Outlaw's Vow: Grizzlies MC Romance(171)

“I'm apologizing to you, brother, and everyone else in this room. You warned us about all this fresh, impure blood flowing into the club. We let our desperation turn a blind eye to common sense. Hell, I did it too. My drive to wreck the cartel, to save this club, to make sure no good brother ever has to suffer again in this hellish contest.”

I shook my head. Seeing the sadness and anger flashing at the same time in the Prez's eyes gutted me.

“Don't deny it, son. I want everyone at this table to take as much time as they need to digest what Beam has brought us. Then we'll vote on introducing our poisoned brother to the bear's jaws.” He paused. “And after that, if you'd like, we'll vote on whether or not I'm still fit to lead this club.”

The room erupted. Men began screaming, begging him to stay. Half the paper being passed around the table flew off and hit the floor as men swung their fists, hit the wood, roared.

Blackjack grabbed the makeshift gavel, slamming the bear's paw on the wood like a mallet, over and over again. I flexed my fists sadly, ready to back him up as Enforcer if everything went to shit.

We had to keep order. Even if it might eat the whole fucking club alive this time.

I shoved my chair back so hard it slammed the wall, getting on my feet. The clatter caused the room to go quiet.

“You're staying, Prez. Everybody in here's screaming for it. As far as I'm concerned, we've already voted.”

Men nodded. Everybody except Beam, who stared down at the almost empty folder in his hands, clenching his jaw.

The bastard was a weirdo, but he'd just saved our asses. As for Stryker, once we hauled him in, he faced the harshest fate anybody in this club had since the bad old days under Fang.

He'd fucked us over royal. Nobody knew what the hell the cartel had, and he'd tried to cover his tracks with that fake ass shot to the arm. The fuck probably fired the bullet himself.

We'd make him fucking scream before we tore the skin off his back, stripping our symbols off his flesh, everything the bastard wasn't fit to wear to hell, before we shoved him into his grave.

“Let's do this thing, brothers. We need to find our man, haul him in, and find out what he knows. The Prez wants us to vote on it, and that's what we're gonna do.”

Blackjack nodded, darkness filling his eyes. “Sit down, son. You've said your part, and you're exactly right. Rat or not, Stryker deserves the same vote any man wearing this patch does, and he'll get another one before we make his heart stop too.”

Men nodded glumly. Brass looked at me from across the table, his temples throbbing, chewing on the same wicked tension all of us had caught between our teeth.

“Everyone in favor of bringing our brother Stryker in to face judgment, say aye.” The Prez picked up the bear claw gavel and looked at Brass, beginning to go down the line.

One by one, we voted. By the time it circled back to me, the last man standing, it was unanimous.

When the Prez's gavel hit the wood, it sounded like a bullet cracking past my ear. “That's it, then. The only thing left for us to do at this table is to decide how to bring our brother in with the least resistance.”



Me, Brass, and Asphalt waited at my kitchen table. The women laughed upstairs, probably playing with the kid, taking their minds off the dark, heavy shit facing the club.

'Course, none of them knew shit. It was club business, and we'd told them to stay the hell away from Stryker if he showed up, without any further explanation.

The fear in Sally's beautiful eyes matched the same spark shining in Christa's and Missy's.

“Shit. You really think he's coming – here?” Asphalt grabbed his coffee cup and took a long pull, snorting when he saw there was nothing but a few cold dregs left.

“With any luck, he'll go straight to the clubhouse,” I said. “That's where the Veep ordered him. Who the fuck knows if our new prospects got loose lips too. If they do, and he decides to swing by our safe place here, we'll be ready.”

“He'll listen,” Brass growled. “Fucker's been dazed and confused since he got shot. Not too many guys think clearly when they're nursing a kiss of lead.”

I hoped to fuck he was right. Something in my gut shook, pumping angry dread through the rest of my system. My hands ached to draw blood, almost as bad as my dick hounded me to march upstairs, pull Sally into the bedroom, and fuck the stress right out.

“Roman?” I heard her voice and spun.

“What the fuck? I told you to stay upstairs with everybody, babe. It's too fucking risky down here.” I stood up, walking over to her.

She had the kid in one hand, and an empty tote bag in the other. “Caleb threw his spoon on the floor and got it dirty. Besides, the girls could use some more coffee, and I thought I'd come down and brew up a fresh –“