Page 4 of Indie

“What?” I asked eventually, when the smirk turned to an inane grin.

“Nice little thing, huh?”

“For fuck’s sake, Dad. You’ve said that about nearly everyone, and you’re three times their age.”

“Women like older men. Just look at Tori.”

“No, Dad. Tori’s a … never mind.”

His face changed, the smirk dissolving and anger rushing to fill the spot.

“Talk about my ol’ lady like that again and I’m not too sick to put you on your arse.”

He was too sick. And he could never have put me down, anyway. He didn’t know that, and he’d never tried, thankfully. Which kept me from the predicament of laying out the Club President and my old man. Today wouldn’t be any different, but it didn’t mean that I would not be on the receiving end of that temper.

“What news?” he asked, his temper retreating.

“Nothing much. All quiet really.”

He harumphed, raising an eyebrow, clearly not believing me. And he was right not to. I’d been keeping stuff from him all week, making sure he stayed in hospital this time, rather than ripping out the tubes attached to his arms and discharging himself against the doctor’s wishes. Again.

“We’ve put up extra cameras in the likely spots. At Demon’s shop and outside his place, mainly. And then at the garage. The club house is well covered, anyway. There’s been no further incidents of vandalism. Seems petty for the Bloody Hand, even for the Notorious.”

“Doesn’t mean it wasn’t them. They’ll be warning us. All those fuckers know I’m in here. They’ll be testing every Kings’ boundary we have.”

I sighed. That he was right. There’d been a few more incidents. A raid by the police on one of the cutting shops. Fortunately, we had our own sources, and we’d got the tip-off ten minutes before they landed. We managed to clear our people out. And then a fire in the bins at the back of the clubhouse. None of these were coincidences. Not with The Bloody Hand back on English soil.

“We need more recruits, Indie. We’re going to need the numbers.”

Foot soldiers were what he wanted. Someone expendable when the first blow was struck. My stomach tightened. A glimmer of a memory irritating at the back of my mind, not quite formed enough to batter back.

“And we need to make sure the other clubs are with us. We cannot afford to lose them,” he frowned, glancing down at the tube attached to his arm.

“I’ll sort it, dad. I’ll keep them together.”

“I need to be out of here,” he grumbled.

“No. We need you stabilised. We need you well enough to lead.”

Ste Carter sighed. A sudden weight descending and then the cough started, catching him hard, till he was clutching the cardboard bowl in his hands and vomiting into it. I watched on, emotions circling inside me like vultures and the dull, oppressive feeling of doom slowly constricting my chest.

“I don’t know how long I’m gonna be here, son,” he rasped, his chest heaving and the bowl in his hands shaking. “You need to be the leader now, Indie. The minute I draw my last breath, the gavel is yours.”

And that was what I dreaded the most. The thing I’d never wanted. But the thing I was always promised like it was some sort of honour. The MC kingdom. President of the Northern Kings’ MC. I didn’t want it. I’d never wanted it.

Behind me the hinges of the door squeaked, a nurse strolling in, an array of pills and injections in a cardboard tray.

“Looks like they’re gonna be busy with you for a while. I’ll be back in a bit.”

My father nodded, his eyes still fixed on me, as if that might be the last time he’d see me. A look of grief taking over his face. My stomach tightened and my throat went dry.

*****

The queue for the hospital café led almost out of the door. People grumbling in front of me, others shuffling restlessly. At the very front was a woman in a blue shirt and dark trousers, a head of red tinged hair just bobbing, almost unnoticeable where the taller people behind her blocked her from my view.

She hovered at the front of the till, and even from back here she seemed flustered, glancing nervously at the growing queue behind her. The cashier shook her head, and the girl fiddled with her purse, pulling out another card and flashing across the card reader. The cashier shook her head again and the people in front of me muttered a bit more. I crept a little closer.

She dropped her head.