Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 142728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Grinder drops into the chair next to me. “How you doing, Dex?”
“All right. Serena and the baby come up with you?” Emily would probably feel a lot more comfortable with Serena here today.
“Not today.” He slides a look down the table at Z. “Plannin’ to head home when we’re done here. Unless Z needs me to stay.”
“All right.” Wrath’s hands slap together louder than a clap of thunder. “Settle the fuck down.”
Rock walks to the head of the table. Head up, shoulders back, stone-faced, but he still looks like he’s carrying the weight of the world. Instead of sitting in his chair, he curls his hands over the back of it and sweeps his stony gaze up and down the table.
“Thanks for coming to the table earlier than usual and in an orderly fashion, everyone.” He taps one finger against the chair. “We had some unfortunate news this morning. Digger, the former president of our Deadbranch charter, passed away yesterday.”
Murmurs go around the table. Digger was mostly well-liked throughout the organization and in the larger MC community. He probably should’ve retired as president a few years ago, but otherwise was a decent guy.
“What are we doing for him, Prez?” Bricks asks.
Rock’s hands tighten on the back of the chair. “Well, Priest’s going to call in a few minutes and let us know. But Digger wore that president patch for a long time and was a brother even longer. Even though he retired the gavel not that long ago, the whole organization’s going to show him the respect he earned.”
I take that to mean we all better get comfortable with a trip to Deadbranch in the near future.
As much as I love my club, danger surrounds MC life. Not every brother makes it to Digger’s age. A president’s life expectancy is even shorter than the average outlaw biker’s. So the desire to show our respect by celebrating Digger’s life will be strong.
I’m going to have a lot of work to do to get ready for this trip. It’ll be my first major club ride since I stitched this road captain patch onto my cut. I glance down the table at Jigsaw, three seats away. He dips his chin as if he’s thinking the same thing. At least his first trip as RC was a low-pressure vacation both of our charters took to Texas together. Everything about this visit to Deadbranch will be intense.
As much as I’d like to take Emily with me, it’s not an option for an event like this. Not this soon in our relationship.
The burner phone rings. All the chatter and questions cease.
Rock answers. With his free hand he motions for Wrath to do something with the speaker.
“You’ve got both New York charters at the table, Priest,” Rock says once everything’s working right.
Priest clears his throat, the sound exploding through our long, narrow room. Rooster jumps up and adjusts the volume. He waits, his hand suspended above the speaker until Priest begins talking, then sits.
“Morning, everyone. I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news. But yesterday we lost our good brother Digger, outta the Deadbranch charter. As a lot of you know he was president for a long time, only handing the gavel to Squiggy a couple months ago.”
“We’re all really sorry to hear this,” Z says.
“That you, Zero?” Priest asks.
“Yup.”
“If y’all would identify yourselves before speaking, that’d be best,” Priest says.
Bricks catches my eye from the other side of the table and makes a face I interpret as, “I ain’t saying shit.” I nod to indicate that’s my plan too while Priest’s on the line.
“Now, just so we’re all on the same page,” Priest continues, “Digger was loved and known in the MC world, not just our organization.”
Priest pauses but none of us say a word.
“I’ve been working hard with law enforcement from Nashville to Deadbranch to arrange a proper memorial service without them busting our nuts.” Priest’s voice holds a weariness I haven’t heard from him before. “More than any other time, I need each and every charter on their best behavior. If you’ve got any crooked arrows, you best set them straight. If anyone acts up, it makes all of us look bad. Not just Lost Kings but every single motorcycle club in this country.” Priest spells it out as if we’re not all aware of this and it’s the first time we’ve heard this lecture.
“We can do all the toy runs and charitable events in the world,” Priest continues. “But if we have an incident, that’s what folks will remember about the Lost Kings. Media and law enforcement will talk about nothing else.”
“Understood,” Rock says, glancing at Wrath. Rock will depend on him to keep us in line.
I lean to my left and hold out my fist, tapping Wrath’s leg to let him know I’ve got his back. He flicks his gaze down, one corner of his mouth turns up, and he taps his fist against mine.