Page 73 of Hell on Wheels

Chapter 18

My phone buzzed insidemy cut, and I reached for it, sliding across the screen to answer. “Yeah?”

“Maddog? It’s Jameson.”

“Hey, brother.”

“Heard you got inked today.”

“Yeah. Diablo is a fuckin’ artist.”

“He is,” he agreed. “Welcome to the Royal Bastards. Wear the patch with pride.”

“Plannin’ on it.”

“Got something for you. A present. Grim should have it ready by now.”

Frowning, I scanned the room, finding Grim by the bar. He held up a new leather cut with two patches.

PRESIDENT and MADDOG.

Fuck yeah!

“About fucking time,” I answered with a slight slur.

I might have been a bit drunk by this point.

Jameson grunted. “I’ll be in touch.”

Moody fucker.

He ended the call, and I rose to my feet, stumbling on my way to Grim. The room silenced as I reached for the leather, shedding my old jacket before sliding on my new cut.

Something settled inside me that had been restless before now—a feeling of acceptance but also the hand of fate.

Cheers broke out as bottles and glasses rose around the room.

Grim lifted his shot of Johnnie, passing one to me. “To our new brother, the president of the Las Vegas Chapter.”

“To Maddog!”

I lost count of the shots I drank after that, nearly falling over when Lark’s arm slid around my waist.

“Baby, I think I need to occupy your time with something else.”

A few guys laughed as I flipped them off.

“All I need is you,” I replied, giving her a sloppy kiss.

She giggled as we headed down the hall to our room, barely making it inside the door before I tripped and landed on the mattress.

“Need a few minutes, blackbird.”

I closed my eyes, asleep so damn fast it was scary.

Lark was passed out next to me when my eyes blinked open, scanning the dark room. I sensed we weren’t alone as I sat up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.

“Maddog,” Lucifer greeted, flicking on a little ball of light by his head. “We need to talk.”