Page 2 of Wild Child
“Keep an eye on Charlie, and if any of these men lay so much as a finger on her, they’re all out.”
He nods, and with a final glance at the bobbing pink head in the corner, I head out of the bar. Down the corridor are our club rooms, and the men are waiting in the main meeting room.
It’s a Saturday afternoon, and I’ve called them together for an emergency meeting.
But my men don’t grumble. They’re all ex-military, and they know when duty calls you answer.
My gaze scans the room, taking in the few absences. Hazel is sick, and Marcus won’t leave her side. Lone Star has a sick kid, but he’s linked in via video call. Snip’s little girl has gone down with it too. There’s a tummy bug going around and half the kids have it, which is a problem.
“Thanks for coming in, guys.”
I take a seat at the head of the table and pick up the gavel. It’s heavy and doesn’t feel right in my hand. I put it down again and face the men.
“A few points to discuss today.”
I’m filling in for Raiden, the club Pres. He’s visiting his wife’s family in Italy and taking his sweet ass time about it. They’re all cooing over the new baby, and I guess the man deserves a vacation.
As Vice President, I’m keeping the club running in his absence. As his best friend, I’m keeping an eye on his daughter, Charlie.
I squeeze my hands together, thinking about Charlie out there with a bunch of drunk men. Davis will let me know if there’s any trouble, but she’s the type of girl who likes trouble.
“Let’s keep this short.”
I put my palms flat on the table and try not to think about Charlie.
First item on the agenda is a charity run for Women in Need that’s on in a few months. A bunch of motorcycle clubs take part from all over the country. We ride in from our various corners of the country and meet up just outside of Colorado Springs for a weekend.
We usually support charities for veterans, but this year, with the opening of the women’s refuge center, Lone Star brought this one to the table. His wife opened the center, and supporting Women in Need seems like a no-brainer to me.
But Judge has an issue.
“I support the charity of course, but it’s the other clubs participating that I can’t get behind.”
I see his point. We’re a legit motorcycle club, but not all MCs are.
“Do we really want to be associated with some of these other clubs?” Judge checks his notes. He’s always got a notepad on him, which is probably why he’s a kickass lawyer.
“The Underground Crows MC, riding in from the Sunset Coast. Their president served three years inside. Are these the type of clubs we want to be associated with?”
There are murmurs of assent from around the room.
“What did he go in for?” asks Arlo.
Next to Judge, Tech has his laptop open and is typing furiously. He frowns at the screen. “Illegal firearms.”
“Ouch, that’s bad.” Arlo scratches his beard. “But these guys, The Underground Crows, they’re doing the charity run, so they can’t be all bad.”
“It could be a cover to move drugs.” Judge folds his arms, and his mouth sets in a grim line. He’s got zero tolerance for drugs. He’s made up his mind about this club, and there’ll be no persuading him otherwise.
“We’re doing it for the charity,” says Colter, otherwise known as Vintage due to his love of all things retro. “We don’t have to associate with any other club we don’t want to. We do our thing, and they do theirs.”
“The charity is the important thing here,” argues Lone Star from the screen of a laptop. “Let’s not lose sight of that.”
The men debate the issue for a few moments, going back and forth over the pros and cons of doing a charity run with clubs whose dealings aren’t as legit as ours.
It’s a debate we’ve had before. We’re an MC, and not all MCs operate the way we do. The Wild Riders MC are ex-military men who love to ride. Some of us came here broken, some of us came here looking for somewhere to belong. I’m proud of what we’ve built up here, and our reputation matters, so I let the men debate and then I raise the gavel.
“Let’s vote on it. All in favor of doing the Women in Need charity run, say aye.”
