Floating (27 page)

Murmurs go up around the room. Priest bangs his fist down harshly on the table top, attempting to silence the crowd.

“Shut the fuck up, the lot of you. You’re all aware leadership was turned over to Animal’s son, Lucifer, after he died a few months back. There needed to be an end called to this shit or a truce at the bare minimum. Don’t think I need to tell you, if this situation was left to go on, fuck knows whose woman would be next. I sure as fuck wasn’t takin the risk it’d be mine after my only kid has already borne the brunt of it.”

Cage mutters, “Fuckin oath,” but no one else speaks.

“Pretty straight forward reason as to why we couldn’t get a lead on info regarding their beef with us. It came out last night during the meet, that Animal was holdin a nasty fuckin, unfounded grudge over the death of his brother, goin on six years back. Apparently the drunk fuck was an interstate truck driver, and killed himself after an accident the month before where he caused the death of two people.”

From beside me I hear Tank say, “Jesus fuck.”

Priest replies to Tank and the rest of us with a voice filled with emotion.

“That’s about the size of it, Tank. Bob Givens was so far over the legal limit that night when he got behind the wheel of his truck, I doubt the motherfucker could have told you his own name. When he veered over that median strip, he didn’t have enough time to correct his rig before he hit Jones and Sally Walker’s car. Accordin to Lucifer, which was backed up by Bead who was the VP back in Animal’s time too, nearly every member of Satan’s Sons had words with their previous prez, in respect to his misplaced blame over what caused his brother’s death.”

I can’t fucking believe it all comes down to this. Some useless, drunk motherfucker kills two of our own, Priss and Tilly’s parents to be specific. Then he offs himself, and the whole of Satan’s Sons MC hold us responsible? Jesus Christ. This shit is stuff that happens in high school, not between one percenter MC’s.

“Got assurances last night that this shit is done. Lucifer has no interest in carryin on the beef dear old, dead daddy had with us. They’re fully aware Vengeance is standin with us and against them, if it comes down to it. They waved the proverbial white fuckin flag. Almost always a decision of a truce comes to the table. We hear it. We vote. It’s carried out. Not this time, brothers.” Gesturing to Pipe and Reaper beside him Priest adds, “I couldn’t give the first fuck if any of you don’t agree with the route I took last night, or wanted it brought to you before action was taken. Fact is, a conditional truce was called between Devil’s Spawn and Satan’s Sons. I expect all of you to uphold it. Conditions are they keep to their own territory, with no crossover deals or approaching our known contacts. They keep their club out of our MC owned businesses, whether they’re wearing their colours or not, and they’re to stay the fuck away from any family or friends connected to the MC, no exceptions. Pretty standard shit, all in all.”

At Priest’s non-verbal command Reaper stands. This Church meeting is pushing all the accepted boundaries, so far. No one moves until the prez bangs that fucking gavel, and stands to leave himself. Reaper standing is a big fucking deal signalling something more to come that can’t be good.

“In the spirit of full disclosure, before makin the truce Lucifer informed us he’s recently got hitched.” Reaper moves in closer behind me. I have to say that this shit is making me feel all kinds of uneasy.

Trig speaks up to ask, “What the fuck does that have to do with us? We don’t give a fuck what gash was stupid enough to marry that asshole, do we?”

Glaring at Trig, Priest gives him his answer. “In this case, Brother, we do.” Continuing to scowl, but going on Priest drops the bomb. What a motherfucking explosion it is. “Lucifer legally married the now, Savannah Givens, three months ago after she legally changed her name from Verity June Stevens.” Pushing out of my chair so fast it almost tips back; I shoot to my feet like my ass is on fire. I don’t make it much further when I realise what Reaper is standing for.

Grabbing both shoulders, Reaper halts any progress I may have made, either away from the table or out of the room. This is bullshit. Taking a few deep breaths, I address the table full of men that are my closest family, in an effort to reassure them I’m not the loose cannon they are probably thinking I’m going to be.

“I’m not going to do anything to upset the truce you’ve called. What I want to know is what the fuck she’s doing with him, and what we’re going to do about it?” Shaking his head slowly, Reaper shoves me back into my seat.

I know the answer before Priest says it. Nothing. We’ll do nothing about it.

“Brother, it’s legit. Had Cage check out the marriage licence and county register, a few minutes before we came in for Church. Not a whole hell of a lot we CAN do about it. For all intents and purposes, your son’s mother is now officially Satan’s Sons property.” Sighing loudly I run my fingers roughly through my hair pulling it as I do. This is a complication the club and I don’t need. “Fact is, Arrow, she gave up parental rights. You weren’t married, and she wasn’t wearing your property patch. You had no claim on her and didn’t fuckin want one.”

He’s dead fucking right. It’s not that I want Verity, or Savannah as she’s called now, in my life because I fucking don’t. The issue lies with the fact that my son is now, categorically, NEVER going to be able to see his mother again. Ronnie is a far better mom and all Kellen needs. One day, my boy is going to want to meet his biological mother, again. That’s just not going to be possible without breaking a tentative truce that could cause war between two heavily armoured MCs. I might be a massive dick for saying this, but I can’t even bring myself to care, or consider the danger Verity could be in being married to Lucifer. He’s not known for being the sweetest candy in the box to the women he’s with. Right now though, my focus is one hundred percent on my son and how this will affect HIM. I don’t have room for much else.

I have no fucking idea what to do with this information. I’m still processing it when Pipe claps his huge hands together and says, “Alright boys get up, and get the fuck out. All you need to take with you is us and Satan’s Sons are on neutral ground, right now. Don’t do anythin to fuck that up, and you won’t answer to my buddy, Reaper here, who’s got more fuckin anger stored up right now than cum in his balls. Now get the fuck out.” Snickers follow, but I’m pretty sure, right now, I’m deaf to everything accept the roaring of blood in my ears.

The brothers all stand and make their way out single file clearing the room in record time. They know this shit is personal, and I need some privacy to sort it out. Turning toward Tank, I notice he’s still in his seat giving me his unwavering support. He remains silent, but just him being here is enough, for now.

“I’m gonna lay it out for you, Arrow. You might not like it, but it is what it fuckin is,” Priest says. “You and Ronnie have got your boy. He’s happy, settled, fuckin doin great at school, and in that junior league you’ve got him playin in. Your woman is wearin your patch, and you’re set to get married in just under six months. Before long I’ve got no doubt she’ll be cookin your kid, too. Life’s fuckin sweet for you, Ronnie, and Kellen. You’ve got no major shit other than the fuckin dickheads you got workin for you down at Chasers.” I wholeheartedly agree with every word he just said. Does this make the situation Verity has put herself in, and me ignoring it right, though? “Fact is, unless Verity, or Savannah, or whoever the fuck she is now, goes to the cops reporting she was married under duress and then hauls ass out of state, your boy’s not gonna be seein her, any time soon. You follow that logic. She won’t be seein him then, either. You don’t just ditch your Ol man, who’s the president of a one percenter MC, call the cops on him in the process, and hide out in fear for your life; while waltzing in and out of Colorado any time you please without sufferin severe consequences for your actions.”

Again, he’s right. Any way this plays out, Kellen is going to miss out on knowing his mother. My heart bleeds for my boy, but I know what I have to do. It won’t be easy turning my back on this and her, but it is what has to be done.

“I’m not going to do anything, Prez. You’re right. She made her bed, no matter whether she was forced to lay in it or not. I get there’s no point in causing a fucking war over getting her out of there when my boy’s better off with who’s raising him, now.” The words taste as sour coming out of my mouth as they did going into my brain. However, this is the only rational choice in a world filled with very few choices for MC members.

I refuse to allow anyone else to get hurt or be put at risk, all for the sake of a woman that I don’t definitively know is in danger, or not. For all I know, this was a conscious choice she made. She might be happy with the sadistic fucker she married.

“Good. That’s good, Brother. In saying that though, Cage is gonna keep his ear to the ground, so is Vengeance’s CO, just in case we hear chatter that changes our position.”

Clearing his throat Reaper adds his two cents, which proves that today couldn’t be any more abnormal if it tried.

“Probably a good idea to give your woman the heads up on this shit, Arrow. Shit has a way of getting around, whether it’s supposed to be a secret or not. I’d be keeping Kellen in the lurch for now, if he were my boy, though. No need for him to have to sort all this shit out in his little head.” I couldn’t agree more. There’s no need for Kellen to be made aware of Verity’s situation. It won’t add or detract anything to or from his life, right now. Maybe when he’s old enough to understand, I’ll sit him down and lay it all out. Until then, I opt for the status quo.

At the end of the day, everything we learnt in Church that morning closed off one nasty fucking chapter of Devil’s Spawn history. The simple fact is, the threat, us chasing our tails, expending resources that could’ve been better used elsewhere, and the constant vigilance, is finally over. We can breathe a sigh of relief. You know what they say though…

Finish one chapter only to begin another.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Priscilla

Priss’s Rules to live by 101:

‘Life is short and so is your penis.

And no, I won’t just shut up and suck it.’

              So called “enlightened” people, well, that’s what I call them, and I make sure to inject the appropriate amount of sarcasm when I do, believe you can’t live without love. Well, I say fuck that, wine and oxygen are more important.

The fact remains; love is a nasty business. Seriously, cage fighting is far safer. Why you ask? Simple. You’ve got 206 bones available to break, but only one heart. Why in all that’s holy, would someone want to take that risk? The truth is harder to accept than you’d think for someone like me.

The answer is, we as humans are colossally stupid creatures who are blessed, or cursed, depending on how you look at it. Born with the desire to find a mate, procreate, and nest. We are basic creatures that need little to theoretically survive. In reality, very few of us actually function like that.

I also think it’s important that I point out a few home truths. Well, they’re true in my mind, so that’s all that matters. Why am I doing this now? Because honestly, if you believe that love is the cure-all for everything, and life has a specific ultimate meaning, you need to hear them.

First off, there are no knights in shining armour, only assholes wrapped in tin foil. They do not carry swords, and if they tell you they have one for God’s sake don’t be fooled. Truthfully, it’s only their dick in their hand.

Secondly, bikers do not go grey; they go chrome. Based on a technicality, it’s the same damn thing. Don’t tell them that, though. To them going grey is seen as a weakness. Going chrome is like a badge of honour. Bunch of fucking weirdos.

Third on the list is men do NOT know where the clitoris is. They guess every single time. I can most definitely assure the women of the world, after my extensive testing, okay the list is only three guys long but whatever, that men HONESTLY have no fucking clue what’s going on down there.

Moving on from that. Asking a biker how his day went is like asking how a drive-by shooting went. He’s just lucky he got out alive. And that’s no joke.

I learned this next one the hard way. Don’t get jealous, when you see your ex or current man, crush with someone else. Because seriously, your parents and mine taught us to give our toys to the less fortunate. Sharing is caring after all.

And lastly… Nobody dies a virgin because in the end life fucks us all!

I want to make it clear that I’m not cynical or jaded. Well, at least I don’t think I am. I don’t NOT believe in love. I just don’t happen to prescribe to the phenomenon myself. I have to say I’m secure in the way my life has turned out, so far. It’s not perfect, but it is mine. What I just said does come with the usual pre-requisite and wholly clichéd, “one exception” to the rule, however. Aside from that, my life’s fucking awesome. Thanks for asking.

In my lifetime I’ve seen the good and bad, the normal and the epically insane. Take my friend Lou, for example. That bitch is straight up crazy, and I love her regardless. Loss and gain has been a common occurrence for me. I’ve seen and possibly even felt, fear and elation, too. Okay, so not elation, but as close as I can get to it, anyway. If anyone tells you they’ve gone through pain, loss, heartache, fear, and sadness, and then in the same breath tells you they came out the other side unscathed; they are dirty rotten liars.

And that’s exactly what I am… A liar. Not in the traditional sense where the word carries a wholly negative connotation. No, I would never lie for my own gain, or in order to hurt someone on purpose to improve my own situation. That’s just not the kind of person I am. Honestly, I couldn’t lie straight in bed if I tried, and I have. Tried to lie straight in bed, that is. It just doesn’t work for me.

I suppose I should explain myself, so you don’t judge me too harshly, right off the bat. I wouldn’t want you getting the wrong impression or anything. Honestly, I am sweet as pie until you piss me off. Then I can, occasionally, turn into a raging she-bitch. Not often, but it is a real spectacle for all who witness it when I do.

My deception or lies, which ever you prefer, began the day the police showed up at my family home. They told my sister, Tilly, and I that our parents’ car had been hit head on by a truck, whose driver was under the influence of an excessive amount of alcohol. They had been killed instantly. That was the day my life, as I knew it, ended.

Something inside me broke that day. My dad was my hero. He was my saviour. He was also the only man I trusted completely. When I spent some time in my head, trying to sort my shit out, I realised I’ve changed, when I snap out of it. It isn’t a subtle change, either. I became a whole new Priss. I’m scared shitless what that will mean for the nineteen-year-old woman I’ve scornfully cast into the abyss that makes up my smouldering vortex of pain. I will never unlock that part of me, for fear it’ll take over. I’ll have no control over the destruction it causes if I do.

I’m harder now, too. Not when it comes to my reactions to people, and how I speak to them, or how I love my sister. I am emotionally harder, though. I can’t afford to break, so I do everything in my power to ensure that won’t happen. It isn’t that I don’t grieve; go through the stages of mourning like other people do because I do. Albeit in reality and practice, I do it silently. For Tilly’s sake, I limit my grieving to when she’s in bed at night fast asleep. Silently shut in my room feeling alone, hurt, and fucking terrified about what I’m going to do next. Where my life will take me, and in turn my younger sister. Like anyone faced with adversity, I suck it up, put my big girl panties on, and drink a cup of cement. The result is this princess hardened the fuck up.

I have an eleven-year-old to take care of. A house to keep up with. I’m enrolled in college to get my degree in accounting, for fuck’s sake. The campus is in Boulder, which is an hour away. I don’t have a job because I am, or I was one of those lucky kids whose parents don’t only pay for their courses, they pay their living expenses too. Well, that isn’t going to happen now, is it? There is no money for that kind of stuff. I need to focus on Tilly, and get us through this the best way possible. So what did I do to protect Tilly? I lied.

That shit spreads like herpes, though. One lie leads to another. Which leads to lying some more; all culminating in one massive outbreak. When it gets found out, it infects every aspect of your life, and if you’re not lucky, it alters who you are as a person, too.

I lie to myself and Tilly and to the members of Devil’s Spawn MC. The motorcycle club my dad was a member of, before he died. I lie to my friends, too. I fucking lie my ass off, until I believed every word that comes out of my mouth. I tell Tilly it will all be okay. I’ll take care of everything. That she has nothing to worry about. I lie, and she believes me. I feel like the scum of the Earth for doing it.

When Devil’s Spawn President Priest, and his Vice President Pipe visit to make sure we have everything we need, I lie saying we do. For a time, they believe me too, making me feel even worse. My friends are so consumed by their own lives, and I couldn’t blame them. I had been too, up until the horrible day the police arrived on our doorstep. They don’t flinch at the lies I feed them about me coping and having everything under control.  They still haven’t caught on to the fact that I’m still lying to them, to this very day.

As I mentioned before there is always one exception. Whether it be to the rule in general, or your self-imposed restrictions, there’s always one. My one exception WAS, Hunter ‘Tank’ Adams. I use past tense because Tank WAS my exception; until he fucked it all up. Now he’s nothing more than an example for why I refuse to EVER make another exception for anyone, ever again.

How did he fuck up you ask? In order to answer that I have to take you back to the beginning of our story. Bear with me it’s not all sunshine, rainbows, and lollipops. Our story is gritty and messy. Along the way you will probably want to punch me in the boobs and kick him in the junk. I won’t blame you for wanting too, either.

In the end…Well, I’ll let you decide for yourself. Just keep in mind this story is ours, and I didn’t like the journey very much, either.