“Motherfucker. The nerve of this cunt. As if he’s not caused enough damage already by taking our president, now the fucker’s openly stealing from us. I understand our first lady killed his son. But for fuck’s sake, the Baron didn’t give two shits about Chuck. So why the vendetta against the club?”
Texas huffs. “If it is him, he stole the last shipment before all this shit went down with Cherry. So it has to be for some other reason?”
“I thought our working relationship with him was on solid ground. So why now? What has made him turn against us?” I ask.
“That’s a question I would love to find out the answer to. But for now, the trackers have stopped, and Slick and Blake are almost on location,” Neon tells us as he presses a few buttons on the screen, then audio comes through.
We can hear the crunching of approaching footsteps as I listen in.
Dammit! I really wish we had visual.
“Approaching the truck now. It’s like a UPS delivery van,” Slick whispers.
“Hey! Who the fuck are—”
Bang.
Bang.
Two gun shots ring out.
Harsh and hurried breathing echoes down the line.
“Driver down. I can’t see anyone else. It’s a warehouse, just past the oil refinery. I don’t know who the driver was. Blake is collecting his wallet now. The packages are in the back of the truck. We can check out the warehouse, but I’m getting a fucking weird vibe, man. I am thinking we need to hightail it out of here.”
I rub my chin as everyone looks at me to give an order.
I need to think this through.
Do we take the product, letting the Baron know we’re onto him? Or do we keep it with the trackers inside and see where it goes from here?
“Okay, get out of there. Leave the packages where they are. Make it appear like a simple mugging. Take the cash from his wallet and dump it on the ground.”
Neon’s concerned features are obvious. “Leave the packages there?”
“The trackers are still active, right?”
Neon’s mind is ticking over. “You wanna see where they go from here. Make sure we know who’s responsible before we go slitting throats?”
“Yeah. If we go in all guns-a-blazing at the Baron for this and it’s not him, we’re making a war that we may not be able to control. We need to be sure. Right now, we have a warehouse with a dead driver. So, in other words, we have nothing. We need more.”
“Makes sense to me. Right, I’ll do what I need to and exit. I’m out. See you when we get back.” Slick ends the audio sending the room into silence.
“Everyone agree this is the right path?”
“Bit late for a consensus now, isn’t it?” Ax asks.
“You got something to say?” I question.
“Just saying you’re making a lot of decisions without putting it on the table first.”
“I’m not your president.”
Ax smirks. “No, you’re not, but for now you’re all we got. So, start acting like it.”
That hits home more than I care for it to.
Everyone in the room shifts uncomfortably in their seats. I want to put Ax in his place, tell him he’s out of line, call him out for speaking out of turn, but I can’t. Because he’s right.
I’m not treating my position right now like a president would because I don’t fucking want it. Not like this. Most presidents get the job because the one before has fallen. It’s the way it works. We all know it.
“I might not be the man you all would choose, I certainly wouldn’t have. It’s why I’m struggling to step into this role properly. Refusing to in some ways. I don’t want to act like the president while our club’s president is still capable of being one. But I do know while Zero isn’t here, I need to step up. I’m doing a shit job of it so far. I’ll do better. This club has done so fucking much for me, it’s time I start repaying the favor.”
The guys all thump their fists on the table in appreciation. I dip my head as I stand from the table. Their eyes all follow me as I walk to Zero’s seat. My insides are churning. I fucking hate this, but the guys need it. They need a brother willing to lead them. So, I pull out Zero’s chair, taking a seat. They all bow their heads at me respectively.
I take in a deep breath then start talking, “We need to stand together as a club. If this is the Baron trying to throw something else at us, we’ll be ready this time. Neon, keep an eye on those trackers, let me know where they end up. Texas, tell me when Slick gets back. Have him bring the truck driver’s license to Neon, so we can check him out. Fox, I need you and Bub to cook up a feast tonight. This club needs something to make them feel good, a decent feed is something to bring us all together.”
“You got it… pres,” Fox offers.
My chest clenches, hating hearing that word directed at me. But right now, this is what the club needs, so I have to suck this shit up. I grab the gavel. “Anything else?” I ask.
Silence.
I slam the gavel on the table, the vibration through my hand making my insides shake just as violently. “Then let’s get to work.”
Everyone stands while I remain seated, just trying to keep my shit together.
It’s been a hell of a few hours.
I need to take a moment.
Neon walks up behind me. “Good job, pres.” He’s being sincere as he grabs his shit, then walks out of the room.
I sit back in the chair. How did
