Page 26 of Chaos & Carnage
“You could have done your bit. I had the two of those nurses by myself.”
“Soz, like. Must’ve been really difficult for you.” But Cade’s tone wasn’t sarcastic as much as it was condemning. I wanted to kick him in the leg again for being a boring bastard. “You get what we need?”
“Aye,” I waved my phone in the air. “And so did they. Mind, they were fucking wild. You really missed a treat.”
“Doubt it,” Cade answered grumpily.
And that’s when I knew there was something wrong with my brother. Really wrong. And I was going to fucking find out what it was.
Chapter Eleven
The room above the bar where we held church was cramped as fuck. Caleb and I were almost sitting on each other’s knees, squeezed in around the enormous mahogany table with more scars than fucking Blazing Bill, the vice president from the Angels and Demons MC. I glanced across at the man, at the mottled scar of lines over his left cheek, and the light-blue, milky glazed eyeball that seemed to have taken on a mind of its own. He was listening intently and looking as uncomfortable as ever wedged in beside Brie. He dipped his head towards the Angels and Demons president, his lips moving, but I couldn’t make out what he was saying. Probably because I couldn’t take my eyes off his half bald head, where strands of long hair fell in clumps down to his shoulders.
Beside me, Sicknote stared too, his mouth gaping open in something that was half a grimace and half shock.
“Stop staring,” I hissed. “He might look half Zombie, but he’ll launch across the table in a minute and rip your throat out.”
“Aye, and then he’ll eat it,” Caleb added, his face as serious as Brie’s was as he listened to his VP.
“Fuck. Really?” The colour drained from Sicknote’s face.
I shook my head. We should have named him Fuckwit for how thick he was, not Sicknote. Although he’d lived up to his road-name lately. Apparently, he was too ill to come to church last week, or the week before. And I’d bet he was only here because Indie had threatened to have a brother drag him in by the balls if he didn’t show up tonight.
Eventually, the room descended into silence, Indie taking his seat at the very head of the table, next to Fury, who was already sitting at his right hand-side.
“Brothers of the coalition,” our president started. “Thank you for getting together at short notice.”
“We’re not all here though, aye?” Dougal, the president of the Teesside Road Rats, responded, for those of us who could understand his thick Glaswegian accent.
“No, Dougal. You’re absolutely right. The Notorious haven’t been invited.”
Mutters scurried across the room, every man turning to the buddy next to him and whispering something in response. I looked at Indie, trying to decipher the expressions running across his face, but neither he nor Fury were giving away much, their hardened war faces firmly in place, something we were all becoming more familiar with. Fuck how I longed for the summer back. When we were riding and fucking without a care in the world, only looking over our shoulders to keep a step ahead of the coppers. How times had fucking changed, and I hadn’t seen it coming. Not really. My stomach cartwheeled, the motion making me suddenly nauseous. Caleb turned towards me, the look on his face telling me he felt the same. And that made me feel even worse.
“A week ago, someone shot Demon.” Indie continued.
“Fuck,” the voices in the room all merged into one, and if the room had windows in it, I could have sworn someone had just opened one, the icy tendrils of surprise laced with realisation touching everyone in the Northern Kings’ church.
“He’s alive.”
Another mutter chased around the room.
“We believe the Notorious were responsible.”
Now there was nothing. Not a mumble, not a stutter. Everyone silent after Indie’s last word.
“Where’s ya proof?” Dougal crossed his hands over his big chest, old biceps bulging out of the bare arms of his leather waistcoat.
“Brie. Over to you,” Indie continued, and we all turned to stare at the president of the Angels and Demons MC.
“I have intel that the Notorious carried out the hit and that the Hand ordered it. The Notorious are working with the Hand now. Any allegiance they had to the coalition has long gone.”
“You sure about that, Brie?” Tez broke through the static of disbelief that filled the room.
“Hundred percent, mate. Who here has been approached by the Hand and offered a chance to patch over to them?”
Brie’s head turned, slowly scanning the room. At first, no one moved. Then Tomahawk nodded, his head of braids and tattoos almost coming alive of their own accord. The troubled face of the president of the Durham Heathens nodding too, and soon the entire room was a bob of heads.
Indie rose to his feet, the bobbing heads and low guttural mutters of the men around the table disappearing immediately.