Page 47 of Vengeance

Chicago never thought he’d see the man standing before him wearing a Phoenix Rising kutte again. “Bodie?”

“I feel like I walked into the wrong clubhouse,” Bodie says, a wide smile on his face.

The last time they laid eyes on Bodie Hall, he was swollen and pale with the look of death in his eyes. The moment he said he had to walk because he could no longer ride was one of the saddest moments in Chicago’s life. It felt like losing a child.

“Am I looking at a ghost?”

“You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” he says with a chuckle. “What’s up, man?”

“Do you live under a rock?” Ian asks. “We patched over a few years ago. We’re Drifter men now. Saved our lives.”

Bodie pokes Chicago’s chest where the imprint of the spot the President patch used to be sewn before pointing at Ian’s Secretary patch with his other hand. “And what’s this?”

“Turn around and look at the new President.”

He turns, and Psycho gives him a creepy smile while he waves his hand in the air like Forrest Gump. “Hello!”

Bodie’s jaw drops. “You’re shitting me.”

“Nope,” Chicago says. “Psycho’s been President for a hot minute now.”

“And this is just okay with everyone?” he asks. “Griffin’s Beach comes in and takes over our officer spots?”

“Not all of them. And this was what was best for the club.”

Shaking his head, he looks around. “Pres-”

“I’m not the President anymore. And it is for the best. Seriously. We’re going through some shit, and I’m not the man for the job. Not to this caliber. Took me a little time and soul searching to accept it, but I have. And I’ve embraced it.”

Bodie looks at Psycho, his eyes narrowed. “You were the resident crazy man in Griffin’s Beach. Well, I guess that makes you the resident crazy man in Black Valley now. Hopefully, your reputation precedes you.”

“Trust us, it does,” Ian says and laughs. “Dude took out the Slashers by dropping his bike and knocking them down like fucking bowling pins. Fearless.”

He actually looks impressed, and Chicago wants to laugh. “If I can ride again, do I need to prospect again to become part of the club?”

Psycho looks around the room until he spots Derek, who walks forward. Looking to Chicago, Derek asks, “What do you think? What would you say if you were still in the seat?”

“He already put in his dues. And he left for health reasons. Hell, we all thought he was dead with the way he cut all contact like the asshole he is. Do you have any idea how hard we tried to find you?”

“I didn’t want you guys watching me fade away and become such a frail version of myself. You already saw me when it got bad and was barely able to speak without passing out. I didn’t want to show you more than you already did. If I was dying, I wanted to be remembered as the fearless and strong motherfucker I was. Not the weak man it turned me into.”

“Derek?” Psycho asks.

Derek knew Bodie for maybe a couple of months before he left and never got to know him that well. At that point, Bodie had basically been benched. He looks at Psycho, and the two have a strange way of communicating by looks alone rather than words. It’s a connection Chicago’s never had with anyone besides his ex-wife, and he’s once again reassured of the decision to no longer have him leading the club.

Nodding, Derek walks into the office as though a full conversation had just transpired. How the fuck do they do that?

Derek walks back into the room and tosses Bodie a Drifter kutte.

“Welcome back,” Psycho says.

“Thanks,” he says, a wide smile on his face as he swaps out his leather. “Okay, this feels different. Cool different.”

“How’s Evie?” Chicago asks, moving to the bar to take a beer and leaning against it. The day feels surreal, and he needs something to help keep him steady.

If Bodie kept in touch with anyone, it would be the woman he once planned to marry. The only woman - no, the only person - who seemed to tame him.

The smile drops from his face and shrugs. “I don’t know.”

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