Page 2 of Bully's Darkness
“Motherfuckers,” she cries, pushing to her feet. “After everything he promised.” She grabs my car keys. “You’re not sitting around here waiting for him to call, Livvy. We’re going to the clubhouse.”
Bully
I take a calming breath, releasing it slowly as I run my eyes over my pride and joy—my Harley-Davidson Fatboy. Five years I’ve waited for this moment, and the second I throw my leg over and settle onto the leather seat, I groan in pleasure. I grip the handlebars and take another deep breath as the engine rumbles to life and the vibrations run through my body. Taz slaps me on the back, smirking. “Bet you missed her.”
“Thanks for looking after her.”
“Brother, you know I’ve got your back. I even had the prospects polish her up for you.”
“I’m gonna ride out and see Liv,” I tell him, and he winces. “What?”
“You got shit to deal with here first,” he tells me, and I turn the bike off, my heart sinking with the sound of the engine. “Sorry, I know you want to go see your old lady, but Jameson is gonna call soon and he’ll want to speak to you.” I nod cos he’s right. Jameson is the National Chapter President, and if he calls, you answer, no questions. “Have you thought about it?” he asks, and I shake my head.
My uncle Tony was the President up until two weeks ago, when he passed. Fucker came off his bike right into the path of a lorry. He never stood a chance. And seeing as I was his Vice President, with Taz only standing in while I was inside, Jameson wants me to step up and become the Nottingham Chapter’s President.
“Of course, I want to,” I admit. “It’s been my dream since I was a kid watching Tony and my dad running this place. ButLiv wants a different life now.” My heart aches at the thought of the promises I’m already breaking by just being here. But when the club turned up first thing and she wasn’t around, I assumed she’d sent them. It wasn’t until I was back at the clubhouse that I realised she had no idea.
“Brother, she’s made it clear the club is not part of her life anymore. The day you went down, she left and never looked back. Your uncle sent her money every week, and she returned it.”
“I know all this,” I mutter. Tony regularly updated me with his efforts to watch over my stubborn old lady. “She just needs time.”
Sparrow, the club’s prospect, sticks his head into the garage. “Bully, Jameson’s on the phone in the pres’s office.”
I nod, getting off the bike to head inside. It feels weird being here without my uncle. He was like part of the furniture, starting this club up alongside my dad after they left the Army. When Dad died ten years ago, I wasn’t ready to run things, so Tony stepped up, and he made a good president. The place won’t be the same without him.
I stand at the desk, staring at the president’s chair as I press the phone to my ear. “Pres, good to hear from you,” I say.
“Son, it’s good to hear your voice. I was damn sorry to hear about your uncle.”
“Me too. I got to go to the funeral, even if it was in cuffs.”
“We celebrated his life over here too,” he tells me. “He was a good man, just like your father.”
“I appreciate that, Pres.”
“Let’s cut the crap. You know why I’m calling.” I smile, nodding, even though he can’t see me. “I don’t just let anyone take that title,” he adds, “and you’ve got some big boots to fill. Are you ready for the challenge?”
I take a deep breath. “Yes, sir,” I tell him. “I am.”
“That’s good news, Bully. I’ll spread the word. Get settled and call me in a few days so we can pick up where your uncle left off.”
I disconnect the call and place the phone back on the desk. Then I move the chair to one side. It doesn’t feel right sitting in it just yet, and I vow to get another just as soon as I’ve spoken to the guys.
Church is an important affair. We discuss everything within these four walls and make some of the biggest decisions. Life and death have been discussed right here.
I run my fingers over the chips in the wood where the gavel has battered it and smile. As a kid, I watched my old man sitting right here making important decisions, and as I got older, I wondered how he made it look so easy. Then, when my uncle Tony—or Hawk, as the club knew him—took it on, he slipped right into the same role like it was nothing. So, why am I standing here feeling like the weight of the world is on my shoulders?
The door opens, and the men begin to filter in, each shaking my hand again, even though we did all this earlier when I got back. I wait patiently while they take their seats, still standing behind mine.Mine.It feels weird. When all eyes are on me, I square my shoulders and brace my hands on the table. “I just spoke to Jameson,” I tell them. “I accepted his offer.”
Taz stands, grinning wide and shaking my hand while slapping my shoulder. “That’s good news, Pres,” he says, and I almost shudder at the title. It’s gonna take some time to get used to it. He turns to the rest. “We need to welcome our President in style,” he says, and they cheer. “Someone get the bar open, it’s gonna be a long night.”
“I can take a wild guess who the VP is gonna be,” says Smiler, his tone teasing.
I grin. “Who else would I have beside me?” I ask, slapping Taz on his back. He’s been by my side since we were six years old. His dad, Rubble, was one of my dad’s closest friends, and though he doesn’t ride anymore, he still sits proudly at this table today.
Stilletto prances around in underwear, and I try to keep my eyes focused on Boss. He’s a damn fine Road Captain, but fuck, he talks for England and is making it damn near impossible to not get distracted by the half-naked club whore.
Poison pours me a fourth glass of whiskey, and I’m seeing double. I haven’t eaten since last night, and I haven’t drunk for years, not unless you count the moonshine they made in that hell hole that tasted like piss water.
