Page 8 of Inglorious (Unwanted Bastards MC #1)

Nanci – Monday.

A s construction crews arrived, Doc Paul headed towards me.

Inglorious was being released today. He still had the shakes, but was sober.

Doc Paul had stayed for the entire process, and now it was time for him to see what we could offer.

King was showing the crew where the kitchen was.

The appliances were due within a week. Hopefully, everything would be completed.

“Doc,” I said in greeting.

“Nanci. Moon said you wanted me.”

“Yeah, come with me. You’ve not seen much of Merritt since you arrived.

There’s more to it than the sheriff’s office and cells.

” I began leading Doc down Main Street, which held the saloons and shops.

The final building was a squat, square one with an extension at the rear.

Above it was a wooden sign saying Doctor.

“Ah. I see,” Doc stated, amused.

“Would it hurt to see?” I asked, and Doc laughed before shaking his head. I unlocked the door and disarmed the alarm. “High-tech alarm systems and cameras are in place for security.” I pointed to the one covering the reception area.

The building was wood-built and had been restored beautifully.

It appeared as well as when it was initially built.

The front featured a large combined waiting room and reception.

A wooden barrier, similar to a bank teller’s counter, screened the reception area, occupying one corner.

There was a wall blocking the offices from public view.

To enter them, you needed to be admitted through a door, which was now controlled by a release button that the receptionist or doctor could press.

Behind the wall were two large doctor’s offices and a small pharmacy. And behind that was the clinic with the X-ray machine, ECG monitoring machine, and several other pieces of very expensive equipment.

“Shit, this is decked out,” Doc Paul said as he entered the small operating theatre.

“The nearest hospital is easily thirty minutes away in Miller. That means it’s an hour journey by ambulance, half an hour here and then back again. That’s life or death. The idea is you could save someone’s life here if you needed to,” I replied.

“Seems Inglorious thought of everything,” Doc said as he ran a hand over a packaged defibrillator.

“Yeah. Are you still setting him free today?”

“Inglorious is sober, Nanci, you can’t keep him locked up forever,” Doc replied.

“In that case, while you check this out, I’ll go talk to him. The law needs laying down where Inglorious is concerned.”

“Nanci, he’s a man, a special man, no doubt, but still human. Don’t put Inglorious on a pedestal, because he’ll fail you,” Doc replied.

“Doc, that happened years ago. Nothing Inglorious does now surprises me,” I muttered and left him to check the doctor’s surgery and clinic out.

I dithered in front of the sheriff’s office for a bit before straightening my shoulders and heading in. I smelt Inglorious before I saw him, and no shit, Inglorious smelt bad.

“Smells like a brewery in here,” I stated, as I spotted him lounging on a cot. He sat up and glowered.

“You come to release me?” he asked, moving to the edge of the cot. I noticed he didn’t stand.

“Nope. We’re going to have a come-to-Jesus talk. And I’m Jesus, Inglorious,” I replied.

Inglorious’s nose wrinkled in that cute way he had. “Considering you’re wearing a patch that says president, I guessed that. Taken over, have you?”

“The MC deserved better than a drunken asshole.”

“There is no club!” Inglorious snapped.

“Strange, my VP, Secretary, and Chaplain think differently, so do my two brothers.” I watched Inglorious do the math.

“No way would Party or Gamer follow a woman,” he muttered.

“Nope.”

“You brought someone back.”

“Clever boy. Vortex is VP—”

“Vortex? That asshole is back?” Inglorious exclaimed.

“Yes, and is VP. Unlike you, I stayed in touch with many people. I’m not an isolationist prick.

And continuing, Razor is Chaplin, and Chill is Secretary.

King and Moon were patched in, and Gamer and Party were kicked out.

You have also been busted down to member,” I stated and waited for the explosion.

Inglorious loved the Unwanted Bastards. He breathed and lived it. Unwanted Bastards was stamped into his very core. Instead of the flare of temper I expected, Inglorious looked beaten.

“How did you steal president?” Inglorious asked.

“Easily. The charter states that in the death of a ranked member, their nearest relative becomes their Legacy. The charter fails to state the Legacy must be male.”

Inglorious let out a bark of laughter. “Such an obvious loophole. Only you would know it.”

“No need to be bitter. After all, you threw the club away, Inglorious.”

“Nanci, you’ve always called me Roman.”

“And now you’re Inglorious and a member of my MC,” I retorted.

“It’s my fuckin’ club!” Inglorious roared.

There it was. His temper. I knew it was lurking somewhere. “Not anymore. You fucked with it.”

“Bitch, I’m the president, not you!”

“No, you’re not. You’re a bitter, twisted drunk.

You’re acting like you’re the only person who lost loved ones.

Well, I call bullshit, and pure selfishness on your behalf.

Asshole, I’m alone in the world. Inglorious, I should be the one wallowing in self-pity and booze, but I owe Seth to live life fully.

Seth gave his life for people to live the way they wish, and I’ll honour him for that. ”

“Are you saying I don’t honour your brother?” Inglorious flared up.

“Yeah. I’m definitely saying that. Instead of honouring their memory, you got drunk and wallowed in self-pity.

And you stayed that way. You should have made sure their cuts and pictures were at least on the wall where they belonged!

No! Instead, you dishonoured the dead. They gave their lives for a war that wasn’t theirs, and you then shit on them further—”

“Just wait a second—” “Shut the fuck up. You indulged your grief, and fuck what remained of your club. Chill spent half the time drunk and the rest doing fuck knows what. Razor has been trying to handle his grief, the club, prospects, the businesses, and chemo.” “Wait, what, chemo?” Inglorious looked horrified.

Shocked, I felt like I’d been slapped. “Are you telling me you don’t know Razor has cancer? Please don’t have been so far into your self-indulgence that you didn’t know he is battling cancer!”

“You’re lying!” Inglorious exploded. His expression spoke volumes.

“Razor wouldn’t have kept this hidden from you.

This ends now. I’m president, and you’re under my control.

You’re a raging, selfish asshole. This is what’s going to happen.

I can’t bust you down to prospect, but until I recruit, you’re liable for all prospect duties.

From morning till night, you’re on call.

“You’ll attend therapy twice weekly for grief counselling and find an AA meeting, which you’ll attend three times a week for the first two months.

You might earn president back one day, who knows?

But one thing is for sure: if you aren’t sober and straight within a year, we will vote for a new president.

You’ll not be able to put yourself forward.

Nor will any nomination for you be honoured.

“Doc Paul will be coming to check you out one more time. I can see you’ve still got the shakes,” I sent Inglorious’s hands a disgusted look, “and you will follow Doc’s instructions.

You’ll also inform Doc that I’m to be kept updated on your condition.

Fail, Inglorious, and in a year, I’ll kick you from the Unwanted Bastards and black your ink. ”

“Over my dead body,” he hissed.

“That may still be a possibility,” I retorted, turned on my heel, and paused at the door. “Oh, one more thing. Don’t bother trying to get brothers on your side. Nobody wants a drunk in charge of the club anymore; save yourself the embarrassment.”

Inglorious

Upset, I sank back onto my bed, hands shaking, and my body screaming for a drink. But the urge subsided under the bombshell Nanci had just dropped on me. She’d black my ink. Hell, I couldn’t comprehend that. How dare Nanci threaten that? However, knowing Nanci, that wasn’t a threat, but a promise.

Shit. The woman who hated me so much she’d send me to hell in the blink of an eye, was running my club.

Nanci had taken my role, title, and my damn dignity.

I had to regain president, but was unsure how.

Her words hurt, but were true. I was an addict, and I’d barely been sober since the funerals of those who’d died in the war.

The plan had been to drink myself to death and join my brothers. Nanci had scuppered that. I could run and start drinking, but not with Nanci around.

That woman would hunt me down and re-imprison me.

She’d no qualms about that. Plus, the only reason Nanci had returned was because of Psych.

As far as Nanci was concerned, Seth Rosky walked on water, and God forbid anyone tarnish his memory.

That included me. Psych and I might have been best friends as well as brothers, but that didn’t mean shit to Nanci.

As far as she was concerned, I’d shit on the memory of her brother.

My hands shook again, and the urge to hit a bar grew.

I needed something to take the edge off.

The only way to get Unwanted Bastards back was to stay sober.

That wasn’t going to happen without a battle against my addiction.

It was a fight I didn’t want, but I had to confront.

I wouldn’t die being the president everyone remembered as a drunk.

My name and reputation had meant something once. Who knew if it still did?