “You really are amazing.” I heard a bike pulling up, so I pecked her on the lips and said, “That’s probably Jagger. I need to get over to the clubhouse.”
She offered a reassuring smile and kissed me quickly. “I’ll be waiting here for you.”
“Carl is staying in the bunkhouse in the front barn so the new mare gets settled. He’ll be around if you need anything.”
“I’ll be fine,” she returned, and I knew she would be.
She was strong enough to steal her kidnappers’ van, running over three and hospitalizing another. One got away, but I didn’t suspect he’d want to come looking for a fight. If he did, he needed to be prepared. My wildcat didn’t move far withouta weapon, and she’d practiced often since she got home, wanting to be accurate.
I left her in the kitchen as I steeled my spine, ready to face the biggest challenge of my life. Jagger was waiting on his bike when I walked outside and down the steps.
“Are you ready?” he asked as I kicked my leg over my bike.
“Nope,” I returned and cranked the motor, drowning out any further questions.
The eight-mile ride around to the clubhouse gave me time to think. Pops’s words to Whistler kept playing in my head, and by the time we parked in the gravel lot, I knew this was the best decision for me and hopefully for the brothers already waiting inside.
“It was a traitor.”
That’s what Pops said to Whistler, and he was right. Blur was a traitor to us, and Jameson’s lack of caring was nearly as bad. Whoever was protecting Blur was the one I wanted a piece of.
Walking into the club, I looked to see almost every seat in the building filled with patched brothers. All eyes fell on me as I walked up to Phantom. “It seems like everyone is here a few hours early.”
“I told them to get their asses to the clubhouse and park it until you arrived and anyone not here within an hour from their call could turn in their patch, so everyone was prompt,” Phantom explained.
I chuckled, knowing he was as pissed about this as I was. Turning, I looked out at the room filled with leather, then I glanced at Comet. “Shots for everyone.”
Looking back at the group, I began to speak. “First of all, it’s good to see so many faces. A few haven’t been in the clubhouse for a few years, so welcome home.” There were a few hoots, and I raised my hand, needing them quiet. “As you all know, we’ve been looking for the person responsible for killing Nitro, and then a few weeks ago, my ol’ lady was snatched from the parking lot, right outside the back door.” Grumbles erupted as most of the brothers loved Cheyenne. Again, I raised my hand, and they settled down. “We discovered that Blur was behind both attacks, and for the last few weeks, we’ve been flipping over every rock, looking for him. Finally, I reached out to National and asked for help.”
“Why do we need help?” someone yelled. “We can find that asshole ourselves.”
Phantom whistled loudly over the elevated conversations and all eyes turned to him. “Shut the fuck up and listen. We don’t need the commentary.”
Comet stepped out from behind the bar and started handing trays of shots to the tables before he brought one around to me. I took the shot and placed it on the table next to me as I continued. “This is where I need you to remain levelheaded so I can explain.” Exhaling, I began to unravel the story. “The National Chapter President, Jameson, and I spoke this afternoon. I asked him to locate Blur and bring him back to us. I felt like someone was protecting him, and Jagger remembered he took a vacation the last few years to New Orleans, so I’d hoped I was wrong, but it turns out, I’m not.”
I received a few confused looks, and a few angry eyes as I finished. “Jameson told me Blur is off limits and we’re to drop it.” The roars of anger grew, and I let them bitch for a minutebefore I shushed them and continued. “So, now, we have a decision to make as a club. We’ve been given an offer to patch over to another club, The Sinners Revenge out of Birmingham, or we can stay Royal Bastards and let my father, your former president’s, murder go unanswered.”
“That’s bullshit.”
“Fuck National.”
“I say we leave.”
“This has to be voted on to be official. And whatever you choose, know that I’ll have no hard feelings toward you, but I won’t be associated with a club that lets a president’s murder go unanswered.” I paused and let that sink in. “I spoke with Dawg, the President of the Sinners Revenge, and he’s welcomed us to patch over, with full rights and privileges. Some of you may remember him from last year’s rally. He rode up with my cousin, Adam, and he was a straight shooter. I believe his offer is a good one, but I’ll abide by your vote, even if that vote is for me to step down.
“You’re not going anywhere, Roughstock,” one brother yelled, then added, “Let’s fuckin’ vote.”
I turned to Phantom, and he stood, motioning to Warhol. Warhol joined him as I took a seat, allowing them to be in charge of the count. Warhol looked out at the group and nodded to Phantom.
Phantom yelled to the club, “Bastards, you’ve been presented with a choice, and it’s time to make your voice heard. Do you choose to stay with the Royal Bastards and have Roughstock step aside?”
I turned to see every brother sitting in his chair and not a single hand in the air. If I was an emotional man, I would’veshed a tear, but I wasn’t, so I turned back to Phantom and Warhol.
“All in favor of turning in our patch to those pricks down south, raise your hand.”
Every hand in the room went into the air, and I looked back at Warhol, who was fighting not to smile as he counted each hand raised. “Full count of brothers votes to remove ourselves from the Royal Bastards.”
