Page 76 of Indie
“I’m telling you, the Hand is back. They are already testing our security. Who else here has had break-ins or attempts at break-ins?” Tomahawk asked angrily.
Hands rose around the room. Every bike club president, MCCs included, held an arm in the air.
“A war is coming,” the huge Vandals’ president with the braided dark hair growled. “Make sure you’re on the right fucking side of it.”
Inside my stomach, a vortex had opened, whirring and pulling at my insides. We’d won the last one. Not without some serious casualties. But those old Kings’ members had nearly all gone, and our firepower wasn’t what it was. I didn’t know whether we could withstand another one. And I was about to pull Emmie and kids right into the middle of it. I wasn’t sure I could let myself do that.
Chapter Thirty Three
Men in leather spilled through the pub doors, the big space below Indie’s rooms filling quickly. Outside, the air rumbled with exhaust after exhaust. A cacophony of voices, deep, guttural calls of motorbikes.
“Can I go see the bikes, mam?” Luke asked excitedly.
“No, sweetheart,” Suzy interrupted from where she sat beside Lily, helping her feed fabric into the sewing machine. “Not tonight. There’s a lot of people coming in here rightnow. You’re probably better going upstairs and playing on the computer.”
“But Indie’s too busy to play with me,” Luke whined.
“He’ll come and play when he’s finished some meetings. Why don’t you take Lily up and put something on that you can both play? I’m sure Daisy could do with some company,” I prodded, hoping to coax the kids from the ever-filling pub, the noise of gruff voices and expletives filling the space.
“I could take Daisy for a walk?”
“I’ve already walked her, Luke. And it’s getting dark.”
The young boy huffed, looking defeated.
“Go with Luke, baby,” I said to Lily. “I’ll be up in a minute.”
The kids retreated slowly, eventually disappearing behind the door that led up to the living quarters above the pub. Another group of men moved passed us, with backs of embroidered runes surrounding a Nordic helmet.
“They’re the Valhalla’s Vandals,” Suzy spoke almost into my ear.
“I recognise them. They were the ones that stopped us on the road back from Holy Island.”
“That’s their patch. They hold one of the biggest geographical areas, covering nearly all of Northumberland.”
“Are they mean?”
“Not really. Tomahawk, their president is intense, and Flat Pack, their VP, he’s eternally pissed off with us.”
I glanced over at the men. The president was tall. Super tall, and wide, consuming the space he stood in like a dark cloudon a thundery day. He had a patch of long dark hair, braided into a bunch of plaits that fell down his back, the sides of his head completely shaved. I couldn’t see much of his face, but when he turned to talk to the smaller, older, grey-haired man beside him, I could see crops of tattoos on the exposed skin on the side of his head. Runes to match the embroidery on the back of his cut.
“Your kids are beautiful,” Suzy said from beside me suddenly.
“Oh…err…thank you. They can be a handful. But can’t all kids?”
Suzy smiled sadly. “I don’t really know. We don’t have any yet.”
“You sound like you’re planning to, though?”
The blonde-haired woman nodded. “Yes. But so far, we’re not really getting anywhere.”
“They’ll come. They might just take time. Some people take longer than others to fall pregnant.”
“We’ve been trying for four years,” she said, just loud enough that I could make out the words.
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
“Did it take you long to fall pregnant with yours?”