The mental image scrambled Vincent’s brain. “Let’s not even go there,” he said on a laugh. “I know they’re supposed to do whatever we ask, but I prefer female company. Did you make contact with the Man-o-Wars?”
“Spoke to Chez Castile himself.”
Vincent broke eye contact with J.T. temporarily as a lasagna pan was shoved into his hands. He shoveled a large portion onto his plate. “Did he receive his delivery undamaged?”
“Absolutely.” J.T. bit off a hunk of bread and chewed. “Thanked us for having the patience to deal with Crash. Apparently the boy is close to getting the boot.”
“Doesn’t change anything really.” Vincent didn’t care what Crash’s standing was with his charter. Dog Tag had fucked up big time. Rules were rules, and though some could be manipulated, others were set in stone. “Did he agree to a time and place?”
“Friday night at Bob Hall Pier. There’s some barbeque pits and picnic tables, seven o’clock.”
Vincent approved of the location, just not the day. “That’s three days from now, J.T. We can’t afford another visit from Crash. The next time he shows his face around here, I’ll be forced to take decisive action. He won’t walk away.”
“Understood. That’s why the Man-o-War president gave his personal guarantee that Crash would be indisposed until we settle this.”
Vincent took a swig of beer, considering it. “Did Chez specify why this couldn’t happen tomorrow?”
“A funeral.”
One of the only free passes any club got when there was a conflict. “You saved me a phone call by getting that information up front. Good job.”
J.T. nodded.
It was time to start the meeting. “I’m sure you’ve noticed a new old lady in our midst,” Vincent started. The dozen members seated at the tables focused on him. “Saline Perry is the ex–old lady of Crash, a member of the Man-o-Wars. Unfortunately, she didn’t leave the club on good terms.” He gazed in Dog Tag’s direction and gave his Brothers time to digest what he said.
“My initial decision was to strip Dog Tag’s colors—but there’s something you need to know before we take a vote. I’ve seen Saline’s scars on her back, dozens of cigarette burns her ex gave her for talking back. We have zero tolerance for abuse. Women and children are strictly protected. I’m not saying a man doesn’t have a right to discipline his family. God knows my ex could use a fucking spanking.”
The room reverberated with laughter.
“Dog Tag admits he let his dick do the thinking, but his intentions were pure. He fell in love with Saline and couldn’t stomach the idea of Crash hurting her again. So on his own time, wearing his cut, he rode to Robstown and took what he believed was his. As soon as I found out, our tattoo artist covered her old ink with a Sons of Odin patch—she’s property now. Completely dedicated to our charter. Her ex has shown up twice threatening her safety and the sanctity of our clubhouse.”
“I’ll stand by Dog Tag,” one of the members called out.
“Me too,” another said.
“Hold your opinions until we take a vote,” J.T. directed.
“Regardless of Dog Tag’s motivations, he still violated the code. Old ladies are forbidden territory no matter what patches we wear. But given the abusive history of Saline’s relationship, and the fact that she requested sanctuary with us, I’m inclined to think we have a strong case to defend our Brother’s actions.”
“Until next time.” John stood up in obvious opposition. “He fucks so many women we need a recycling bin out back.”
A couple of Brothers snickered.
“Keeping score?” Dog Tag asked.
“Tired of your sloppy seconds,” John retorted.
Dog Tag’s features morphed into an expression of amusement and anger at his Brother’s open insult. “Things are different now.”
John’s eyes narrowed disbelievingly as he sat down again.
Vincent wouldn’t interfere with the democratic process. Open and honest communication kept the Sons of Odin together. During church, members were free to express themselves. After a vote was called, each man would be heard, even if the meeting lasted all night.
“The sit-down is set for Friday at Bob Hall Pier. Dog Tag and Saline will attend, and I’ve already chosen who I want at my side. The vote is to determine whether Dog Tag deserves punishment. We defend our Brothers to the end, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t consequences to face if one of us fucks up.” Vincent signaled for J.T. to take over.
“Anyone else wish to speak?” J.T. asked. No one uttered a sound. “Then I call for a vote. All in favor of pardoning our Brother’s bad judgment, say aye.”