Page 17 of Walker

“Either I earned it back or I didn’t. Let me fucking know, though, because this shit of calling me to task every time one of your women feels slighted over whatever toe they feel I put out of line is done. If you can’t treat me the same as any other fucking member of this club, then what the fuck do I have my patch back for? Last I checked, I’m not a member of the fucking S.H.E. MC. I’m a fucking member of Aces High. If they want to trespass me from their fucking property, then that’s for them to do.

“This go-between bullshit needs to fucking stop or I’m out. I’m tired of it. I’m tired of doing time for their bullshit because they think they’re above the shit they did wrong. No one took their fuckin’ patches for not having an old lady’s back. Mine was taken because I checked on her to make sure she was in a good fucking place and happy. No fucking other reason. How fucked is that?”

Sweet had his fists balled at his sides and I could damn near see the steam rising from his ears, but it was Quickshot who spoke first.

“You’re right.”

Sweet’s head snapped around. “What the fuck did you just say?”

Quickshot sighed and turned to his best friend and the president of our chapter. “Fuck, man.” He sat on the couch and leaned back so he was looking up at both of us. “Take a load off, Sweet. We need to have a conversation. In truth, it should happen without Walker here, but since he finally had the balls to call us on our bullshit, we’re going to respect him enough to talk this out with him here.”

“What he did,” Sweet stabbed a finger at me and got ready to reiterate, but Quickshot cut him off.

“What he did was a crime he paid for. Ghost, our national Prez – in case you forgot – agreed with his punishment. You agreed to the punishment. He lost his fucking patch, man. For eighteen months he took more shit than any prospect in the history of this club has ever taken, and he didn’t complain one fucking time. Not once. And really, what was his crime, huh? He checked in on his ex-wife. He tried to do it stealthily and failed like a dumbass, but that was it. I understood Chief and Smoke being pissed but even they didn’t understand why it took him eighteen months to earn the patch back. They were over their snit by then.”

“What’s your point?”

“Why the fuck aren’t you over yours?” Quickshot called him out.

“I’m not in a snit.”

“Then why are you standing there looking like your gonna pound his flesh in when the man hasn’t done shit wrong to deserve it.”

“He was at Paramour last night!” Sweet shouted, as if my mere presence there was a crime against him personally.

“And?”

“And? What the fuck do you mean by ‘And’, Quickshot?”

“And, what the fuck did he do wrong while he was there?”

“He didn’t even go inside.” Sweet said it like it was an accusation.

“What exactly were you told?” I asked.

“That you were loitering in their parking lot all fucking night and stuck around long after closing for some reason.”

“What reason?”

“How the fuck should I know?” Sweet asked.

“So, they didn’t tell you who I was there to speak with?”

“You spoke with someone?”

“Let me get this straight,” I growled. “Your woman told you I was loitering in their parking lot all night, looking like a fucking creeper no doubt, and didn’t mention at all why I was there?”

“How the fuck would she know?”

“It would be really fucking obvious why I was there based on the video from that night, considering that’s what they were most likely going off. I was parked in full view of the cameras.”

Sweet’s fists unclenched and he glanced from Quickshot back to me. “What the fuck business did you have there?”

“You overheard my conversation with Griff, yeah?” They both nodded. “Then you know I had to deliver some shit news to someone who he was worried about.”

It started to dawn on them. “The woman from the club party, the one who works at Paramour?” Quickshot asked.

“Reesa,” I agreed.

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