“Sure, once we're done combing those fields. Your cousin's a stubborn SOB, babe. I'll wire up his place too on the off chance those damned jackals are dumb enough to come back someday. Otherwise, tell him to get the hell ready for our wedding.”
She swallowed, her big blue eyes shining like gems. “You really think we can do this? After all that's happened? I mean, I want it too, but we can wait if it makes you feel –“
“Better? Fuck that. The only thing's that's gonna make me feel whole is watching you come down the aisle. You've been through hell, babe. We all have. There's nothing either of us need to worry about now except this.”
I didn't give her another chance to speak. My lips found hers, and they didn't let up, not 'til the Veep and his old lady walked in a few minutes later.
By then, it was time for us to go, and Caleb was ready for his breakfast. I shook his little hand and kissed him on the forehead, then headed for my bike outside.
No, I wasn't a hundred percent whole 'til the wedding, just like I'd told her. But something about waking up with a bombshell next to me and a kid who shared my blood was pretty damned close.
This time, church was outside. We all gathered around the fire pit in the back. The inferno normally blazed late at night when we had our rowdy hog roasts and guests came in, or sometimes to entertain high level brothers from other charters.
Not today. This morning, we had the rite of grievances, a first for this charter, and something that had only been used in a couple times before aross the entire Grizzlies MC.
“Step forward, son.” Blackjack waited for me next to the flame, side by side with Stryker.
He passed me the dagger, and I slid it across my palm. Hot blood seeped through the burn, the pain meant to wipe away all the wrongs we'd done to our man.
Blackjack nodded, took back the blade, and I stepped up, looking Stryker in the eye. “I'm sorry as hell, brother. These mistakes are never gonna happen again.”
The tension on the younger man's face melted. He took my hand, gave it a firm squeeze. He felt my blood on his palm, and then gave me a zen-like nod.
“You're forgiven, Roman. It's already ancient history.”
I passed by and waited for everybody else near the fire. Each full patch brother stepped up, plus a few prospects who'd been there before we killed the real rat and a whole lotta cartel assholes. Everyone made the same apology, dripping blood into Stryker's hand and then into the fire, killing the bitterness and guilt we'd summoned with our fuck up.
Blackjack was the last, and he sliced into both his hands. Deep, brutal cuts wept blood on the concrete patio underneath us. He gripped Stryker's hand tight, before reaching up and grabbing him by the neck, pulling him close to the old man's chest.
“I'm sorry, son. Never again. If we ever fuck up this bad, you kill me first.”
The kid had tears in his eyes at the end of it as the Prez stormed away, reaching for the bandages Brass had waiting. Blackjack wrapped his hand like it was nothing, and carried on with the rest of the meeting.
“Brothers, I signed off on the treaty this morning. The cartel's got their man back, and they've already begun to pull out of LA, with our men watching them like hawks. We won't let up 'til they're all back across the US border. It's over.”
Brothers jeered. They clapped their bloodied hands together, pounded each other on the shoulders, or just quietly smiled. Asphalt and Rabid looked the most relieved, but we all felt it in our chests, like a damned gorilla just crawled up outta our skins.
“Don't turn your backs yet. These bastards across the border will never be our friends. They're rivals. Competitors. Killers.” He paused. “Let that sink in, and get ready to watch them with every ounce of vigilance we have. We don't let up until every last goon with an eagle patch is out. We don't quit before our territory's really ours again. I know I can count on you. Every man here's put his heart and soul into this club, and we made a grave mistake doubting it.”
He stopped and looked at Stryker. “Whatever happens from here, we'll keep this club tight. We've made friends with the Devils and smashed the greatest threat we've ever faced. There'll always be new ones, bastards who pop up like weeds, threatening to strangle everything we've fought for. But as long as we never let bad blood come between brothers, and no man sinks a dagger into his brother's patch, we're whole. We're alive. We're men.”
I nodded. The Prez looked down and pulled one of his bandages tighter.
“You can count on everybody here,” I said. “I'll do my damnedest to make sure every last one of those fuckers is outta Redding's city limits next week, on their way to San Diego and gone.”
“You'll do no such thing, son,” Blackjack snapped. “You're taking the next two weeks off to make sure your woman's the happiest old lady in the world before the big day. I won't risk that thing on your shoulder opening up again either. We've got the manpower to deal with anything, Roman, and you've already given us your brains and your courage. Now, stop working like a maniac and smell the goddamned roses. That's an order. Your only job right now's making sure this club has the best damned wedding we've ever seen.”