Page 44 of Fury

“I…I didn’t think it was wise. You know, history and all that.”

“The Notorious wouldn’t have dared do a thing about it.”

“No. But you lot might have. I’m here now, though.”

She patted me on the back patch and wriggled her eyebrows at me. I shook my head. Jazz. Always skirting the edge of danger.

I passed a drink to her, sliding it across the soaking wet bar top. Something to my left catching my eye.

The back patches stood out a mile away at the best of times. The dripping red blood on the leather designed so you could see it from afar and know you were fucked or you needed to ride as fast as you could in the opposite direction. They stood at the table I’d left Heidi at, hiding Indie from my view, their backs to me. Heidi’s eyes tracked them, her fingers closed tightly round the glass, her lips tense. And even though she didn’t know one bike club from another, she must have been able to sense they were bad news.

Demon’s face was tenser than Heidi’s, his jaw clenched, and Ciara hung on his arm now. I wasn’t sure whether she was scared or trying to keep him from exploding. But even Ciara’s charms couldn’t keep that temper at bay. She’d diluted it, but it was still as explosive as ever. And all the while, Heidi was way too close to something that would likely go Pete Tong in a split second.

I nudged a twin.

“Chaos,” I tried.

“It’s Caleb.”

“Whatever. Look over there.”

I pointed to the members of the Bloody Hand that stood in front of Indie.

“Shit,” Caleb breathed. “We gonna step in?”

“And cause a fucking riot?” I shook my head. “Watch my back. Have an exit plan for the women. And keep my sister well away from the first hint of trouble.”

“Fuck,” the blonde twin behind me cursed.

I moved closer, stepping round the man on the left, glimpsing Indie’s face. He shook his head at me, quickly glancing over his right shoulder. The man next to me turned his head.

“We’ve just come to talk to your president, here,” the man grumbled over the drawl of the music.

“Come with me. This music’s too loud to discuss business properly. Because that’s what this is, isn’t it, Razor?” I addressed the Bloody Hand, VP to VP.

Razor glanced at his President who nodded. The pair followed me, Indie standing up behind them and I led them past the bar, towards the door that led to the kitchens behind, and the living quarters above. Magnet and the Twins watched us carefully, the Kings behind them gathering as we led The Hand away, and far away from utter chaos if it all kicked off. Two we could take. An entire bar full of MCs with many allegiances in question, or completely unknown, was not clever.

“Indie, firstly our sincere condolences on the passing of your pa,” Grim started, a thick southern drawl much more evident in the quiet of the big industrial kitchen at the back of the pub. “I see you’ve been voted in as president of the Kings.”

“Aye.” Indie folded his arms across his chest.

“Congratulations. It’s nice to know who we will do business with.”

“And what business is that, then?”

“Your Pops was a good man….”

“Cut the bullshit, Grim,” Indie interrupted. “We all know what Ste was. And fucking good wasn’t one of them.”

I glanced at Razor, reading his body language. The Hand would be stupid to start anything here. In the kitchen, there were only two. Outside, only a few more. But here I was confident we could take them, out in the bar, not so much. Razor watched me, as much as I watched him, and he was as uncomfortable about this interaction as I was.

“Fine,” Grim grunted. “With your pops gone, it’s time to think of which direction you want to take the club in. Right now, you have an opportunity to join us.”

“Join you how?” I blurted, all heads now turning to me.

This club was as much mine as it was Indie’s. Both of us were born and brought up in it. I’d be fucked if I didn’t have a concern about its future.

“You want to shut your boy here up? This is President’s business.”