One Hundred and Thirty-Six Scars(25)

“Don’t mention it, or maybe I will. When I find a way you can repay me,” I chuckle down the phone.

“Anything,” he answers instantly without missing a beat.

“Just shout out when you need me,” I tell him before hanging up the phone.

If only all my relationships with other MC’s were this easy. Sadly—or not so sadly—it’s only like this with the Sinful Souls MC and the Blood Razor’s MC. Everyone else has an issue—they won’t voice it, though. Smart decision really because I have no issue starting a war to earn their respect, I think they know that.

After paying for the gas, I walk out to my bike and kick start her to life before making my way back to the compound. I own my own home now in Summerlin West. The clubhouse, which is situated on a large section of land with a built in ranch, bar, and big monster garage, is located on the north side of Las Vegas. My father and Ringer purchased it when they started the Devil’s Own. Smart decision, because we now have four separate houses which are built on the land spread out evenly and strategically too. Yes, we provide a home for those that may need it, but also to protect the clubhouse twenty-four seven. We have someone on the clock all around. It’s convenient and provides a good system. Pulling into the long dusty driveway that takes you to the clubhouse, my bike rumbles underneath me, vibrating the atmosphere with its presence. I still have the bike my dad handed to me, I also have the bike he rode that sits on a pedestal in the clubhouse—where it belongs.

Swinging my leg off my bike and removing my helmet, Frost walks out of the clubhouse with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth and his mousy blond hair slicked back with his long beard scratching over the collar of his cut. He looks like he just rolled out of bed—or killed someone. I wouldn’t be able to tell you which.

Lifting my chin to him, I smirk. “You’re up bright and early, princess.”

He gives me a slow chuckle. “Yeah, Sandy kept me up all night. Good fucking gap she has,” he answers, shaking his head. Sandy is one of the few sweet butts we have that hang around the club.

Laughing, I walk up the worn wooden steps. “Put your dick away, we have work to do. Where’s Hella?”

He shrugs his beefy shoulders. “He left for town this morning, hasn’t been back since.”

Pushing my hand into my pocket, I pull out my phone and dial Hella’s number.

“Sup?”

“Where are you?”

“I needed to get supplies for H2, the roof is leaking.”

H2 means house number two, it’s one of the four houses we keep on the property.

“All right. I need to run some shit past you all when you get back. Make it quick.”

Pushing my phone back into my pocket, I bring my attention back to Frost. “Church in an hour. Let everyone know.” He salutes me before butting his cigarette out under his boot and walking inside with me following closely behind.

Our clubhouse is large, but it needs to be. Our crew is quite substantially bigger than your average MC with around fifteen men, including three prospects. Walking straight toward the bar, I nudge my head up to Old Ben and pull out a barstool. Old Ben is the old fella who works behind the bar for us. He’s seventy-three years old, but the pension pays him shit so I keep him on. With just his pension, he wouldn’t have enough money for food and rent, so he lives in H3 and works behind the bar. I pay him, and he doesn’t pay anything for rent. He’s a crazy motherfucker, you don’t want to be caught walking on our turf when he’s around with a pistol in his hand.

“How’s it going old man, you good?” I ask, putting a toothpick into my mouth and scanning around the room. To be honest, our clubhouse isn’t too bad. The massive barn is equipped with the bottom level bar area which has sofas and pool tables scattered everywhere. Behind the bar’s where we hold church, and where my father’s bike sits proudly behind my seat at the head of the table. It’s all been renovated, complete with flooring and insulation.

Upstairs is one large loft that overlooks the bar the whole way around. There are many bedrooms scattered around up there too, for other activities we see fit. There’s blood on these walls that aren’t just from when I took over.

“Yeah, I’m good,” he responds, wiping the counter down with his cloth.

Taking my drink, I nod my head to him before making my way to the table where some of my men are seated. I pull out a chair and sit down before sipping my drink.

“Calling church in an hour, gives enough time for Hella to get his ass back here.”

“Anything important?” Sugar asks, rubbing his hand over his beard.