Page 11 of Owning the Prez’s Ol' Lady

“Are you jealous, Ratt? Are you pissed that she wanted nothing to do with your lanky ass and wanted us instead?”

Another shot fired, this one a little too close for comfort. He nicked the top of my cut, tearing a hole in the leather.

“You guys betrayed the club!” Ratt roared. “None of you deserve that fucking cut on your backs! You’re all traitors! The whole lot of you!”

A chorus of agreement came from behind him, where I noticed Jackyl and Floyd were wearing cuts that said Member and not Prospect. Interesting. Why didn’t he promote Slaughterman or Riot? Riot was already a member of our club and proved his worth, and Slaughterman was next in line to get patched in as a member after Poison.

Riot stood to his feet, placing his hand on Ratt’s arm. “Calm down, Ratt. He just came to try to get the club back together.”

Ratt backhanded Riot, hitting him in the nose with the gun. “Shut the fuck up! I’m talking here. See this VP patch on my chest? That means I’m fucking in charge when the Prez isn’t here, and if you and Kyle want any chance of being in my fucking club, then you better shut your fucking face.” Kyle was Slaughterman’s real name.

Riot shot me a pained look, blood oozing from his nose.

“Ranger, I used to fucking like you, but when you and the others took out Sabbath, you lost my respect. However, I’m an honorable man, and unlike you fucks, I’m going to let you walk out of here alive because I need you to relay a fucking message to the rest of the traitors. The Dismembered Crows are back and better than ever, and they got the Outlaws in their crosshairs. So, go ahead. Put the club back together the best you can, because you’re going to need all the numbers you can get. A war is coming, and when the Crows take flight again, we’re going to burn your club to the ground until it’s nothing but ashes and dead bodies, just like the fallen Crows you torched in your wake.”

His message was received loud and clear, but the question was, who was running the Crows if he was the VP? Somebody was pulling the strings to this fucked up nightmare, and I had no idea who it was.

“Oh, and Ranger. Take these two sorry fucks with you. Neither one of them are fit to wear the cut of a Crow.” He pushed Riot and Slaughterman toward me. “I don’t think I need these two fuckers, anyway.”

Slaughterman and Riot followed me out of the bar, just as another shot rang out behind us, causing all three of us to duck and run. Ear-piercing laughter followed as we fumbled to get to our bikes, sounding like it was a den of Hyenas instead of a bar full of our former brothers. Who really were the traitors now?

Slaughterman and Riot both gave me a look, one that said they were uneasy about returning. “Snyder’s wearing the Prez patch now,” I informed them.

“Does that make you VP?” Riot asked as we fired up our bikes.

“No...” I answered cryptically. “He appointed Clash.”

“Fuck,” Slaughterman growled. “Now I’m not so sure I want to come back.”

“Just give it a chance, Slaughterman. Anyone is better than Sabbath.”

Riot laughed. “Amen to that, Brother.”

And with that, we rode back to the club with new information to give my other brothers about an old enemy rising from the ashes of our carnage.

Chapter Nine

Shasta

The man stared at me like he was deep in thought, those blue eyes soaking up every inch of my body until it felt like he was undressing me with his eyes.

“Joe, this is... sorry, I didn’t get your names,” Josie said with a grin.

“I’m Ramona, and this is Shasta.”

Joe studied us curiously. “And why is this important to me?”

Josie’s smile faded. “You said we needed help, Joe, and these girls are looking for a job.”

“Do you have experience waiting tables?”

Both of us shook our heads.

“Then they are of no use to us, Josie.”

He started to walk by me, but I grabbed his arm, forcing him to a full stop. “But we can learn. Please, we really could use the help right now. Let us help you a few days, and if we don’t do a good job, we’ll hop in my car and keep on driving.”

He eyed my corvette in the parking lot, then looked back at me. “You running from something?”

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