Page 187 of Cook

“I’ll give you a tour after church,” said Bou. “But we’re taking out the island and church stays here.” They’d installed a conference phone and television in the room too.

“I heard it’s a bit cramped up in your house right now,” I said, inclining my head to Celt.

“Don’t blame me,” he said. “It’s the fucking contractors. Someone needs to light a fire under Hammer’s ass.”

“Who let him into a club?” I asked Celt, and he ignored me.

“Building just takes a while, Celt. You should go see their place, though,” Bou told me. “I think it’ll go up quicker than ours. Studs are already up.”

I leaned over to her, nudging her with my elbow. “Studs are always up.”

She slapped me on the shoulder, and we all laughed.

“I will,” I answered her, “but you all are coming to my place later. Maddie is cooking up a storm now.” I had given her very specific pointers for what to serve. Lanie and Roni were already there.

“I’ll always go for free food,” said Celt.

Angel nodded. “I imagine I’ll spend a lot of time at your place with my Lanie around her sister.”

“Awww,” Bou moaned, placing her hands on her heart. “You two gonna kiss now? Celt, you jealous? Scared of losing your BFF?”

“Fuck off, Bou,” said Celt, but he gave me a hooded look. Yeah, it was still Celt and me. Had been since we were kids.

I leaned over to Celt. “Did you . . .?”

My best friend slipped an envelope from his pocket, and I took it, feeling the weight. Then I slipped it into my pocket, keeping it close.

“Thanks, brother,” I said.

Celt clapped me on the shoulder again. “Don’t mention it.”

Our conversation faded out as Wilde walked into our meeting room. He wore his leather jacket, and his shoulder hunched forward. He kissed Bou on the lips, though I doubted they had been parted long. She was a patched member like the rest of us here. She shifted her jacket on her shoulders.

Wilde smacked a gavel against the wood meeting table. “Business time.”

“The fuck is that?” asked Angel.

Prez waved it in the air. “Makes us official and shit.”

Celt chuckled and rolled his eyes.

Bou leaned over to me. “He’s pretty proud of it, actually.”

“And here I thought we were here to drink beer and shoot shit,” I said.

Sas, the big fucker, grumbled something under his breath and walked to the Prez’s right side, opposite Angel.

Wilde flicked on the new TV on the wall, and we got a view of the long table at the clubhouse in LA. Ward, Beans, Graff, Teller, and Jackyl stared back at us. The image of them wobbled and pretty soon, we were staring at an image of the warehouse ceiling. Angel hit a button on the thing in the center of our table. “Ya’ll good?”

Duchess’s face flashed on the screen. “Sorry boys.” She repositioned the camera and went into the kitchen behind the guys. She returned with beers for all, then scooted out of the picture.

The others in the room were quiet, watching Wilde and the TV with open curiosity. The Prez made the rules, and we did the bidding. Celt had taken a chair at the end of the table. I waited in the back. Even then, I had the guys checking over their shoulders at me. I was the enforcer, and while I had been injured, I wasn’t down for the count.

“To keep business strong and income flowing, we’ve entered intoa business arrangement with the Mafia. Massimo Parisi, to be exact,” said Wilde, leaving out the details some members didn’t need to know. “Part of the deal includes an arranged marriage. We need a brother to hand over his cock.”

Already, heads were swiveling until all eyes landed on Sas. He looked up, his eyes started shifting as it dawned on him that he was in the hot seat.

“Sas?” barked Wilde.

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