Page 13 of Inglorious (Unwanted Bastards MC #1)

“That makes sense. I arranged for someone to pick the children up, so I’m happy to cook dinner tonight. If you have ingredients, I can make something for you all,” Meadow offered.

“That would be great. The kitchen is stocked, so go nuts. Come, I’ll show you it.”

I rose to my feet, hoping Meadow could indeed cook, because I liked her attitude. I had three more interviews planned for today and tomorrow. But I did like Meadow; however, in all fairness, I had to give the others a chance.

Meadow cooked a hearty stew, which went down well with everyone, and she also made some homemade bread. The guys loved it.

The next interviews were hit and miss. Actually, the first was awful.

She was young, couldn’t cook, and was clearly looking for a sugar daddy.

The second one was similar to Meadow, but she didn’t have a pleasant personality and was rather sour.

However, she could cook. The third was okay, but nothing special.

In the end, I offered Meadow the position and was only too happy when she accepted.

We agreed she would prepare a menu a week in advance. On Monday mornings, Meadow would buy groceries and make a simple lunch of sandwiches, fries, chips, and salad. I also agreed that Meadow could bring the children to the clubhouse if needed, as there were holidays when the kids would be off.

That reminded me of the small park behind the hotel, which might be suitable for a children’s playground. I made a mental note to speak to Apache about it.

Inglorious paid no attention to what I was doing. Instead, he attended his meetings, spoke at length to Doc Paul, and basically avoided me. That was no skin off my nose. He could do as he wished, but avoidance wouldn’t get him the club back.

I knew, thanks to Vortex, that Inglorious had seen Janet, a therapist most of the MCs used.

Vortex reported back that Inglorious hadn’t seemed any different when he left her office, and I had to wonder if he’d shared with her.

Again, not healing would delay his return to presidency.

Inglorious had to grow up and take responsibility for his part in their deaths.

Come Saturday, I had Hercules clean the grills with King, and I sent Moon to Nemo to pick up food for a barbecue.

Once, we’d been a family that hung out at weekends and strengthened our bonds.

I intended to reestablish that and to create strong relationships with those existing and incoming.

Saturday, we’d barbecue in the evening, and on Sunday, we’d either grill or work together to cook a dinner.

Inglorious could get with the programme or remain a lonely person. It was his choice.

Inglorious

She was fuckin’ everywhere. No matter where I looked, Nanci was there, her lithe, toned body tempting and tantalising me like she was the only female in the world. Even my tired cock noticed her, and he’d not responded to a woman for over a year. Plus, there were the plans she was implementing.

Oh, I didn’t mean the building and refurnishing.

I meant the other things, like a cookout on Saturday and bonding on Sunday.

Nanci was planning a ride for every Sunday morning, liaising with Scythe to find the best routes.

Why the fuck Scythe was involved, I didn’t fuckin’ know, but he was pissing me off.

Even the fact that she’d repainted the common room and offices and refurnished the kitchen annoyed me.

Nanci hadn’t asked for my input, just did as she wished, like always.

It was one of the reasons… nope, I wasn’t going there.

Instead, I changed direction and glowered at Razor and Chill, who were mooning after her.

Little puppy dogs with their queen bitch.

It didn’t help that King and Moon were also enamoured, and this only added insult to injury, with Vortex and Hercules.

Vortex had run when shit got bad. He’d walked away and not returned, even when we got clean. Now the fucker waltzed back in as VP. How dare Nanci install him in Psych’s position? Psych hadn’t been a traitor, not like Vortex. Vortex was weak and didn’t know the meaning of family.

And Hercules? Seriously? That bitch reappeared and took enforcer without a by-your-leave?

He, too, had fled without a backward glance.

Asshole claimed he didn’t want to be involved in what was happening at the club.

I’d reached out to Hercules, offering him a place back here when we cleaned the shit from the MC. And Hercules hadn’t replied.

Rude bastard.

But Nanci bats her eyes, and they both come running. I didn’t like the fact she’d kicked two prospects, even though I’d have done the same. Disrespect towards someone in a position was never tolerated, and Party and Gamer had been taking the piss since I’d been… sick.

Now Nanci was shacked up in my office, giving orders, stealing respect due to me, and basically making my life a misery. And it wasn’t the first time she’d achieved that. Nope, Nanci was swanning around and causing me to feel emotions I didn’t need to. Not now and not ever.

Craving crawled up my throat, and I nearly choked on it.

My hands shook as I battled the urge for a drink.

I desperately needed one. The desire flooded my veins, filling them with fire, and I made a small noise of pain.

Walking on a bed of a thousand nails wouldn’t hurt as much.

Heavily, I sat down, my knees knocking together as I dropped my head into my palms.

“Don’t give in,” a ghostly voice whispered.

I closed my eyes. “Brother,” I murmured.

“You can do this. Roman, you’re strong enough. Look after her,” Psych continued.

A tear trickled down my face.

“You okay, man?” Razor asked, and I looked up.

“It’s killing me.”

“The booze, the withdrawal, the grief, or Nanci?” Razor said.

“All of them.” I chuckled dryly.

“Yeah, that would do it.” Razor reclined in his seat and linked his hands behind his head.

“How you doing?”

“Cancer’s kicking my ass. I’m trying to kick it back.”

“Need me to come with you?” I offered.

“Why? I’ve been doing this alone so far,” Razor replied without rancour.

“Ouch. Why not kick me when I’m down?”

“Inglorious, you deserve a lot worse. You chickened out on life, leaving us to drown. There wasn’t any talking to you while you were drunk, and Chill kept heading down the same path as you.

We were all that remained, and you left us to suffer.

We should have bonded together, but you tore us apart.

Over time, I’ve dealt with my grief and rage.

As a cancer patient, I got therapy, and it fuckin’ helped. ”

“Hey, I met with Janet,” I defended.

“Yeah, and I bet you sat there and didn’t say a word.”

Fucker! How the hell did he know that? Razor wasn’t wrong. I resented being made to attend the appointment, but I had no choice if I wanted my position again.

I’d considered just taking it back from Nanci, but I’d seen how the others treated her. There wasn’t a weakness I could exploit. If there were, I’d be in like a shot and reclaim my title. Nanci hadn’t even rightfully stolen it upfront. She’d not fought me for it or called a vote.

Instead, Nanci swanned her cute ass in and just took what she wanted. Like always. That frustrated and infuriated me.

“You want me back as president?” I asked Razor.

“And the conversation returns to you,” he quipped.

Shame flooded me as Razor stood and added, “The old Inglorious had my full support, love, and respect. This version of you, no, I don’t want you anywhere near a position of power. You’ll always be my brother, but you’ll never be my president again. Not like this. Grieve and heal. That’s my advice.”

Razor walked away before I could gather my thoughts. His words hurt and cut deep. Did he really think like that? I’d been angry at my brothers supporting Nanci, but honestly, would I want a president like me? Hell, no. As much as that admittance caused me pain, it was the truth.

Nobody liked a drunkard, and I was one. Puffing out my cheeks, I looked around me.

I was sitting outside the second hotel we’d intended to restore.

Merritt bustled; not with sightseers like I dreamed, but instead with workmen as they hauled materials back and forth and worked on the building opposite me. The saloon.

Merritt should have been finished by now and be open to tourists and holidaymakers.

We’d planned to advertise it as a real old-fashioned Wild West town.

There’d be no modern buildings built, destroying the atmosphere of Merritt.

No, we’d keep this as it was. Preserving our history and allowing people to sample the old way of living.

A Harley arrived, and I looked up to see Scythe parking at the clubhouse.

My eyes narrowed. Why the fuck was he here again?

Lately, Scythe had been around daily, and a thought slammed into me.

Was Scythe interested in Nanci? What the hell?

He swung off his ride and headed inside.

An urge hit me to chase after him and spy, but I fought against it. What Nanci did, didn’t matter to me.

Or so I told myself firmly.

Nanci

I glared at my phone, cursing Dan, the security guard where I used to work.

He’d told me that my ex had been around asking questions about when I was returning.

Dan had played dumb, but it didn’t bode well.

Why Raymond was sniffing about, I didn’t want to find out.

Raymond had been a mistake I never intended to repeat.

Today, I’d sadly had to make a decision about my business, and while I’d come to one, it was hard to swallow.

I eyed my cell with distaste for the task ahead and picked it up. Moments later, I placed it back down as Scythe entered my office.

Thank fuck for Scythe, his distraction welcome!