Page 7 of Motorycle Daddies

“We look that bad, huh?” I say. My voice is more of a growl than I expect it to be, but I’m exhausted and pissed off.

“Why don’t you guys come in and sit down at the bar. You both look like you could use a drink.” We follow Brander over, and I make sure Tag sits down and doesn’t fall over from shock. We all have some scotch and chase it with a shot of tequila.

“So, spit it out. What the hell happened out there?” Brander asks, leaning over the bar.

I shake my head. “Truthfully, I don’t fucking know. There were supposed to be two decoys. Nothing was wrong. I was halfway back, maybe more. Then, all of a sudden, there’s a car and a motorcycle following us. I was too far from the highway and had to pull some risky maneuvers. Scared the literal shit out of Tag back there.”

“I’m sorry for not being there. I really wanted to go. This was my job. But you know what I had going on.” He eyes Tag, worried about saying too damn much. It’s weird having an outsider in here.

“Nah, man. I understand. Nobody expected this.”

We both stare at Tag in silence for a few minutes, and I’m hoping he won’t croak before telling Grizzly whatever the hell this is that’s so important people want to kill him for it.

Speaking of the devil…the Prez saunters into the room. His casual stance goes stiff as he spots us, and then he comes over. That same resting bitch face he always has when Harlow isn’t directly by his side is plastered across his face. It’s hard to tell these days when he’s actually angry or just being his normal self.

But I know what he’s about to be. Furious.

“You’re back before the decoys.” It’s not a question.

I nod.

Grizzly picks up Tag by the collar. “Tell me what the hell is going on here. You owe me some information.”

Tag darts his eyes around worriedly, looking for one of us to help him. I scoff, kind of feeling sorry for the guy.

“I usually don’t like to speak out of turn, Prez, but he’s just been through hell and back.”

Grizzly lets go. “Regardless, he’s following me into my office and telling me this now before he gets us or himself murdered—clearly something that will happen on the road out there no matter what we do. You can tell me about what happened in the meeting. You’re going to be there. Get all the officers rounded up in half an hour.”

I’m taken aback by his barking orders and the fact that he wants me at that meeting. I know better than to defy the Prez—and I don’t plan on it—but I was kind of hoping to sit this one out since I’m not an officer. I was looking forward to going to my bed and passing the hell out, forgetting this shit ever happened.

I look at Brander, and he just shrugs. “How about I split them with you? I’ll go grab Bullwhip, Match, and Colt. You can round up the rest.”

We split ways, and I start trudging through the clubhouse. I’m in the mood to get this the fuck over with. I’m already so done with today.

4

GRIZZLY

I’m presiding over the officers-only church, anxiety running deep, though I don’t let it show. I can’t—I’m the fearless leader. But it doesn’t really matter, because over top of the anxiety, I’m just fucking pissed off.

Once I got the informant calmed down and not scared shitless of me, thanks to a few more shots of tequila, the whole story came out. Not only did he have the information I’ve been seeking, but he spilled the beans about exactly what happened on the way here. Thank goodness one of the two decoys has made it back now, though there’s still no word from the other.

I suspect that prospect won’t be turning up again, which is unfortunate. Another reason to be pissed the fuck off.

But that’s why I didn’t tell anyone, not even Trap, what information this informant could be bringing. That way, there’s no information to torture out of anyone. He’ll just be dead, lying in some unmarked grave in the desert somewhere.

I move around the room as usual, my secretary taking notes for the minutes as we go. I can tell everyone is in a hurry to figure out why the hell I have this informant sitting here in the meeting. I think it’s best for everyone to hear from him firsthand what it is he does. I don’t know if I can get it out without losing my shit anyway.

So, I press on with business as usual. Brander has addressed the stalker, so Lisa is not something I have to deal with. The domestic violence shelter is doing well, with no threats as of late. The accounting looks good. We have more money this quarter than we have in a long-ass time.

All of those good things, piling on top of this growing rage within me that makes me want to act now. To go and find the brother and just take him down.

The thing is, it’s not smart. And I have to keep my cool, because I know exactly how my men are going to react to the news they’re about to hear.

“I know we’re all wondering why the hell I went through all the trouble of getting Tag here”—I point to the guy, glad to see he isn’t shaking anymore, though he’s definitely red in the cheeks. Maybe I gave him a little bit too much—“and why Trap is in here. But I need you all to hear this—the reason we probably lost the prospect, the reason I’ve been so secretive, and the reason I brought a non-officer to this very important meeting. But I want you to hear it from Tag’s mouth. He has some very vital information that all of us need to be aware of.”

I step back against the wall, motioning to Tag. It takes a minute for him to understand what’s expected. It’s not like he’s ever done one of these, and he’s always struck me as this scared little thing. But he’s also got some of the most valuable information we’ve had in a long time, so I can’t exactly discount him either.

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