Page 149 of Cook

We had been going back and forth with Celt having a big say in the club, since he was probably the longest standing member in the Ridge. But he was also a cop.

Wilde, I had to admit, was far more suited for the job.

“Shut up,” roared Celt over the people packed into the kitchenette of Bou’s shop.

I glanced around. We were quickly outgrowing this place and needed somewhere bigger to hold church. Although, I wondered if Bou would welcome the club inside their new home once their little bun popped out of the oven.

She leaned up against the wall, standing between Celt and Wilde. She was as much a part of this as anyone here, maybe more.

Wilde planted his palms on the marble and leaned onto the island. “With the Gambinos and the cartels up our asses, we need to get our shit in order.” He glanced over at Angel.

The man swept his long black and white hair over one shoulder. “We had to disband Diablo after we were caught on camera pulling kids from that motel. We gotta count ourselves lucky we had a club to fall back on.”

“The Ridge?” questioned Sas.

“The Ridge!” I yelled, and several other voices chimed in too.

“The Ridge!” A few arms shot up into the air with the shared exclamations.

Wilde stood back, folding his arms over his chest. “Yep. We’re one now. The Ridge MC. LA and Arizona. And, as much as I hate to say this, we need to keep our territory safe.”

Celt gave a singular nod. “Agreed.”

They put on a united front, and I wondered if Celt and Wilde had talked about this when Angel and I weren’t around. Or was Bou passing notes back and forth?

All the brothers shifted their weight, and I braced myself for the earthquake of my life.

“The drug running dried up when the laws changed,” said Wilde, “and bringing in stuff from Colombia hasn’t panned out.” He pinned Sas with his ice blue stare.

“However,” added Celt, “that shit’s pushing us into major leagues. Whether it’s what we planned or not.”

Wilde took the next line, and I wondered if they’d rehearsed this since the middle of last night. “If we’re gonna keep going,” Prez said, “we need a tight ship. No in-house fighting. We’re brothers. LA and Park Ridge as one MC.”

The guys looked around at each other.

“With that being said,” started Celt, “I’m not an officer. Wilde is Prez.” He stared down the former Ridge Rats—Hammer, Coyote, me.

We shifted uncomfortably, but I tried to remain stone faced.

Wilde stepped forward. “Thanks, man. I’ll be Prez, but you’re not getting out of it so easily.”

Celt smirked. “Nah, man. I gotchu. I’m the law in the Ridge. Always have been, always will.”

“You’re still patched, asshole,” said Wilde. “You’ve still got a vote. You still attend church.”

“Fair ’nuff.”

“And,” Wilde barked, “you’re moving your ass back here pronto.”

“Already packed, Prez,” answered Celt, and I knew that to be true. I hoped his new place wouldn’t be as cluttered as that tiny apartment.

“And Bou.” Wilde held out his hand to her. “It may not be standard, but she’s my first lady. Noproperty ofpatch for her. She’s a full-blown voting member. Read me?”

Taking his hand, she stepped up beside Wilde. Guys who’d grown up in the Ridge respected her, knowing her as the former Prez’s daughter. Bou had proved herself to be formidable. Even pregnant, she was one badass bitch.

Wilde turned to Angel, and even his enforcer seemed uneasy. “I need a VP in LA.”

Angel shook his head. “I’m staying in Park Ridge.” He didn’t add Melanie to the mix, but I saw it in his eyes when he looked at me. His ol’ lady would certainly be sticking very close to Maddie.

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