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CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

SAINT

I didn’t expect the vote to be taken so fast. I’d hoped the boys would be amped up having caught a traitor, their blood lust fulfilled for the night. I’d thought I’d had more time to introduce her, to let them come to know her as I had. Like any of us, she’s a lost soul in need of a family. And speaking of souls, she’s the missing half of mine.

Crazy, huh? But when it’s right, it’s right. No point arguing how fate brought us together. And now I’m just hoping the club, my reason for living , won’t try to pull us apart.

Since I’d found my home with the Kings, I’d never felt I had a place in this world. This is my home, my family. But what happens if they vote against me tonight? They won’t let her walk free, and if I stick beside her, I’ll be buried in the same shallow grave, without compassion nor ceremony.

But Bullseye surprises me. After checking everyone’s in attendance, he bangs the gavel, and states, “Since the VP was otherwise occupied,” after a pause for the snide laughter and comments, he continues, “Skunk was a hard case to crack, but in the end, he did. Like they all do.” Again, he lets there be space for the vocalisation of mirth, thumps on the table, and foot stomps. “He’s one of a crew calling themselves the Mojave Devils.”

That’s enough to pull me into a different head space for a moment. “The what?”

Raising his chin to me, he elaborates. “While you were getting your dick wet, I was speaking to Bigfoot.” I know the name. He’s the president of the Kings of Anarchy New Mexico chapter. “He knew about the club, thought he was up on all current members, but it seems Skunk’s been taking a low profile for a while.”

“To infiltrate us?” Freak asks the question that was forefront in my mind.

“Exactly,” Prez confirms. “Seems they know we can get guns and other commodities across the border.” He stops for a moment to shake his head in disgust. “They’re into human trafficking.”

“Fuck that!” Tempest slaps his hand onto the table.

Giving him a quick chin nod, Bullseye resumes, “The Mojave Devils have caused trouble for the Kings in Texas. Tried to take one of their ol’ ladies for his own. Ended up dead.”

Slaps of hands on the table show approval.

Stepping firmly into my VP role, I let my eyes roam landing briefly on all of my brothers. “How much did Skunk manage to find out? How much did he feed back to these Devils?” I notice Woody shifts uneasily. “Look, Brothers,” I purposefully direct my glances one by one at everyone. “That Bigfoot didn’t know his name means he was playing the long game. He was set up to infiltrate us, and being a patched member, knew how to play us to bring him in. Could have happened to anyone of us.”

Now I focus my eyes on Woody, who admits, “He obviously fuckin’ played me, but I never saw it coming. I found him living rough.” He pauses, rolls his eyes to the ceiling, then returns his gaze to his interlocked hands. “He was setting me up from the start. He tried to jump me, his attempt so weak and feeble, I easily got the better of him, and when he begged me for a few dollars to buy some food, I was sympathetic enough to listen to his story. Common sorry tale, vet returned with no backup and no family.” He heaves in a breath and lets it out on a shuddering sigh. “He knew exactly what to say that would get me in the gut. Twisted my heartstrings. Offered him what we all want, meaning a family, then drew him in.” He shakes his head, then lowers his chin, and rests it in his hands for a moment. “Knew there was something not quite right about him. His arrogance, you know?” It’s a rhetorical question, no one bothers to answer. “I fucked up. Didn’t want to look like a fool. Just thought he was a prospect who needed the shit beaten out of him.”

Bullseye jumps in. “He knew what to say, what to do. He’d been there before and got the T-shirt. Not pointing a finger at you, Woody. Now we’ve just got to decide how to deal with his shit and what he might have told his Mojave Devil’s president.”

Woody stands and pulls first one arm, then the other, out of his cut, then throws his leather on the table. He leans forward, palms down. “He knows most of it.” He leans back, holding his arms out as if making his body a target.

“Sit the fuck down, Woody,” Bullseye growls. “And put your cut back on. Sure, you might have introduced him, but none of us saw through him. Hell, we wouldn’t have suspected he was anything but an arrogant ass, until Saint’s woman exposed him. Not sure he’d have earned his patch, there was something about him I didn’t like, but a plant?” He shakes his head, “Nah, I never thought that.”

“So, the Mojave Devils?” I ask, outwardly ignoring, but inwardly loving the way Prez referred to Pippa as mine. “How much of a threat are they?”

“According to Bigfoot, like a hornet’s nest you’d want to get rid of. But knowing they know our routes will cause us to have to change our plans.”

“And drop hints to ICE about our old ones?” Tempest asks.

“You can bet your fuckin’ ass on that.”

We all sit back and ruminate on that for a moment. Fuck it sucks having to give up our tried and tested ways of getting product down south. But if it brings down the Devils, so be it. We can be inventive when need be.

“Nobody fucks with the Kings,” Prez states. And the words are echoed around the table. He waits until the vocalisations die down, then turns his eyes to his left, to me. “Now let’s talk about the woman that’s got Saint all twisted up.”

All eyes come to me, and silence falls in expectation. I open my mouth, hoping it’s only that simple, and say the words, “She’s mine. I’ve claimed her.”

Protestations come from all around. “She’s a fuckin’ Fed”.

“She’s playing you, VP.”

“She can’t be trusted. She’s just trying to save her life.”

“She should be put underground.”

After a few more comments, I’ve had enough of this. I slam my fist down on the table hard. “She challenged Skunk. She could have stayed quiet. Could have let the Mojave Devils take us out without us suspecting anything.” My eyes fall one by one on everyone sitting at the table. “Even if we hadn’t killed her on paper, she’s got nothing left worth fighting for. She’s spent all her life on the right side of the line and where has that fuckin’ got her? With a great big target on her back.” I push back my long hair, tucking it behind my ears. “Yeah, I’ve fucked her. I’m trying to put my baby inside her, because she’s fuckin’ mine.”

Eyes open at this. “VP,” Bullseye starts. “Never thought you’d want to settle down.”

I huff. “You and me both, Brother, but when you find the one, you want to hold on to her.”

Freak slams both of his fists down. “But what about the club? How do we know we can trust her?”

I’ve no answer to that, but plead, “Give her a chance.”

Rattler’s braid swings around his head. “That’s fuckin’ bullshit. She’s a Fed. She needs putting down. I, for one, ain’t never gonna trust her.”

“Don’t much care for it myself.” Words inclines his head toward Rattler.

“What about you, Stalker?” Bullseye asks.

The man in charge of our finances rubs his forehead. “I’ve personally not had anything to do with her, so I’m neither for nor against on a personal level. It’s her profession that causes chills to run down my spine.” Pausing, he raises his eyes to meet mine. “Sorry, VP, not sure I can support this.”

Fuck. I have no idea how to go about winning them around. Piston looks up from the notes he’s been taking. “So how do I record this? Club for or against Saint taking a woman?”

I feel eyes burning into me and know that it’s Bullseye. The last time I was this nervous was when I was a prospect, and I was called into a meeting of the patches, wondering whether I was going to be offered a spot around the table or be kicked out. The bastards, some of whom are no longer riding with us, are no longer on this earth or are retired, strung it out. Left me sweating, not knowing which way the pendulum was going to swing, until, finally, the three-piece back patches had been passed down the table, and I was officially welcomed into the club.

If Bullseye calls the vote now, it’s going to go against me. And for Pippa, that means a death sentence will need to be carried out. There’s no way she can walk away from the club, she knows too much. For the first time ever, the thought crosses my mind, I could betray my brothers. Put her on the back of my bike and ride. Go south, cross the border into Mexico… But fuck, she’s still too banged up for a long ride, or not one where the Kings are chasing after me. I feel sick, thinking of the brightness in her eyes slowly fading, her life being snuffed out. If they make me put the bullet in her head, the next one I fire will be into mine.

How much Prez can read in his examination of my features, I don’t know, but slowly he nods, his eyes release mine, and his gaze slowly meets that of each man around this table, before he announces his decision. “If we take a vote now, I can fuckin’ guarantee the outcome and it will be one the VP won’t like. We’ll give Saint another week for him to prove the woman he wants is no threat to the club.” He pauses and sighs. “I want you all to give her a chance. She’s obviously got something that the VP can see, and we can’t?—”

“A magical pussy,” Winchester snarks.

“No one’s going to find that out,” I snarl.

Prez chuckles. “Not suggesting anyone gets up close and personal with her unless you want to feel Saint’s fists in your face. But observe her, talk to her.” He shoots me a sad glance. “Not sure this is going to turn out like you want it to, Brother. But we’ll vote a week from today about whether you can officially patch her and claim her.”

I’m lost in my own thoughts for the rest of the meeting, the final banging of the gavel taking me by surprise. I’ve been trying to work out a strategy for her convincing my brothers that she’s no threat to them, when I’m not even one hundred percent sure of that myself. Would Pippa run as soon as she got the chance?