Page 5 of Property of Stone (Kings of Anarchy MC: Pennsylvania #1)

“Brother, why you got the sweet butts watchin’ your girl?” he heard from his right.

“Don’t got a fuckin’ choice right now,” he answered Lick. “Can’t leave her alone.”

“Get a house mouse.”

Stone hooked an eyebrow at their club secretary. “Got one in mind?”

“Fuck no.”

Stone shook his head. “Well, that’s helpful, asshole.”

“No, the asshole is you, lettin’ those club whores watch your girl. I mean, what’s Juicy gonna teach her? How to suck dick? She certainly ain’t teachin’ her math or spellin’.”

“She learns that shit in school.”

“They teach girls how to suck dick in school? Know a few that musta missed that fuckin’ class.”

“Lick—” Stone growled, but before he could finish, their treasurer, Outlaw, slammed his hand on the table.

“Where the fuck’s Ogre?”

Stone glanced across the table to the empty spot on Ransom’s right.

At the other end of the table, Wheels hooted loudly. “When the fuck is that bastard ever here on time?”

Stone could easily answer that. Not once in the eight years since Ogre was voted in as the chapter’s sergeant at arms.

Ogre knew no one would say shit to his face about it. That was why he made a great club enforcer. To him, a fist could solve any problem. Or a knife. Or a gun. But anyone who knew Ogre, knew he didn’t need a weapon. He’d put you six-feet under with a beatdown alone.

If you pulled a knife or gun on him? He’d fucking laugh. If Ogre actually laughed.

Stone wasn’t sure if he’d ever heard it. For those that did, those motherfuckers’ best bet was to run as fast and fucking far as their shaking legs would take them.

“You seriously got Juicy watchin’ your kid?” Ransom asked beside him.

“Juicy, Slick, Windy, Loosey, Swallow…almost all of ‘em,” Lick answered for him.

Stone scowled at him.

“What the fuck, dude?” Ransom laughed. “You gotta be desperate.”

“No shit,” Stone grumbled. “Goddamn Sheena, man. The bitch promised me she’d stay clean this time.”

“Hard to fix a junkie,” Wheels began, “if they ain’t willin’ to fix themselves.”

Their road captain should know. He lost his younger brother to a fentanyl overdose.

He should’ve known better than to fuck with fentanyl. Not much was prohibited from club property, but that shit was. Any member caught with it or doing it would be stripped of their colors.

“Yeah, well, I’m fuckin’ done with that bullshit. Sunny ain’t goin’ back to Sheena after she gets out.”

“Then you definitely need a house mouse,” Ransom said.

How the fuck did the officer’s meeting turn into a dissection of his life’s choices?

His eyes flicked to the empty seat. Because goddamn Ogre was his normal late-ass self.

Motherfucker.

“Know one?” Stone asked his prez.

“Not off the top of my melon, no, but I’ll ask around. Someone’s gotta have a sister or cousin you can trust.”

“You sayin’ I can’t trust our club girls?”

“Sure,” Ransom answered, “you can trust them to suck and fuck the shit outta you. To help raise your kid? Fuck no. ”

“If you find one that’s got big knockers and a tight cunt, even better, right?”

“Who?” Stone asked Wheels.

“The house mouse,” he answered.

“Find one that can cook, too,” Outlaw suggested, like it was that fucking easy.

“And doesn’t bitch,” Lick added.

Now they were weaving a fucking fairy tale.

He didn’t need a house mouse who could suck and fuck him. He could get that anywhere. What he needed was someone stable in Sunny’s life. Someone who wasn’t a total fuck up and could take care of his daughter and his house when he wasn’t there. Which was too often.

“Well, when you find one like that, send her my way,” Stone told everyone at the table. “Now, can we get this fuckin’ meetin’ started?” He was done with this subject.

“Not without the big guy.” Ransom tipped his head toward the still empty seat.

Goddamn Ogre.

A second later, they heard the heavy thump of boots right before the six-foot-four, three-hundred-pound monster shouldered his way through the door to the meeting room. On his heels, like always, was his one-hundred-fifty-pound brindle Presa Canario, Thor.

With a bite force of over five hundred pounds per square inch, the fucking dog’s powerful jaws alone were deadly. So yeah, Ogre didn’t need any weapons other than himself and his canine sidekick.

The sergeant at arms never went anywhere without his four-legged beast. He had even added a sidecar onto his Harley for him.

“‘Bout fuckin’ time, asshole!” Stone yelled as Ogre lumbered around the table to his spot at Ransom’s left .

Ogre yanked out the chair and sank his weight into it, then he tipped his bearded chin down but lifted his dark, soulless eyes to stare across the table at Stone. “You say somethin’?”

Probably not the best idea to poke the grizzly bear. “Yeah, I was sayin’ how much I’ve missed you.” Stone puckered up and blew a kiss across the table.

Ogre rose from his seat, turned around, dropped his jeans to expose his ass, and pointed to one hairy bare cheek. “Kiss this, motherfucker.”

“Prefer not to get pink eye, fuck you very much.”

At the head of the table, Ransom howled with laughter and slammed his gavel down, then yelled, “Let’s get this shit over with.”

Best words Stone had heard since entering the room a half hour ago.