Page 39 of Doc
Satisfied with my response, he let out a sigh of aggravation and leaned forward in his chair, his gaze moving around the room. “Vegas Watchdogs have declared war on Wild Bandits for the shit they’ve caused. After what they did to Creepers and Cole, I’m inclined to think we need to join up with them.”
Two MCs against one were good odds, even against a big club like Wild Bandits. It didn’t come as a surprise that murmurs and eager nods of agreement moved around the room. None of us were happy with what had gone down a few days before, and if we didn’t make a stand, we would be perceived as weak. Some already thought we were weak because of the fact that we’d cut down on illegal activities over the years and had turned instead to legal enterprises to make a living.
Demon continued with a grim expression. “They hit up the Watchdogs’ gun shop at closing last night. Killed the prospect locking up and stole most of the fucking inventory, even the shit in the warehouse.”
That wasn’t good. Vegas Watchdogs had some serious arsenal, and now it was in the hands of Wild Bandits. Maybe we’d been wrong about why they were in the area. I wondered what else they had planned, and why they were so intent on making trouble for the Vegas Watchdogs.
“Saw it on the news this morning.”
“Fuck,” I muttered at Oz’s admission. When cops were involved, shit got messy.
“Shit, how’d three assholes accomplish something like that?”
Loco was in the room because he was being groomed to be able to step into any unexpected openings in the club on a temporary basis when needed. It was a new decision that had been voted on by the club when Demon had brought the idea to the table. Cole’s situation would have been a perfect opportunity for him to step in, had Loco had more experience behind him.
“Especially after the warning beatdown we gave them the other night.” he continued.
“Obviously there’s more in town than we know of, and they aren’t wearing their fucking colors.” There was no denying the disgust in LD’s raspy voice. He and his officers were there, too, which wasn’t unusual when there was trouble involving the club or important decisions to be made.
“Fuckers can’t be trusted,” Bull snarled. “We already know their word don’t mean shit.”
“Why did they come all this way just for weapons?” TJ snapped, crossing his beefy arms. What the man lacked for in height—because, hell, he was only like five-nine or ten, while most of the rest of us were six-feet or above—he made up for in muscle and body strength. He’d just returned from a job in Tulsa, and it was apparent that no one had filled him in yet on what had been going on.
“We thought they were here to pick up girls for their trafficking operation.”
“What, they don’t have bitches in New Mexico?”
Loco snorted. “Think, Brother. Why bring attention to themselves by taking women in their own backyards? Girls working the strip are a dime a dozen and go missing every day. It’s a gold mine of pussy.”
“Just the fact that they’re here without making arrangements first shows disrespect to us and the Watchdogs,” Bull added.
It was an unspoken rule between MCs that when you were going to be riding through or visiting another MC’s area you got permission first. It was a sign of respect and showed that you weren’t there to make trouble. “It’s like they snuck into town and thought they wouldn’t be noticed. And worse, Bronx is with them.”
“Fuck,” TJ grunted. “That bastard’s a crazy lunatic.” He pulled out his pocketknife and began to pick at his fingernails with it.
Oz glanced up long enough from his ledger to ask, “So what’s the plan?”
Demon ran his hand over his lower jaw before replying. “Vegas Watchdogs are going after them whether we join up or not. They’re tired of their bullshit, and they’ve lost brothers, too. It’ll benefit us if we help them. Creepers death means something, and they almost took out our enforcer.”
His comments were met with headshakes and rumblings of agreement for retribution as brothers leaned into each other and voiced their thoughts. Everyone was on board. When you lost a brother, it reminded you in a painful way how violent and dangerous our lives were, that another day wasn’t a given when you lived the way that we did. And if you didn’t fight back when attacked, you left yourself open for more challenges to the strength of your club.
“Trip have a plan?” I asked.
“Yup.” There was smug satisfaction behind Demon’s one-word response, before he added, “Trip and his brothers will be by later to discuss it.”
Fuck. That meant I wouldn’t be seeing Harlow anytime soon. Demon would want us all there for the initial discussion so we could give input if asked. I wondered why we were having church now if that was the case. Demon had changed some over the years. He hadn’t mellowed by any means, he was still a damned good president, but since he’d become a family man, he chose to try to work shit out first and save war as a last resort. Like other brothers with families, he had a lot to lose.
My thoughts drifted to Harlow. I hoped to have that with her one day soon. The fact that we’d told each other how we felt didn’t cement a future for us. A lot of people loved each other but went their separate ways for whatever reason. I intended to do everything in my power to make her realize that I was the man for her and that we could have a life together. Those babies she wanted were going to be mine.
The slamming of the gavel jolted me out of my head, and I got up to head out to the bar, where I was certain everyone else was headed. As I walked through the room, the entrance door opened and Monk walked through. What the fuck was he doing here? He wasn’t one of Trip’s officers. I scowled at the smug look he directed my way. Some of my brothers welcomed him, but I ignored him and took a seat at the bar next to Savage.
Peaches was the club whore working behind the bar. She had started out at LD’s clubhouse but had moved to ours a couple of months before when she and another bitch couldn’t get along. In most circumstance, both would have been kicked to the curb, but the brothers liked both women, so a compromise had been reached. She met my eyes and held up a glass. I gave her a nod and turned toward Savage.
“You just get back?” He occasionally took on a job that wasn’t connected to the club.
“Early this morning. Stopped to have a drink before I head home.” He looked like shit, and I told him so. He snorted. “Thanks, Brother. I worked hard at it.”
I laughed low and took the drink Peaches set in front of me. Most of the girls memorized the preferences of each brother, and not just what they preferred to drink. They also learned what the men liked, and how they liked it, in bed, too. She gave me a wink before sashaying off. I felt the presence of someone sitting down beside me and looked over to see Monk settling onto a stool.